Category Archives: Big Stone Gap

Your Old Book is not *%#^%$ Valuable, OK?

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People come into the shop on a fairly regular basis, clutching a single tome wrapped in plastic. They have the hopeful idea that this will purchase their retirement on a small private island.

Sorry, but here are the seven most common reasons we see on why your book might cover lunch at Applebee’s but no more:old books

7. It’s a paperback. Trust us on this one; by the time a paperback is old enough to be antique, it’s too battered to be pretty. Planned obsolescence in the binding glue, or something like that.

6. You have the book club edition. Jack and I got very excited in the early days, finding we had an old hardback of Laura Hobson’s Gentleman’s Agreement, which goes for $600 in a first edition. We had the sturdy, ubiquitous one instead. It’s like the difference between an Aston Martin and an MGB GT; both are pretty, both are cool, but only one is hard to find.

5. It has worm holes. Yes, even if the worm is dead, even if the cover still has its gilt lettering and hand-sewn edges intact, those holes aren’t adding character, they’re subtracting value. Ask any Science Fiction fan: worm holes are bad news.

4. It has Reader’s Digest in the title. Just stop it, ok? We don’t want to buy it and neither does anyone else on the planet.

3. Something has chewed the corners. Dog-eared, maybe; dog-chewed, nyet. And no, we don’t want to hear what got it, or how. Just leave quietly without touching anything. Thanks.

2. The author is still alive. I once mentioned to my agent Pamela, just before visiting her in NYC, that in the used business, a dead author’s work tends to be worth exponentially more than that of a live one. After a brief pause, she asked in honeyed tones, “Do you like Ferris wheels, dear?”

1. It’s part of an encyclopedia set. Unless it’s pre-1800s (we’ve seen one in six years) make a book angel out of it and be happy.

So your book is probably not valuable in terms of money, but let’s not forget it’s still a wisdom house, a snapshot of words between covers that–barring dogs and old glue–hold them in one place, and through time. It may not be worth money, but it’s still valuable. Enjoy it; display its pretty cover; read it, turning the pages gently (and possibly wearing gloves). It’s yours to discover.

Jack guest blogs on retirement

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When I retired from my college professor career in 2002 I imagined a gentler and more relaxed way of life, maybe catching up on some reading and re-indulging in hobbies I hadn’t had time for in a while. Certainly, to begin with things seemed to be going in that direction, despite continuing involvement in education and training as a consultant and even visiting such romantic destinations as Vietnam and Romania in that capacity.

When Wendy and I first moved permanently to the US things continued in that fairly leisurely way. Everything changed, however, when we moved to Big Stone Gap and opened the bookstore! Ah- the bookstore!!

Most folk probably think that opening and running a bookstore is a dream come true and that is true to some extent – but for me there is a darker side. As the shop became established and our stock expanded so did the need to find space and fill the space with bookshelves. For the last few years I’ve fondly imagined that I’ve made my last set of bookshelves, but no, Wendy (my boss) somehow manages to continue to find ever more obscure corners just crying out for another lot.

And I don’t help myself, either. Just a few days ago I was down in our basement (currently only accessible from outside in the back yard) and realized that there was a covered over internal staircase. EUREKA! Well – ‘maybes aye and maybes naw’ (as we say in Scotland) – the trouble is that, although half the basement is a decent height, there’s only brick and concrete walls and no ceilings. There’s only very minimal lighting and no power outlets, and the hidden stairwell is full of later added cables and water pipes to the washing machine that’s going to have to find a new home.basement stair

 

 

 

 

 

Then there’s shelving all these pesky books that people will insist on bringing in – but hey, that’s another story – – –

What does all this add up to? As an old colleague of mine once said to me when I asked how he was enjoying retirement – “Jack – it was made for a younger man than me!”