*********************Introducing the first guest blog ***********************
This special spot is a chance for you to meet, or, indeed, reacquaint yourselves with, other talented book bloggers.
The first guest blogger is Cosy Books – a Canadian librarian, who has a penchant for brilliant twentieth-century novels written by women. A taste that I, for one, share. Here she takes you on an illuminating tour of second-hand book buying in Canada.
If you would like to contribute to the Emilybooks guest blog spot then get in touch here.
If you have been following Emily’s blog for a while or landed here via a link from another blog you probably already know that a keen interest in books is a connecting thread. While my fondness for reading reaches back as far as I can remember a certain group of book bloggers has made it possible for me to achieve an even greater appreciation for the written word. This camaraderie has also unearthed a side of me which never existed before I carved out my own tiny space in the world of book blogging. As a circulation clerk at a public library I nearly always borrowed my books but over the past few years I have turned into a book buyer on a mission. It’s a nice way of saying that accumulating books at a rate faster than I can find space for them has become a pleasurable pastime. Woeful posts by bloggers surrounded by bursting shelves only serve to reassure me that my guilt about unread books is unwarranted and that my collection is practically inadequate.
Since 2009, my reading has been centred around twentieth century authors such as Elizabeth Bowen, Elizabeth Taylor, E M Delafield, Dorothy Whipple and their contemporaries. Since I have yet to meet another person in my daily life who has struck up a conversation about any of the aforementioned authors you can imagine how rare it can be to find their books in nearby shops. This makes the hunt more challenging than if I were spending the day on Charing Cross Road, but not impossible.
So where have I found some of my favourite treasures, you might ask? The best place for turn-over is called BMV Books. They have a few locations in Toronto with my favourite being on Bloor Street. Each day there are green plastic book bins dotting the floor waiting to be unpacked and shelved. There is no catalogue so if you’re looking for something specific you have to be willing to dig for it. The books are mostly used but in excellent condition. BMV also get batches of books sold back to them from local university students so you get an idea of what has been on offer in the English courses that term. I was thrilled one day to spot the orange Penguin edition of Marghanita Laski’s Little Boy Lost, pushed back a bit further than the other books and for the pittance of only two dollars. The Persephone edition was already on my shelves but that image of the little boy on the cover has always haunted me so I just had to bring it home.
Another interesting place, albeit filthy, for some outstanding older clothbound books has been our local Reuse Centre. Picture a massive warehouse full of the contents of your grandparents’ attic or garage sale rejects. It’s an intriguing mix of dump run/nostalgia tour. The lighting is horrible, my contact lenses go dry and you can taste the dust but it’s where I found a gorgeous black Virago edition of Elizabeth Jenkins’ The Tortoise and the Hare. The cover design features a young lady wearing the most stunning pair of red tights and I’ve never seen another copy like it. The funny thing is that it was discarded from the library where I work but it must have been ages ago. A couple of years ago I brought home a first edition copy of New Bond Story by Norman Collins as well as a first edition of Flowers on the Grass by Monica Dickens for the same price. Books such as these are housed separately from the paperbacks but the room resembles something more akin to a hallway at five metres long and barely wider than my shoulders and I’m not very big! Bending is done very carefully and usually sideways!
Another place I loved to visit was called Nostalgia Books in Port Credit. Nestled at the end of a long high street and a bit past the bridge over the harbour it was a nice destination when I had the day off from work. The owner, David, was passionate about books (of course) but he also enjoyed people. When he discovered my daughter had chosen to do a minor in English Literature he asked if I could keep him updated on her reading lists just for interest’s sake. This shop was where I found my first green Virago, The Way Things Are by E M Delafield, and I beamed all the way home. Last month my husband and I took a drive out to the shop but were saddened to find brown paper covering the windows and no sign of life.
For an anglophile living in the land of maple syrup and moose (I’ve only seen one that’s been stuffed but I’m going for effect) there can be no greater book hunting expedition than in England. I could spend ages browsing along Charing Cross Road or the Southbank book market, admiring the faded spines and drinking in the aroma of aged chimney smoke you sometimes find emanating from the pages. I can hardly believe it has been almost two years ago since I met up with my friends from Book Snob, Stuck in a Book and Mrs Miniver’s Daughter for a bit of second-hand book shopping while I was on holiday. Mary was dreading a case of tug-of-war should we both spy a prize at the same time. There was no need to worry though as they were more than helpful in handing over all sorts of titles they thought I would enjoy. The charity shops in Canterbury where my daughter did her MA were oh so tempting but those dreaded luggage allowances are always at the back of my mind.
Regardless of where my books have come from I never fail to get a tiny thrill from the signature of a previous owner along with a date. My favourite inscription is in the front of a first American edition of Look at All Those Roses, a short story collection by Elizabeth Bowen published in 1941. I have Rachel (Book Snob) to thank for this one. It reads:
For Scott Merrill from John Butler in affection –
Elizabeth Bowen’s wisdom
A story within a collection of stories but one which will have to remain a mystery.