I had the pleasure this past week of visiting Texas A&M University in College Station, Texas, and speaking at ceremonies held in Cushing Library marking the acquisition of the university's four millionth book, an auspicious event for a dynamic program that for the past ten years has been embarked on a remarkable program of establishing itself as one of the outstanding research centers in the United States. 

Because a noteworthy event such as this demands a fabulous book, the title acquired for the occasion was an exceedingly rare copy of the 1617 Barcelona edition of "Don Quixote." Part one of the world's most consequential work of fiction had been published separately, in 1605, part two in 1615; this edition marked the first time the two parts had been issued together, and appeared in print just a year after Cervantes's death. To give you an idea of just how scarce this edition is, it is the only perfect copy held in any North American library, making it more scarce, in fact, than the Gutenberg Bible, with copies in twelve American institutions. At Texas A&M, it joins a collection of one thousand other editions of "Don Quixote," along with a substantial archive of digital images, and contributes mightily to the mission of the university's Cervantes Project, which has received support from the National Science Foundation and the National Endowment for the Humanities.

The four millionth book ceremony was part of a double celebration, the other being the tenth anniversary of the reopening of the Cushing Library as repository of the university's rare books and special collections, and to showcase, with a splendid exhibition and a terrific catalog, both called "A Decade of Promise," the new acquisitions that have been made over that period. I plan to write at length about the arrival of Texas A&M as a major player in the world of rare books in a forthcoming Fine Books & Collections column, but I do wish to note here the essential role of the Friend--with a capital 'F', as I said in my remarks--in this process.

Making this milestone possible was Sara and John Lindsey, A&M Class of 1944, who purchased the book for the university; they also purchased for the library the two-and-a-half millionth book, a Kelmlscott Chaucer of 1896, and the three millionth book, a first issue, 1855, of Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass," and contributed to the purchase of the one millionth and two millionth volumes as well. 

Libraries require a lot of elements to achieve greatness, not least among them administrators with foresight and librarians with vision, but never, to my knowledge, have they been able to accomplish anything of substance without the help of their friends--excuse me, their Friends--and that applies at every level of participation. Those with modest means--but eager all the same to help preserve our literary patrimony--can participate in other ways, such as the Adopt-a-Book program sponsored by the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, Mass. It's all for a great cause.

I recently read a blog item in Down East magazine speculating on why it is that Maine, that big, craggy, irresistible coastal state in Northern New England, is "so bookish." By that, the writer, Paul Doiron, says he means "the whole literary shebang," to wit: "the bookstores and reading groups and vast hosts of library volunteers," not to mention a vibrant community of writers, Stephen King being the best known contemporary voice in a long tradition of accomplishment that has included Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Sarah Orne Jewett, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Kenneth Roberts and Edwin Arlington Robinson.

Doiron speculates that this passion for books and reading might have something to do with the long winters, which I know, as a person who went to college in the Pine Tree State (Bates, '65) can be formidable. But there is also something wonderfully complex in the Maine character, I think, that savors a good story, and maintains an enduring respect for things in print. (One response on Doiron's blog offered this: "It's dark. It's cold. There's a lot of empty space and the mind wanders. The options? Read, write or drink a lot. In really tough winters, sometimes we go for all three.")

What has made me think about all this was a quick trip my wife Connie and I made this past week up to Bar Harbor for a bit of research, a pleasant getaway that allowed us to enjoy a leisurely drive home along U.S. 1, visiting one second hand bookstore after another, six by my count, over one forty-mile stretch between Trenton and Searsport, all of them open for business, which is saying something, since there is still scattered snow on the ground despite the official arrival of spring, and most of the summer tourist attractions still off-season.

Browsing was pretty much the order of the day for me, though I was nonetheless impressed by the numbers and the variety of the offerings. One place I would certainly put on the must-visit list for anyone trekking Down East is Big Chicken Barn Books & Antiques in Ellsworth, a perfectly appropriate name for a converted chicken barn one hundred yards long, three stories high, and filled on the first floor with every manner of antique and knick-knack, and lined on the second with 120,000 books, magazines and pieces of ephemera. The place was bustling when we stopped by Saturday afternoon, so there was little time to chat at length with owners Annegret and Mike Cukierski, who opened this splendid curiosity twenty-three years ago, and have every intention of keeping it going, what with son Chad now fully involved in the operations. There's lots of stuff in here on Maine, a healthy section of regional history and literature, and remarkable runs of magazines and periodicals. The owners say this is the largest book store in the state, and I don't think this is a case of hyperbole. It is easily the longest book gallery I have ever seen--a football field, one end to the other, and a fabulous chicken sign out front.

We had great fun, too, at Country Store Antiques, Books & Wine, just outside of Bar Harbor in Trenton, a pretty spacious operation in its own right, with a fine variety of offerings, including a full floor devoted entirely to 50,000 books. I especially enjoyed schmoozing with owner Vicki Landman, a former county librarian in Maryland, now a full time books and antiques seller in her native state. I told her of my interests in the Maine paper industry, and she suggested a number of titles that might be useful, and gave me the names of some people to contact for more information. "Hey, I'm a librarian," she said. 

We didn't get a chance to stop at Harding's Rare Books further down the coast in Wells, a lot closer to my home in Central Massachusetts, and always a favorite stop of mine whenever I'm in the area. Any booking odyssey to Maine has to include a stop here--with ample time set aside for serious examination of each and every one of the fourteen rooms. Founder Doug Harding has been in the business here since 1960, and is a widely respected professional in the trade. (I got my deathbed edition of Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" from him twenty-five years ago, a lovely copy in mint condition, and my collection of Winslow  Homer wood engravings has been greatly enriched by my many visits here over the years as well.) For those who need a navigational fix, Wells is 48 miles south of Freeport, home of L.L Bean. There are many splendid places to stop for lobster in between.  

Finally, if I may, how about a picture of yours truly in Acadia National Park, courtesy of CVB, to prove that one does not live entirely by books alone (at least not all the time):

Happy booking!

Every bibliophile wants to hunt at Larry McMurtry's Booked Up in Archer City, Texas. At least you should. It was my pleasure to organize such a trip for the toddling Bibliophiles of Oklahoma back in January.

If you've not heard of Booked Up, it is a world class book mine in an unlikely place. McMurtry has bought and sold books for decades. Sure, he's a Pulitzer Prize / Oscar-winning writer, but in interviews and his recent memoir Books, he's just another bibliophile bookseller. McMurtry's purpose relocating to his ancestral home was to establish an American book town (without a festival, which "is the last thing I want," according McMurtry). A fantastic interview spelling out his motivations and ideas on Nigel Beale's Biblio File is here.

For most book collectors, Archer City may as well be on the moon, but for we few book lovers shouting in the hinterlands, it is our Shangri La. We don't have a Strand, a Powell's, or a CODEX book fair. Having journeyed to Booked Up a few times before, I served as the bibliosherpa, along with Lynn Wienck of Chisholm Trail Bookstore, who is more familiar with the environs of the Red River country.

For the Bibliophiles of Oklahoma, this was our most well attended event, so we will certainly go again, perhaps in early autumn. North Texas can be merciless in the summer. For our trip, at the end of January, the weather was pleasant, though crisp. It looks chilly in the photos, right? All of our members found additions for their collections. Not too hard when a dozen ravenous bibliophiles descend on 400-500,000 quality books. Everyone also saw items that surprised them. For me, it was a very nice (bargain!) copy of The Great Gatsby for my Modern Library collection. The Mrs. was surprised how such a large number of books could be so well organized, well lit and clean. Her one complaint was that the 10' shelves were too tall for her. An example is below. This is where I spent more than half my day, the Books About Books section. Yes, nearly that entire run visible, all 10' high, are babs.

When it comes to surprises, you don't have to take my word for it. John C. Roberts, a member of the esteemed Caxton Club of Chicago, published a fantastic article in the January issue of the Caxtonian about his own southern sojourn from Chicago. Even this more established collector of modern firsts found surprises.

There are a few practical considerations weighing a trip to Booked Up:

• You won't go there "passing through" to somewhere else. For many collectors, Archer City can be a destination. Really.
• Virtually none of the inventory, which is hand selected by McMurtry for quality, is online. None.
• Perhaps as many as 500,000 books, no junk. None.
• Wear layers. There is little/no heating or air-conditioning in the four buildings, and north Texas can have erratic weather. The buildings are a little spread out.
• According to the signs posted about, books are organized Erratically/ Impressionistically/ Whimsically/ Open to Interpretation. Moby Dick could be in American Fiction, Animals, Nautical, Fishing & Hunting, Travel, etc.
• As of this writing, they still accept major credit cards and cash.
• If you go with a group, bring water and synchronize watches. Cell service is spotty at best.

So, if you've needed an excuse to go, I can't give you one. I can say this, you won't be sorry.