I recall as a child helping pack up our enormous, gold Caprice Classic that took up most of the road. Even for just a day trip to the coast we’d over-pack. Several jackets, boots, bags, snacks and towels all found their way to the back seat. The Oregon Coast requires warm attire. No beach balls and lounging chairs for these elements. Mom and Dad always packed their signature Brown, heavy matching beach jackets lined with deep pockets and strong hoods. Dad came armed with Yellow tide table booklet to best gauge the waters whims. This water isn’t for the faint of heart, one good hit at high tide to a turned head and you could easily be carried away, or at the least, soaked and shaken. These trips were such a ritual; I took them for granted as often children do. Surely, all parents took their kids to the beach to comb the sand for treasures just waiting to be found.
All three of us hunted for different things. My goal was always the biggest agate. I’d announce every shiny find like I’d won the lottery. Dad found his joy with the hard to find Newport Blues with their dark camouflage – indistinguishable until held up to the light, sure enough though, the sunlight would cascade inside showing the mysterious stone’s truth; Beautiful Blue like the murky depths of the ocean itself. Mom enjoyed what I called the ‘odd’ rocks. Strangely shaped stones, shell fossils, funny patterned rocks. She often would boldly pass up an agate on the sand in favor of the heart shaped gray thing lying next to it.
So, with bags lining pockets, we’d all start combing the sand. Our covered heads bent against the wind, with slow footsteps inspecting the earth’s surprises. We took the sea’s throwaways with pasted, cold smiles as the wind unmercifully whipped by leaving running noses and squinted eyelids. We’d return home from a day of treasure combing and dump out our day’s find under water to better examine our captured beauty.
I miss those trips tremendously.
The Dictionary’s definition of Serenity is; “The state or quality of being Serene. Calm or tranquil.” I never realized at 12, that my serenity was on that beach, in those rainy, cold excursions. My Serenity was held in the faces of two other people who understood the thrill of these trips, as if we all held membership to a secret club no one else knew about.
I really thought when Mom died; my days of serenity were behind me. With such an important membership expired, surely Serenity was past. Then, one day many years later I opened a book with a new vision.
My partner at the time worked at a used book store when we met. She’d come home and tell me about the book scouts that would come in with boxes of books to sell. For many Scouts this was their only means of income, and what they’d walk away with depended on their book knowledge and luck of what they’d find. Scouts would frequent estate or yard sales and thrift stores, buy cheaply and sell to the stores for a profit. If Scouts had the knowledge and means to bypass the stores completely and sell on the internet, there waited a global market. My partner, Lori would joke that if she ever stopped working there, we should open up our own internet store. Then, one day she quit.
So, I was slowly introduced to the wide, mysterious world of book scouting. I learned how to scour rows of shelves and not get intimidated, how to take everything one book at a time. I had endless questions for a long time. I learned how to spot a Book Club book without even pulling it off the shelf. I learned about ‘blind stamps’, small press books, uncorrected proofs and the complete breakdown of the copyright page. I also learned that this is an imprecise skill. A book can have all tell-tale signs of having monetary value and turn out to be more common than you’d think. Signed or autographed does not equate to money. Limited edition does not always mean RARE. I was a dense, eager sponge soaking up everything I could hold. Our first scouting trip was tentative and cautious. We picked books modestly unsure of our own knowledge. In time we slowly gained confidence and took bigger risks. We always had a discard pile when we were done looking up our finds, but over time the pile got smaller. With experience, knowledge and time, we began to trust our decisions and found ourselves diving into the bookcases with full force.
“Listing Lingo” was another class at book-scouting school. Our first goal was to be able to accurately list our books with as much detail as possible. We wanted to be the bookstore that people could rely on with truth and accuracy - If there was underlining, how many pages? A page ripped? Where? Silver-fish nibbling? Soiling? Was this book a true First edition or a First Thus? What number printing? These were important things people should know. And we wanted to feel confident that what people thought they were getting, is what indeed they received. Words like Front-Free Endpaper, Octavo, Buckram, Gilt, Mylar became common descriptions. We watched the mass-listers coming onto the scene with their several hundred thousand book stock all with the exact same description. No variance. Words like ‘standard’ or ‘used’ replaced effort and time. Hand scanners have replaced knowledge and it’s easy to look and that and understand but it’s also just as easy to look at that and vehemently oppose it in lieu of giving a damn about what you do. Somehow, still these sellers sell. Quantity often replaces quality and that is the sad part of any business. I chose time and knowledge. For me, part of the joy of this job comes from every unique book reached for, absorbing something, touching its covers, and making an educated guess. If you take that away, then I might as well be working the register, scanning barcodes in and watching the clock. I delight in the fact that I use my brain and constantly learn something. Even in the failures I’m learning. Not to mention, that tons of valuable books are pre-ISBN that scanners won’t do any good for. How far will your machines take you then?
I’ll never forget an early scouting trip we took where I came upon an autobiography by Lauren Bacall. I opened its cover to find it signed by the legend. This being an early find, I grasped it tightly under my arm thinking surely someone would know the jig was up. This signed book for $3? The police will be coming any minute once they discover the truth. I coveted it like gold. Who on earth could toss this out? It turns out Bacall’s signature wasn’t worth what I suspected, and in time I learned the same about many surprising figures. Often the big names sign anything put in front of them, thus driving the price down. I didn’t care though. That Book is still on my shelf at home. Perhaps the best knowledge I’ve gained through this business is how to divide monetary value from personal. Price means nil when it strikes a chord and resonates in you. Monetary worth shouldn’t pertain. You have an old book club edition of a favorite classic? Its true value is in your head and heart. Books burrow in, stories leave a stain on our being like a finger print. No amount of money could erase that. This business has taught me a great deal about books and also beyond.
Two and a half years into the business we had 650 books listed and available for sale online. Comparatively this number in the book world is shamefully small. We hadn’t bought in bulk yet and hand picked our stock on small trips out then.
At current status, I am 11+ years into this with 7,600 books available with roughly a $160,000 inventory value. I continue the venture knowledgeable but always open for more. I’ve learned that the most you know is never enough. There is always more. This knowledge secures me in my scouting trips. Bring it on, I will pay attention. Never get cocky. You will be put in place with every misstep you take. (you will). I adore this business and all it’s flaws.
The thrill of finding an odd title or sure find continues. While the ever changing market and economy can bring frustration, the joy of the hunt is as much of a fun carnival ride as it was in the beginning. The constant shelves of book clubs and Reader’s Digest Condensed books don’t discourage this scout. That out of print collectible is in their somewhere. That signed, limited gently read copy, that discarded leather bound first edition with tipped-in plates and gilt edged papers, that copy inscribed with a personal poem on the endpaper from mother to son accompanying a dried rose laid in dated 1880. Used Books are treasures that surpass time and carry with them stories beyond the obvious print they hold.
As I sit in my office now and let my eye linger down the stack of spines before me to list, I think of the old beach trips I took with my folks as a child. It was my father who instilled in me the passion of the hunt, the venture of possible success. With him I knew to keep looking and have patience – that whatever I sought was out there somewhere; A priceless vision to have in life. The image of Mom that never leaves is her bending over to pick up those old, dull rocks and examine them with careful eyes. What a fool I took her for, passing up the obvious shiny gems!
But now, I play the fool.
It is in part, through both their teaching, I’m able to pick out the hidden, dusty books that catch my eye now - The books that might not stand out with a bright glossy cover and house-hold name. It is often these not so obvious gems that turn out to be the most valuable treasures. How Mom would have smiled at that. It is she who taught me to look a bit harder, past the immediate shine in order to really see. It is my wonderful beach partner titled ‘Mom’ I take with me on every book scouting trip. I did pay attention, Mom.
Somehow, through this Bibliophile life, I’ve re-discovered the serenity I held on those beach trips so many years ago. Whether its beach combing the Oregon Coast or knee deep in literature, maybe my serenity never went anywhere? Maybe it was always waiting for me to find it again? I’ve saved my shillings to find my way back to it. Its gifts are not taken for granted. I hold them as carefully as a fragile First Edition or broken sea shell easily passed up at the beach. It’s through Mom’s eyes I reach for both.
