For our Valentine's Day special, I'm sending you off to the blog of Joel Kimmel, a Canadian illustrator who runs Papillon Press. His essay, "My Illustrated Book Marriage Proposal," relates how he re-purposed an 1883 Collier's Cyclopedia into what has to be the most romantic proposal ever.

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Kimmel writes: "For the final touch to the book I decided to cut a hole inside to hide the ring. When the story ends there is one final illustration with a fold up flap that opens to reveal the ring hidden inside (that's my cue to propose). I cut down about an inch into the book after gluing the pages together with an acrylic painting medium. It worked perfectly and from the side you'd never know there was a ring hidden inside."
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!


With President's Day fast approaching here in the United States, it's no wonder that old George is popping up at auction this week. Yesterday, Arts and the Antiques reported on a fascinating, record-breaking auction of what is believed to be Washington's personal copy of the map of the Battle of Yorktown. Jim Julia of James D. Julia Auctioneers in Fairfield, Maine, said of it, "This is the most exciting thing I have ever handled."

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A larger copy of the map exists at the National Archives and was always thought to be Washington's, however, now that this smaller version has come to light, it is assumed that the pocket-sized map was Washington's, while the larger was sent back to the Congress. The small map, which brought in $1 million (without premium), was owned by the family of Tobias Lear, Washington's aide-de-camp.

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Heritage Auctions is currently offering (sale 6038, lot 37023) this scarce G. Washington bookplate (now hinged at top of the verso to a mat). Many forgeries and re-strikes have fooled collectors looking for original Washington bookplates, but this is the real deal. Starting bid is $1,500; estimate is $3,000. Absentee bidding ends today at 10:00 p.m. CT. 

Thanks to Jeffrey Murray and Stephen J. Gertz/Book Patrol for the presidential tips.

 

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As if independent bookshop owners aren't getting run over by enough trains already, a planned light rail line may spell the end of the line for Thomas Stransky in St. Paul, Minn. 

"We'll probably have to go out of business," Stransky says from behind the cash register of Midway Used & Rare Books on University Avenue, where a series of recent developments make it all the more likely construction will eventually start on a transportation project aimed at moving commuters between downtown St. Paul and its twin city Minneapolis on the other side of the Mississippi River. Stransky and an array of light rail opponents ranging from civil rights activists to government waste watchdog groups see the Central Corridor Light Rail Transit Project as a some $1 billion government boondoggle aimed at wasting taxpayer dollars and closing the book on local businesses.

To borrow a sentiment of a previous president, I can't help but feel Stransky's pain. I've seen plenty of mom-and-pop shops get pummeled by government transportation projects that claim to alleviate congestion and improve quality of life -- only to make both worse. 

I visited Midway Used & Rare Books during a trip to Minnesota in January. I was drawn in not only by the words "rare books" on his sign but words of protest written on his shop's windows. How often do you see a storefront that raises the question, "Who is John Galt?" 

I was also attracted to the store by the supply of on-street parking. I won't often make the effort to patronize a store if I can't park there. Not even a rare book store. I tend to buy heavy books or sets of books that are too bulky to lug around. 

Stransky knows I'm not alone. 

He is one of the business owners who has fought the project for more than two decades. If the Metropolitan Council gets its way, and it appears that's likely, the regional transit and planning agency will complete its $135 million-per-mile project by 2014. The Metropolitan Council will permanently eliminate all on-street parking and, if history around the country is a gauge, traffic will be a nightmare during the years of construction.

"It's tough to get people to walk anywhere in a Minnesota winter," Stransky says. "They're not going to walk from a transit station to get here. People aren't going to stop here when they drive by during construction, either. Traffic is going to be horrendous. They're just going to want to get home and they're not going to stop at a bookstore." 

The project continues to face strong opposition from people who will be hurt by the light rail project. Minnesota Public Radio is the latest entity to file a lawsuit against the project. Meanwhile, a coalition of civil rights activists, business owners and Rondo neighborhood residents have also filed a lawsuit to stop the project in its tracks. Stransky wishes them well and plans to do what he can to stop the light rail line from destroying his business. 

"I'll also keep putting up signs as close to obscene as I can," the frustrated entrepreneur says.

His feisty side turns to sadness when he reflects on the blow the Central Corridor will deliver to book lovers.

"A lot of customers tell us they remember coming here as a kid," he says. "They say, 'You brought the world of books to us.' They tell us that we show them there's something besides the Internet and chain stores. They find surprises here. Serendipity. You never know what you're going to find each time you walk in. That's the essence of what we bring to the community."



We're running a fun little contest on our Facebook page, so be sure to pop by and check it out. If you're not already one of our "fans" on Facebook, come on over!
Well, we've had some pretty interesting responses to my open request earlier this week for movies that have had something to do with paper, the only stipulation being that they have some basis in fact. For those who need to be brought up to speed on what's going on, here's the link to my column. I will present the films in the order that they arrived.

I heard first from Pradeep Sebastian, a literary columnist in India, who offered the following dozen--count 'em, twelve--first-rate suggestions:

The Hoax (2006), a film about Clifford Irving, and the fake Howard Hughes biography; F For Fake (1974), written, directed, and starring Orson Welles, and based in part on the forgeries of Irving, and others, and available in DVD; Selling Hitler (1991) a made for TV movie based on Robert Harris' book about the faking of a Hitler diary; The Last Station (2009), about Leo Tolstoy's manuscripts and will, and recipient this week of an Academy Award nomination for Christopher Plummer for best actor. Also from Sebastian: Creation (2009), a dramatization of the life of Charles Darwin, featuring his diaries and notebooks as he developed his theory of evolution; Sylvia (2003), starring Gwyneth Paltrow as the tortured poet Sylvia Plath, seen often scribbling in notebooks, tearing up and burning pages; Naked Lunch (1991) William Burroughs, hallucinating over a clattering typewriter, with reams and reams of paper around him; Factotum (2005, based on the life of the hard-living, hard-drinking poet Charles Bukowski; Shattered Glass (2003), based on the fabrications of writer Stephen Glass, published unwittingly in The New Republic; and The Whole Wide World (1995), about pulp fiction writer Robert E.Howard, and the writing of Conan the Barbarian.

As a bonus, Sebastian offered a pair of documentaries: BookWars (2000), about New York City pavement book sellers, and Paperback Dreams (2008), profiling the struggle to survive among independent bookstores.

Arriving about a half-hour after that dazzling list came a terrific suggestion from Benjamin L. Clark in Oklahoma--he has a pretty nifty book blog of his own called exilebibliophile, which I highly recommend--to wit:

Cimarron (1931), winner of six Academy Awards, including Best Picture, based on a novel by Edna Ferber (and winner of a Pulitzer Prize in 1929), which was partly inspired by the life of T.B. Ferguson, a cursading Oklahoma newspaper editor, and his wife, Elva.

Next came an email from Eleni Collins, an assistant editor for the Martha's Vineyard Times, who wondered if a couple of movies based on outstanding children's books, Harriet the Spy (1996) and The Mixed Up Files of Ms. Basil E. Frankweiler (1968), might not create a category in their own right. I love the idea--maybe we can do that next (think Maurice Sendak and Where the Wild Things Are)--but more on point for this particular exercise was her third suggestion, Between the Folds (2009), a television documentary about the world-wide mania for origami that aired in December on PBS, and has just been released in DVD.

A suggestion from reader Mike Gindling advised that a key scene in his favorite movie, Lawrence of Arabia (1962), has Lawrence writing out an IOU to a shiek in return for help in the taking of an important city. I like that--an IOU is an example of a piece of paper whose value is only as good as the word of the person who gives it.

Just this morning, Joe Fay, manager of rare books at Heritage Auction Galleries in Dallas, offered these beauties:

The Whole Wide World (1996) starring Renee Zellweger and Vincent D'Onofrio, a biographical account of the relationship between pulp fiction writer Robert E. Howard and Novalyne Price Ellis; Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998), based on the life of Gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson; The Rum Diary, to be released this year, also inspired by life and career of Thompson.

Fay mentioned a 1988 mini-series starring Stacey Keach as Ernest Hemingway, titled Hemingway, and cited one documentary in particular as outstanding, Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown  (2008), about the science fiction writer H. P. Lovecraft.

Finally, from daughter Nicole, who is weathering out the blizzard in Washington, D.C., a news flash about the release of a documentary with the improbable title of Miracle Banana, a Japanese film with English subtitles, "based on an actual project to make paper from banana trees in Haiti." To prove that this was no joke, she furnished this link.

Honestly, I am lost for words (that never happens with me).  But I do thank one and all for these fabulous films. I promise you, they will be used.
To celebrate the publication of The Folio Society's new edition of The Canterbury Tales, with illustrations by Eric Gill, the company posted a podcast that features UK stage and screen actor Simon Callow reading from the deluxe edition. Limited to 1,980 copies and bound in Nigerian goatskin, this edition is a facsimile of the The Golden Cockerel Press edition of 1929-1931 (an original is on the market at Maggs for about $10,000). Fun Friday viewing!



New York Times today has a nice profile of National Enquirer editor Barry Levin and his exceptional Ernest Hemingway collection:
 
Mr. Levine's collection includes bullfighting programs Hemingway used for his research, check stubs for routine things like car repairs, and letters by Mary Hemingway, the author's widow. Among those: a carbon copy of a typed note to the sheriff in Ketchum, Idaho, where Hemingway committed suicide in 1961, asking that the shotgun he used be returned.
It's a nice look at the creative approach smart book buyers use to assemble their collections. My one quibble is this line:
 
Glenn Horowitz, a rare-book dealer and friend of Mr. Levine's, said that while Mr. Levine lacks the 'deep Champagne pockets' of some collectors, his reportorial skills have helped him identify interesting items to put together an 'imaginative, elastic collection,' one in which each piece offers a little anecdote -- and some work together to tell a story.
The article bears out the second half of that statement very well. But the first -- that Levine lacks "deep Champagne pockets" -- may be tough for collectors on more modest budgets to swallow, especially when the article describes how Levine once "spent several thousand dollars at a Christie's auction on another first edition of 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' -- this one a brilliant copy that Hemingway signed and that includes the author's calling card." 

While it's true that such judgements are relative, in a small way the piece perpetuates the sometimes popular myth that book collecting is an activity only for the wealthy. I would love to see the Times profile a collection that was truly put together without the help of "deep Champagne pockets." There are plenty out there.
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Here's a blast from the past: Back when Fine Books was called O.P. (short for out of print), we did a story about Lotte Jacobi, a German expatriate photographer who made a living after the Second World War taking author photos for the publishers in New York. One day in 1950, a 31-year-old writer about to have his first book published showed up in her studio. She took about 20 shots of him and moved on to other work. One of the photos ended up on the back of the dust jacket of Catcher in the Rye, a novel that turned into the surprise literary sensation of the year. Within a few months, the author, J. D. Salinger, asked that the picture to be removed, and no author portrait has appeared on any of his books since.

Back in 2004, following a tip that all the photographs from Jacobi's Salinger photo-shoot were at the University of New Hampshire, we obtained sixteen unpublished photographs and permission to publish some of them for what we believe was the first time. We ran eight images in the March/April 2004 issue of OP. I wanted to put one on the cover, but given Salinger's notoriously litigious nature and our meager finances, I chickened out.

While Jacobi never managed to capture Salinger with more than a half-smile, the unpublished photos are much looser than the published version, though the author never looks quite comfortable. One can imagine his disaffected literary creation, Holden Caulfield, whispering in his ear, "What a phony," while Salinger tries to strike a suave 1950s pose.

Scott Brown


Perhaps given both J.D. Salinger's reclusiveness and his refusal to publish any new work for the last forty-plus years (not to mention his long life - he was 91), the announcement of his death last week seemed to me to have been greeted with more of a whimper than the bang one might expect for a writer of his stature and importance. But he'd essentially been dead to his readers since before many were even initially exposed to his writing. Indeed ironically, his death again raised questions of the publication of posthumous Salinger books, and one could detect in some of the coverage a hope that his passing might mean new Salinger works could finally be given a life of their own.

As a rare book dealer, however, I'm much more curious to see what effect Salinger's death will have on the market for signed material (books, letters, manuscripts, etc.). Specifically, I'm very interested to see how common/uncommon signed books become. It's been pretty clear for many years that Salinger maintained a fairly extensive correspondence most of his life (for just one hint of this, read Lillian Ross' lovely remembrance of her life-long friendship with JDS). That these materials have been relatively uncommon in the marketplace (though hardly as rare as most people imagine) has -- in my opinion -- been a reflection less of their true scarcity and much more of the loyalty (or fear) of those he was in contact with. It has long been rumored (unsurprisingly) that Salinger would cut off contact with those who spoke publicly about their friendships with him. I suspect his death will free at least some of these correspondents to part with Salinger material they've been sitting on (for example, like this). In other words, my guess is that Salinger letters and notes will become much more obtainable over the coming years. 

But the bigger question for me is that of signed books. My second-hand observations of this corner of the Salinger market is that there have been far fewer signed books (at least ones with solid provenance) available in the trade than other signed Salinger material. And prices seem to bear this out. While a JDS letter or note might be had for four figures, I can remember only one or two signed books that could be had for less that five figures. And if Salinger letters become increasingly available over the coming years, this discrepancy will only grow. 

Why would Salinger books remain so scarce even after his death? First and most obviously is that his reclusiveness provided little opportunity for his books to be signed. But even among those who came in contact with Salinger, my impression is that he was genuinely reticent (if not downright hostile) to sign his books - even in the years before his self-imposed "exile." Did he sign books to his friends that -- like his letters -- might worm their way onto the market in the coming years? Only time will tell. But my guess is that getting a signed book by Salinger will remain a tough and very expensive proposition, while laying one's hands on a signed letter or note will become somewhat easier and moderately less expensive. It will be fascinating to see how this market develops.

I'll close with a small story to illustrate my point. A few years ago, I was in a home purchasing a small collection of books. The shelves were filled with mostly academic texts, but when I looked up at a bookshelf in the living room, I saw a neat row of all of Salinger's books - all beautifully preserved.

"May I look at those?" I asked.

"Go ahead," the owner said, "but they're not first editions, they're just what we bought when the books came out."

"Actually, these are first editions - all of them."

"Are they? Well I only bought them because I grew up in the same building as Jerry [Salinger]. His mother used to babysit me. And once when he was in high school or so, Jerry watched me for an afternoon and took me on a walk around New York."

"Really!?"

"Yes. In fact I have some photos of Salinger as a boy around here somewhere...And some letters from his mother to me."

"Wow. I'd love to see those. Have you ever thought about selling them?"

"Oh no," she replied. "I couldn't do that. Now I haven't seen him in decades, but I don't think Jerry would like that at all. No, he wouldn't like that."

Hmm. Remembering this story now, thinking maybe I should give her a call...