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12/10/2004: "Burning the Midnight Oil"

It's been said that a Mother's work is never done. Truth. But a bookseller's work has only just begun! that thought passed through my head more than once last night as a friend and I struggled to assemble new shelving for the Religion, Philosophy, and Books From Abroad section. No sooner does one task get finished, then three more appear, often in an area once thought to be tranquil.

Through a friend, I was offered some extremely durable metal shelves, and I leaped on them like a jungle predator. The bulk of my shelves are pinewood constructions created to hold paperbacks. Now, with an increasing stock of 8" - 10" high books, these shelves are just horribly impractical, so the prospect of larger shelves for next to nothing was too good to pass up. Of course, one of the fees to be paid was loading and assembly, which I'm so used to. The big hand was pointing to the twelve, and the little one was at the three before we were finished!

Sometimes I like to joke that "this is the shop that scraps built", but the truth is that every bookseller resuses things when he assembles a bookstore. I've got some shelving that I bought at the Crown Books liquidation sale, and I also bought their stickers, too. I met a bookseller who kept all his books in drawers in cabinets, which he salvaged from a defunct Navy base. Another seller I met got lightly-used computers every year from a company that upgraded their own systems every twelve months. But why, do you ask? Partly because it saves money, and money is a nice thing to have around. The other part is because reusing is in the blood.

I know that doesn't make sense, so I'll try to be a bit more clear: Every used/rare bookdealer starts out small. You get your books from yard sales, garage sales, and other places. While your about this process, you see other things which catch your eye--beyond the souvenir glasses and old 45's there are things like old chandeliers, pictures, and statues, and then your brain starts to work on what you see. The old drop-leaf table with the $5.00 sticker on it would look great in your guest room, and while you're picking it up, you see a window frame that looks better than the one in your bedroom, so you grab that, too. After a while, it becomes second nature; you realize, with a start, that you haven't been to the mall for months, because you can get the same thing for less, albeit secondhand. But you don't even think of it in terms of stigma--it's a point of pride and ingenuity. On my desk at my house I've got an old automobile destributor that I use to hold pens and pencils. So many things can do double-duty, it soon becomes a sort of game, figuring what can also do what.

And that's the way the book business is: today a customer asked me for a book which she could use to help her Spanish-speaking neighbor improve her English. The book had to be a relatively easy task, but at the same time interesting. I thought for a bit, and then selected a copy of "Chicken Soup With Rice", by Maurice Sendak. Why? The story is based on month-to-month installments, there are pictures on every page which would be good vocabulary practice, and the story is in verse, which makes for fun reading. Double-duty strikes again. Sold!

Last night, while assembling the shelves, I remarked to my friend that the book business is a lesson in evolution--both the business, and the owner must be adaptable to change and circumstance. But more than that, the proprietor must know how to adapt to the situation, and know how to make his environment change with him. I thought about that as I wheeled my old pinewood shelves out to the dumpster. Darwin's theory was that life had to change in order to survive, and make use of what the environment provided. Then this morning, one of my neighbors walked in and said, "We were drooling over your shelves outside, and we were wondering..." I smiled, as Evolution reared its head again, and said, "Take 'em!"