There is so much going on at the NYPL as it celebrates the centennial of its landmark Fifth Avenue building -- exhibits, stack tours, and perhaps the most interesting, today it launched a book, Know The Past, Find The Future (published by Penguin), that contains photographs of over one hundred New York and US notables, including Mayor Michael Bloomberg, actor Stephen Colbert, The Rockettes, John Lithgow, Vampire Weekend, Philip Roth, Jonathan Franzen, and more. (Vampire Weekend?!) Many of the images are accompanied by an essay by that person discussing what manuscript or object they looked at. The book is being distributed FREE on the streets of NYC -- in subway stations, on park benches, at all ninety branch locations. Said Angela Montefinise, the public relations director at the library, "The goal is for the books to be passed on -- someone picks it up, looks at it, leaves it somewhere for someone else to look at it. Sort of a traveling library book."
Attempting to get my hands on a copy, dear reader, and then I can tell you more. In the meantime, check out this hourlong slide-show video of NYPL's featured digital collections.
A rare collection of drawings by the much-loved children's illustrator Edward Ardizzone for Mark Twain's novel The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn has been discovered.
From a piece in the Guardian...
The daughters of the late Anthony Beal, chairman of Heinemann Education and founder of the progressive New Windmill series of books, were clearing out their father's study when they stumbled across the complete set of 37 drawings. First published in 1961, the pen and ink pictures are currently being displayed at the Illustration Cupboard gallery.
"We knew Ardizzone had been a friend of dad's from his publishing days," said Kate Beal. "We came across this folder of amazing illustrations. Dad was a real hoarder and kept everything ... We decided to have this exhibition of the pictures; it's nice because it celebrates dad's work as well."
From a piece in the Guardian...
The daughters of the late Anthony Beal, chairman of Heinemann Education and founder of the progressive New Windmill series of books, were clearing out their father's study when they stumbled across the complete set of 37 drawings. First published in 1961, the pen and ink pictures are currently being displayed at the Illustration Cupboard gallery.
"We knew Ardizzone had been a friend of dad's from his publishing days," said Kate Beal. "We came across this folder of amazing illustrations. Dad was a real hoarder and kept everything ... We decided to have this exhibition of the pictures; it's nice because it celebrates dad's work as well."
Coming up on Thursday of the week, Christie's sale of Printed & Manuscript Americana in NY has some interesting stories to tell. Why? Because the consignors include historical societies. This is considered a controversial action by some. Back in January, the New Jersey Historical Society took some heat for its consignments to Christie's, and yet here it is again, this time with early American imprints.
The NJHS is selling its "very rare" 1775 folio broadsheet, A declaration by the representatives of the United Colonies of North-America, now met in general Congress at Philadelphia... It is one of the few early documents to enumerate "the causes and necessity of taking up arms." NJHS is hoping for $10,000-15,000 for it. NJHS has consigned the folio broadsheet, The Manual Alphabet for the Deaf and Dumb (Hartford, c. 1840), at an estimate of $1,800-2,500. Other early American imprints from NJHS are also on the block.
NJHS is not alone in its need to sell pieces of its collection to pay debt and/or fund future purchases.
How about a fine "exceptionally fresh copy" of the Declaration of Independence, printed in 1833 by Peter Force from W. J. Stone's 1823 plate. Consigned by the The Historical Society of Montgomery County, PA. Its estimate is $15,000-$20,000.
The Brooklyn Historical Society has consigned several lots of autographs. One is a collection of ten American autographs, late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, including Elbridge Gerry and LaFayette. The catalogue notes that this lot will be "sold to benefit the collections fund." They hope to make $2,000-3,000 on it.
The BHS is also selling a Chang and Eng autograph signed letter, for the low estimate of $600-800, a Henry Clay als for $2,000-3,000, and a printed document with John Hancock's John Hancock for $4,500-6,000.
Any readers want to weigh in on this practice?
The NJHS is selling its "very rare" 1775 folio broadsheet, A declaration by the representatives of the United Colonies of North-America, now met in general Congress at Philadelphia... It is one of the few early documents to enumerate "the causes and necessity of taking up arms." NJHS is hoping for $10,000-15,000 for it. NJHS has consigned the folio broadsheet, The Manual Alphabet for the Deaf and Dumb (Hartford, c. 1840), at an estimate of $1,800-2,500. Other early American imprints from NJHS are also on the block.
NJHS is not alone in its need to sell pieces of its collection to pay debt and/or fund future purchases.
How about a fine "exceptionally fresh copy" of the Declaration of Independence, printed in 1833 by Peter Force from W. J. Stone's 1823 plate. Consigned by the The Historical Society of Montgomery County, PA. Its estimate is $15,000-$20,000.
The Brooklyn Historical Society has consigned several lots of autographs. One is a collection of ten American autographs, late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, including Elbridge Gerry and LaFayette. The catalogue notes that this lot will be "sold to benefit the collections fund." They hope to make $2,000-3,000 on it.
The BHS is also selling a Chang and Eng autograph signed letter, for the low estimate of $600-800, a Henry Clay als for $2,000-3,000, and a printed document with John Hancock's John Hancock for $4,500-6,000.
Any readers want to weigh in on this practice?
Catalogue Review: Cattermole Books, No. 49
Children's books are and always will be collectible because, in so many cases, people have fond memories of a particular title from their youth, and so they chase it. There are several booksellers dedicated solely to this area, and one whose catalogue I recently received is Cattermole Books of Newbury, OH. They offer a trip down Memory Lane for readers, and--perhaps best of all--they make them accessible and affordable to all levels of collectors.
This is an important point. I have often wondered how a collection "starts." Do you begin with one high-end book that kick-starts a collection and then surround it with other (less expensive) items from the same author or genre? Or, do you start with a $10 item you picked up somewhere and keeping building until one day you reach the $1000 items? For many folks, the answer is likely the latter. Which is why Cattermole's catalogue is wonderful, with books ranging from $8 to the mid hundreds, it makes book collecting possible for new, young, savvy collectors.
Cattermole has titles from the standard children's favorites: Bemelmans, Carroll, Dahl, Grimm, Lionni, Lobel, McCloskey, Sendak, and Steig. This catalogue showcases a collection of William Mayne, called by the cataloguer, "the best English writer of the 20th century." Debatable, I say. But a copy of the first edition of his 1973 story, The Jersey Shore ($45)--not debatable. There are many more Maynes, most in the $20-$40 range.
It is surprising to see names like Baskin, Asimov, Gaiman, Daniel Pinkwater, Mario Puzo, Isaac Bashevis Singer, and Vonnegut show up in this catalogue, but they do. Some are cross-over authors, some have surprising little children's books up their sleeves. A few Philip Pullman titles, including a first signed copy of The Scarecrow and His Servant ($75), will draw collectors. H.A. Rey's The Stars (also $75), with its rare original dust jacket that unfolds to double size and contains a map of the constellations, sounds quite enticing.
It's nice to see some surprises in this catalogue, even more so when they aren't terribly out of reach.
Children's books are and always will be collectible because, in so many cases, people have fond memories of a particular title from their youth, and so they chase it. There are several booksellers dedicated solely to this area, and one whose catalogue I recently received is Cattermole Books of Newbury, OH. They offer a trip down Memory Lane for readers, and--perhaps best of all--they make them accessible and affordable to all levels of collectors.
This is an important point. I have often wondered how a collection "starts." Do you begin with one high-end book that kick-starts a collection and then surround it with other (less expensive) items from the same author or genre? Or, do you start with a $10 item you picked up somewhere and keeping building until one day you reach the $1000 items? For many folks, the answer is likely the latter. Which is why Cattermole's catalogue is wonderful, with books ranging from $8 to the mid hundreds, it makes book collecting possible for new, young, savvy collectors.
Cattermole has titles from the standard children's favorites: Bemelmans, Carroll, Dahl, Grimm, Lionni, Lobel, McCloskey, Sendak, and Steig. This catalogue showcases a collection of William Mayne, called by the cataloguer, "the best English writer of the 20th century." Debatable, I say. But a copy of the first edition of his 1973 story, The Jersey Shore ($45)--not debatable. There are many more Maynes, most in the $20-$40 range.
It is surprising to see names like Baskin, Asimov, Gaiman, Daniel Pinkwater, Mario Puzo, Isaac Bashevis Singer, and Vonnegut show up in this catalogue, but they do. Some are cross-over authors, some have surprising little children's books up their sleeves. A few Philip Pullman titles, including a first signed copy of The Scarecrow and His Servant ($75), will draw collectors. H.A. Rey's The Stars (also $75), with its rare original dust jacket that unfolds to double size and contains a map of the constellations, sounds quite enticing.
It's nice to see some surprises in this catalogue, even more so when they aren't terribly out of reach.
Recollections of a Providential Bibliohaven
Guest Blog by FB&C reader, Martin J. Murphy of Richmond, Virginia
Nick Mamatas' recent article in Fine Books Magazine about H.P. Lovecraft and Providence, Rhode Island, struck many chords with me. Both the city and the writer figure prominently in my life as a reader, book collector, and incurable biblioromantic.
While I was a student at Brown University in the early 1970's, I shared Lovecraft's fascination with the peculiar character of College Hill, which remains today a remarkable time capsule of New England architecture and ambience, spanning three centuries. I was introduced to his writing while I was there, and promptly fused his atmospheric storytelling with my own experiences of that singular, mysterious, and slightly haunted neighborhood. Lovecraft loved the character of old Providence and wove it deeply into his stories, where detailed descriptions of the neighborhood streets, buildings, odors, and atmosphere run throughout. That, in turn, allows one to walk those streets, still very much as described in tales such as "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward", and pass directly into the stories themselves. Strolling along Benefit Street on a moonlit night is engaging enough; gazing up at The Shunned House at midnight, imagining its dark and sepulchral cellar secrets, bumps the experience up to a whole new level.
Providence has further claims to a bookishly gothic character, having briefly been host to Edgar Allen Poe. Local lore says that Poe courted poet Sarah Whitman in amongst the headstones of St John's Church, just below Benefit Street, next door to Sarah's family home. True or not, that legend has been enough to make the graveyard a regular haunt for like-minded readers of Lovecraft and Poe such as myself. (It is perhaps not altogether unfitting that the very first poem I memorized - in fourth grade - was "The Raven".)
Poe also pursued his courtship of Mrs Whitman within the august environs of the Providence Atheneum. One can hear the librarian now: "Mr Poe! Either the whispering stops or I'm going to have to ask you and Mrs Whitman to leave!"
During my college days there was a used bookstore in Providence called Dana's Old Corner Bookshop, downtown in an old commercial building, that had been in business for several decades. The shop was on the ground floor of the building, entered from street level down a few steps. It wasn't very big but had an eclectic collection including volumes that, for me at the time, were very old and arcane. That stoked my nascent book collecting instincts and I became a regular visitor.
One day a nineteenth century set of DeQuincey's Works appeared in the shop - ten volumes bound in old half calf. It was fifteen dollars - almost a week's rent. I had to have it, even though the pages were marred by a tide mark of waterstaining along the bottom. The proprietor (I've forgotten her name, but not her kindness) apologized for the waterstain and explained: the set had been in the shop, up on a high shelf, when the great hurricane of 1938 flooded downtown Providence. It escaped, but just barely, as the floodwaters lapped at its bottom edges. The surviving stock had then been moved up to a storeroom on an upper floor, where the DeQuincey dried out and then rested quietly for nearly forty years before returning to the downstairs shop. Such were those days, when a bookseller's inventory moved at a more leisurely pace.
The next time I was in the shop the proprietor mentioned that periodically she went up to the storeroom to replenish the stock in the shop and asked: Would I like to go up and look at it? "Absolutely!", although I expected to find only a closet with a few boxes of books. We went up in an old iron cage elevator, she unlocked an innocuous-looking door in a dusty hallway and ushered me into ... an enormous warehouse-like room filled with thousands of books, all neatly categorized and shelved, just as in an open bookstore. My jaw dropped at the sight - for me it was like stumbling into King Tut's tomb, or Ali Baba's cave. Although my memory fades, it seems to me that there must have been several times as many books up there as were in the actual shop. How many customers, I wondered, had any clue of this? I felt genuinely privileged. Off the main storeroom was a smaller room, filled with antiquarian books from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the likes of which I had never before seen. I bought one of them, a 1621 edition of Plautus, for what was then the cost of two weeks' groceries. (I don't imagine I went hungry afterwards, but the extravagance probably led to a long stretch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner.)
In a conversation once with a distinguished rare book dealer I mentioned that I was thinking of selling those earliest antiquarian acquisitions, as they weren't particularly good copies of especially great books, and he said: No, you should keep your first rare books - they're worth more to you than anyone else. So I still have DeQuincey and Plautus. The groceries I would have eaten. (It is told of the essayist Thomas Young that one time his wife sent him out with money to buy a goose for dinner; he returned home with a book instead. In reply to her remonstrations he said that by tomorrow the goose would have been gone, but they will have the book forever.)
I saw that upstairs storeroom only one time, leaving Providence soon thereafter, so my lingering impression is vague and insubstantial, but the general feeling of a great, silent chamber of sleeping books remains. Sadly, the building housing Dana's burned just a few years later and the bookstore, with nearly all of its stock, was destroyed. Ironically, the books in the ground floor shop itself didn't burn, but were lost to water damage, once again. As for the storeroom upstairs, no mention is made of it in accounts of the fire. I wonder how many other customers might have been invited up to browse through that hidden trove before it disappeared in flames?
Many of Lovecraft's stories involve shuttered rooms, hidden labyrinths, and mysterious inner sanctums harboring unexpected things that are lost in some cataclysmic event before their secrets can be revealed, so it is perhaps fitting that in 1945 Dana's acquired H.P. Lovecraft's personal library, some of which might still have been tucked away in that sequestered loft when fire consumed its contents. (Incidentally, word that the collection was for sale attracted two men - Donald Grant and Thomas Hadley - whose chance meeting in the bookstore led to the founding of a small publishing house for Lovecraftian science fiction titles. That won't happen at the ABEbooks website.)
Fire and rain - twin enemies of books, and probably among the forces driving open bookshops to extinction. Internet shopping is great - it's convenient, effortless, and efficient, provided you already know what you're looking for. But no Internet experience will ever even remotely approximate that serendipitous moment of dumbstruck awe as I entered a hidden bibliohaven high above the streets of Providence and wandered among its ancient bookcases, lit by dusty beams of late-afternoon sunlight, unknown to the outside world. Sometimes I wonder if I just dreamed it all.
Providence hands you these stories without your asking, which is one of the things I love about the city.
Many thanks to Martin for this wonderful essay, a perfect complement to our Lovecraftmania this month!
Guest Blog by FB&C reader, Martin J. Murphy of Richmond, Virginia
Nick Mamatas' recent article in Fine Books Magazine about H.P. Lovecraft and Providence, Rhode Island, struck many chords with me. Both the city and the writer figure prominently in my life as a reader, book collector, and incurable biblioromantic.
While I was a student at Brown University in the early 1970's, I shared Lovecraft's fascination with the peculiar character of College Hill, which remains today a remarkable time capsule of New England architecture and ambience, spanning three centuries. I was introduced to his writing while I was there, and promptly fused his atmospheric storytelling with my own experiences of that singular, mysterious, and slightly haunted neighborhood. Lovecraft loved the character of old Providence and wove it deeply into his stories, where detailed descriptions of the neighborhood streets, buildings, odors, and atmosphere run throughout. That, in turn, allows one to walk those streets, still very much as described in tales such as "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward", and pass directly into the stories themselves. Strolling along Benefit Street on a moonlit night is engaging enough; gazing up at The Shunned House at midnight, imagining its dark and sepulchral cellar secrets, bumps the experience up to a whole new level.
Providence has further claims to a bookishly gothic character, having briefly been host to Edgar Allen Poe. Local lore says that Poe courted poet Sarah Whitman in amongst the headstones of St John's Church, just below Benefit Street, next door to Sarah's family home. True or not, that legend has been enough to make the graveyard a regular haunt for like-minded readers of Lovecraft and Poe such as myself. (It is perhaps not altogether unfitting that the very first poem I memorized - in fourth grade - was "The Raven".)
Poe also pursued his courtship of Mrs Whitman within the august environs of the Providence Atheneum. One can hear the librarian now: "Mr Poe! Either the whispering stops or I'm going to have to ask you and Mrs Whitman to leave!"
During my college days there was a used bookstore in Providence called Dana's Old Corner Bookshop, downtown in an old commercial building, that had been in business for several decades. The shop was on the ground floor of the building, entered from street level down a few steps. It wasn't very big but had an eclectic collection including volumes that, for me at the time, were very old and arcane. That stoked my nascent book collecting instincts and I became a regular visitor.
One day a nineteenth century set of DeQuincey's Works appeared in the shop - ten volumes bound in old half calf. It was fifteen dollars - almost a week's rent. I had to have it, even though the pages were marred by a tide mark of waterstaining along the bottom. The proprietor (I've forgotten her name, but not her kindness) apologized for the waterstain and explained: the set had been in the shop, up on a high shelf, when the great hurricane of 1938 flooded downtown Providence. It escaped, but just barely, as the floodwaters lapped at its bottom edges. The surviving stock had then been moved up to a storeroom on an upper floor, where the DeQuincey dried out and then rested quietly for nearly forty years before returning to the downstairs shop. Such were those days, when a bookseller's inventory moved at a more leisurely pace.
The next time I was in the shop the proprietor mentioned that periodically she went up to the storeroom to replenish the stock in the shop and asked: Would I like to go up and look at it? "Absolutely!", although I expected to find only a closet with a few boxes of books. We went up in an old iron cage elevator, she unlocked an innocuous-looking door in a dusty hallway and ushered me into ... an enormous warehouse-like room filled with thousands of books, all neatly categorized and shelved, just as in an open bookstore. My jaw dropped at the sight - for me it was like stumbling into King Tut's tomb, or Ali Baba's cave. Although my memory fades, it seems to me that there must have been several times as many books up there as were in the actual shop. How many customers, I wondered, had any clue of this? I felt genuinely privileged. Off the main storeroom was a smaller room, filled with antiquarian books from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the likes of which I had never before seen. I bought one of them, a 1621 edition of Plautus, for what was then the cost of two weeks' groceries. (I don't imagine I went hungry afterwards, but the extravagance probably led to a long stretch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner.)
In a conversation once with a distinguished rare book dealer I mentioned that I was thinking of selling those earliest antiquarian acquisitions, as they weren't particularly good copies of especially great books, and he said: No, you should keep your first rare books - they're worth more to you than anyone else. So I still have DeQuincey and Plautus. The groceries I would have eaten. (It is told of the essayist Thomas Young that one time his wife sent him out with money to buy a goose for dinner; he returned home with a book instead. In reply to her remonstrations he said that by tomorrow the goose would have been gone, but they will have the book forever.)
I saw that upstairs storeroom only one time, leaving Providence soon thereafter, so my lingering impression is vague and insubstantial, but the general feeling of a great, silent chamber of sleeping books remains. Sadly, the building housing Dana's burned just a few years later and the bookstore, with nearly all of its stock, was destroyed. Ironically, the books in the ground floor shop itself didn't burn, but were lost to water damage, once again. As for the storeroom upstairs, no mention is made of it in accounts of the fire. I wonder how many other customers might have been invited up to browse through that hidden trove before it disappeared in flames?
Many of Lovecraft's stories involve shuttered rooms, hidden labyrinths, and mysterious inner sanctums harboring unexpected things that are lost in some cataclysmic event before their secrets can be revealed, so it is perhaps fitting that in 1945 Dana's acquired H.P. Lovecraft's personal library, some of which might still have been tucked away in that sequestered loft when fire consumed its contents. (Incidentally, word that the collection was for sale attracted two men - Donald Grant and Thomas Hadley - whose chance meeting in the bookstore led to the founding of a small publishing house for Lovecraftian science fiction titles. That won't happen at the ABEbooks website.)
Fire and rain - twin enemies of books, and probably among the forces driving open bookshops to extinction. Internet shopping is great - it's convenient, effortless, and efficient, provided you already know what you're looking for. But no Internet experience will ever even remotely approximate that serendipitous moment of dumbstruck awe as I entered a hidden bibliohaven high above the streets of Providence and wandered among its ancient bookcases, lit by dusty beams of late-afternoon sunlight, unknown to the outside world. Sometimes I wonder if I just dreamed it all.
Providence hands you these stories without your asking, which is one of the things I love about the city.
Many thanks to Martin for this wonderful essay, a perfect complement to our Lovecraftmania this month!
Have you read this month's feature story on H.P. Lovecraft and his beloved city of Providence, Rhode Island? Up until I read it a few months ago, when a freelancer pitched it to me, I didn't know much of anything about Lovecraft. Then I visited the book fairs in New York and saw his name pop up in half a dozen places. Funny how that happens.
For those of you interested in antiquarian Lovecraft material, two great booksellers to start with are those whose material was featured in our article. L.W. Currey, Inc. of Elizabethtown, NY, provided the image of The Shadow Over Innsmouth, and he has so much more available in his shop. Bloody Rare Books of Exeter, NH, allowed us to use an image of their copy of "The Shunned House." They too have much more Lovecraft on hand.
For those of you interested in antiquarian Lovecraft material, two great booksellers to start with are those whose material was featured in our article. L.W. Currey, Inc. of Elizabethtown, NY, provided the image of The Shadow Over Innsmouth, and he has so much more available in his shop. Bloody Rare Books of Exeter, NH, allowed us to use an image of their copy of "The Shunned House." They too have much more Lovecraft on hand.
Guest Blog by Catherine Batac Walder, a FB&C reader, "cured bookaholic," and blogger who has a question for booksellers and book collectors about ex-library copies.
- Sotheby's London will sell Travel, Atlases, Maps & Natural History titles in 210 lots on 10 May, including a Paolo Forlani world map (1570), estimated at £100,000-150,000; a first edition of Purchas his Pilgrimes (1625-6), estimated at £60,000-80,000; an archive ofembroidery templates and artwork from the workshop of Egypt's Dar al-Kiswah, estimated at £60,000-80,000; and a first edition of John Gould's Birds of Europe (1832-1837), estimated at £45,000-60,000.
- The fourth part of the collection of Michel Wittock will be sold at Christie's Paris on 11 May, in 80 lots. Watch for a full writeup of this in the summer Fine Books & Collections. The top-rated item in this sale, but a wide margin, is a fantastic copy of Description de l'?gypte ou Recueil des observations et des recherches qui ont été faites en Egypte pendant l'expédition de l'armée française (1817-1830), in 22 volumes and with its own wooden storage/display case. The copy was previously owned by Jean-Joseph Courvoisier, Justice minister to Charles X. It's estimated at EUR 500,000-700,000. Some other fine bindings and artist books are included in this sale. I
- Also at Christie's Paris on 11 May, 238 lots of Importants Livres Anciens, Livres d'Artistes, et Manuscrits. Some important John Gould titles are among the top-estimated lots: a Birds of Australia (1840-1869), estimated at EUR 120,000-180,000; A Monograph of the Trochilidae(1880-1887), estimated at EUR 100,000-150,000; and Birds of Asia (1850-1883), estimated at EUR 80,000-100,000. Other key illustrated natural history books are included, as well as a fair number of interesting incunables.
- Swann will sell Literature; Art, Press & Illustrated Books on 12 May, in 479 lots. A numbered copy of Dalí's Die Göttliche Komödie (1974) is estimated at $7,000-10,000; a copy of the Vincent FitzGerald edition of Joyce's Epiphanies with Susan Weil and Marjorie Van Dyke rates an $8,000-10,000 estimate.
- At Bloomsbury London on 12 May, Continental & English Literature and Manuscripts, in 532 lots.
- At Sotheby's Paris on 18 May, Books and Manuscripts, in 107 lots. A collection of Robespierre papers rates the top estimate, at EUR 200,000-300,000. A first edition of Andy Warhol's 1¢ Life (1964) is estimated at EUR 100,000-150,000, and a typescript copy of Le Petit Prince(1943) could fetch EUR 40,000-60,000.
- Christie's New York will sell Printed & Manuscript Americana on 19 May, in 210 lots. The top-estimated lot is a very cool one, a copy of the first edition of the first publication relating to New Netherland (Breeden-Raedt aende Vereenichde Nederlandsche Provintien. Antwerp: Francoys van Duynen, 1649.) No copy has sold at auction since the Streeter Sale in 1967, and this one is estimated at $70,000-100,000. Among the other goodies in this sale are a copy of Peter Force's 1833 printing of the Declaration of Independence, estimated at $15,000-20,000. Also on the block will be a copy of Dryden and Lee's Oedipus (1735), from the library of Benjamin Franklin (estimated at $12,000-18,000).
- Also on 19 May, PBA Galleries will sell Americana, Maps and Atlases, in 376 lots. The top lot is an extensive archive of letters and clippings related to Sanford B. Dole and his family, estimated at $10,000-15,000.
- Sotheby's New York will host the third round of sales from the James S. Copley Library on 20 May. I've previewed this sale here.
Catalogue Review: Oak Knoll Books: 296, Books about Books, Bibliography, and Non Books about Books
If you know only one name in the books-about-books world, it's Oak Knoll. The first bookseller catalogues I ever requested and received were Oak Knoll catalogues, a dozen or so years ago. I was just then becoming interested in publishing history, buying a few publishers' histories here and there, when I found out about Oak Knoll. They stock books on printing, binding, illustration, papermaking, bookplates, type specimens, bookselling, etc. Then and now, it is the bookseller for the book collector's reference shelf.
The newest catalogue pointed out to me what is missing from my own shelves. Let's start with Dibdin's The Bibliomania; or Book-Madness; a Bibliographical Romance ($350). A later edition of the classic, but so says the catalogue, "The best edition to buy for those who want to read the full text of this book." Yes, please.
Book Collecting, A Modern Guide from 1977 ($100) looks interesting. It contains twelve essays by well-known book people. This one was owned by contributor Susan Otis Thompson, and many of the chapters have been signed or inscribed by the other essayists.
How I would have loved to get my hands on this four-volume set of Tebbel's History of Book Publishing in the United States ($550) when I was in grad school. Still would, in fact. It could use some updating as a reference, but there is lots of history here.
The type specimen books also caught my eye, particularly the Specimen Book of Nineteenth-Century Printing Types, Borders, Ornaments & Cuts In The Collection of Bowne & Co., Stationers ($125). Bowne & Co. is a gem of a letterpress printer in downtown Manhattan. This book, published in 1985, is limited to 300 copies.
Any collector or bibliophile would do well to have the History of the Book in America series published by Cambridge University Press (and later by UNC Press) between 2000-2010. Oak Knoll has volume one: The Colonial Book in the Atlantic World ($100). Luckily I already have that one.
Oak Knoll also has generous handfuls of private press books, by Bird & Bull, Limited Editions Club, Derrydale Press, and others.
So if these appeal to your collecting interests, take a look at Oak Knoll's catalogues (antiquarian or publishing) online or visit their shop in New Castle, Delaware.
If you know only one name in the books-about-books world, it's Oak Knoll. The first bookseller catalogues I ever requested and received were Oak Knoll catalogues, a dozen or so years ago. I was just then becoming interested in publishing history, buying a few publishers' histories here and there, when I found out about Oak Knoll. They stock books on printing, binding, illustration, papermaking, bookplates, type specimens, bookselling, etc. Then and now, it is the bookseller for the book collector's reference shelf. The newest catalogue pointed out to me what is missing from my own shelves. Let's start with Dibdin's The Bibliomania; or Book-Madness; a Bibliographical Romance ($350). A later edition of the classic, but so says the catalogue, "The best edition to buy for those who want to read the full text of this book." Yes, please.
Book Collecting, A Modern Guide from 1977 ($100) looks interesting. It contains twelve essays by well-known book people. This one was owned by contributor Susan Otis Thompson, and many of the chapters have been signed or inscribed by the other essayists.
How I would have loved to get my hands on this four-volume set of Tebbel's History of Book Publishing in the United States ($550) when I was in grad school. Still would, in fact. It could use some updating as a reference, but there is lots of history here.
The type specimen books also caught my eye, particularly the Specimen Book of Nineteenth-Century Printing Types, Borders, Ornaments & Cuts In The Collection of Bowne & Co., Stationers ($125). Bowne & Co. is a gem of a letterpress printer in downtown Manhattan. This book, published in 1985, is limited to 300 copies.
Any collector or bibliophile would do well to have the History of the Book in America series published by Cambridge University Press (and later by UNC Press) between 2000-2010. Oak Knoll has volume one: The Colonial Book in the Atlantic World ($100). Luckily I already have that one.
Oak Knoll also has generous handfuls of private press books, by Bird & Bull, Limited Editions Club, Derrydale Press, and others.
So if these appeal to your collecting interests, take a look at Oak Knoll's catalogues (antiquarian or publishing) online or visit their shop in New Castle, Delaware.
