It is starting to be a regular occurrence which is either rather spooky or indicative of my reading habits. Every time I near the end of a book , well to be more precise when I have twenty pages left to read, I realize that I am already late and need to put the book aside and start getting ready for the appointment where I am due in a very short time..
There are the times when I need to be at a VERY IMPORTANT meeting and the book is so overwhelming that I am torn between my duty to attend the VERY IMPORTANT meeting or just follow my heart and finish the novel.
It is difficult and I realize as I get older and hopefully more mature I have come to
understand what is important in life.
The VERY IMPORTANT meeting or the book?
Truthfully there are always VERY IMPORTANT meetings . What is one more or one less in the life of a bookseller? Unless of course it is the accountant informing you that you have to stop buying mountains of books if you are ever to realize any kind of a profit.
Who would want to attend such a meeting that has the goal of making you feel more
miserable than you did before?
But oh those novels!
The last twenty pages are the best by far.
They sum up all your feelings and ideas. They are much more important than any meeting. The author has put his or hers heart and soul into the conclusion.
Who are we mere mortals to decide against giving the last twenty pages the time they deserve?
And so I have realized over time finishing the novel and perhaps even reading the last chapter yet again (could this author really have penned such a moving and literate last chapter?) is way more important than any meeting.
This is the time for honesty .
If I was late for our meeting it was probably the last few pages of the novel at fault.
I know you are important but sometimes the heart has to rule .
I do apologize.
I recently read a most delightful book by Shaun Bythell called The Diary Of a Bookseller. Shaun owns a second-hand bookshop in Wigtown.
Wigtown for those who don’t know is a book town in Scotland, it sounds like heaven.
For those not even remotely related to the book trade the book is a gem. Shaun’s tales are hilarious and heart warming. But oh, for those of us buried in a book shop it is as if he is reading our minds.
I am sure that he has stolen tales of both the grumpy and delightful customers that we meet daily. There are those who think that the books in the boxes , (those not even bought yet or priced or even destined for the charity or the recycling plant ) are definitely much better than the exciting tomes lovingly placed by us on the shelves.
I sometimes think of hiding a rarity under a box of mouldy books that we have looked at.
The ones that have us reaching for the hand sanitizer as we stare mournfully at blackened and rather smelly books. I do not think I am that mean but you never know how I will feel on a given day.
Just saying...
Shaun’s stories are laugh out loud funny which sadly has curtailed my visits to the gym. My habit is to assuage the guilt of my lazy disposition and visit the gym book in hand, whereby I stroll leisurely on a treadmill reading and smiling. It makes the idea of exercise so much more tolerable. I may not be breaking a sweat. Okay , I am definitely not sweating but I have been known to weep or rather sob noisily and in this case laugh so much that I had to stop and sit down to curtail the hilarity.
Since I am generally regarded as an eccentricity in the gym and thus can misbehave on occasion, ( like some of the customers who enter our shops), guffawing loudly which leads to hiccups on the treadmill is a definite no no.
Give up the book ?
Never!!
So gym has become a non event. . I am not sure that it never was an event.
But now for my one and only problem with this book.
There is something that Shaun writes about that is really worrying me.
He speaks of reading in his chair in the shop.
When does this happen ?
I really want to know.
Not only that he had time to write a book!
I am doing something very wrong.
My days are spent looking at books or pencil in hand trying to price the ones that I have bought already before nosy customers get to them first!
If anyone knows please tell me the secret .
It sounds idyllic.
And tempting.
And so if it happens you do not find me hidden by boxes in one of our shops there is a strong possibility that I may be hidden in a corner in a certain shop in Wigtown reading.
And by then I will know the answer to this vexing question.
There have been complaints, I do apologize. But it has been busy.
We were honoured to host two wonderful launches this month.
Kyung Sun Yi-O -Kelly launched her book Seven holistic Practices for Harmonious Living: A Self Healing Journey to Freedom.It was a treat to be reunited with Kyung again and her launch was inspirational and joyful.
A few weeks later we hosted the inimitable Lauren Mooi. Even though her book is called Dark Deeds : The Cause, there was nothing dark about Lauren. Her spunk and warmth had us either in tears or fits of laughter. And by the way those classy handbags seen around town were designed by her.
Multi talented, she is a force to be reckoned with.
And in between?
Well in between was Franschhoek.
The annual literary festival where the glitterati of the literati gather to feast , drink gallons of wine and talk books ,books and more books. And they were there en masse.
My highlights?
Hard to say there were so many. Was it when Kate Mosse speaking with her hands took a swipe at Michelle Magwood or when Darryl Bristow Bovey described his life in Greece?
Was it lying on the grass in front of the town hall with good friends and meeting up with publishers who I never get to see in Johannesburg?
Was it that fabulous meal on the Thursday night as we prepared ourselves for the next few days of brain or rather, to tell the truth, soul food?
It was everything and more.
And so I sit at my desk and wonder if it is too early to book my airline ticket for next year. Accommodation has already been organised.
But before that I need to look at our busy weeks ahead.
Selling books at the Nadine Gordimer Memorial Lecture and hosting the wonderful Marilyn Cohen De Villiers as she launches her third book.
So much to do and in between I try to read and process the books that come my way.
Time to give up this sleeping business.
Such a waste of time when there are books to be read!
Meals to be eaten.
And wine to be tasted.
That means many things.
In retail it is our most important month of trade.
We hope to do well enough to cover the lean months that are to come.
Strength, fortitude and probably a little red wine are required.
December is also a month of reflection.
Where did this year go?
What did we achieve?
My year certainly started well and happily.
A family wedding which was attended by our nearest and dearest.
The best daughter in law in the world joined our fold.
And when I look back that feeling of euphoria has stayed with me all year.
But being the person I am I tend to measure my year in the quality and quantity of books that I have read.
And as I looked at my list of books that I have read I realised that here I am in
the first week of December and I am only reading my seventy ninth book for the year.
That may sound a lot for some of you.
Others may scoff...
You should scoff!
I usually read at least two novels a week. Do the maths ...That means
over a hundred books a year.
So what happened this year?
Frankly I do not know.
Maybe I watched too many movies.
Maybe I attended a few too many dinners.
Probably I worked too many weekends to have the time and the space to read more.
I am not sure.
But as I review the list I realise I read the most amazing books.
I started the year with the wonderful Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon ( book number one January 2017).
I continued with the History of Seven killings by Marlon James followed by the inimitable Underground Rail Road by Colson Whitehead .
( I would vote that as my best read of the year).
Mind you I think I equally enjoyed Gilead by Marilynne Robinson ( a short tome that took me ages to read each sentence was so perfect and mind blowing)
The Heart’s Invisible Furies by John Boyne was read during my Irish phase.
I fell in love with Elizabeth Strout .
And in between I decided to revisit some classics.
I reread all the Brontes and Pride and Prejudice was reread again for the umpteenth time.
Actually if there is ever a competition.
I am sure I can recite 3 books quite easily
Pride and Prejudice
Winnie The Pooh
and Where the Wild Things Are ( Maurice Sendak)
I tend to reread those regularly.
Since I see the Sendak and Milne as New Year rituals I do not add them to my list of books read.
However I do add the Jane Austen.
That book takes more time and is not read on the first of January to get me into the spirit of the new year.
Every January I need Pooh bear to remind me what a wonderful life I have and to reawaken my inner child and start having fun.
As just in case I start to doubt this Max always reminds me that I can go to where the wild things are!
]]>Interesting?
Of course.
Fun?
Certainly.
But oh so hard.
Essentially we have not had any time off and by the end of the month I was not only exhausted but the last remaining active cells in my brain went on strike and REFUSED to work any longer.
It just happened that way I guess but I certainly took strain. As is expected in retail we work a six day week. And even though we do not rest on the seventh day which would be wonderful, the day and time is ours to choose how we spend it and generally there is time to share a meal or a glass of wine with our nearest and dearest.
Why do we work on a Sunday? Well we need to catch up on admin.
We need to price the books purchased during the week. Respond to our emails and a zillion other things.
However ..
This month every Sunday was taken up buy a different sale or market. We started the month with the library book fair ( hail and mayhem followed that one). The next week we we were seated under the very hot tin roof of the Rosebank market.
No cats in sight! The following week were at the beautiful Nirox sculpture gardens , and this last weekend we hosted the sale of the Thorold’s book stock.
And so we did not get a day off. But the admin was still there.
Unpriced books mounted up and our shops had to be attended to.
It was exhausting.
And then I looked at the calendar .
And it is November .
And we a can settle into a kind of normality.
Well a book dealer’s reality.
And the sun is shining. And we made it through October relatively unscathed .
And all is well.
Just a niggling thought that those few remaining active braincells went with October to wherever October, missing socks and hiccups go to.
But maybe that is not a bad thing. So if I look at you blankly , it is because there is something missing from my brain. But I am smiling a lot and I am not sure they were really necessary in the first place.
Johannesburg is a wonderful place to be. Things happen. Authors write books. Bookdealers have launches and of course our weather is very mild. This winter is no exception. However every so often there is a cold snap this was the case on the night of Raymond Suttner's book launch at our Blubird shop. We were mindful of the fact that over eighty people would be there, the shop is small, some would say that there are too many books. I think there were just too many people who were interested in the event. We spilled outside. In preparation we brought in heaters. We were ready and the crowds descended.
They were excited, they were erudite and they exuded enough body heat to keep us all warm and snug. Or maybe it was the passion that Raymond spoke with. His talk was remarkable the audience was in awe and there were some pretty interesting people there. ANC stalwarts, publishers, authors, professors and of course a whole lot of politically minded bibliophiles. We were an interesting bunch even if those who attended felt that we were a little squashed . This was nothing compared to what happened a couple of weeks later. I'll need to give some background.
Book people and Bibliophiles are generally wonderful, it is no surprise that we tend to make friends with our regular customers . We share the same passion after all. After a while one gets to understand the interests and wishes of our new friends and the friendship develops into a deeper understanding. So when one of our loyal long-time customers (a retired Law professor) sadly had to cull his library since he was relocating we knew the books were good as we had sold many to him. He decided to sell off a few thousand of his books (roughly a third of his library). His new home would not be able to house the whole collection at least not if he and his wife wished to stay there as well! The keepers were boxed and the rest were shelved in his beautiful library. We advertised a three day sale. Word got around and all hell was let loose.
We had a feeling that this was going to be popular but we did not imagine the queues of people trying to get in. There was no space. We had to control the amount of people in the library at one time. It was a feeding frenzy as people grabbed piles of books and tottered to the front to make payment. The excitement was contagious and I have to say after witnessing that I defy any one who says that books are a thing of the past. The average age of our customers was below thirty. How exciting! I have a whole new generation of customers to make friends with!
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]]>Three blogs have been started.
Three blogs have been discarded.
The reason?
We have been so very busy.
As we in Gauteng made aware this week it never rains but it pours.
And so I have decided to send out a potted version of all three blogs.
My first blog was written after the Mail and Guardian Literary Festival.
It was an event like none other.
Erudite academics authors and poets were swanning around signing books and participating in panels that were too interesting to ignore.
Darryl Accone did a marvellous job of pulling all these people together for an event of note.
The venue was inspiring.
The Sci Bono is host to many functions (I popped into the launch of the Barbie movie party and had to wrench myself away from all the glitter and sparkly treats on the tables)
Truthfully though what the catering at the M & G event lacked in pink sparkles it more than made up for in variety and general yumminess.
I think I was constantly chewing.
In between everything else.
The Bookdealers were there in all our glory.
Selling books by the various speakers and even better than that talking to them and perhaps swooning a little.
Weeks later as I write I feel again the pride, excitement and the awakening of my long dormant brain that epitomized the weekend.
And then the next week happened...
In true Bookdealers fashion rest is not a part of our vocabulary.
We left our Bedfordview branch at the end of July and in September we were in our new shop in the Blubird centre.
It has been a fun move.
We were a little apprehensive about moving to the North after our long sojourn in the East.
But we are so delighted that so many of you have decided to come and visit us: Stacey Daniel Amanda and I are there in all our glory.
It feels like home.
And as you know we do like to work and play together I must tell you the best coffee in town is just outside our door.
Moving into a bookshop is not for the faint-hearted.
Shelves were installed and then began the arduous task of unpacking the books.
No sooner was that done than we had a leak in the roof.
Books were packed up again and moved.
Leak was fixed.
And books were replaced.
The book trade is always interesting.
In between there were visitors from overseas and the Jewish High Holidays.
Our lives are never boring.
No sooner had the dust settled (literally) it was time for the Library Annual Book Sale.
Our way of giving back to our wonderful city and highlighting the amazing work the Friends of the Johannesburg Library and their team of librarians is to provide them with credit card facilities for the two days.
The sale was on the last weekend in October in the car park (read tin car ports) of the headquarters of the library.
It was during the heatwave that gripped Johannesburg and the heat under the tin roofs were hot enough to make a cat dance.
But Johannesburg book lovers turned out in their droves.
The library recorded the highest figures ever.
And when the books are sold for the princely sum of ten rands, well much business was done...
And so here I sit trying to finish this blog in time for our grand opening of our Blubird shop.
Never a dull moment...
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Failing that we sit at a desk and gorge on an array of snacks that would put any caterer to shame.
As a result we are all quite rotund.
I look at some of the buyers who are skeletal and shake my head.
They just don’t get it.
I agree that a good book is food for the soul but there is the body as well and doing the two together... . well that is heaven.
So in true Bookdealers style when the eminent artist, lecturer and academic representative Chris Reinders asked if he could join forces in our Greenside shop we felt the need to celebrate the occasion with a party.
The artist Gordon Froud introduced Chris and did manage to mention his huge Alice in Wonderland collection supplied by the friendly Bookdealer Doron in Melville.
We set up a table of wine and food in the parking lot.
People arrived.
Books were bought.
Wine was consumed and fun was had.
Chris and his books have given a unique slant to our Greenside shop.
Pop in and have a look .
We may even have another party.
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]]>The highlight of which was hosting the launch of the book written by Boris Goreilik
'An entirely different world. Russian Visitors to the Cape 1797- 1870' published by the Van Riebeeck Society .
It was an erudite occasion
And as he described the trials and tribulations of the early visitors to the Cape I was lectured in the art of drinking vodka.
In summary here are the rules.
No women (They are sexist in cold places)
Only to be drunk in winter
(Forget about a vodka and lemon on a hot summer day)
No Mixes.
And definitely no shot glasses!
What is required is to fill a tumbler of vodka ,have many pickled cucumbers on hand which are eaten after each gulp ( no sipping allowed) to mask the taste of the vodka
Na zdorovie!!
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]]>Or maybe it is just happenstance.
But then again …
You be the judge.
Last week I was sitting in our shop in The Colony centre ...
Ok.
I was not exactly sitting. I was digging into boxes of books that had just arrived.
But I digress.
In walked a man who asked if we had any of the books by Edward Packard called “Choose your own adventure”
He collects them!
Oh said I you must have read “The Boy in The Book” by Nathan Penlington.
He had never heard of it.
Can you believe it?
For the few who do not know about this book (unlikely if you have come anywhere near me)
It is the story of Nathan Penlington obsession with collecting.
See, we are not alone. I can hear the collective sigh of relief already.
Back to Mr Penlington.
He too collected “Choose Your Own Adventure” and bought a collection of these on eBay.
And so the story begins.
Penlington finds part of a diary in the collection which really distresses him and he decides to track down the original owner of the books (and of course the writer of the diary)
What follows is intriguing as we see how Penlington grows and understands more about himself as he searches for the boy in the book.
Of course the man had to have it.
Did we have a copy?
Panic! And there sitting quietly on a shelf was a copy!
Just waiting for him.
Not half an hour later in came lady who is reading only Hemingway.
Of course we chatted about the author's rather troubled private life and I asked if she had read the wonderful novel “Mrs Hemingway” by Naomi Wood.
This is the story of his four wives and how destructive every relationship was.
I had not seen a copy in a while and was busy writing down the details when I saw one on the shelf..
This was getting spooky ...
And to top it all while reading Ann Patchett's biography “This is a story of a Happy Marriage” I picked up my latest New Yorker and there was a review for the opera “Bel Canto”.
At the time I thought this was a sign that I should be comfortably sitting in a chair in New York watching an opera.
And then I realized (as if I did not know) that with a book in hand I can go anywhere.
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]]>Or maybe it is easy being one it is just not easy being me.
Take yesterday for example.
On an extremely hot Johannesburg day I was leaving our warehouse where we were packing to send out the last of our Christmas shipments to our very happy customers.
I needed to get to our Bedfordview shop. Go to the bank and a dozen other places before a 2:30 pm meeting.
All was under control. I was packing boxes of books in my car. I spend a lot of my time either packing boxes or unpacking them.
It was 33 degrees outside.
It was hot and dry.
A car pulled up...A head peered out of the window.
'Do you buy books ? ' he said.
'No ' I should have said.
'I just feel comforted and far more secure surrounded by boxes of used books! '
But it is the season to be cheery and five minutes later I was standing in the road peering into his boot full of books.
I selected the ones I wanted.
We haggled a little .
And he drove off.
Let's back track a few minutes.
I was preparing to LEAVE.
I had keys and phone in my hand.
He left.
I still had the keys
But the phone?
No that was still in his boot.
No problem .
I will track the phone.
I borrowed a colleagues's phone and call my husband to see where the young man has gone.
He is able to track my phone.
Grocery shopping is never the same anymore. He catches me AFTER I leave the checkout and says...ooh I see you are at the supermarket please pick up a few eggs, milk etc.
And back I go again to stand in line…
I am so obliging.
Anyone who has tried calling my home when I am not there and my husband is sitting NEXT to the phone will know that he never answers the phone.
I thought he wold answer his mobile.
I now know he does not answer any phone ( except when our very strange neighbour calls ... but that is a story for another day)
No problem.
It is the season to be cheery.
I knew where the man works.
He told me!
A Jewish radio station.
I looked up their number and tried to find out his mobile number from a very suspicious gentleman.
I guess with my northern suburbs twang I sounded like a would be terrorist.
I may have been on my way to terrorize the radio station and where would we be without their news and views?
This man was worried.
Mind you if it was not the season to be cheery he should have been.
To cut a long story ( ok an even longer story ) short I did recover my phone.
The young man emailed me his banking details. I had to pay for the books after all.
And I managed to find him.
The husband who did not answer the phone reminded me to be mindful.
He and Jon Kabt-Zinn were not popular at that stage.
My colleagues laughed and said remember when your phone was buried in the bottom box of books at a warehouse.
When you balance your phone on the top box of a teetering tower of books it makes sense that when the pile falls over the top box is now the one at the bottom.
The phone was in there.
Buried in books.
I should have left it there.
But then the radio station would have had a peaceful afternoon.
I would be doing mindfulness meditiation and my children would not have to have an alarm once a week that says “ call mom”
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]]>And I have loved them.
As I scan through the titles I try to decide which I loved most.
I know I have developed a huge fondness for the Irish.
So Colm Toibin and John Boyne feature in the top authors.
But then again I did read three novels by Natasha Solomans
The woman is a remarkable author.
Maybe she has Irish ancestry?
I also succumbed to some psychological page turners.
The Girl on the Train resonated with me.
I love imagining the lives in apartments that I can see televisions flickering through closed windows. .
I have read some very quirky novels.
I look in cupboards for a certain Fakir who may be trapped inside.
I am still in love with Paulette.
After reading “To Rise Again at a Decent Hour” I have a new interest in my dentist's relationship with his Jewish receptionist!
Alex Woods is a hero who has lived long after the last page was turned.
I have developed a very strong attachment to Michael Chabon and finally got to read the Yiddish Policemens Union.
Of course my muse Barabara Nadel did not disappoint and I read a couple of her novels.I even ventured out of Istanbul and read a couple of titles set in England.
I am learning to be flexible in my old age.
Probably the one that really got to my core was Richard Flangan's Road to the Deep North and the inimitable David Mitchell's Bone Clocks.
The first book that I read this year was Dying in New York by Ekow Duber.
(It was startling)
I am not sure what the last will be.
I have a couple of weeks to go!
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]]>And the bread? amazing morsels of deliciousness . The Bookdealers were quietly ejoying the art work of the Everard Read gallery glass in hand.
Life as a Bookdealer is not all bad.
As if that was not enough I was invited to Stellenbosch at Summer Place.
The venue was magnificent
Sanlam private wealth displayed their art in the galleries in the house ( actually mansion)
The magnificent gardens were sprinkled with candle lit tables and beautiful people wafted through the rooms eating and drinking.
Tables groaned with cheese breads and fruits .
But there was more.
5 chefs were flown up to Joburg for the event :
Each chef conjured up a dish that a week later my taste buds still salivate for.
More than 80 top quality wines were paired with each dish.
Winemakers mingled with the guests.
It was an occasion of note.
What a way to end the year!
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On the last Sunday of every month the Rosebank Rooftop Market hosts a vintage fair and Mad dogs and Englishmen are drawn to the heat of the excitement of finding the tome they were looking for. Or perhaps the one they did not even realize they were looking for.
Much bartering takes place.
Yes it is true that we bought a cash register from the lady with the aromotherapy scents and some books form her friend's car.
We sold a few books. We bought a few more.
OK more than a few more.
This is what we do.
We ate.
We drank.
We laughed and joked and survived the tin roof in Rosebank during a Joburg heat wave. We arrived home hot tired and thirsty and dare I say a little grumpy.
But it was so much fun!
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As I write Doron is still swanning around the Cape visiting bookshops a glass of red in hand ... or if not in hand not far way.
There is nothing like a change of scenery to rejuvenate ones soul.
The hardest part for me is deciding which novels I am taking with.
Since I know I will be visiting bookshops and possibly (okay probably) purchasing more books, the books I take with are chosen with great care.
One needs to have space for the return journey.
I know in advance that I will read them and leave them for my very special friends In Cape Town to read.
They too are Bibliomaniacs and we share a fondness for beautifully written lyrical novels.
This year I managed to take Marilyn Robinson's "Homeland" which I was rereading only to find that my friend had read it and adored it.
That one I did return with!
But I left her with "Ghana must go" by Taiye Selasi. An extraordinary work depicting so well the fate of the African diaspora .
I also left her the quirky "Three things you need to know about rockets" by Jessica Fox.
I always feel compelled to read about people who start off on a different course in life and end up drowning in tomes in a second hand book shop.
Somehow I do not feel so alone as I wade through dusty boxes of books and remember my last life in a corner office with a desk and a filing cabinet.
I chuckle to myself and thank my lucky stars I am where I am.
I was half way through the inimitable Natasha Solomons' new novel "The Song Collector".
That one came back with me.
A good thing.
I may need to read it again. A few times.
And so here I am back in the thick of things.
And I realise I have hardly read at all!
I did finish the "Song Collector" and am have started to read the "Steady Running of the Hour" by Justin Go which I am enjoying immensely.
All I need is time to read.
I may have to grab a glass of red, put on a CD of the sounds of the sea, switch off my phone and pretend I am in the fairest Cape.
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]]>I love to discuss and review books that we have read.
Most of them are fellow bibliomaniacs and thus we have a lot in common.
Sometimes we do get carried away.
This is evident by the glazed look on their faces as they attempt to pay for their special book.
And so it happened that one of my customers told me about 'The Unknown Unknown' by Mark Forsyth.
'Bookshops and the delight of not getting what you wanted' .
I must admit I was already a fan of Mark Forsyth.
I adored the Etymologican and loved the Horologican.
After reading this essay I must admit to being truly smitten.
We think alike.
I choose the books for my customers so carefully.
When I recommend a book I recommend from my heart.
As he says
Half the art of book selling is about choosing what NOT to have in your shop.
Well…...
We try.
The full price books we have in the stores are chosen with care and love.
They are few.
But they are the diamonds in the rough.
Pop in and try one.
It may change your life.
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The sun was shining.
The books were set out and so began 2 days of buying and selling
And we bought ... and bought … and bought some more.
Boxes of books were selected.
Too many boxes of books were selected to tell the truth.
A car load was dumped at one of our nearby shops in order to make space for even more books.
The car was groaning with all the treasure (I am sure it was smiling inwardly as well)
I couldn't resist.
Every time I passed a table of books I found a few more.
And then later on Sunday afternoon (day 2) the books were reduced to R5 each.
Discretion flew out of the window.
This was a bargain not to be missed .
It was a heady time and I took advantage.
And now it is Monday …
and my arms ache from carrying all those books.
But it is worth it.
Now is the really exciting part.
Looking at he boxes and wondering why on earth I felt the need to buy a battered copy of the mystery of Edwin Drood because I liked the book plate.
The gentle madness strikes again.
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It is a hard life.
Packing the car full of rusks, dried fruit ,crisps and drinks and heading off to the game reserve.
Why does one have a compulsion to eat constantly on a road trip?
I draw a line at letting my fellow travellers eat biltong while viewing living and breathing animals.
I also needed to pack eight novels (for four days) and a huge basket full of pens pencils and colouring books.
I had hoped to be an easy passenger.
Quietly reading my novel until the fellow passengers spied a lion eating a kudu (they did) buffalo, rhino et al.
I would then look with wonder and awe and then return to the novel.
This did not suit my family.
They were very strict and I had to abide by the rules.
Keep a sharp look out and do not even think of reaching for the book on my lap.
No problem.
I would wait until we reached camp and would haul our my colouring books and quietly draw while dinner was being prepared by the menfolk.
This did not quite work out.
Sunset drives were organised.
Early starts curtailed late night reading.
And so I returned.
I read only one novel (It was very short)
I coloured half a flower.
But I did see a baby hyena.
A newborn Zebra which stood awkwardly till it worked out how to move its legs.
Lots of Rhino,hippos and elephants
Herds of buffalo.
And the lioness devouring its recently killed kudu.
Not so bad after all
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I mentioned to my business partner that I need to take the next two weeks off in order to read.
There are so many books I want to read and so little time.
Sure he said.
Aha I thought.
Time to rush home an start reading.
And then I looked at the piles of “Urgent have to read right now” books.
And the next pile of “Urgent want to read right now” books.
And the next pile of “Urgent to be read by the end of the year” books and the next pile ...
And I started tidying up.
I have not yet taken the two weeks off but when I do I will be so organised.
I doubt the piles will get any shorter.
If anything there are a few that have already been added to these tottering towers.
But I will be happy.
Now to break the news to Mr D that I will be away for the next two weeks and unavailable to anyone who is not on the printed page.
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]]>This is the very essence of a Bibliomaniac's being.
It was we are made from.
It is what gives us energy to carry on.
And here I am.
The day after market day looking with love at my purchases and trying to reconcile my bank balance.
And so I find myself in the rather predictable situation of having spent far more than I made.
But I had such fun.
Besides the joy of the purchase there are the customers who flock to our tables.
And since this is the collectors market it makes sense that our customers are fellow bibliophiles.
And so the conversation begins.
And we discuss the books we are exhibiting.
And sometimes we are very reluctant to part with a title.
I have been known to change my mind and secrete a tome or two for further consideration.
I will sell them eventually but I think they need more time and nurturing in my midst.
Or maybe I need the time and nurturing.
Either way. Neither the book nor the seller are mature enough to part ways just yet.
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