Recently in Book Fairs Category

The ABA and PBFA joined forces for the sixth annual Edinburgh Premier Book Fair held at the Assembly Rooms in Edinburgh's New Town.  The fair, which began yesterday and concludes today, saw about 60 dealers exhibiting.

WASHINGTON -- Everyone who runs a business knows that it takes a long time to win a customer for life but that you can lose one in five seconds. That's about all it took today for an organizer of the Washington Antiquarian Book Fair to tempt me to cross it off the list of events I support. Worse, it could kill the interest in the entire hobby for a visitor who took home her first rare books.

WASHINGTON -- I busted out of cabin fever Friday night ... heading straight to the Washington Antiquarian Book Fair to hunt for a few new prizes to add to my collection of 18th and 19th century books related to the American Revolution. I'll be there again Saturday (March 6) not long after the doors open at 10 a.m. If you're within reach of the nation's capitol, you should come join me. The event runs until 5 p.m. so you've got time.

If you're just joining the saga of the 2010 San Francisco Antiquarian Book Fair, please read Part 1 and Part 2 of this post first.

And now, the conclusion of the 2010 San Francisco Antiquarian Book Fair . . .

When Tom -- who worked very hard and never complained -- had finished helping me unpack the Bookmobile and put some books on shelves, Thoughtful Husband, Huck, and our neighbor, who, in keeping with the Tom Sawyer theme, we'll call Joe Harper (close friend of Tom Sawyer), came to pick up Tom and go the aquarium in the City. I finished setting up the booth and set out to find the book of my dreams, the sleeper no other booksellers noticed, the book on which I could make some money.

As I set out to make a circuit of the large exhibition hall, I took along a few Dante catalogues to distribute to the other booksellers. Due to the delay in receiving the print catalogue from the printer, I had mailed the catalogue to customers and other booksellers only a few days before the fair. I decided to mail catalogues to local booksellers who would receive it before the fair and to personally give a catalogue to out-of-town booksellers at the fair. If I had mailed it to them, they wouldn't have received it in time for the fair.

Before I got very far, I saw a bookseller I know walking my way. This is the same bookseller who at a bookseller holiday party had scoffed (and rightly so) at the idea of the Dante catalogue ever making its way into print after nearly three years. I made sure to mail him a copy of the catalogue as soon as I received it. I wanted him to know I had finished it at last.

I worried what he'd say to me. Here was a bookseller who (justifiably) thought that because of an almost comical amount delays I perhaps wouldn't be able to finish my catalogue. Here was a bookseller who quite likely wondered if, when I did finish the catalogue, the books offered by this newcomer would be worthwhile. Would the catalogue prove that it was worth the wait? I wanted to hide behind the trophy case in my booth or dive beneath the tables. Perhaps the only thing worse than not completing the catalogue would be to have completed it and have people think it was no good.

Well, even worse than that, really, would be to sell no books from the catalogue. I know I shouldn't be too wrapped up in what other people think of it. But still . . .

I looked around and saw nowhere to hide. I briefly hoped that maybe he hadn't had time to look at the catalogue before the book fair. "Chris!" he called out to me, striding towards me. No hiding now. He shook my hand warmly and said, "Your catalogue is beautiful. I hope you won't mind, but I've forwarded it to a customer who I think will be quite interested in it."

Would I mind? Of course not. Heartened, I thanked him for his kind words and set out to find some books and give out the rest of the catalogues. I found a few nice books while making the rounds of the other bookseller's booths. Three beautifully bound books about Italy, some original photographs by an American woman photographer, and a few other little gems written by American women. The fair was indeed getting off to a good start, though there was not one "amazing" find in particular. All of my finds were good solid books priced at a point where I could still make a profit.

When I returned to my booth, one of my favorite bookselling friends was waiting for me. She's a mom to two boys, too, and she completely understands why things like Cub Scouts and homework projects might make me take me so long to complete the Dante catalogue. Showing her solidarity as a fellow bookselling mom, she asked me to sign her copy of the catalogue. A couple of other people asked me to do the same thing. I was bemused and surprised but flattered.

Two other booksellers whose long experience I respect and admire told me they were going to keep the catalogue on their shelves as a reference. I nearly fell over. The catalogue, along with the hard work and research that went into writing it, was being taken seriously. Though I generally try to be a modest person, I have to say that I was pleased with the positive reception given to the catalogue by others in the trade. It helped make all of the struggles of completing the catalogue worthwhile.

When it opened to the public on Saturday, the fair was a busy one. I sold books of all kinds to book lovers, book collectors, and booksellers. Sunday was a bit slower, with less sales, but I sold a few expensive books that day, so it was a good day for me. It was a great fair, this time as much about my catalogue's coming out as it was about selling books. I had a great time.

At the end of the weekend, I had ten invoices to book lovers and collectors, nine invoices to booksellers, and one invoice to a library. Some of the invoices were for multiple items. There was no one type of book sold. I sold all kinds of books, ranging in price from $25 to $1,000. This fair was the first in a while where booksellers in particular seemed to have a little bit of cash to buy books again. That wasn't the case this past year at the Santa Monica or Sacramento fairs. That, or maybe I didn't have the books people were seeking at that fair. That's the fun part of the book business. You never know what will sell, and sometimes you are pleasantly surprised by what does.

I realized that the 2010 San Francisco Antiquarian Book Fair was three days I will always remember when I look back at my progress as a bookseller. After three years, I had reached a goal I had set for myself a long time ago. I had written back in 2007 that the two of the hallmarks of a "real" antiquarian bookseller are selling books at book fairs and issuing print catalogues. I've since learned that there are other equally important qualities (like buying books at a good price; forming relationships with colleagues, customers, and librarians; and learning how much you still don't know), but it's fun to go back and think about what it took to get here.

See you in the stacks!

You can read Part 1 of this post here.

Eleven-year-old Tom, my assistant for set-up day at the book fair, and I clambered over bookcases and boxes and into the Bookmobile. I sped down the highway toward the City, watching the sun poking through the grey rain clouds. The Bay Bridge and the Transamerica Pyramid rose in the distance against a backdrop of choppy Bay waters, and we blasted Tom Petty's song "Runnin' Down a Dream" on the radio, singing along as loud as we could. As we got closer to the City, I left behind the exhaustion of mailing out 300 + catalogues and the stress of what was going to be a heavy schedule for the next ten days. I'm always excited to go to book fairs. There's just something about the moments before a fair when all is possibility -- the possibility of many books sold and of a few good book finds -- that makes me extremely happy.

Often, I hear booksellers say that book fairs aren't worth it. In order to sell at a book fair, booksellers take time away from the business (in some cases an open shop), lug a bunch of heavy books and bookcases a long distance, and spend money to travel and stay in a hotel. And sometimes no one buys any of your books, or at least not enough of them for you to make back your costs. These are valid complaints and they can affect decisions whether or not to do future fairs.

For example, The Santa Monica Book Fair was a break-even event for me this past September. I had fun at the fair but really had to question at the end whether it was worth it to be away from my family for five days if I was only going to break even. The Central Valley Antiquarian Book Fair, held the weekend after the Santa Monica Fair, was also slow fair for me. It's usually my highest grossing book fair each year.

Not this year.

Needless to say I was nervous about the San Francisco Book Fair. Would it be a good fair for me? I had invested every bit of cash flow into printing and mailing the Dante catalogue. What if I lost money on the fair, too?

I tried to remember a couple of years ago, how I felt when I did this fair for the first time, when I compared myself to the title character in the movie Rudy:

I was just happy and amazed to be there, and, like Rudy standing alone on the big-time field at Notre Dame before he plays, I thought about the potential a big fair offers a small-time bookseller like me. Would I sell the most books of any seller there? Would I find the unrecognized treasures that every bookseller looks for when shopping at a book fair? Would other booksellers even know who I am or visit my booth? Would anyone buy any of my books? Probably not. As a new, small bookseller, I would likely be overlooked. I was, as usual, filled with anxiety over these issues, but mostly I just wanted to stop and think about what might be and to be grateful to be a small part of it.

What has changed since then?

I have more experience. I have done many more book fairs since I wrote that I felt like Rudy. I am now aware of all that might go wrong at a book fair and the myriad ways to lose money at a book fair. But driving to the fair, the old feeling of excitement came back to me, as sure as if it was the first time I ever sold an antiquarian book to a live human being.

Wait a minute. What has changed since then?

I have more experience. I have done many more book fairs since I wrote that I felt like Rudy. I was now aware that most of the fairs I do are profitable for me. I've also developed a good eye to hunt for and find good books at fairs, books on which I can make a profit at a future date. And as an added bonus, I've developed a great network of bookseller friends to visit with and to buy books from and to sell books to. I had dinner with several of them on FridaySaturday nights.
and

As I said in that 2008 post when I did the San Francisco Antiquarian Book Fair for the first time:

I just know that I wanted to be an antiquarian bookseller so much that I didn't care whether I could be a top-tier bookseller. I want to be a part of the antiquarian book world, regardless of how well-known of a bookseller I ultimately become.

I took stock for a moment.

Yes. I could say the same thing today, and even more vehemently than I said it two years ago.

We parked the car and checked in to our booth, Booth #205. Adjacent to us in Booth #305 was my bookselling friend and mentor, Mr. Z. We'd requested that the fair organizer remove the partition between our booths to make one very large space with Mr. Z's books on one side and mine on another. Here's a photo of how it looked after Tom unloaded my boxes and Mr. Z's assistants Kara and Jill unloaded his boxes:

Some of my books and ephemera are in the left-hand trophy case. Mr. Z's are on the right.

Tom, my able assistant, got right to work unloading 22 boxes of books and 8 bookcases for me. If you will permit a moment of motherly pride, I marvel at the fact that my "baby" (don't tell him I used that word) is growing up and that he is now big enough to lug heavy boxes and furniture. When he had finished a couple of hours later, Thoughtful Husband and Huck came up to the City to check out my booth and to pick Tom up.

Here are a few photos of my side of the extra large booth:

Some books from the Dante catalogue.

A small collection of Kate Greenaway ephemera.

Interesting books on all subjects.

Western Americana.

Books by or about American women.

I had four other book cases on the outside perimeter of the booth for a total of seven bookcases, one trophy case, and half of a glass counter case.

With the words to Tom Petty's song echoing in my ears, I was ready to run down my dream.

Tom Petty - Running Down A Dream
It was a beautiful day, the sun beat down
I had the radio on, I was driving
Trees flew by, me and Del were singing
Little Runaway. I was flying

CHORUS
Yeah running down a dream
That never would come to me
Working on a mystery
Going wherever it leads
Running down a dream

I felt so good like anything was possible
I hit cruise control and rubbed my eyes
The last three days the rain was unstoppable
It was always cold, no sunshine

CHORUS
Yeah running down a dream
That never would come to me
Working on a mystery
Going wherever it leads
Running down a dream

I rolled on as the sky grew dark
I put the pedal down to make some time
There's something good waiting down this road
I'm picking up whatever is mine

CHORUS
Yeah running down a dream
That never would come to me
Working on a mystery
Going wherever it leads
Running down a dream

TOMORROW: The third (and final) post about the fair: Was It a Success? Rare, Fine, and Sold.

---

Alright: It's more than a week overdue and I am still swimming in oceans of work to do after returning home from ten days on the road. Still, it's high time I wrote a little report of the 2010 San Francisco Antiquarian Book Fair. I put the boxes of books to be re-shelved to the side for the moment. Part 1 of my report appears today with more to follow tomorrow.

Two years ago, I wrote about selling books at the San Francisco show. It was only my second book fair.

I was quite excited and quite nervous.

This year's San Francisco Antiquarian Book Fair is book fair number ten. I've gained a lot of experience and made a lot of progress since the 2008 fair.

I was quite excited and quite nervous.

Not only would I be selling books at this fair, I'd be personally handing out a lot of copies of Book Hunter's Holiday Catalogue #1 to customers and to other booksellers. What if no one liked the catalogue? What if they wanted to know why all of the "serious" Dante books from the 1500s are not in my catalogue? I had just mailed out the catalogue three days before the fair, and people's reactions were just beginning to trickle in. So far so good, but watching people examine the catalogue in person could potentially be gut wrenching.

Added to the catalogue anxiety was my usual lack of sleep the night before a fair, when I am kept awake by the nightmarish thought that I have since learned haunts most booksellers: "What if no one buys any of my books?"

Did I mention that Tom and Huck's school also gave them a 10-day "ski week" vacation, beginning on Friday, February 5, the set-up day of the fair? Not only would they be home from school for the duration of the fair, but they wanted to leave for the snow on Monday, the morning after the fair ended. The plan was to come home on Thursday night and then for me to leave Friday to attend (but thankfully not to also sell books at) the Los Angeles International Antiquarian Book Fair. That's a full calendar, and it would require that I be away from home for about 10 days. I was exhausted from getting all of the catalogues in the mail, too. I was beginning to feel a little bit overwhelmed.

Maybe I should just stay home.

"Not on your life," said Thoughtful Husband. "You've worked on this catalogue forever. You love book fairs. Get out there and sell some books!" He took Friday off of work to stay home with the boys. I got a hotel room in the City so I could focus on the fair.

My room in the literary-themed Carriage Inn -- the Lawrence Ferlinghetti room. The Carriage Inn and its neighbor, Good Hotel, were home to many of the booksellers for the weekend of the fair. It's near the fair venue and the rates are affordable.

My room came with its own Remington typewriter. I loved that.

In trying to sort out all the details for my travels, a remarkable thing happened. Tom, who is almost twelve, is looking for ways to earn his own money. He wanted to know whether I would pay him if he came with me to help unload boxes and book cases and to get them set up in the exhibition hall the day before the fair.

Absolutely relieved to have help with the heavy lifting, I said, "Sure. I'll pay you. But you really have to carry a lot of stuff and you can't go home until Dad can come and pick you up in the afternoon. It's hard work to set up at a book fair. I don't want any complaining." Secretly, I was happy he would get to see that the life of an antiquarian bookseller involves more than sitting at a computer in a tiny corner of our dining room.

Tom rolled his eyes, said, "I'm strong," and joined me. He wouldn't let me take his picture because I told him that, as my employee, he had to wear a collared shirt. What's a mother for, if not to bust her kids' chops once in a while? We compromised a little bit. He was allowed to wear jeans. It is set-up after all, and it's sometimes dusty and messy work.

We loaded up the Bookmobile and set out for San Francisco, about 30 minutes from our house. Though rain was in the forecast, it was shaping up to be a pretty nice day.

To be continued . . .

---

So the 43rd California International Antiquarian Book Fair is here! (Or actually, there, since I'm still in NY). For those of you attending, be sure to check out the special exhibit, "From Author to Oscar," which focuses on Oscar-winning films that were adapted from books. Rare copies of the books will be on display, along with photos, posters, and related ephemera from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' Margaret Herrick Library.

To coincide with the exhibit, rare book experts Kevin Johnson [read a Fine Books First Personal Singular with Kevin] and Jim Pepper and Los Angeles Times film critic Kenneth Turan will hold a panel discussion on the role of great books in Oscar-winning movies, as well as the impact of Academy Awards on the book collecting world. That's tomorrow--Saturday--at 3 p.m.

Have fun!

Only in New York is something so totally bookish like Bibliography Week possible, certainly on the scale of this event, which is mounted each year during the last week of January when the major national organizations devoted to book history have their annual meetings in the Big Apple, and get together at a number of related events, many of which are free and open to the public. (Image at right: Broadway Under Snow, by Rudolph Ruzicka, The Grolier Club, 1915.)

The week kicks off on Tuesday, January 26, with the Sixteenth Annual Bibliography Week Lecture, to be given this year by Michael Suarez, SJ, noted book historian and recently appointed director of Rare Book School, at Columbia University. His talk, scheduled for 6 p.m. in the Faculty Room of Low Library (116th St. at Broadway), is titled "Learned Virtuosity, Virtuously Displayed: Cultural Elits and Deep Purses in Restoration and Eighteenth-Century Illustrated Books."

A talk at the Grolier Club (47 East 60th St.) on Wednesday, January 27 by Milton McC. Gatch titled "Bibliotheca Parisina 1791: A Tale of Two Cities, or An Auction in Revolutionary Times," 2 p.m., is free, and public. A reception later that evening to mark the opening of an exhibition at the Grolier, "Mary Webb: Neglected Genius," featuring materials from the collection of Mary Crawford, is for members, but the show is open the public from January 12 to March 12.

Thursday, January 28: In Brooklyn, the latest works of book artists will be on display at the Open Salon, 37 Greenpoint Avenue, 4th floor, hours 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. The shop, founded in 1999, describes itself as an "artist-run, non-profit, consensus-governed, artist and bookmakers organization located in the up-and-coming neighborhood of Geenpoint." Sounds like fun, and very definitely worth checking out.

On Friday, January 29, again at the Grolier Club, the Bibliographical Society of America holds its annual meeting, with papers being presented by new scholars. Eric Holzenberg, director of the Grolier Club, will speak on "The Bibliophile as Bibliographer." The event is open to the public.

Saturday, January 30: The annual meeting of the American Printing History Association, to be held at the New York Public Library (Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street), 2 p.m. For those who have never visited the Center for the Book Arts (28 West 27th St., 3rd floor), a Winter Open House is on from 2 to 5 p.m. Demonstrations, tours, exhibits are on tap. All in all, a great week for bibliophiles, and a nice warm-up for those planning to attend the 43rd annual California International Book Fair in Los Angeles, Feb. 12-14.

While I was at the Golden Gate Park Book Fair Sunday, I answered a lot of questions for those who visited my booth. I'm used to the typical questions asked at book fairs about old books, rare books, and bookselling. What I wasn't expecting was this question from three people who were wandering the fair together:

"Would you mind if we took a picture of that book?"

"Uh . . . I guess not. Sure, you can take a photo of it."

A few minutes later they were still wandering through the booth taking pictures of many of my other books.

I tried to figure out if they were bloggers, like me, who might be posting the pictures of the books in a post about the fair. Or, perhaps they loved the books and didn't have the cash to buy them so they thought a photo would suffice.

Since the four of us were squeezed in my tiny, 8′ x 10′ booth, I eavesdropped on their conversation. I know I shouldn't have, but I was curious (and maybe just a little bit uncomfortable) about why they would want to take so many photos of my books.

"Oh my God! Did you see this one? Quick! Get a picture of it."

"Check this one out!"

"Someone please tell me why don't we still make covers that look like this one! This title is hilarious."

Paranoia began to take over. What if they wrote a blog post about how not to sell books and used pictures of my books and my booth as examples? Or what if they were booksellers and what if they used images of my books to sell their own?

Paranoia is an ugly thing. One's imagination can make one's thoughts entirely irrational.

I couldn't stand by and smile silently any longer.

Finally, I said, "So, do you mind if I ask why you're taking pictures of so many books?"

"Oh. Sure. We're book designers. We work for Chronicle Books. We're at the fair to get inspiration."

What a relief!

"Take as many pictures as you like to inspire you," I told them.

I had to laugh.

When I was in college (aeons ago), I spent every summer vacation and winter break working as an intern for Chronicle Books. Back in 1987 it was a very small (I think about 15 or 20 employees) company owned by the same family who owned The San Francisco Chronicle. I loved working there. I used to take the train to the City every day and walk through the (then) gritty neighborhood to the office at Fifth and Folsom. As an intern, I rotated to different departments, sometimes working for Operations, sometimes working for Editorial, and sometimes working for Publicity. The people there were nice and took time to teach me things about publishing. Though I didn't work there after college, I still remember the people I met there and the days I spent there with fondness. It's fun and flattering to think that some of the books I'd chosen to retail for my own business might be providing inspiration to a former employer.

It's also nice to know that in this era of digital books and cheaply made mass-market paperbacks some book designers are looking to the past to design the future.

See you in the stacks!

---

I am carefully wading out of a sea of boxes full of books and portable book cases strewn across my dining room/office to give you a full report on this past weekend's Golden Gate Park Book Fair, held in the Hall of Flowers in San Francisco's beautiful Golden Gate Park. After that, I'll have to dive back in until all the books are put back on the shelves again.

The Golden Gate Park fair was the first one I have done (and I've done nine fairs in the two and a half years I've been in business) where there was a long line of people waiting to enter when the doors opened. The fair's organizer did a great job getting the word out about the time and location of the fair. In addition to the bibliophilic crowd were the many people who were out and about walking through Golden Gate Park on a beautiful (75 degree) Sunday who were likely drawn in by curiosity and by the free admission. The aisles were filled with people from opening until closing time. Having occasionally done a fair where the aisles are so empty the booksellers could have used them as golf fairways, the sight of so many people at a book fair made me so happy.

That said, I would characterize the customers at this fair as readers and book lovers but not necessarily book collectors (with a few exceptions, of course). What that means is I sold a lot of books, but the books I sold were in the $10-$25 range, books which are usually overlooked at the larger fairs with paid admission. What that also means is that there were many people in attendance who were like me several years ago. That is to say that I heard comments ranging from, "I never knew old books could be so beautiful!" to "Why would anyone pay $100 for an old book?" to (my personal favorite because I said it myself when I "discovered" the world of antiquarian books), "Why didn't I know these type of books existed before today?"

There are a couple of ways booksellers view such potential customers. Some might refer to such book fair attendees as "looky-lou's" because the person looks at the books and perhaps comments that they're lovely but doesn't buy any of them. Another bookseller might call such a customer a "tire-kicker". This usually refers to a book lover who browses the books for sale, takes one off the shelf and then handles the book, often rather, er, exuberantly, perhaps opening it too far or bending pages when turning them. Such a customer usually has little or no experience handling old books. I've seen their book-handling methods make booksellers twitch.

The third way, and the way I think most booksellers assess such book fair visitors, is to see this as an opportunity to expose people to the world of antiquarian books, to book collecting, and to the fun of seeking and finding the perfect book. I was very impressed with the way so many people asked questions about the books -- "How old is this one?" "How do I know if it's a first edition?" "Why is this book considered significant?" "How do I learn to do this?" Before I was a bookseller, I often attended fairs but NEVER asked questions unless I planned to buy a book. I was way too intimidated by either the books' usually high prices or by the sometimes silent manner of the booksellers.

Yep. I was a "looky-lou". I am officially ashamed to say that I did not have the self-confidence to ask questions so I could learn more. Now I still need to learn even more, but I've learned not to be afraid to ask questions. Many booksellers are so happy to have someone to talk to about books that they are thrilled to answer your questions. And if you find a rude seller, might I suggest trying again at another booth? While there are a few who genuinely seem to dislike people, most booksellers love to talk about books and are happy to talk to you at a book fair.

Once I observed that most of the people at this particular fair were not going to be buying rare books, I took the opportunity to explain to them why they might want to do so in the future and why it is so fun to build a collection in any field (not just the "expensive book" field) and how to go about doing so.

By the end of the day, I sold more than half of my book case filled with $10 books and had sales of a few more expensive books. I did make a profit, though smaller than my average for larger fairs, but I also think I may have attracted a few more potential book collectors (maybe even booksellers?) to the trade and that is always a good thing.

I bought a few interesting titles, and I hope to show those to you soon. Buying books and discovering new stock is another of the many benefits of book fairs.

Would you believe that in my rush to leave the house for the fair I forgot my camera? Sorry to say I did. I would have liked to show you pictures of my booth and of the bright, light-filled Hall of Flowers.

I have to run now, but tomorrow I'll tell you about the mysterious customers who asked if they could photograph the books in my booth.

See you in the stacks!