Category: Books

In Praise of Second-Hand Books

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   The Rotary Club is holding its annual second-hand book sale, 27,000 volumes are up for grabs, and I am a bit grumpy today because I’m missing it.   A snowstorm descended upon us about the same time the venue opened at 8:30 and as every book lover knows, the best ones go fast.  Normally I’m content to stay inside on such a blustery day, but I’m regretting the bargains I am surely missing, at one or two dollars a book.   But no use crying over lost volumes.   I have resigned myself to going on Sunday, when the remainders are five dollars a bag, but the selection poorer.   Last year I went both Friday and Sunday – the stuff-a-bag day was to stock up on travel/photography/coffee-table books for my mother, the artist AMc, to use for inspiration for her paintings now that she is too old to travel.  (She has an extensive collection of over-sized volumes of Canadian scenery if anyone wants to know what Canada looks like).   We also have a second-hand book store in town, but the hours are erratic and the prices higher, nor have I had much luck with garage sale castoffs, which tend to be mostly romance or paperbacks or both.    Admittedly book sales are always hit and miss, but other people’s discards can turn out to be treasures.   

                 The beauty of book sales is you never know what you might find.  Last year’s haul included a Loonyspoons Low Fat cookbook, (which I had always wanted but have not used),  a medical manual of Cardiopulmonary Emergencies, (my dysfunctional heart valve will need repairing some day and I might want more info than WebMd can provide, also not opened),  a thesaurus, (somewhat obsolete but the online version has limitations), a slim volume of pioneer Christmas stories with a pretty cover and a red ribbon, (because I’m a sucker for a book with a ribbon), two novels, The Lake House by Kate Morton (already read but might re-gift, I like to share good books), and Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand (not read, but I enjoyed her latest), Victoria – A Shop of One’s Own, (I collect old Victoria books as well as the decorating magazines),  a calendar day-book of art by Maud Lewis, 

(a Nova Scotia folk artist whose life was recently portrayed in the movie Maudie, because my mother’s paintings have been compared to hers), and an apprentice textbook from U of Toronto 1934 (which I found fascinating because it was full of old chemical formulas and my profession has evolved way beyond how to sterilize bottles), plus three quotation books which turned out to be absolute duds, (I would really like Bartlett’s Book of Quotations, as it would be useful for the blog).

         Book sales are good for travel books if you are an armchair travel like myself.   I scooped up a travel guide to Provence and two books on Italy,  one of which I had already read, Elements of Italy, and the other,A Month in Italy, because it’s my dream someday.   If you can’t go yourself you can enjoy reading about someone else’s adventures and avoid the jet lag and lost luggage, and in the case of Italy, the weight gain.   Speaking of good food, there always seems to be a profusion of cookbooks at book sales, as well as diet fads from years past.  The children’s books always go quickly I am happy to see.  It’s nice to see parents starting a library, and the book-on-every-bed Christmas project is such a good idea to inspire early readers.   

            Last year I came across a young adult book, Robin Kane, The Candle Shop Mystery, which I did not buy because I have the exact same copy in my basement.   What were the chances of that happening, as I don’t remember that series being as popular as Trixie Belden, which I also still possess. 

          I always got a book for Christmas, usually a Trixie Belden, the Nancy Drew-like girl detective of the 1960’s, (here she is searching for dead bodies),

otherwise we went to the library.   I still get the majority of my books from the library, as I read so much it would be prohibitively expensive to buy them all, and our local library is excellent at ordering in anything you might request, plus the librarians there are all such lovely helpful people.   Generally, I only buy what I would re-read, but this year as one of my New Year’s resolutions I decided to start to add to my library again, which is currently three shelves in the basement and den, (see decluttering blog Jan), but only those books which I truly love and would re-read.   When I end up in a nursing home some day I want to be surrounded by my favorites, and not dependent on some volunteer lady bringing around a cart full of Harlequin paperbacks.   

          Now, I haven’t actually opened any of those books I bought last year, (some may end up being recycled), but it gives me comfort to know they are there if I am desperate for something to read.  I once spent a week on Turks and Caicos with a selection of bad books and no store in sight, only a strip mall with one lonely souvenir shop, this was before the island was developed and long before e-readers, which are wonderful for travel, but I would much rather hold a book in my hand.   I am such an avid reader, that I always want to have something in reserve or I get antsy.   What if nothing comes in from the library – it’s either feast or famine – although sometimes having too many books out can be a strange form of retirement stress.   That stack on your bedside table can start to feel like pressure when they are all non-renewable best sellers, and if you return them unread there are sixty-five people ahead of you again.   Buying them solves that problem, as you can read at your own leisurely pace. 

        It’s amazing the weird and wonderful things you can find at book sales, ancient volumes from estates, such as yellowed cloth-worn sets of Poe or Kipling, or outdated encyclopedias.  Did people really read such wordy tombs?  Does anyone want them now and what do they do with them when they don’t sell?  Although it can be interesting to see what people were reading a hundred years ago and to read the inscriptions inside the books.   I have a few old books from the farm attic, but many more got thrown out in the moving process.

farm attic books

A Trapper’s Son was a gift to Lillie from Grandfather, Birthday Sept 14, 1900. L.M. Hewitt is written inside the flyleaf, as well as my aunt’s name at a later date.   I have no idea who Lillie was but I googled and The Trapper’s Son, A Tale of North America, was published in 1873 and deals with the conversion to Christianity of a boy brought up in the wilderness.   My ancestors were Christian folk, so any religious book was a keeper.   Opening A Chestnut Burr, was inscribed to a Miss Lori Dody, and was published in 1874.   Surprisingly there were two reviews of this book on Goodreads, the first one, a female, said, “A deeply Christian story with a thoroughly delightful ending.  There’s a good bit of romance and outdoors.”  The other reviewer, a man, said, don’t bother.   The romance factor must have far outweighed the outdoors part.   I couldn’t find anything on The Recluse of Rambouillet, (pub.1896), but it appears to be a translation from French about castles and kings.  As my grandmother’s name is inscribed inside, Dec 1899, 3rd prize, 4th class, it was probably some kind of school prize.   Poe’s Tales, (Xmas 1904, from Henry), can join it’s many brethren on E-Bay, but it is nice to know that books were welcome Christmas presents back then too.   Some day I may tackle them, but they seem like relics from some long ago world, full of purple prose as L.M. Montgomery called such grandiose language.   Opening sentence from Poe, “The mental features discoursed of as the analytical, are, in themselves, but little susceptible of analysis.  We appreciate them only in their effects.  We know of them, among other things, that they are always to their possessor, when inordinately possessed, a source of the liveliest enjoyment.”   Perhaps there there is something to be said for being concise, what would Poe think of Twitter’s 140k limit and texting.   Times change and so do tastes.  

             Books can be a portal to another universe, especially if the one you are currently in is snowy and white.    I’m going to read now…happy hunting!

 P.S. What is your favorite book sale find?  

Quote on Reading: “Reading is one of the few things you do alone that makes you feel less alone, it’s a solitary activity that connects you to others.”  (even in the middle of a snowstorm)  Will Schwalbe – Books for Living, author of The End of Your Life Bookclub.  

PS.  This years treasures included, 

The Christmas book jumped out early, whispering, buy me, I will come in handy for next year, the beloved Bartlett’s only revealed itself late in the hunt in a discarded bin under a table, and the Little Women collector’s edition 1994 caught my attention, because even though I still have my childhood copy, it had a ribbon and such pretty illustrations. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Charles Dickens A Christmas Carol

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       We have Charles Dickens to thank or blame, depending on your perspective, for the present Christmas madness.   The movie about The Man Who Invented Christmas is currently in theaters, and was based on a 2009 book by Les Standiford.   
The Man Who Invented Christmas: How Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol Rescued His Career and Revived Our Holiday SpiritsThe Man Who Invented Christmas: How Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol Rescued His Career and Revived Our Holiday Spirits by Les Standiford

Maybe Santa will bring me this for Christmas…hint, hint.

      Although I have not seen or read either, I am currently in the process of re-reading A Christmas Carol, the illustrated version, an annual tradition I try to keep, although I don’t always succeed.    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

A Christmas Carol is my favorite book of all time.  I love it for it’s perfect plot, it’s memorable characters and its simple message of hope and redemption.   While I like the movie (especially the 1951 version with Alistair Sim, although the 1938 version has a better Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit and a much scarier ghost of Christmas past which would have me scurrying to bed when I was Tiny Tim’s age), the book itself is pure perfection.   You wouldn’t change a thing in it.  It’s so ingrained in our memory that we couldn’t imagine it any other way.  Desperate for money, with a mortgage overdue and six children to support, Dickens produced it in a mad six-week frenzy in October of 1843.   It was published on Dec 19, just in time for the Christmas trade, and immediately sold out, and has been in print ever since.

      If I am ever in New York at Christmas time, my first stop will be the Morgan Library, where every year Dickens original handwritten sixty-eight-page manuscript is on display over the holiday season.  Dickens chose the red leather binding himself and gifted and inscribed it to his friend, Thomas Mitton.   Here is an online link to the manuscript, and you can now buy a facsimile copy from the Morgan shop online.      

http://www.themorgan.org/exhibitions/charles-dickens-a-christmas-carol

      A few years ago, the library held a contest for Dickens fans and scholars to study the manuscript in search of the most noteworthy editorial changes.   While he may have written it in an outpouring of creative genius, he still did a lot of crossing out and revising.  Can you imagine Tiny Tim being called Fred?   It is a sad part of history lost that our present writing methods no longer permit this peek into the creative process.    

      Dickens was long-winded, (why use one word when ten will do), so for a short tale, it is wordy, but it’s not as bad as Oliver Twist (which I read at age twelve when the movie musical came and found a difficult read), or A Tale of Two Cities or any of his other works.   In A Christmas Carol the descriptive passages are pure bliss.   Some of my favorites include, the description of the damp piercing cold at the beginning of the story, (foggier yes and colder. Piercing, searching, biting cold), the entire passage about the Cratchit household and their Christmas dinner, (Mrs. Crachit dressed out poorly in a twice-turned gown but brave in ribbons and Belinda too, and Peter with his collar done up), the dancing and food at old Fezziwig’s party, (away they all went, twenty couples at once), the games (blind man’s bluff and charades) and music at his nephew Fred’s, and the town and the grocer’s all dressed for Christmas with the people sallying forth full of goodwill and good cheer.        

     And who can forget those classic lines, “Why, where’s our Martha?….not coming on Christmas Day?”  “for it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas,”  “come and see me, will you come and see me,” and “there’s such a goose, Martha.”    The goose description alone is priceless. 

         ”Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of course — and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigour; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn’t believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn’t ate it all at last. Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows.” 

img026           My ancestors always had a goose for Christmas, as was the custom back then as they were readily available on the farm.   This post card was given to me by a descendant of a great uncle who had moved to Seattle around 1920.   He must have been home for Christmas one year as he has written across the bottom in pencil, Xmas dinner on the farm.   I inherited the crystal bowl on the table, but not the goose tradition, only a turkey will do for Christmas. Even Scrooge preferred turkey, as he bought the prize turkey and sent it anonymously to the Cratchit family at the end.  (That delivery boy must have been Canadian as he said, “EH?….why, it’s Christmas Day.”)

The pudding description is spectacular too.     

“In half a minute Mrs Cratchit entered — flushed, but smiling proudly — with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.

Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.”

  

Unlike Mrs. Cratchit, I won’t be worrying about the quantity of flour,

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or like Tiny Tim, hearing the pudding singing in the copper.  I’ll just be listening for the ding of the microwave.   Although I bought the pudding at the British shop, the rum sauce will be homemade, and is equally good on vanilla ice cream for those who don’t care for Christmas pudding. 

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      My standard rum sauce is just a mixture of butter, brown sugar, water and some rum added in the last five minutes, with most of the alcohol boiled away just leaving the flavor.   I tend not measure, so it’s never the same from year to year, including the rum which can vary depending on the stress level.  It can be made ahead, and stored in the fridge and microwaved later, along with the pudding.   You can also buy individual portions of plum pudding at the British shop, but it is more economical to buy the larger size.  

       If you have a moment of peace and quiet over the holidays, A Christmas Carol is a good read, and a simple reminder of what Christmas is all about.  And so, in the words of Tiny Tim,  God Bless us Every One! 

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A Tiny Caroler – Dec 2017

Song of The Day:   God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman (because it’s in the book) – click here for music link  –  The New York Philharmonic Orchestra

PS.  Edited Dec. 2018 to add that while I found the movie while interesting I could not get past the fact that Dan Stevens did not suit the role as he will always be Mathew in Downton Abbey.    I have not read the book yet but I know Santa will bring it this year, as I bought it myself while shopping for others!