Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

Recently, I received an email attaching an article on megalisters from the Sunday New York Times. For those who do not know, megalisters are database managers masquerading as booksellers. They post thousands of books on internet sites like Amazon and Abebooks selling books for as low as one cent hoping to recoup their money on the margins in the shipping. They deal in volume and efficiency. To my book-scout and bookselling friends megalisters are, like book scanners (those who go through used or rare bookstores with an ISBN scanner to find errors in pricing), the scourge of the industry. If the New York Times is reporting on the phenomenon, it must be an epidemic.

The Times article bears a close read since this crisis in the rare / used book industry has an impact not just on Burroughs collectors but on all those interested in digging a little deeper into the Burroughsian. On the surface, megalisters would appear to be a boon to Burroughs fans. How else are you going to get a used copy of the Grove reprints of Naked Lunch for around $2? Way cheaper than half cover price. You always tend to forget the shipping. In this online world, the megalister makes a little profit; the Burroughs fan gets a cheap book. Everybody is happy.

Not so. The used bookstore in your neighborhood is not excited about this phenomenon for one. The basic brick-and-mortar store does not have the sales volume, sales staff, or distribution to make the one cent sale feasible. Nor do they desire such a sale. As the Time article describes, megalisters can be viewed as merely shippers of widgets. The best of the independent bookstores (new or used) are like the diner, coffee shop, corner barbershop, or general store. They are all gathering spots. Bookstores are indispensible parts of the community in which they serve. Being a citizen of the community takes time and effort. It takes a personality and a point of view. This requires an investment, and the customer pays that price. With a megalister you just pay shipping. They are nameless, faceless, and placeless. I do not want to belabor this point here as I have discussed it numerous times elsewhere. (See especially Burroughs and Bookstores.)

Besides — I know, I know. You do not care. You just want the book at the cheapest price and fast. Well, not so fast. The Grove Naked Lunch may be dirt cheap but the economic affect of the megalister is driving up prices for all those wonderful items that you are going to want after Naked Lunch blows your mind. The price of out-of-print non-fiction is going through the roof. As the Times article states, this market is one area in which the used bookstore can compete. For example the article notes that a hard-to-find, out-of-print book on the rock group Badfinger commands high prices in this market. Back when I worked at a used bookstore Pamela Des Barres’ memoir, I’m With the Band, was a quick $50 in paperback since the book went out of print and demand was high. Books like this were the exception not the rule since most of the non-fiction stock in the store (out of print or not) were affordable and priced to move. Increasingly, the astronomical non-fiction title is becoming the norm.

Let’s take Oliver Harris’ William Burroughs and the Secret of Fascination. It is not unusual to see this book listed for $100. Blame the megalisters. In many cases, they list a book they do not even have. They mark up the price (say, to $100) and then, if they find a sucker willing to pay it, buy the book elsewhere for a lower price. They operate like middlemen.

Again, so what, you say. I just will not buy that book from that seller. Fine but these unfortunately priced titles have a trickle-down effect. megalisters drive up prices. When I worked at the rare book store, I was dependent in many cases on Abebooks or Addall to set prices. As more booksellers become merely shippers of product and less bookmen and bibliophiles, the dependence on the databases is becoming more pronounced. You can see the vicious circle that develops. Prices get artificially inflated by the megalisters re-listing. Then the unknowledgeable bookseller (be it in a brick and mortar store or with an individual on eBay) sets his price based on these faulty prices. The next thing you know The Secret of Fascination, a key book for any Burroughs fans looking to dig deeper than the text of Naked Lunch itself, becomes impractical to purchase. A basic academic text becomes as high priced as a collectible.

I am a hypocrite, I guess, since I can accept literary magazines as collectibles, but I hesitate to accept academic texts on that level. One reason for that is the fact that literary magazines have a value as an object. Semina makes this clear, but I find the simplicity of mimeograph in C, Fuck You, or Floating Bear as fascinating and an example of print as art. There are exceptions, but academic titles have value as information not as object. They should be disseminated as such.

This is a pet peeve of mine, so let me digress. Academic texts, from the textbook to the scholarly journal article, should be available electronically. I would like to see the academic journal go the way of the phonebook. Get online. Non-academics cannot get easy access to scholarly texts. Try getting an article from JSTOR or MUSE if you are not a professor or a student. Historically, academics do not want to address laymen. This is a big loss to scholarship, particularly for topics thought to be outside the canon. Take the Beats. For years, the foundations of Beat scholarship were laid in zines, like the Moody Street Irregulars, Beat Scene, The Kerouac Connection, Dharma Beat and several others. I would suspect that ground-breaking critical work on the graphic novel was done outside academic publications. Same for cyberpunk or poetry slams.

The culture of academic publishing seems to be changing. In the past decade or so, leading academics like Stephen Greenblatt and Jerome McGann are speaking out with passion and intelligence about the necessity of academic publishing to adapt to the times. A new generation of hipster librarians is bringing McGann’s ideas into the archives. This is a dynamic time for academic scholarship. But there is resistance and fear. The need for peer review does not preclude online, openly available publication of scholarly texts. Academics conservatism clothed in the guise of diligence and thoroughness is stunting the growth of scholarship. Quite simply many in the ivory tower hope to remain sequestered and do not want to address the larger public.

Anyway that is how I see it, particularly when I have to pay $100 for an academic title I want. You can begin to see how the megalisters tie into and feed off of the artificial scarcity generated by the culture of academic publishing. The used book market contributes to making academic texts unavailable and unaffordable for non-academics.

A similar dynamic works in the rare book market. I have explained how listings of the Olympia Press Naked Lunch are deceptive and that buyers should beware when assuming that Burroughs’ masterpiece is really the $5000 book some dealers list it as. Recently I have seen the same phenomenon occurring with Big Table, arguably the key magazine appearance for Burroughs. Collectors: beware of buying Big Table at inflated prices.

Years ago I paid $200 for a complete set and I really overpaid even in today’s market. I was just starting out. The bookseller took pity on my inexperience and threw in a couple parting gifts. For years, $200 was the ceiling for a complete set of the five Big Table issues. A complete set of Big Table is not that hard to come across. Ten thousand copies of the first issue were printed. That is nowhere near the 100,000 copies of some issues of Evergreen Review, but it is a huge print run in the world of the literary magazine. As Royal Books points out, the later issues are tougher to find. Interest in the magazine slipped after the hoopla over Burroughs and lack of funds probably resulted in smaller print runs. In any case, the print runs for the later issues were still relatively large. The internet has made book collectors lazy. Big Table is the perfect example of a run of a magazine that can be pieced together through trades, connections and networking, and digging in bookstores. Big Tables, like Evergreen Reviews, turn up in the weirdest places. I pieced together a complete set for under $50. This is unusual but you should be able to beat $200 by buying individually. Brian Cassidy has a complete set for $150 which is a good price and does all the work for you even though the work is all the fun.

Yet in the last year, it seems the complete Big Table is increasing in price. I have only begun watching it closely in the last few months but I would suspect its increase in value to continue based on listings by Maggs Bros. and Royal Books. Maggs lists the set at over $600. Maggs is not a megalister, but their price has a similar effect to a re-listing. Other booksellers see this listing and set their prices accordingly. Sorry, but other booksellers and ebayers are not in Maggs’ or Royal Books’ league and cannot command those prices. They simply do not serve their clientele. In addition other sellers do not have these stores’ expertise or quality of service. High-end booksellers provide more than just the book. Your purchase comes with provenance, a guarantee of quality and authenticity, expertise as well as what amounts to brand name recognition in the book world. For some collectors, buying with dealers like Royal Books or Maggs is a priceless experience. Great book dealers provide even more. Royal Books’ incredible catalogs or The Dark Page are valuable resources. megalisters do not pass on any of these benefits.

megalisters and the dynamic of internet pricing may in the present market have an effect like the recent mortgage crisis. In the coming years, millions of baby boomers are going to begin to get rid of their possessions, like rare books. In addition in tough times, people turn to their attics, basements, and garages for a little extra cash. Both groups may make use of rare books in order to pay for college tuition or to supplement retirement. In many cases, these books were handed down through families or bought for peanuts before the boom on modern firsts in the last 15 years or so. So these books have sat awaiting the time to sell. In other cases, the books were purchased as investments with an eye to sell. Most people depend on the internet for pricing their collections instead of relying on more reliable and conservative pricing indices like auction results. Few have the time, inclination, or resources to track catalog prices over time. As we have seen, many books online are grossly overvalued by megalisters and the inexperienced. This can lead to people falsely believing they have a small jackpot on their hands.

Other books, like those at Maggs, need to be interpreted correctly. Anybody involved in the rare book business has had the experience of a customer entering your store with a beat-up, unjacketed copy of a book (or even a book-of-the-month-club edition) wondering why it is not worth the highest listed price on Abebooks. Ebayers and megalisters fall into the same trap. The website Bookride has been exposing numerous over-valuations of this nature on ebay and on-line for quite some time. When someone tries to sell his copy of the Olympia Naked Lunch for $5000 or his set of Big Table for $600, he is going to get a rude awakening. Your copy of Big Table probably lacks the condition of Maggs’ copy, the subscription cards or the inserts for example. And most importantly access to the market. Any way you look at it, many internet prices, like the real estate appraisals of the last few years, are leading to inflated values. For the most part, books like Naked Lunch or Big Table would never achieve their highest online value at auction.

Like all collectors, I track the prices listed on Abebooks. For a few years, I kept charts of every copy of certain Burroughs books that came on the market. I admit that I would get all Mr. Burns and rub my hands when a saw a copy of a book listed online at a high price. And my copy was in better condition! Then I worked in a bookstore and saw what books bought and sold for. And I saw on a daily basis people like me drawn to books like moths to a flame. We were and are a sorry lot. It was that experience that ended for good any thoughts that book collecting revolves around anything but a love of books. Money is not the paper than matters.

Despite what I see printed elsewhere, you cannot convince me that book collecting, or at least my collection, is an investment. megalisters and scanners are making book collecting as an investment even more difficult and dicey. My bookshelf is a money pit, like a 40 foot yacht or a sports car. Book collecting is a passion that in most cases goes contrary to sound money management. There is a reason book collecting has for centuries been categorized as bibliomania, a sickness and a form of madness. For Burroughs’ fans, it fits well into the old man’s junk paradigm and is best considered an addiction. Addictions take and do not give. Yet there are exceptions. Congratulations to Eric Shoaf. It is a major accomplishment to have your book collection bought by a University, especially one as immersed in the culture of the book as the University of Virginia. I suspect Nelson Lyon made a nice profit on his collection in 1999. Burroughs made a living off of his addiction to drugs and books. But these are exceptions. Book collecting requires a price. In the words of Nancy Reagan, “Just say no.” Or at least know what you are getting into.

Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

A handwritten Burroughs letter turned up on eBay a few weeks ago. If I remember correctly the letter was from the mid-1990s and in it, Burroughs expresses his thanks for a $5000 loan. I traded a few emails with Burroughs fans who were surprised that Burroughs was hurting for cash at such a late date. The publication of Naked Lunch and the resulting royalties, particularly from Grove, allowed Burroughs to end his dependence on his parents’ generosity, but this independence did not happen until the 1960s. In 1984, Burroughs signed a $200,000 book deal with Viking, coupled with a 45,000 pound deal for the British rights. At the time, Burroughs had mounting debts (some stemming from his son’s medical expenses), and this deal provided some measure of financial security. As Burroughs became more of a mainstream figure, his financial prospects must have brightened even more. But it is my understanding that Burroughs always struggled with money problems of some type. As one of my email correspondents pointed out, Burroughs needed a collaborator in his financial life as well as his creative one. Without a doubt, James Grauerholz provided creative, personal, and economic stability to Burroughs’ life. Yet financial concerns dogged Burroughs to the end of his life. Burroughs was never the millionaire that Kerouac portrayed Burroughs to be in books and letters. This myth dies hard even today.

The early 1970s was another era of a global recession directly tied to the state of the oil market. In 1973, Burroughs lived in London and he was looking for a way out. In desperation he dug into his voluminous archives. In detailing the Burroughs archive offered for sale by Ken Lopez, I told the story of how Burroughs mortgaged his literary history in order to finance his return to the United States. The archive was sent into private hands and remained under lock and key for decades. That is until the recent sale of the privately held archive to the NYPL. The repercussions on Burroughs criticism were and are immense. Who knows what would have happened to Burroughs’ archives under different personal and global economic circumstances? Yet the benefits to Burroughs personally were even more important. The sale allowed Burroughs to return to the United States and begin the second stage of his creative life that culminated in the trilogy of Cities of the Red Night, Place of Dead Roads, and Western Lands.

This letter with its insight into the struggles of supporting oneself as a writer or artist in the United States, even for a writer as well-known and seemingly successful as Burroughs, got me thinking about the current state of the economy and what it means for the rare book business and the health of the Burroughs / Beat market. I am not alone. So what does today’s economic market mean for the rare book business? In a recent blog, Brian Cassidy commented that more customers are coming into his store selling books. Rare book bloggers are addressing the affects of a down market on the book trade? Are we going to see an increase in the availability of rare books due to the economic downturn? Do writers and collectors generally sell their literary treasures in tough times, like Burroughs did in 1973? ? In real estate, one always hears that a recession is a buyer’s market. Is a recession the perfect time for a book collector, bookseller, or institution to acquire interesting material? Are rare books good investments? (For conflicting views see David Brass Rare Books or MyFineBooks.) Personally, I remember tons of Burroughs and Beat material being available in the dot.com boom years of the late 1990s. (William Reese on the rare book market in 2000.) Is this a myth like the legend of Burroughs’ trust fund? Does a robust economy directly relationial to a wide selection of great material? Or is this yet another faulty memory? Are there any economic laws relating to book collecting? How does the rare book market reflect on the overall economy?

In an effort to answer some of these questions, I interviewed a bookseller (Brian Cassidy), a book collector (Ted Dunn), and an economist (Peter Leeson) about the economics of the rare book industry.

Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

To be blunt, the New York Antiquarian Book Fair is the shit. Prior to the fair, I went to the Morgan Library to see their Gutenberg Bible and soak in the atmosphere of J.P. Morgan’s study. The display at the New York show was even more impressive to me, Gutenberg Bible aside. To be honest, I would not be surprised to see the most important human achievement of the second millennium sitting under glass at some rare book dealer’s booth at 66th and Park. This show is that big on the rare book scene. As one dealer told me when I expressed surprise on seeing him, he would not miss this event for the world. He referenced bankrobber Willie Sutton: New York is where the money is.

The Morgan did have one Beat jewel on display amongst the gem-encrusted bindings and the illuminated manuscripts. On the second floor of the Library there was an August 22, 1959 letter from Allen Ginsberg to John Ciardi defending Jack Kerouac against Ciardi’s attack on Maggie Cassidy. There was also a September 3, 1959 postcard follow-up to Ciardi’s reply. Ciardi, the editor for The Saturday Review, wrote a review of Maggie Cassidy in July 1959 entitled “In Loving Memory of Myself.” Critical attacks on Kerouac of this nature were common in the mainstream press. Ciardi follow that up with a larger swipe at the Beats titled “Epitaph for the Dead Beats.” Ciardi is an interesting figure in Beat and Burroughs history. More on him at a later date. The Ginsberg letter includes three paragraphs on William Burroughs. This makes sense since Naked Lunch was published just one month earlier in late July and critics were finally able to assess Naked Lunch as a whole. Ginsberg writes of the relationship between Burroughs and Kerouac as writers, “Burroughs working along similar lines different personal angle shorthand transcription of visual image archetypes encountered in total spiritual exploration.” Ginsberg continues, “Indivious comparisons between Burroughs and Keroauc is the sort of speculation which Jealousy will substitute for happy appreciations. They are old friends and fellow workers and learn from each other.” Ginsberg also quotes the line about Burroughs not imposing plot or story: “I am a recording instrument.” The letter concludes with a handwritten line: “New art should not arouse hostility among the learned, but does and alas always has.” it is a fitting epitaph for the Beats and the lively Beat spirit. All in all it is a remarkable document and an example of the type of treasures on hand at the Morgan.

The New York Book Fair had similar jaw-droppers. The one item that caught my eye was a poster announcing the March 9, 1959 reading with Frank O’Hara and Gregory Corso at the Living Theatre. This reading is legendary and shows the sometimes contentious relationship between the Beats and the New York School. David Lehman provides details of this reading in The Last Avant Garde. At the reading, Keroauc famously yelled to O’Hara, “You’re ruining poetry.” O’Hara quickly returned with “That’s more than you’ll ever do.” The poster documents this important moment in literary history in a material and ephemeral way. Such objects never fail to catch my attention.

Yet I was distracted to say the least. I am sure there were several other great items at the fair but the 2008 New York show was all about one thing and that was the Burroughs Archive of photographs and ur-collages on sale from Brian Cassidy and Ken Lopez. Sure there were other Burroughs items, but they were like the opening band than everybody in the audience struggles to sit through before the headliner. In a show crowded with incredible items, this collection held its own and cast a spell over an audience of jaded spectators who have seen it all. One hour before I got to Ken Lopez’s booth, the collection sold to a gallery owner who plans to exhibit them, but I did get to see the items briefly. Seeing them in person I could understand why the Berg would pass on the items. They were not visually spectacular in the way the scrapbooks from the 1960s are. Those items appeal as art objects and examples of avant experimentalism like mail or Fluxus art. The material in Lopez’s possession was small, unassuming, easy to overlook given that libraries, particularly the Berg, are awash in snapshots of and by Beat figures. That said, this collection exuded an aura. I see these items like I would a fragment of text on a scrap of papyrus from Mesopatamia. Or a glyph on a weathered stone. A portal into beginnings. Could these photographs function like a Rosetta Stone allowing interested parties to get uncoded the genesis of Naked Lunch? Scholar as archeologist. I was reminded of Charles Olson describing himself as an archeologist of morning. From what I could see they have the potential be incredibly useful in just such a project as it relates to Burroughs. The images reveal Burroughs in the process of contructing a composite city, a proto-version of Interzone. These pieces are primitive collage, cut-ups, mosaics, cut and paste from a very early date. Pre-Gysin. Nailing down the date of their creation is crucial. The potential implications are far-reaching. These images tie back to the Yage visions and the Composite City section that so fascinate scholars like Oliver Harris and provide a key to his recent scholarship with Yage Letters and the Latin American notebooks. Thankfully they sold as a collection. Once the Berg passed on the collection there were discussions of selling the collection piecemeal.

Ken Lopez and Brian Cassidy are no strangers to the Bibliographic Bunker. (See Burroughs Literary Archive and Brian Cassidy Bookseller and a Rare Burroughs Letter) So as soon as I heard about the collection I fired off some questions for Brian Cassidy to consider. Instead of writing on all the side acts at the fair (though bookseller Peter Stern’s copy for $6000 had one of the finest, brightest dust jackets that I have seen in a while, how many Olympia Press Naked Lunches can you see?), I present Brian Cassidy’s thoughts about the headline act along with a link to the collection.

The first thing I thought of when I saw this archive was where it came from. Who is Richard Lorenz and how did he get these items?

Lorenz was a noted photographer as well as a photo collector and scholar; he authored several books on the medium including one on Imogen Cunningham. He purchased the WSB items from a New York photography dealer named Sol Lowinsky, who we gather purchased them directly from WSB. They came to Ken Lopez and me through a photography dealer representing the Lorenz estate.

Given that so much of Burroughs’ archives are already in institutions, how rare is it that Burroughs material of this magnitude is still in private hands?

Material like this is certainly scarce. How much remains in private hands, however, can be tough to gauge. For example, Burroughs sold this material probably in the late 1980s to early 1990s. How often he partook of similar “extra-archival” sales to dealers and collectors is unclear. He was certainly not a rich man and it wouldn’t surprise me if he occasionally (if not regularly) raised money by divesting himself of stray pieces of his archive. Also unclear is what remains in the hands of friends, editors (particularly, to my mind, of small magazines), and other acquaintances who had contact with Burroughs.

I think there’s an image of WSB as sort of remote and distant — both intellectually and physically (Kansas, Tangier) — but in fact he maintained an extensive correspondence, had numerous warm and close friendships, hosted many visitors (even in his later years in Lawrence) and was — esp. during his him time in NYC — very much “of the scene,” hanging out with Warhol, Lou Reed, various punk rockers, etc. It seems likely that many of these people over the years retained Burroughs material — whether it be letters, art, etc. — that will find its way to market someday. So one must be careful to differentiate between absolute rarity and market rarity. My guess is in absolute terms there’s probably substantial WSB material yet to worm its way into the public eye (indeed just this past year I’ve purchased a small typescript and a pair of early letters). But from the perspective of the market right now, good primary material from Burroughs remains uncommon.

That said, early and substantive examples such as this archive are exceptional.

What were your first impressions going through the material?

My first impression came via images emailed to me. I was certainly excited about the material and recognized its importance, but the full impact of the work wasn’t clear until I saw them in person for the first time. The collages in particular are smaller than the online catalog probably suggests. As such, they have a strange and awkward delicacy that is difficult to convey in reproduction. Coupled with the wonderful materiality of the aging scotch tape and the aggressive and disjointed nature of collage, the overall effect is quite powerful. They’re extraordinarily effective at conveying both a sense of place and time while simultaneously suggesting the mindset of Burroughs. There’s an immediacy and significance about them that goes beyond their being — perhaps to some eyes — a simple Beat relic.

Are these items mere curiosities or do you see scholarly value in them? Do they provide a port of entry into Burroughs as a writer or person?

Building off what I said in the previous answer, I think the material is of supreme importance to WSB. As I say in my description, the work most obviously echoes his collage experiments (I’m thinking in particular of the C Press Time) and his career-long cut-up work. That said, what I think is far more fascinating (and again, I’m not saying anything my cataloging doesn’t) is how Burroughs seems to be doing in these collages what he was doing in his writing of Naked Lunch and the other Interzone books: remaking in visual form the melding of time, place, and person he was attempting via verbal methods in those novels. In other words, we see the beginnings of the conflict that would occupy the remainder of Burroughs’ career: the tension between word and image.

I am particularly struck by the image of Burroughs in the distance on the beach in Tangier. Was there an image that stuck with you from the collection?

I’m partial to the collage that incorporates Ginsberg’s portrait of Peter Orlovsky from their trip to Yosemite in 1950s. What I like about this is how Burroughs took his friend’s (Ginsberg’s) picture of his (again, Ginsberg) lover in an American landscape and married it to his own image of Tangier. For me at least, I think this reveals a lot about Burroughs’ feelings toward the country and his time there.

I also really care for the images of Billy Burroughs. These would have been his father’s pictures of him from his own scrapbook. And given what happened not only to Billy, but also obviously his mother, I find them quite poignant and a little sad. Doubly so when you consider WSB then subsequently sold them. I think Billy was a part of his life he was never able to fully incorporate or resolve. And I may be reading too much into them, but I think you can see something of their relationship in the rather stern faces Billy reveals in these images.

What are the comparables with an archive of this nature? Do you value these with Burroughs’ scrapbooks in mind or with original photographs by literary figures like Ginsberg or the recently passed Jonathan Williams?

Hmmm. Well, there aren’t any good ones. The most obvious though would be later Burroughs artwork, which in my mind at least created a floor for how these might be priced. Ginsberg’s photos were a useful benchmark in thinking about the loose photos. But when it came to the collages, it was less about finding similar material and much more about understanding their context and importance. For unique items such as these, determining value can be much more art than science. Which is not to say it’s not entirely rational, just difficult to describe. To prove the (science) point: When Ken Lopez and I were considering the purchase, we both came up with prices — both for the archive as a whole as well as the individual pieces — independently of each other and our numbers were nearly identical.

But to further prove the point (i.e. art): the buyer of the archive was another dealer, who — unless he has an immediate buyer — obviously wouldn’t have purchased it if he didn’t think he could market the items at a higher price.

I know the collection was offered to a few institutions. What is the state of affairs of the institutional market?

I’m not sure that the financial situation for institutions is substantially different now than it was a year or two ago. You will hear older dealers lamenting the fact that library budgets are not what they were twenty or thirty years ago. And that does seem to be the case. You don’t see much of the vacuum approach anymore that places like the Ransom took during the Texas oil boom, for example. But I never experienced that first-hand; my timeline is much shorter and from where I stand, special collections are still a strong, necessary and important market. In other words, there are absolutely libraries actively buying. In the last sixth months, I’ve placed everything from a small Henry Miller archive to a collection of papers from a prominent 19th century historian with various large institutions. Of particular interest to Bunker readers: for more than two years I’ve been working with a major library that actually has an endowed fund dedicated exclusively to the acquisitions of the magazines from the mimeo revolution. It’s shaping up to be a great collection.

In your opinion, what is the future role of the individual collector? For example, I see that in a New Yorker article philanthropists have taken over some aspects of journalistic research for the struggling newspaper industry. Are we going to see an increase in private individuals filling the role of archivists with the goal being preservation and not financial speculation?

In the same way that Burroughs — as the avant-garde of his day — prefigured much of the work that was to come after him, private, individual collectors are very much the avant-garde (read: advance guard) of special collections. The best collectors will almost always be way ahead of most libraries simply because they are accountable to no one else and so have no one to whom they need justify their acquisitions.

As for “private individuals filling the role of archivists with the goal being preservation and not financial speculation,” I guess I reject the premise of the question as I don’t see a dichotomy between preservation and long-term financial value. Though the age-old advice to book collectors — “Collect what you love; don’t do it for the money” — still remains very sound, at the levels you’re talking about (important / rare / unique primary material), there’s little reason to believe the rare book market should behave much differently than the art market. And indeed, some recent sales (I’m thinking of the Kerouac On the Road scroll, the WSB archive sale to the Berg, Don Delillo’s recent seven-figure sale of his archive to Texas) suggest that the we may see appreciations in the rare book world similar to those seen over the last fifteen years in the world of art, where prices for the very best and rarest of materials completely out-paces the rest of the market.

But even outside of those dizzying financial realms, a good collection is always worth more than the sum of its parts — which is and will continue to be good news for the small collector. Or to put it another way: history suggests that the pendulum is constantly swinging between the power of the individual and the institutional collector. Due to a number of factors, at the moment, I suspect the pendulum is swinging in favor of the individual — both well-healed and thrifty.

What do you see as the future of literary archives? Will an institution or collector ever pay big money for an electronic file of archived email, drafts, or images? How will electronic files be collected — or will they be collected at all?

To be honest, I have trouble imagining an entirely electronic archive. I suspect that authors will continue to interact with the physical draft for some time. This will, however, increasingly and obviously be in conjunction with more and more electronic media (word processors, email, etc.), and this poses several problems. First is the ease of infinite duplication (thereby eliminating the exclusivity of the physical object) which can make determining monetary value more difficult. Second is the danger of corruption (i.e. unintended changes) to the electronic data — something that is not an issue with information in a physical archive. And finally and perhaps most importantly, electronic documents are in many ways even more ephemeral than paper ones. (Can you still open the documents on that floppy disk from your college years?) My guess is that writers, dealers, and libraries will begin to work more closely with each other and at earlier points in authors’ careers to address these issues and ensure that important information is preserved. At least, that’s my hope.

Is the rare book industry prepared to deal with digital collecting or archiving of this nature? For example, Ralph Ellison’s last novel was cobbled together from drafts on computer disks (as well as other sources). Is the rare book field prepared to assess and market this type of material?

No. Generally speaking, I don’t think the rare book world is ready for digital collecting or archiving. But I think this has much more to do with the fact that there haven’t been any real test cases rather than any kind of professional blindness or bias. Indeed, I don’t think most institutions or authors are ready for these changes either.

The problem with an example like Ellison is that it calls into question the very idea of primacy and authenticity upon which the rare book market is built. What is a real draft or a real letter in the age of email and .doc files? What is a “first edition” of an e-book? Now, these questions have been around at least since the development of photography, and have been far better addressed by the likes of Walter Benjamin, but I think you’re right to sense that these questions will be coming to a head in the near future. How it all will shake out, I’m just not sure.

Can you name an author who will be collected electronically?

Perhaps Mark Z. Danielewski, whose House of Leaves was originally published and distributed on the internet.

Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

Looking over eBay results in the last few weeks and reviewing the prices realized for the latest PBA Galleries Beat sale, I thought of two important little mags from the post-WWII era: Judson Crews’ Suck Egg Mule and Ian Hamilton Finlay’s Poor.Old.Tired.Horse. Yes folks, I am going to beat a dead horse in this column: the Olympia Press titles of William Burroughs and Fuck You, a magazine of the arts.

There was a fascinating sale that closed on eBay on April 9, 2008. (pdf) The lot was all three Olympia Press titles of William Burroughs in dust jacket stored in clamshell boxes. The Ticket That Exploded was signed and in very good plus condition (a very tight signature by the way). The Soft Machine had some slight rubbing but was also very good plus. But the Naked Lunch. Well, brace yourself; it was described as follows: “As NEW FINE PLUS! There is no better example in the world. The DJ is immaculate. Colors are not only unfaded but pristine. Not a blemish.” The copy was unsigned.

Over at the Bookride blog, they have a field day with internet descriptions like this. In over 15 years of collecting I have seen in person, in catalogs, or on the web about 5-10 “one of a kind copies” of the Olympia Naked Lunch. Check out ABE to get a sense of this. Why the hyperbole? Because truth be told, the book is not that rare, but supposedly fine/fine copies are going the way of the dodo. This is debatable given the number of “impeccable” copies I have seen over the years. In any case you can’t tell anything from scans on eBay, so buyer beware. That said, this “pristine” copy did look quite nice from the scans. Then again, Nicole Kidman looks good on screen but without the squadron of make-up people — look out. I would definitely not pay almost five-figure money for these books unless I handled them myself. Thus the need for book fairs, brick-and-mortar bookstores, and dealers you can trust. Even in the internet age the truly big book sales do not happen on the internet. Or so I thought. Bidding reached $9000 on the Burroughs books, but the seller wanted more and set an astronomical reserve. Therefore the books did not sell.

Let’s break that $9000 down. Fine signed copies of The Ticket That Exploded are at the high end: $1250. Fine unsigned Soft Machines are pricey around $750. So that leaves $7000 for this exemplary copy of Naked Lunch. This is a remarkable price for this title; I don’t care if it looked and smelled like it just came off the printing press and was signed by Burroughs with a blood-tipped syringe. Well, that would be quite a copy, but even superlative signed copies without associations list for around the $10,000 mark (Question to ponder: do they really fetch that price? Or are they always discounted like a new car?), but beautiful unsigned copies top out around $5000-$6000. (The Joseph the Provider copy at $10,000 is an exception as it is basically an unsigned copy. In my opinion, tipped-in signatures do not count as signed.) I saw a wonderful unsigned copy at the New York show behind glass at Peter Stern’s booth for $6000. Will they get this price? The $9000 was bid at auction. Unless the sale was voided in some way or this was a case of people bidding with no intention of paying like the Velvet Underground acetate, this is as good as an auction house price. Personally I don’t think the seller really wanted to sell. He was testing the waters more or less. What was he hoping to get?

Compare this eBay auction to the recent PBA Galleries sale of April 3, 2008. Naturally, the sale featured an Olympia Naked Lunch. All Beat auctions do. Remember that even so-called fine copies are not that rare. This auction featured a nice copy with the description: “Two miniscule tears to jacket head, still fine in fine jacket, very rare thus, in custom silk-covered folding box.” I have learned to be wary of PBA’s descriptions (their concept of fine does not jive with mine), but the high and low estimate were $2000-3000. Perfectly reasonable for a fine copy. The book slightly underperformed at $1920. Is this fine copy really $5000 less fine than the eBay copy? In rare-book collecting, condition means value. In this case $5000. As a seller, I would have jumped at the $9000 offered on eBay. If… if I wanted to sell.

The PBA sale was advertised in part as a Beat sale, but it was more accurately a San Francisco sale, like the George Fox sale of years gone by. Case in point, the rock posters, Digger material, examples of SF printing like Four Seasons, Cadmus Editions, and White Rabbit. The general lack of Burroughs / Corso material among the Beat items highlights the West Coast nature of the sale. Kerouac, Snyder, Whalen, and Ferlinghetti are all closely tied to the San Francisco Scene. I also might have marketed the sale as artifacts from the Doss collection. Some of the material came from the library of John and Margot Doss. The Dosses ran a literary salon in San Francisco (admittedly with a Beat focus), and Margot worked for 30 years at the SF Chronicle. I guess the Dosses do not have enough name recognition to carry a sale. But clearly, San Francisco and regulars of the Dosses’ salon were the focus of the counter-culture portion of this sale.

This portion was small: 95 lots total. Roughly 15% of the items did not sell. 43% of the items were under the low estimate. 22% were within the estimates, and 20% outperformed the high estimate. Dovetailing with the small, intimate nature of the sale (in a sense a reflection of the Doss’s literary circle), the best (and most intriguing) performers at the auction benefitted from a personal touch. It does not get much more personal than a letter. The lead dog was an archive of letters from Bukowski to Loss Pequeno Glazier. Glazier edited the 1985 Bukowski Primer. The 16 letters fetched $10,800, slightly over low estimate. A smaller collection of letters, art and typescript involving Philip Whalen and Margot Doss exceeded the high estimate at $720. Gregory Corso’s 1963 “Dream Sketch Journal” with 150 pages of entries, probably all unpublished, nearly doubled the high estimate at $4800. Thirty-two Ferlinghetti books from his personal library (signed) found a new home at $1320.

One of the big surprises of the Beat portion of the sale was a roughly 9″X6″ flyer for the Trips Festival designed by Wes Wilson. The January 1966 Trips Festival had it all: the Pranksters, Kesey, Cassady, the Dead, Stewart Brand (of Whole Earth Catalog), Big Brother and Holding Company, and LSD by Bear himself, Augustus Owsley Stanley III. The Woodstock of 1960′s SF. The flyer quadrupled the high estimate soaring to $1200. Other psychedelic ephemera, like rock posters, postcards, and underground newspapers struggled to reach the low estimate or sell at all.

The biggest disappointment also garnered one of the highest bids. The Don Klein copy (as named in Krumhansl’s bibliography of Bukowski) of the gutter poet’s first chapbook, Flower, Fist and Bestial Wail, failed to reach the low estimate of $8000. It sold for $7800. The high estimate was $12000. This had all the elements of the personal but failed to ignite frenzied bidding. This was Frances Smith’s copy with the covers personally designed by Bukowski. Smith was the mother of Buk’s daughter, Marina Louise. The covers depict a pen and ink drawing of a man lounging in a chair “looking off into space” as the inscription on the cover states. The $7800 is quite surprising given that Ed Blair’s Presentation copy involving Buk and the Webb’s of Loujon Press sold for over $9000. Maybe too many copies of this chapbook have come to market recently, transforming the bestial wail into a stifled yawn. In my opinion, some bidder (hopefully a collector) got a very special item slightly under the estimate.

I am not going to spend much time on the Burroughs items. There were only three besides the above-mentioned Olympia Naked Lunch: a Grove Naked Lunch ($480), a Grove Naked Lunch with a later DJ ($180) and Early Routines ($1020). Almost all of them underperformed. The Early Routines was the exception. The Grove Naked Lunch again had way too high an estimate ($800-1000), and the book description was hyperbolic. The photo in the catalog did not in my opinion match up with the description. I think collectors scrutinized the photo, particularly around the edges of the dj, and stayed away. Barely reaching half the low estimate, it almost did not sell at all. The hope of a four figure unsigned Grove Naked Lunch appears to be something of a pipe dream.

The Early Routines is an interesting book. Published by Cadmus Editions out of Santa Barbara (a further tie to California) in 1981, the book features a portrait drawing of Burroughs by David Hockney. Both Burroughs and Hockney signed a limited run of lettered copies. This is one of those lettered copies. The lot also contained some ephemera from publisher Jeffrey Miller. On one level, this is a very cool title. The book links several generations of SF small press publishers. Graham Mackintosh designed the book. Mackintosh took over White Rabbit Press from Joe Dunn. Macintosh developed into one of the major (if troubled) figures in the SF small press scene. He worked with, taught, and influenced seemingly everybody in West Coast printing after 1960. Cadmus Press is an independent press that developed after Macintosh’s generation (maybe two generations). The publishing figure that lurks in the shadows is Alastair Johnston of Poltroon Press. Johnston was initially approached with the Early Routines project, but he passed not wanting to print what he saw as essentially a glorified reprint.

On another level, this title bores me. To some extent it is, as Johnston believed, a dressed-up reprint, a placing of old wine in fine crystal bottles. Graham Macintosh called such book art projects: “Artifical Rarities.” Arion Press is the king of this jungle. Rightly or wrongly, I see the fine press market dominated by projects like Early Routines that take stale, artistically conservative material and try to spice it up with Japanese paper, cork covers, and fancy bindings. The text generally does not challenge the established literary tradition, and the book object does not complicate the concept of the book in an innovative fashion. They are essentially coffee table books. Copies of Fuck You, a magazine of the arts, My Own Mag, or C strike me as far more pleasing on the level of form and content. These mimeos hold more claim to the status of Art than some of the more celebrated work by the lions of the fine press.

That said a Fuck You generally does not have the price tag of a book like Early Routines. It is my personal belief that in time it will, but it does not now. This brings me back to eBay. Recently a copy of Fuck You 3 (God thru Orgasm) turned up on eBay. The first time around the mag had a reserve and a buy it now of $750. At around the same time, somebody suggested to me that early issues of Fuck You were in the $1400 range, because he saw it listed on a database site at that price. The fate of this particular copy of Fuck You 3 is a corrective to such faulty logic. Initially the bidding stalled at $202.50, not making the reserve. It relisted and sold at $200. This is about right. This is the historically correct amount based on years of auction and catalog results. The early issues (one thru four) are in the $200-400 range rising as you backtrack to the first issue. Starting with the 5th Issue, prices can fall to around $100. Issue 5/7 is maybe $100-$150 higher. The Mad Motherfucker issue with the Warhol cover is the only Fuck You title (from the entire Fuck You bibliography) in the four-figure range without signatures and extras. Somebody correct me on that if I am wrong. Over time the Warhol issue has consistently sold at that price in any condition. Roughly a decade ago a complete run sold at Ken Lopez for $2000. What is the price now? $3000? $4000? At four grand, half that amount is the Warhol issue. That leaves about $2000 for twelve issues. You do the math to see that single issues are not $500-$1400 as seen online. All Fuck You prices are sure to rise. Exhibits like the one on the Fugs at Printed Matter, the added attention to the mimeo revolution, and the death of print will make sure of that. But, the value will not immediately shoot up to the four figure range overnight just because of these events. A long-term healthy rare book market depends on just such a steady rising tide, not a tsunami. The current real estate market and the general economy show the wisdom of markets mimicking the pace of the tortoise and the folly of investors chasing hyperactive White Rabbits.

Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

Signs, signs, everywhere there are signs. On Friday March 7th, I saw a robin on the way to the train. The Orioles had a game against the Red Sox in Fort Lauderdale later that day. I can feel it coming in the air tonight. Yes, spring is on the verge of springing, but the most telling sign was the fact that the Washington Antiquarian Book Fair flew into town for its 33rd installment. For going on 15 years, the Washington DC Book Fair has proven as reliable as the cherry blossoms in signaling the change of the seasons for me. In book collecting terms, this time of year is the middle of the book fair season. Boston and California are behind us, and it is time to spring forward. The New York Fair is less than a month away.

It seemed the perfect time to make Friday a bibliophile’s holiday and to sample some of what DC has to offer for the book lover. Shopping-wise that means two stores in particular: Second Story Books and Bridge Street Books. For me, these two stores are the core of DC’s book culture. Not all the chains, nor the independents like Olsson’s or Kramerbooks. Not the Library of Congress, although I have spent many an hour there researching a finer point of law and have on occasion requested an old lit mag or two while waiting for a yellowed legal article. Not the Folger, although I have attended a few readings there including the recent John Ashbery reading. No, Second Story and Bridge Street, along with the Washington DC book fair, are what I think of when I consider DC as a book town.

My feelings about Second Story Books are completely out of whack. I cannot be unbiased about it. I worked there for two years, and the experience was one of the defining periods of my life. In a sense, working there was like going to graduate school. It revolutionized my views on book collecting, literature, art, and most especially, music. So every time I go to one of the two Second Story locations (Dupont Circle or Rockville), it is a powerful experience. The Bethesda location has since closed down. This closure speaks volumes to just what type of community Bethesda has become. Second Story was a fixture on Bethesda Avenue for years, but the lease came up and so did the rent. The landlords wanted a Pier One Imports or a Starbucks or a Crate and Barrel on the block. Second Story did not jive with the Bethesda image. It was too shabby, too unwashed, and too rough around the edges. In short, it had character, and characters shopped there. I assume that the Second Story clientele have been encouraged to move on as well, to make room for the nice coiffed and nicely cultured. Bethesda must be content with the Barnes and Noble at the end of the block to provide all its book needs. The newly located Second Story never caught on. I am sure shoppers will find what they need at the superstores. Everything in the right place and everything attractively packaged saying all the right things.

The fact that the Dupont Circle store still hangs on tells you something about Dupont as a community in DC. Years ago, Dupont and nearby Georgetown were book central for used and rare books. This has been changing for years. Kultura on Connecticut closed years ago and headed west ending in (I believe) Santa Monica. Larry McMurtry locked up Booked Up in Georgetown many moons ago as well. As I remember there were a handful of other rare bookstores in the area that have closed as well. I am sure others carry on the good fight, but Booked Up, Kultura and Second Story were the stores I always browsed on the weekends. They were part of my rounds. Only Second Story remain. From what I hear Bartleby’s Books in Georgetown still thrives and has really stepped forward as a great destination for Americana collectors. I would love to hear from readers in the DC area about their favorite book places.

Ordered and organized, Second Story is not. Compared to the Rockville location, the Bethesda store was as orderly as the Dewey Decimal System. The Dupont Circle store is somewhere in between. In an effort to impose some structure on the store, I have a routine I always follow when browsing. I go straight to the S section in fiction and look for Iain Sinclair books. Then I thoroughly go through the Poetry section casting a wide net for anything related to modern poetics, be it a book of Walt Whitman to a slim volume of George Oppen. Anything is possible. I still remember walking in the Dupont location just after somebody dumped a small Olson collection and picking up the first four issues of Olson, the journal dedicated to mining his archives. On my most recent trip, I found a collection packaging 3 long Michael McClure poems including Dark Brown ($7). Dark Brown was initially published by Auerhahn Press in 1961, and I have always wanted to read it after hearing Kerouac rave about it. Right next to the Penguin reissue was a copy of Kerouac’s Buddhist musings Some of the Dharma for $10. I bought them both.

Next, I go to the literary criticism and biography section. There is always something of interest here including without fail a Burroughs book or two. On this trip, they had the Miles and Morgan biographies in hard cover, Last Words (hardcover), The Job and The Adding Machine (both in paperback). Usually there is a good selection of Kerouac and Ginsberg material. I found a copy of Faas’ Young Robert Duncan and a copy of Daniel Kane’s All Poets Welcome with the CD. My copy of Kane’s book came from Amazon without it, and I have wanted to replace it. And so it goes through the Art Section, Film and Music, and then ending up in the America History section. Next thing you know a couple of hours have gone by and a good amount of money has changed hands. It is time and money well spent.

Bridge Street Books is about a 15 minute walk from Second Story Books in the direction of Georgetown. The store is right next to the Four Seasons Hotel where M Street splits by the gas station. Usually there is a small table of discounted books outside for browsing. Usually something interesting comes to hand there, but not on this day since it was raining steadily. Without a doubt, Bridge Street is the best independent bookstore in the DC area, and from what I gather talking to those with literary and artistic interests, one of the best in the country. I must be honest; I have not shown this store the love that I should. I always stop in when I am in the area, but I should set aside more time and money than I do. I need to become a regular. Quite simply, the poetry and theory sections at Bridge Street are without parallel. If it relates to the poetic tradition of Stein / Williams / Pound in any way (predecessors / peers / heirs), it is at Bridge Street. This should come as no surprise since the store is managed by Rod Smith. Some consider Smith DC’s poet laureate. Clearly, he is a fixture in the city’s literary scene, and Bridge Street is ground zero for that community’s reading needs.

The store has all the in-print Burroughs you could want, including the RE/Search book on Burroughs and Gysin. I went to the store to buy Philip Whalen’s recently issued Collected Poems. Instead, I came out with a lavishly illustrated book on Document, a surrealist magazine edited by Georges Bataille. I also bought a copy of Aerial, a magazine edited by Smith. The issue I bought centered on Douglas Messerli. Messerli himself edited La Bas, a “newsletter” out of College Park, Maryland. He also ran Sun and Moon Press. La Bas was in the spirit of Floating Bear, a rapid form of communication for a dedicated and tuned-in audience. Finally, I picked up a copy of Talisman 23-26 edited by Edward Foster, which was dedicated to essays dealing with the direction of poetry and poetics after 1970. I could have spent thousands of dollars at Bridge Street. The Collected Joanne Kyger, Walter Benjamin’s Arcade Project and a companion book providing images of the Archive, the Selected John Wieners, the Angel Hair Anthology, the complete reprint of 0-9. If you are in the area and if you are interested in the cutting edge of DC’s (and the larger) creative community and in how it got that way, go to Bridge Street Books.

I include this personal tour of DC bookstores because used and independent bookstores and the experience of browsing their brick-and-mortar locations are essential to a thriving literary community. In an earlier post, I wrote about the importance of bookshops to Burroughs’ creative life. As The Road to Interzone demonstrates, Burroughs was always surrounded by books. The independent bookseller serviced Burroughs’ book jones. Be it Indica, Better Books, the Unicorn Bookstore, the Mistral, the English Bookshop, Eighth Street Books or the local paperback store in Lawrence. Such places were a lifeline for Burroughs. This lifeline is in danger of being cut. If this occurs the results will be catastrophic. The future of literature and a healthy society is at stake. Robert Bank, our European correspondent, emailed me recently lamenting the possible closure of his local library. Brick and mortar structures, like bookstores and libraries, are essential to living a fulfilling and rewarding existence. I am sure that readers of RealityStudio have as intimate an experience with bookstores and libraries in their hometowns as I do. If so, please provide a comment about your favorite store or library in your area and what you find there. I would love to hear about it.

The Washington DC Antiquarian Book Fair has been at the Holiday Inn in Rosslyn for what seems to be at least a decade. There is something familiar about the DC show that I always enjoy. Stepping off the elevator onto the second floor you know for certain that Bookworm & Silverfish is going to be in the far corner of the Rosslyn Room. You know that Allan Stypeck of Second Story Books is going to be there. JoAnne Reisler is going to be there with her children’s and illustrated books. Tucked in the back corner of the Shenandoah Suite (you really can’t get further from the action) will be Charles Agvent and Colebrook Book Barn. I have fond memories of most of these dealers. I bought my set of Big Table from Bookworm years ago. I overpaid, but he threw in a later printing of John Rechy’s City of Night, because I did not haggle about the price. Charles Agvent sold me a signed copy of Exterminator! at a Washington DC Book Fair years ago. I had no idea what I was doing at that time, and this particular book really stands out in my collection since it doesn’t quite fit in. As I found out later, I was more interested in the earlier Burroughs material. Every time I visited my father in Connecticut we would stop at Colebrook Book Barn. Years ago they were bursting at the seams in terms of books. They built sheds to house the overflow. Quite literally, books were housed in any and every available space. The Book Barn’s stall at the fair captures that sense of ordered chaos.

In one sense, the books at the Washington DC Book Fair are as familiar as the dealers. You are going to see signed copies of Katherine Graham’s Personal History. There will be several copies of Best Addresses. When I worked at Second Story, having a copy of these books was like having an ATM machine. As soon as you had a copy, you sold it. At a hefty profit. Reprints and proposed reprints have made this less the case, but these books are still popular.

Washington is above all else a zoo for political animals so books related to politics and Americana are all over the place. Probably a stereotype, but I have always felt that DC was a town that collected signatures, especially Presidential ones. This proclivity comes honestly to the city inside the beltway (or dishonestly depending on your view of the political game), and as a result there are a good number of signature-related ephemera at the DC show. Again, this is only my sense, but maps are big in the nation’s capital. DC residents generally are very driven, and they know where they want to go, so you would think maps would be unnecessary. Yet DC is a place of transients and maybe maps help ground its inhabitants in a single location or remind them of where they came from.

What the Washington Book Fair does not have in large numbers are little magazines and mimeo, counterculture material, or Beat collectibles. You have to go to California or New York for that. I would expect that browsing the San Francisco book fair shows you just how far away that city is from DC on several different levels. Yet you never know who is going to bring what and that is the beauty of the book fair circuit. You are always surprised. In fact DC’s 2008 show seemed to have more items that caught my eye than any I can remember. Take mimeo. Alexander Rare Books of Vermont had a beautiful copy of The Fugs Songbook (4th printing) mimeoed by John Sinclair’s Artists’ Workshop in Detroit. The associations here are endless. Yippies and White Panther. MC5 and the Fugs. Lower East Side and Detroit. What ties it all together is mimeo culture. The item really fit into present-day Washington given the political climate. Agree or disagree with the current war on terror, you have to wonder where the energy of the Sixties is today. I could not help but think of the Fugs performing at the Pentagon in 1967 to protest the Vietnam War. Is anybody trying to levitate the Pentagon in 2008?

It was a wonderful piece, but at $395 I got the sense that it was overpriced. This might be a case of a dealer having an item that he normally does not come in contact with. This usually goes one of two ways. Grossly underpriced (dealer doesn’t know what he has or its selling history) or grossly overpriced (dealer doesn’t know what he has or its selling history). I felt compelled to go through the archives since the Songbook can tell us a lot about the mimeo market. Ten years ago, Ken Lopez had two copies: one from the Fuck You mimeo ($375) and a second printing from Detroit ($125). Back then a fourth printing would have been under $100. I doubt if this item has quadrupled over that period. If Skyline Books or BeatBooks had the fourth printing right now, I think you would see a lower price on it than at Alexander. I could be wrong as The Fugs Songbooks, no matter what the printing, are unusual. A BeatBooks catalog in recent memory had a Fugs section, and there was nary a Songbook in sight. The condition of Alexander’s copy was extraordinary. Nobody else currently has a copy online, but they turn up on eBay from time to time and online. One (I don’t know the printing) sold on eBay in January 2007. This upcoming eBay auction will tell us a lot about the value of later printing Fugs Songbooks. The fourth printing was estimated at auction in 2004 at $150. Clearly the Fuck You printing is the one to have and the scarcest. If the $395 price holds up, it proves that mimeo rarities from 1945-1970 are only going to get tougher to find in any type of condition. No matter the price, it was fun to see it. And more important, it was relevant in more ways than one.

Generally, book fairs are all about the Gump factor: You never know what you are gonna get, although on a Burroughs level, you can safely bet that a Naked Lunch will be front and center. Royal Books had an absolutely beautiful copy of the Grove Naked Lunch for $1500. For a Burroughs collector, this is probably the key book at the fair. Is a Grove Naked Lunch no matter the condition a four figure book? Check the Bookride blog on this issue. He thinks paying such prices is foolish. This is the front line of Burroughs collecting. In my opinion if you can find a find a truly fine copy of the Grove Naked Lunch on eBay throw in a bid at $300-500. You might get it if there is no reserve. Dealers are asking astronomical prices for this book. The question is: are they selling at those prices? The Grove Naked Lunch will not get any cheaper. The same goes for signed copies of the later Groves. These are becoming truly rare books in fine condition despite the print run. If the condition is right and the signatures look legit (big ifs, especially the signature), avoid the dealers and get these titles on eBay. I hate to harp on this topic, but the Grove titles are where most Burroughs collectors start, and you don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.

At a book fair, one dealer can make or break the whole experience. For a Burroughs collector, Joe Maynard out of Brooklyn was that dealer. Do not confuse Maynard with the bibliographer. I did when I first came into contact with him years back. He hears it all the time from Burroughs collectors, but for the beginning Burroughs collector Joe was the man at this show. He had a nice selection of titles to choose from. The Ace Junkie always catches your eye when you see it. Maynard had a very nice copy at $950. Like the Grove Naked Lunch at Royal Books, this is a key book for a Burroughs collector. Let’s face it: the Ace Junkie is not an unusual title. One hundred thousand were printed. They show up on eBay everyday and sell for $350 or so consistently. Like many Burroughs titles, this is a case where condition is paramount. Truly fine copies of the Ace Junkie are really rare. No creasing on the spine or covers. A bright cover. No browning or yellowing to the pages. If you have the money, hold out for the stellar copy. It will stand out. I did not, and I made a mistake. If I had to do it over again I would have paid more money for a crisper unsigned copy or gone whole hog and bought a signed copy. This is a key part of a Burroughs collection, one that will be sought after by more than Burroughs collectors. Do it right. Do not skimp on condition. Was Maynard’s copy a $950 copy? I don’t know but I do know it was better than the one I have and I paid a pretty penny.

Maynard also had an Olympia Soft Machine for $450. This is the rarest of the Olympia Press titles in fine condition. This copy wasn’t bad for the price. For the beginning Burroughs collector, this would have been a nice copy to buy. The real star of Maynard’s books was an inscribed copy of the first edition Dead Fingers Talk. The copy was signed by Burroughs to his British agent Michael Hershaw. It was $400. This book was in great condition and the association was good. Another book that caught my eyes was a paperback edition of the British Ticket That Exploded inscribed to Allen De Loach. De Loach died recently, and his estate has been appearing on eBay for awhile now. Be warned this was the paperback edition, not the hardcover. Both versions were issued at the same time. They are identical. I have never seen this particular Ticket That Exploded in softcover so it caught my eye. I checked Maynard and Miles and this copy was not a review copy but a simultaneous paperback printing. In collecting the hardcover is generally the more valuable book. If that holds true here, the softcover was grossly overpriced at $400. In fact that price is too high for the hardcover even though the association is a nice one. Go with the Dead Fingers Talk if you have a choice. It is one of the coolest hardcovers in the entire Burroughs bibliography.

For me personally, the most interesting title Maynard possessed was an inscribed copy of the Calder Naked Lunch (1964) ($1000). I need this book, but with the A items condition is key. If the Calder Naked Lunch was in the same condition as the Grove Naked Lunch, I would have bought it. In addition the signature was from 1992. Call me prejudiced but the later loose signatures turn me off. Jeff Hirsch had a copy of The Retreat Diaries ($175) with a beautiful tight signature. Maynard’s Dead Fingers Talk also had a great signature. The Calder Naked Lunch was the perfect book. The Grove Naked Lunch was the perfect condition. The Dead Fingers Talk was the perfect signature. Sadly the stars did not align matching all three (does it ever??), but for other Burroughs collectors, particularly beginners, there were some very nice titles available at the DC show, although there were few, if any, deals to be had. Washington DC is one of the most expensive places to live in the United States, particularly in the real estate market. Everybody wants to live inside the beltway. Location, location, location. Every book collector wants the fine book with the impeccable signature. Condition, condition, condition. Be it a dream house or a dream book, perfection comes with a price. The key to happiness in any transaction is that your passion for the purchase greatly exceeds the price you paid.

Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

The network re-broadcast of Forrest Gump coincided with the arrival of the latest BeatBooks catalog. Gump hit the nail on the head when he said, “Rare book catalogues are like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re gonna get.” Or something like that. I guess Gump was more of a doer than a reader, but you get the idea.

That said, I am like a kid in a candy store when a new catalog comes it. I rapidly flip through the pages looking for items on my want list. It’s like rushing through the gates of Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and all of a sudden my inner Veruca Salt comes out and “I don’t care how; I want it now.” Next thing you know I have gorged myself like Augustus Gloop and the Oompa Lumpas come stage left singing a song about impulse buying and credit card debt. It is said that a great collector needs money and time. I seem to have a short supply of both lately, and the check from George Bush’s stimulus package can’t come soon enough. Somehow I think that spending all my check on rare books was not what economists had in mind when they drafted the plan.

So I open a new catalog with anticipation and trepidation. I secretly hope that there will be nothing of interest for my collection. My ambivalence stems from the fact that I don’t want to scurry around my sofa cushions gathering up money for a mimeo mag that once sold for fifty cents or in the case of Semina was free. No such luck with the latest offering from master bookseller Andrew Sclanders. This is his 48th catalogue, and he gets better as the years go by. BeatBooks along with James Musser’s Skyline Books are the Kings of the Hill in Beat and Counterculture collectibles.

It excited yet pained me to see a copy of Semina 4 featured in the latest catalog. Shirley Berman stares at you from the cover of the hard copy catalog seducing you to reach for your wallet. Oh god, how much is this going to cost me? A lot. $2500. Sclanders assures you that Semina 4 is one of the scarcer issues. Isn’t it funny how all the issues with the Burroughs appearances are always the scarcest issues? Floating Bear 24 or Insect Trust 2 comes to mind. I seriously considered buying the Semina 4. It is crazy but single issues of Semina are four-figures approaching five figures for the very scarce issues like Issue One. To think they were once given away. Then I re-read the item description online. It is missing the Peder Carr insert. Sclanders mentions that the Semina Culture exhibit copy was also missing this insert. As a consolation, the BeatBooks copy possessed an extra copy of Stuart Perkoff’s contribution. But the real added bonus was the Berman photograph inserted in the BeatBooks copy that is unlisted in Duncan and McKenna’s Semina Circle. Peder Carr was not a major player in the Semina Circle although he also appears in Issue two contributing a poem. Carr is described in Semina Circle as a poet and a literature student. He doesn’t show up on a Google search but if I am going to pay $2500 for a copy of Semina it has to be in great shape and it has to be complete. With Semina, complete is a relative term and maybe not truly in keeping with the spirit of Semina. As I was reminded when I commented on the incomplete nature of Semina 4, it is possible that not every issue of Semina was uniform throughout the print run. My mind flashed to the differentation between issues of My Own Mag or The Outsider, two other mags that aspired to be works of art. This lack of a stable contents, a lack of completeness, if you will, gets to the core of what makes Semina a form of personal and artistic expression by Berman, an art object and not a traditional magazine. In a sense, the BeatBooks Semina 4 is an ideal copy, because of the fact that it differs from other copies. It has missing pieces, but it also has extras.

Yet rightly or wrongly the missing insert was a deal breaker for me. It reminded me of the copy of Semina 2 that was recently on Abebooks that was missing the “City of Degenerate Angels” label. In some ways that is the most important part of that entire issue, although not every issue was affixed with the sticker. This adds weight to the theory that Berman varied the contents of his issues slightly particularly with tip-ins like labels or photographs. Clearly, the missing piece in Semina 4 is not on that level (and the added material makes up for it) but it is still important to me. I passed. Yet thinking of the added Berman photograph and my appreciation of the recent book on Berman’s photography, I think I may have made a mistake here. Somebody else did not. I checked the catalog online the day it went live, and the Semina 4 sold in a matter of hours.

I went through the entire catalog online on February 21 about a week after the catalog went live. Roughly 50% of the items had already sold. Fifty-Eight of the 128 items in the Beat Art section sold. Forty-two of the 116 Burroughs and Gysin items sold and ninety-two of the 168 Beatnik items did not last more than a week. From what I am told this is a remarkable statistic in such a short time frame, especially when you consider that Sclanders does not list on Abebooks. Of course, this has added financial benefits for Sclanders if he can pull it off. He cuts out the middleman. In my opinion, Sclanders is one of the few dealers who has developed considerable name-brand recognition through his own website and catalogues. Collectors eagerly await a new BeatBooks catalog and save their money to spend on its contents. I know of a few collectors who have passed on purchasing items recently available on eBay in order to concentrate on the BeatBooks catalog. Between the Covers, Ken Lopez and Skyline Books are a few leaders in modern firsts that I have mentioned in the Bunker, but even these stalwarts in the field maintain a presence on the major bookselling databases. Sclanders chooses not to and does not have to.

I have heard that there is a trend among the elite dealers in this direction. For example, William Reese is not on Abebooks. Dissatisfaction with Abebooks appears to be growing and in my opinion the quality of the dealers on the site has dropped considerably. Quite literally there are a whole new group of dealers on Abebooks who have no idea what they are doing. The prices are ridiculous. The descriptions are inaccurate and border on fraud in some cases. Read Joe McCann’s column (Honest Joe) entitled “Don’t Believe the Hype” in the February / March 2008 issue of Rare Book Review for an example. Check out what scholarly Beat titles are going for on Abebooks. It is common for books of this type to be over $100. There are several copies of Oliver Harris’ The Secret of Fascination for over $75. It is still available in print on Amazon for $45.

As a result the trend might be back to catalogues. Sclanders’ new catalogues usually deliver the goods. Number 48 did. I have been harping on the fact that catalogues are great resources. There are some wonderful nuggets in Number 48. Naturally, there is a wealth of bibliographic information. You can find out that Evergreen 32 is a scarce issue that was seized by police in Hicksville, Long Island (as Burroughs wrote, “Boy, are we ever in Hicksville”) for obscenity. The problem was not Burroughs (“They Just Fade Away”) but an article by Wayland Young (a history of the word fuck) and a portfolio of nudes by Emil J. Cadoo. The issue was banned from distribution to England so copies are rare there. They are tough to find State-side as well. Not a single copy is currently available online. Hence the $110 price tag. My copy has a revised price sticker that raised the cost of the issue to $1.50. This testifies to the issue’s rarity and desirability in 1964 to say nothing of the present. The catalogue also reminds you that the Crestview Lord Buckley album along with an issue of Ira Cohen’s Gnaoua (in which Burroughs appears) is prominently displayed on the mantelpiece on the cover of Dylan’s “Bringing It All Back Home.” Sclanders’ description for Lot 302, the LP “How to Speak Hip,” is a mini-history lesson in Beatnik and psychedelic culture.

This extra attention is greatly appreciated. Like sex (on display in the Beatnik section of the catalogue), information sells. In fact, the really desirable items sell themselves and seemingly minutes after the catalog becomes available. This is true for one item that really caught my eye. A signed copy of Icarus 46 edited by Iain Sinclair. I like the link to Sinclair, an author I have been dabbling in but not diving into head first. What I have read I have really enjoyed: namely Downriver and Kodak Mantra Diaries. Maybe now is the time. He has a new book out I hear. His foray into the little mag was published in May 1965 and was associated with Trinity in Dublin. Burroughs contributes “A Short Piece.” Icarus gets special mention in the Maynard and Miles Bibliography. Icarus morphed out of the abandoned Albatross. Daniel Lauffer, editor of Brown Paper and a collector, mentioned Icarus to me in an email, and I have been looking hard for a copy ever since. It is in a long list of University publications, starting with Chicago Review that flirted with Burroughs, often sparking the creation of a new magazine. This is the first issue of Icarus I have seen, and it was signed by Burroughs, so $190 seemed fine with me. But it was gone in sixty seconds, and my hopes for acquisition plummeted earthward.

The Burroughs and Gysin section is selling a bit slower than the rest of the catalog but the little magazines in that section are almost sold out. Many of these little mags had an added twist that set them over the top. An inscription or a signature. Sometimes several. The My Own Mags sold well, including an inscribed copy (with references to Szabo and Burroughs’ former teacher A.J. Connell) of the Special Tangier Issue with the incredible drawing of Burroughs in a fez on the cover ($220). That is a great price when you start shopping around and see signed My Own Mags (usually the later issues) are over $300. I really should have bought that copy but I have this problem about buying books and magazines that I already own even if they are, as in this case, a wise and considerable upgrade. I probably made a mistake passing on this item. Somebody else did not repeat my folly or Martin’s for that matter. A signed Bulletin for Nothing 2 sold for $200. C Journal 9 and 10 sold for $150 and $130, respectively. Issue 10 had the added bonus of being signed by Ron Padgett. A complete run of San Francisco Earthquake sold with signatures by Carl Weissner and Jan Herman for $400. The first issue was signed by Burroughs. A signed Dead Star, another publication edited by Herman, awaits an owner for $200, as does a signed Insect Trust Gazette 1 also for $200. This might seem a bit high but Burroughs signed the Gazette to John Montgomery, a friend of Kerouac who appeared in The Dharma Bums (“Henry Morley”). The Insect Trust Gazette has yet to sell. It has considerable condition problems. This issue gets to the heart of the debate between association / signatures versus condition. What is more important to a collector, to future value (many ways to define that obviously)? Based on this item, it appears that condition is king. Yet it is the added touches that Sclanders always seems to get his hands on that make his catalogue special. In my mind for such unique items the price is not an issue. These items will appreciate. Signed little mags don’t grow on trees. The sale of Bulletin for Nothing 2 establishes a nice precedent and, I think, one that collectors will look back on over time as a deal. Even the Insect Trust has potential for growth. Two hundred dollars is for the most part something of a glass ceiling right now for a Burroughs signature on most of little mag appearances. Yet they are inching in that direction.

Generally the “A” titles are not fairing as well. The Grove and Olympia titles that are available remain largely unsold. Besides the Semina, the one item that caught my eye (and the eye of many other Burroughs collectors I know) was an “A” title listed as Lot 208: a beautiful copy of Minutes to Go signed by Gysin, Burroughs, Sinclair Beiles as well as the publisher, Jean Fanchette ($1700). Last time I checked it was still available. This really surprises me. Most of the collectors that I have talked to singled out this item as one of the special ones in the catalogue. See my piece on Burroughs and Bookstores for the literary history on this title. I have a comparable copy signed by Gysin, Burroughs and Corso. Sclanders’ copy is the better one as it has the wraparound band as well as lacking the customary fading. From experience, the band is tough to find intact, if at all. I find that the wraparound bands are more common on the Two Cities magazines than the Minutes to Go title. This is a true find. In addition, it has the added bonus of being signed by the publisher in the year of publication. I have never seen his signature on any copy of this book. I have searched and searched and cannot place Silvi Natacha. Any help out there? The only advantage of my copy is the Corso signature. He was notoriously reluctant to sign copies of this book that he repudiated as contrary to his poetic soul. Burroughs as the devil and agent of temptation: a fitting image. $1700 is a fair price on this book. Check Abebooks if you don’t believe me and remember back to the $30,000 plus copy on offer from Nudel Books. That copy is no longer on Abebooks. Maybe it sold. What a coup if so!!

Another great thing about Sclanders’ catalogues is that they are timely. His Summer of Love catalogue celebrated the 40th Anniversary of that miraculous year in a level of detail that rivaled the Whitney Show. Catalog 48 capitalizes on the increased interest in Semina artists as well as the 50th Anniversary of the Beatnik phenomenon. The Beat Art section performed very well, particularly the critical books on the topic. Interest in this area is clearly growing and has been ever since the landmark 1995 Whitney Show on the Beats: Beat Culture and the New America 1950-1965. I would guess that the market for this material will only increase as time goes on.

I was surprised to see that a few Burroughs paintings sold ($2500 and $1700, respectively). This is not my cup of tea, and in fact, the manila folders that get passed off as paintings I find funny (to put a nice spin on it). Sclanders has one of those available for $800 and it remains unsold. I get the sense that the price on Burroughs’ late art is leveling off a bit and may be dropping. I remember seeing works for $12,500 years ago but this was probably a major work as opposed to the minor material on view in Catalogue 48.

I do enjoy and appreciate the art of the Berman circle and I consider this important Beat art. The book on Berman’s photography blew me away and his influence stretches to photographers of the Larry Clark School (if such a grouping exists). I am a huge fan of the verifax collages as well. The offset lithographs (photographed from an original Verifax) of the iconic radio (Radio/Aether Series 1966/1974) was out of my league at $10,000 but it would be on my shopping list if I won the lottery. Berman signed this set (Number 10 of 50) and they were printed by the publishing workshop Gemini G.E.L. that “pioneered new printmaking techniques and collaborated closely with many contemporary artists, among them Robert Rauschenberg (with William Burroughs), Roy Lichtenstein, Jasper Johns, Claes Oldenburg and Andy Warhol.” It is good to see William Burroughs among this group of artists as it highlights Burroughs position in the post-WWII art scene.

I was surprised to see that Brion Gysin sold well as artist and author. This catalogue featured Gysin as a collaborator with Burroughs but previous catalogues showcased Gysin as a solo performer. As I remember they sold briskly as well. The forum shows that there is a dedicated group of Gysin supporters out there. I always envision them gathering with their scissors and tape recorders at a café in Paris sitting in the back with their backs against the wall. Gysin seems a European taste to me like mayo on French fries.

I guess I am prejudiced about the Beats as visual artists: Ferlinghetti the painter, Corso the painter, Kerouac the painter. I have no time for this stuff which is somewhat strange since I am a great supporter of Burroughs as a visual artist in the scrapbook and three-column period. I believe that the scroll manuscript of On the Road is a work of performance and conceptual art. Furthermore, I consider Allen Ginsberg an important photographer, not as a stylist, but as an archivist. It is all a matter of taste.

What really caught my attention was how well the Beat exploitation material performed. The interest in Beat exploitation films and vinyl I have always been aware of. From MGM’s The Beat Generation memorabilia ($90 for a press book related to the film) to Lord Buckley LPs ($150 for the 10″ Euphoria on Vaya Records) to Rod McKuen Beatnik LPs ($120 for Beatsville with a great cover shot of McKuen), they all sold in catalogue 48. Seemingly all the Beat-related sleaze paperbacks sold as well. I know of a few collectors who specialize in this area and they are extremely active and passionate about it. Waikiki Beachnik ($20), North Beach Nympho ($16), Bohemian Stud Bums ($36) Sin Hipster ($40), and Black Stockings for Chelsea ($20). The titles are hysterical and the cover art is priceless. Their popularity should come as no surprise but my dislike of what the Beatnik label in the popular culture and scholarly sense meant to the Beats’ reputation blinded me to the importance and camp qualities of this material. This aspect of the Beat story is represented by numerous articles on the Beats in glossy mags (Life — 9-21-59 and 11-30-59 both for $40) and critical journals (Norman Podhoretz’s notorious “The Know-Nothing Bohemians” in the Spring 1958 Partisan Review for $20). But I should get a sense of humor. Of course, I have some of this stuff in my collection, and they are key items at that: the Ace and the Digit Junkie or Wildcat Adventures. Burroughs’ debt and link to the world of sleaze and pulps cannot be underestimated. The history of the pulps and men’s magazines are key aspects of the Beat story and legacy. Yet my interest in Beat vinyl, magazines and paperbacks does not extend to the Beatnik novelty material. As Catalogue 48 shows, plenty of other collectors’ interests lie right in this area.

So BeatBooks Catalog 48 had a little bit of everything for all manner of Beat collectors. I’ll give Andrew a few weeks to rest up and then I’ll send him an email asking about that next box of chocolates. I am sure it will prove once again that Andrew Sclanders is at the top of his profession. And as Forrest Gump said, “That’s all I have to say about that.”

Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

The publication of Everything Lost and Oliver Harris’ essay on this notebook highlight the importance of journals, notebooks, diaries, letters and scrapbooks for Burroughs. I dimly recall hearing work of this kind described as writing with your left hand, implying that it is of secondary importance when compared to the true work at hand which is writing a novel or a poem. This is not true for Burroughs, or for many of the Beats. In the last decade a number of “left-handed” publications have been made available from the Ginsberg and Kerouac estates. Works, like the Windblown Journals, are crucial texts for understanding and, in my case, appreciating the Beat canon.

The primary activity of the collector would seem to be to acquire. That is the rush. That is all the fun. But keeping a journal or diary regarding your collection is of primary importance as well. I have a database containing everything in my Burroughs collection. It includes descriptions of condition, what I paid for the books, and bibliographic information. Software of this kind is readily available. I have been using the same database for years. I have seen people use Excel as well. In some ways, the Bibliographic Bunker is an extension of the comment field in my database.

When I began collecting seriously in the late 1990s, I created an online diary / journal called the William Burroughs Cyber-Library. This site is no longer online as the free hosting site took it down earlier this year. This site was very detailed in tracking Burroughs items: online, in catalogs, at auction, and at book fairs. I kept close watch on the rare book trade for about a year and a half until my lists of collectibles, such as the Olympia Naked Lunch, began to collapse under their own weight. My charts started to get 30-40 entries long and the data collection process was taking hours, not minutes. The Bunker provides the same service in isolated cases.

On ebay there are usually over 500 Burroughs items are available at a given time with new material being added by the minute. Generally, the same stuff is up for sale, like Burroughs reading Edgar Allan Poe’s “Masque of the Red Death” on CD or copies of the 1992 Grove Press edition of Naked Lunch. Most of the items just are not that interesting, but you have to keep track because you never know. That is the beauty of eBay and the reason for its addictive quality. My father tracked eBay for 4-5 hours a day looking for new art pieces. It is like a full-time job, but this persistence pays off more often than you might think. Recently quite a number of Burroughs-related items passed through eBay and they tell an interesting story about a number of topics that concern the Bunker.

Internet Law Number 1: The internet reveals what is truly rare.

The poster child for this, in my mind, was a beat (as it beat up and battered) copy of the Digit Junkie that was available on eBay a couple years back. The copy was completely detached from its wrapper but all pages were present. There were markings in the book as well. On the surface this copy would seem far from collectible. I assume there was a chance to repair it, because the book sold to a dealer for over $2700 who no doubt flipped it for two to three times more (that is the standard increase in my experience). The Digit Junkie is the gold standard for a Burroughs rarity. If there was any doubt about this fact, the bidding activity on this particular copy proved its rarity beyond a doubt. The book was one of the top-selling works of fiction in that month. Only blue-chip authors Stephen King and J.R.R. Tolkien fetched higher prices. The writer at BookThink seems somewhat at a loss to account for the high price garnered by the Digit Junkie.

Just this month a very good copy of C Comics Issue 2 came up for sale on eBay (pdf) and created quite a stir. The activity surrounding this item revealed just how unusual C Press items are in very good, let alone, fine condition. In addition, I have been told that fine copies of C Journal are almost unheard of. The C Comic sold for $500. Earlier this year a copy in lesser condition was available on Abebooks for less than a quarter of that price. My copy has condition issues concerning some detaching of the wrapper around the staples. This is not unusual with this item. The eBay seller, drchilledair, (who has been featured on the Bunker) was no doubt aware of this fact as he mentions the condition concerning the binding in his description. Condition was key in this case and made it a hot item.

Maybe. Another internet law may account for the high price fetched by this issue of C Comics.

Law: Do not rely solely on the internet for accurate pricing information, particularly if the item has not sold.

People assume if an item is listed on Abebooks for a $1000 it is worth a thousand dollars. When I worked in a rare / used bookstore, I wish I had a dollar for every time somebody came in looking to sell their copy of Erica Jong’s Fear of Flying for $1000 because they saw it listed for $1000. I was/am guilty of this too. Working at the store, we used Abebooks or Addall to price items all the time. These sites have replaced the catalog or auction result in pricing. Forget about actually knowing what a book is worth from your own experience. The true bookman is dead in the Internet Age. In my opinion this fact came into play with the C Comic. The only other copy of C Comics available online right now is for $2500. There is no evidence in catalogs, auction results (including eBay), or in previous online listings to support this price. I have asked around. It is ridiculous. That said, by being the only price available, it affects the pricing of the book across the board. I am sure that people bidding on eBay felt they were getting a deal if the item is “worth” $2500.

This is why keeping a journal or diary of prices is so crucial to the collector. Doing your homework will keep you from overpaying for items unknowingly. Earlier this year a very nice copy of C Comics #1 was available in a Derringer Books catalog for $450. A lesser copy sold for $150. If you actively archive old catalogs from major booksellers, you would know that a complete run of C Comics was available a few years back from John Benjamins in the Netherlands for 650 Euros. Given the exchange rate at the time, that was about $1000 or so. Benjamins is at the absolute highest of the high end in the sale of little magazines. So buying C Comics #2 for $500 is not a deal as some might guess by looking at Abebooks. In fact, it is right in line with the absolute high end of the market established by trusted and respected dealers like Derringer Books and Benjamins.

Inverse law of internet rarity: the internet reveals that which is common and greatly decreases the value of those items.

The general stock of your everyday used bookstore has gone down in value. The run of the mill Burroughs titles have dropped in value. Reprints, later printings, reading copies. Low-level collectibles have fallen as well. The flower-arranging books of Burroughs’ mother, Laura Lee, are a great example. In the 1990s, this was a $40-50 curiosity. Now they are all over the place in several different editions usually under $10. Similarly in some cases, blue chip items of the pre-internet era have been exposed as not that unusual. The item that jumps to mind is the ESP pressing of Call Me Burroughs. In the mid-to-late 1990s, this was a $300 record and almost never came up for sale. With the internet everybody and their grandma seems to have a copy stashed in the attic gathering dust in the grooves. Seemingly copies appear all the time on eBay. A search on Popsike.com reveals that this is not really the case, but that said the going rate of ESP-1050 has gone down considerably. You can generally get a nice copy for under $100. But remember the vinyl community is even crazier than the rare book crowd about condition, so values can fluctuate wildly. The comics crowd takes the cake in this regard. For example in December 2007 an ESP Call Me Burroughs brought $231. (pdf) This is remarkable in my opinion. A perfect-storm-type scenario. The original shrink wrap might explain matters. I can only wonder what a sealed copy would go for. In your search on Popsike.com, note that the 1965 English Bookshop pressing of Call Me Burroughs does not turn up. Although this LP has fallen in value as well (copies were selling for $500 in the 1990s), it is still quite the unusual item. Get in your hipster uncle’s basement and dig these treasures out, they are awesome to listen to and quite a collectible.

Internet law: eBay buyers are cheap.

They like to kick the tires and get the deals. Who doesn’t, but those bidding at the established auction houses, not surprisingly (to say nothing of customers of high end book dealers), are willing to pay quite a bit more. If you are a seller and you establish your price based on the amounts you see on Abebooks, you are generally not going to get it. Case in point was a signed copy of The Exterminator published by Auerhahn Press in 1960. (pdf) This is a fantastic early piece by Burroughs. One of a 1000 copies by one of the great small presses in the post-WWII era. Signed copies at a rare book store range from $200-$250. This price has remained constant for years. This could be because not that many have come up for sale. In any case, an eBay seller recently tried an opening bid of $300 for a signed copy. No bids. I would think the same fate will befall the copy of The Yage Letters signed by Ginsberg and Burroughs. (pdf) It is a great item, but it sells for $600 in bookstores and in catalogs. I do not expect a signed Grove Ticket That Exploded to sell for a $400 opening bid either. (pdf) This does not even take into consideration that the signature stinks. In my experience, eBay does not establish new price levels for anything in the high-end collectible market. Dan Gregory stated that online book sites, like Abebooks, do not either. That is definitely true of those items $1000 and up. The extreme high end sales do not happen online.

According to popular belief the day of getting steals on eBay are over. Not true.

Internet Law: eBay still has great deals.

There will always be people who have no idea what something is worth or more importantly why something is collectible. There are undiscovered gems on eBay all the time. Take Man’s Wildcat Adventures. It is collectible for the appearance of Burroughs’ Junkie, but Burroughs’ name never appears in the issue. He was still publishing as William Lee as of June 1959. Many people do not know this and have no idea this men’s mag is desirable (and becoming more so). As a result, the magazine is sometimes listed with no reference at all to Burroughs. Find it and swipe it up.

Internet Law: The condition of items on eBay is usually lacking but the price is right.

Unsigned Grove Press Naked Lunches routinely sell for far less on eBay than at rare book stores. This title always gets a lot of bids but never eye-popping amounts. Condition is key with this title. Usually the condition is just not there. But even the rare nice copies cannot be bought any cheaper than what they sell for on eBay. One just sold in December for just under $300. (pdf) Personally, I think that signed Grove Press titles by Burroughs are a good investment on eBay and even at an auction house. They sell for far less than rare bookstores. Even some of the unsigned titles are good to pick up. They are on eBay all the time and rarely get much action. But get a hold of the Grove Naked Lunch while you can. Only 3500 copies in the true first printing. There is some confusion about this since Rosset quickly reprinted 10,000 when he realized he had a minor avant bestseller on his hands. It is my understanding that the first issue first printing of the Grove Naked Lunch is considerably less in number than the Olympia titles. On a related note this copy of the Evergreen San Francisco Poets was a deal even at $200. (pdf) It could be argued that the booklet is worth that price. I have never seen the booklet for sale before. The photos inside are awesome. Copies of the LP without the booklet are offered at rare booksellers for $250. This reminds me of another law. Never buy spoken word LPs from a rare book dealer. You will always pay more than what you will pay from a record shop.

One question I get asked rather often is: Are rare books a good investment? I have always heard that for insurance purposes rare books generally appreciate at 7% a year. I don’t know where I got that figure; maybe I made it up. Probably here. It seems about right. For more analysis, see David Brass Rare Books. The question is: Is Burroughs a good investment? I have tackled this question before and although I collect Burroughs for reasons other than profit, I think he is a safe bet to at least keep up with inflation and is probably right in line with other authors in the rare book market. But in my opinion, there is potential for tremendous growth with Burroughs not present in his contemporaries. I do not think the public has caught up with him yet. He is a writer of the future and as the world gets more Burroughsian, his readership will grow. As will the collecting of Burroughs. Unlike Kerouac (to say nothing of other blue-chip writers of the post-WWII era), Burroughs is really a small press and little magazine phenomenon. With the demise of print culture and the rise of a new mimeo revolution on a digital level, the alternative press tradition in the United States will become even more fetishized than it already is. Works from the alternative press of yore will be treated as art objects in a way that mainstream titles will not. Burroughs is one of the key figures of this tradition. I expect these Burroughs items to become as sought after and prized as the similar collectibles of Bukowski.

Here is a case test. If 7% is the magic number, take a signed copy of Kulchur #1 that came up on eBay. (pdf) I can track this item for close to 10 years. Issues of Kulchur signed by Burroughs are not common. I know of three. One sold at the Lyon sale in 1999 for $120 with premium. One sold awhile back on eBay for $138 and the item in question which sold for $157.50. This shows a slight single digit increase in value over roughly 8 years. It should be noted that the Kulchur sold at the Lyon sale would probably get more than $157 now given the association and the rock solid provenance on the signature: but call it a 7% yearly increase. Yet at $157, this recent copy was a steal. The key is not the final price but who bought it. Note the copy sold to Red Snapper Books. Booksellers of his knowledge and experience do not overpay. In fact they recognize value for a living. He understood this little mag represented an opportunity for profit. If you want this particular issue of Kulchur now, expect to pay around $300. Recently, I have seen signed copies of Kulchur for that amount on Abebooks. They always seem to be signed by Burroughs. Weird. This makes provenance all the more important.

That said some more mainstream (if I can call them that) Burroughs books have remained stagnant for about a decade. My signed copy of Dead Fingers Talk has not budged in price at all. Same goes for my signed Exterminator! As of now, I would probably not get my money back on these titles. As I have said elsewhere, the 1960s signed Grove titles have gone up steadily. In the 1990s a signed Soft Machine was $200 at a bookstore. Some sellers are now asking over $500 (one wants $700 for a review copy). The Grove Naked Lunch has risen considerably as well. Bookstores are routinely asking $2000 for it (Ken Lopez who can be considered something of a barometer in these things). A price of $3000 is not uncommon and one dealer wants $5000. This is not to say that I could sell my signed Groves for these amounts, but in the next decade I would definitely see a considerable profit and the trend is upward.

Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

Be sure to read part 1 of Jed Birmingham’s interview with Dan Gregory of Between the Covers.

You say there is a dearth of originality and inspiration in the rare book trade. Who are the dealers and web sites whose work you admire or who inspired you?

With our catalogs, we’re known as one of the few dealers to regularly issue full color catalogs with a photograph of each book. We usually do them every six to eight weeks. Other dealers have copied our format (sometimes with our help and training, I admit). But the great children’s book dealers, Helen and Marc Younger of Aleph-Bet Books, led the way with fully illustrated catalogs which they had been issuing on a regular basis for I don’t know how long before I joined Between the Covers.

Regarding dealers on the Internet, there was a site in the late 1990s that I admired a great deal. I think it was called Purple Cloud Books, though I’m not sure. It’s long-gone. (I’ve looked through the Internet Archive Wayback Machine but I couldn’t find it.) It didn’t last for more than a year or two, but its concept was way ahead of its time. The main page showed a bookcase of book spines, created from photos of real books the dealer had in inventory, and when you clicked on the spine, it brought you to a photo of the front of the book and a description. The scale of the photos of each spine was even in proportion to the whole, so that it really looked like a single photograph of an entire bookcase, rather than scores of individual spine photos. Here was someone, limited by the html coding of the era, but taking great strides in recreating the experience of actually browsing books in a store. It was an inventive concept, and I thought about doing it with our relaunched site. But at the time we were also prototyping our rotating books and the initial tests on that were so successful we ultimately went off in the direction of our current site. Another consideration was that we already had about 35,000 books scanned a certain way, and in order to make the new site consistent we would have had to go and take new photos of all 35,000 of those books. But the spines-on-a-bookshelf would still be a cool presentation, and could now be done dynamically and really make for an incredible site.

The Purple Cloud site with the spines inspired me in another way as well. Of course I bookmarked it and went to it often, but it never changed — the selection with the neat bookcase effect was hardcoded. He was offering about 100 books, and those same 100 books were all you ever saw. I realized you can’t create a great web effect if it takes just as much work for your second hundred books as for your first. So when we designed the features of our new site I was dead-set on making every element I could dynamic, so that it could change with our inventory with automatic revision. For example, if we were to add another signed William Burroughs item to our inventory, it would automatically come up randomly in various features on our home page such as the top “today’s highlights” box or the lower “signed” box. If we were to photograph it for a rotation display, our system would check the images, feed them into our array, and display them as a 3D book, all automatically.

On the other hand, switching gears from high tech to low tech a bit, another dealer site that I must credit is the Philadelphia Rare Book and Manuscript’s site. I sent several emails to our designer early on singing their praises because it was the only bookseller site I had seen that was clearly made by people who love what they are doing. And the structure, which doesn’t try in the least to be slick, demonstrated to me that you could build a content-rich web site where the engaged visitor would want to spend significant time and go deeper and deeper. It was a site built by hand for browsing rather than searching. I contrasted this with a few of the smoothest and clearly most expensive book sites, which though they were always tastefully designed, were very antiseptic in their approach to books. PRBM also were possibly the first and I think the foremost promoters of offering books exclusively on their site. For years they advertised this and major collectors in their specialties learned that if they didn’t want to miss good material they had to go to that site. Collectors were not going to see these great books on ABE or Alibris. Furthermore, I guess it’s no coincidence that both their site and ours devote a section to the shop cats wherein the cat “offers” special books and sales. I admit we stole that from them. But we used our own cat.

And finally, Mark Hime of Biblioctopus has done unusual projects and “thought outside the box” for years. In the late 1980s he issued catalogs which were posters, with a single item pictured on the front (like the only surviving first-state dustjacketed copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes) and item descriptions on the back. Then he did an elaborate joke catalog of “literary objects” that he supposedly had collected. I think someone actually tried to order Huck Finn’s original fishing rod from it. He was the driving force behind the three Classic Book Cards sets we did together, and we’re working on an entirely different project at the moment which will, I think, present books in a way that hasn’t been tried before. What works so well with Biblioctopus is that he has not only the necessary insanity to try the unusual, but incredible books with which to play. You could make a poster catalog of $30 books, but it’s not going to have the same “Wow!” effect as if you can do it with $30,000 books.

What is your thought behind the return of the personal touch in bookselling (such as the return of the more detailed and ambitious catalog, the re-emergence of the book fair, and the rise of interactive web site)?

I think the luster and novelty of the Internet have faded a bit. It is still the best way to purchase and sell books under certain circumstances. But it also has many limitations. There was a period right around the millennium when we saw a number of seasoned collectors trying out the Internet and doing a lot of buying that way. How could you not? If you had been collecting for a long time, you had probably built up a wish-list, and suddenly this tool comes along that allows you to fill most of it quickly. But after a while you realize that the number of good booksellers hasn’t increased, and as a buyer you still have to find dealers whose knowledge and ethics you can trust. I don’t think we’re quite out of the “now-I’m-going-to-buy-everything-online” dip, but I think we are definitely coming out of it. We are at the Churchillian end of the beginning. Obviously the Internet is here to stay, and its role within the larger scheme of all bookselling will continue to evolve, but the pendulum for many books, and collectors, is swinging back to a more balanced approach to collecting.

Each way of buying books offers a different experience, but we’ve always been very strongly a catalog-driven business at Between the Covers. For one thing, we offer a lot of weird and unusual material. You try selling a 1930s book about the American pie industry on the Internet. It ain’t gonna happen unless the author’s great-granddaughter discovers ABE. No one is looking for it. But we can put a book like that in a catalog and get multiple orders. Some might be from customers who appreciate the kitsch element as much as we do, and some from institutions that realize that a treatise on Depression era baked goods is a valid primary cultural artifact. (Anyone? Anyone?) Catalogs always offered a pre-selection of books, but now, in the age of information overload, the pre-selection that a catalog offers is actually MORE important than it used to be to collectors. Online we offer about 40,000 books in our primary business and another 160,000 books from our used book warehouse. Computer searches are great for finding specific things you might be looking for in that pool of 200,000 books. By comparison, in our catalogs we usually offer about 100 books at a time, all specifically chosen, and not just the 100 most expensive ones either. In our catalogs we try to cover the full spectrum of our inventory in both price range and subject matter. What are the chances that one of those 100 books is something you’ve been looking for? Not so great, but that’s what search engines are for. What are the chances that you’ll actually notice something interesting and new to you in the catalog that you would never have spotted otherwise? Much, much better. And most definitely these same virtues of pre-selection are at play at bookfairs and on web sites that categorize books and make suggestions.

After over ten years working with bookselling and the internet at Between the Covers, how do you react to the statement that the internet has put the nail in the coffin of the traditional used and rare bookstore?

It’s no secret that the Internet has eroded the traditional used-book business. All the ubiquity of information, the frictionless market, the auto-repricing, and similar web factors have made it very difficult to sustain a viable business selling used books online. (By viable business I mean for the full-timers who have to sell books or starve.) When market forces take so many decent used books, which had been $10 books, and $20 books, and $40 books, and makes them 99 cent books, there is almost no way you can make money selling them online unless you are willing to sell an awful lot of them and smart enough to create a hyper-efficient operation around that. And if you actually manage to do that, and only a very few people have, you’d be running a widget factory, that is, a business that is pretty far removed from the joys that I associate with bookselling anyway. Think about it this way — to sell books for 99 cents, every time a human being in your business touches the book you’ve lost money. Selling books without ever touching or seeing them — not my idea of fun. So the online market is not only soaking up customers, it is also driving the prices of perfectly good books down to outrageously low, insupportable prices on the Web.

Despite this, one of the greatest surprises for me since joining the faculty of the Colorado Antiquarian Book Seminars has been the number of participants (i.e. students) who have open shops. I went in thinking it would be almost entirely online-only sellers and that is very far from the case. Many of these open shop owners are also selling online, but they are very committed to keeping their shops open. A good number of them are doing this as a second career, and I suspect that is a factor. The romanticism of owning a bookstore is very appealing. And if you’ve already had a soul-eroding career that was geared toward just making money, you might be more receptive to the feel-good upsides of owning a low-profit or break-even only business you genuinely love. So the Internet has made it much harder to run a traditional used bookstore in many markets without adapting to market changes, but despite this used bookstores are still around and new ones are still popping up, God bless ‘em.

Now when it comes to antiquarian or rare books, the Internet at its height of effect only dented the upper end of the traditional selling market. There is a pretty stiff price ceiling when it comes to books being sold on the Internet. It’s probably different for different kinds of books and different dealers, but in general once you get past $2000 – $3000 for a book the sales on the Internet thin out quickly, whereas those books in the four and five and six figures will sell at book fairs and through catalogs, etc. I’m not certain which of several potential factors contributes most to this disparity — why would an expensive book from a well-known dealer fail to sell on the Internet but generate multiple orders out of a catalog? But it happens all the time. And there are many very good books that are simply not offered on the Internet. There are a still lot of Internet-only bookbuyers out there who don’t know what they are missing, who haven’t been to a major fair or who don’t receive catalogs. Sometimes we’ll run into a collector who tells us they built their entire collection on eBay. The fact of the matter is you can spot those collections pretty easily from the lack of discernment — bad copies of good books.

The Internet, however, has affected the high end of the market on the supply side. There’s no shortage of good books, but it’s very difficult for us to buy the more obvious ones advantageously. When everyone “knows” a certain book is a $10,000 book, no one wants to part with it for less. It doesn’t mean they can sell it for $10,000, but the Internet has engendered an obstinacy that was perhaps less prevalent before. It’s harder to buy the Faulkners, Fitzgeralds, Hemingways, and Steinbecks. We see books that would fit in with our inventory, but there’s no margin on them for us. So we’ve been forced to move into books that are not collectors’ darlings, such as obscure poetry, obscure early 20th Century literature, archives — material for which price guides and the search engines offer little pricing information, books where our experience and feel for the potential of the material gives us an edge. So again, adapting to a changing market is essential.

What directions do you see the Internet taking used and rare bookselling in the future?

If I tried to predict rare bookselling on the Internet in 10 years I’m sure I’d get it wrong. But I know what I’d like to see and some of the changes we’re already starting to see. I hope we’ll see more standardization of data, so that when you search for a title, all copies of that title show up in a way that makes it easy to compare apples to apples. When data is more standardized, not only will consumers be able to, for example, sort by condition easily among copies of the same edition, but data systems will be able to match individual copies listed with titles in data libraries that could contain information about the books that is not just copy-specific, such as the book’s weight, dimensions, and subject categories. I think the importance of these attributes has been underestimated.

We’re already seeing some good work being done with subject information. If you look up a book now on some web sites, you’ll see alternate title suggestions that are not dissimilar to the suggestions made by a knowledgeable clerk in a bookstore. So, if you’re looking for a copy of Jamie Russell’s Queer Burroughs, these sites might also recommend Regina Marler’s Queer Beats. Library systems link the two by subject, so why shouldn’t online bookstores? Once data systems recognize that a single book being offered can be linked to a “record” of information about the book, not just the copy, then all kinds of interesting things are possible. At present, from what I’ve heard, most online book buyers don’t browse to discover new titles. They may look at lists and recommendations, but they don’t “go down an aisle” as you would in a store. Hopefully better information display, coupled with relevant data (i.e. suggestions of related works) will get Internet book buyers to learn about books they weren’t searching for, instead of just finding the ones they were searching for. We do this a little on our own web site — making algorithmic suggestions based on the book a person was searching for or a book they are viewing the details on. Our system is just in its infancy; I would like to expand this feature over the next few years. Also, on our site we offer biographical information and collecting tips on hundreds of authors, linked to our copies of their books available. This just seemed to make sense from a data perspective. Once you input a short critical blurb about Allen Ginsberg, for example, you never have to do it again and it shows up with each of his books. I was pleasantly surprised when customers actually told me they found these features helpful.

Getting back to the weight and dimensions of books, this is something about some of the big used book vendors that really bugs me. There is really no reason that we couldn’t see far more accurate shipping matrices. Many dealers have to cancel foreign orders for books over a certain size or weight because the Internet listing services offer rigid and unreasonable compensation on shipping. But let’s say there is a data library of book specifications. When a dealer offers a folio photography book that weighs four pounds, just about every copy is going to be the exact same size and weight. With size and weight, plus some calculable extra for packaging, you can reasonably predict the shipping costs. This would be a tremendous service for both sellers and buyers, and there is no reason it can’t happen.

I want to talk about one of your innovations to the internet book-buying experience: the rotating-books technology. You explain how it works on the site. What has been the reaction to this from customers and what do you see as the future of the technology?

That was something I had wanted to do for a long time. Even on our old site some people may remember that you could view a couple of rarities rotating, like a first edition of Ethan Frome in dustjacket. But I was using a very primitive technology, it was over 400KB to load, and it only spun around on a single axis. And worst of all, it was a lot of work. It took a couple of hours to create a rotation for a single book. I did two books that way, and I did the principle photography for about two dozen more, but I never finished the coding for them. I never found the time. In our new system it takes about eight minutes to load the book into the system from start to finish, and we can add as many books as we want without having to program them into place on our site. We still only get around to it periodically, but it’s much easier, more effective, and more efficient than my early attempts.

Customers definitely appreciate it. A person might call to order a book and I’ll say, “Well, just to warn you, there is a little chip on the rear panel.” And they’ll reply, “Yes, I saw it on your site. That’s not too bad.” It’s hard to quantify how much it helps. We’re at a stage now with our rotations that most other dealers are with merely taking pictures — you devote the extra time to the best and most interesting books, and when they sell it can be hard to tell how much the extra effort contributed to the sale. Sure it spun around, but it was also a beautiful copy of Gone with the Wind, so someone was going to buy it anyway. But clearly it doesn’t hurt. Other dealers have asked about our making the technology available to them, and that is something we’re looking into. It’s difficult because half the effect is achieved by technology, and the other half by very refined photography parameters.

The rotating books might very obviously fall into the bells-and-whistles category. And I admit, I love it when people refer to it enthusiastically as something cool. But to me it’s never been just a gimmick. For me it is a logical extension of my belief that many antiquarian books are bought, sold, and appreciated primarily as objects. There is very little reason for any sane person to spend a couple of thousand dollars on a text which is exactly identical to what they could easily buy in a paperback reprint for just a few bucks. How many people buy first editions because they’re preparing a variorum of some kind? One in ten thousand? The other 9,999 collectors might feel attached to the book-object because of the text inside, but what they’re paying for is the physical object itself, the possession of which gives them an emotional satisfaction. So when a dealer shows a photo of a book, it isn’t just extending the ability of the dealer to communicate the condition of the book to the customer with a “worth a thousand words” description, it is simultaneously reinforcing the concrete reality of that particular object which the customer is otherwise taking on faith. So by offering a three-dimensional representation of the book, we’re taking both those elements a step further. Not only are we adding to the customer’s ability to appreciate remotely the book’s condition (warts and all in some cases), but we are also, I hope, subtly bolstering the customer’s trust that this particular copy really exists, really is in our possession, and really can be theirs.

I would love to marry the rotation technology with some of the other book display technologies that are out there, such as the turn-the-page tools you can see at the British Library. Imagine being able to inspect the exterior of a book from every angle using our rotation tool, AND THEN examine the interior just as effortlessly. Also, it would be great to see another connection speed jump like we saw from dial-up to broadband. I don’t know if optical lines could deliver this, but if we saw another manifold increase in widespread connection speeds, it would allow for much larger and more detailed images with the rotations. Right now we try to keep the total rotation for each book under 65KB, so there is a limit to how much picture information you can squeeze into that space. But it would be great to see the book at a higher resolution and zoomable to full size and beyond. I think that as the web evolves more and more of the physical world will be represented and recreated online, so that in a decade’s time perhaps people will be accustomed to “virtually” picking up and examining not only books, but much more complicated objects as well.

I see how the book-rotating process is an attempt to recreate the sensory aspect of the book-buying experience but on Between the Covers I always print out anything I want to read. Can the internet or the ebook ever really replace the physical and emotional sensations behind holding and reading a book?

The bibliophilic answer is definitely not, never, books are here to stay. You hear this all the time. And the technophile answer is, probably, eventually it will. I lean toward the latter, I admit. I think many reading activities which have not yet migrated to electronic format will. Some texts lend themselves more readily to becoming etexts than others. Think about encyclopedias: at first of course they were printed, like everything else. Then there were a few years when CD-Rom encyclopedias sold well (mostly packaged with new computers). Now much of the information people used to go to the printed encyclopedia for they try to get directly from the Internet, either for free or, if they are affiliated with an institution, perhaps through a new iteration of old standards such as Encyclopedia Britannica. At some point I think it’s likely to become economically unviable to print encyclopedias.

Obviously reference materials lend themselves very much to the conversion from printed text to etext, not least because they can be sorted, filtered, searched, and updated so much more easily. In many cases they simply become tangibly better as etexts. You can find information in reference etext that you simply would not uncover in the same printed reference. As a dealer, I particularly appreciate the electronic versions of helpful references like the auction price guides and various bibliographies.

But the question is usually aimed at more romantic visions of reading, like fiction and poetry. A few things would have to happen for ebook novels, for example, to replace printed novels. For one thing, you need a convenient, reliable, effective, sturdy, and above all affordable screen. I’ve heard about prototypes that offer a single flexible “leaf” screen that can become any text and does it very sharply. It really does look like print, and you even have the sensation of turning a page. Sell it for $25, make it waterproof, scratch-proof, tear-proof, and cheap to refill with any text, including lots of free ones, and you could see an incredible transformation in the way people read. Still, as has been pointed out so many times, the book really is a magnificent vessel for text already. So for anything else to replace paper in a widespread fashion, and not just as a novelty, the price, ease of use, durability, convenience, and pop-culture appeal all have to mesh just so. Maybe if Apple made an iPaperback — they seem to have a knack for putting all those elements together, except maybe the price. But it doesn’t always work. Every World’s Fair since the 1930s has predicted widespread video-calling to replace telephones, but it hasn’t happened. We should have stopped driving petroleum-fed cars years ago, but that didn’t happen either. There are a lot of reasons these technologies haven’t changed, but it has more to do with psychology and market forces, and less to do with either technological possibility or even economy.

It’s going to be hard for paper books to die out because people like them. Most people who love to read can vividly recall particular editions of works which left a strong impression on them. For example, I have a very tactile association with the 1986 Penguin edition of Moby Dick, annotated by Harold Beaver, which made a great impression on me. But I also listen to audio books a lot, especially while I’m working around the house. So I associate A Tale of Two Cities with painting my basement, and A Gathering of Old Men with resodding my backyard, because those were the projects I was working on while listening to those books. I know what different editions of those titles look like because I work with first editions, but my emotional memories of those books are not connected to any physical objects at all, except a paint brush and a rented power tiller (which, by the way, I cannot recommend highly enough). From my own experience, the association of text with books should not be taken as a de facto relationship.

So creating an adequate alternative vessel for the text is still only a preliminary step. There also has to be a generational shift. My father is from the old-time radio generation, when “the stories were better written because you had to use your imagination.” And if you listen to recorded episodes of The Shadow or Suspense, you can appreciate some of the appeal of pre-television drama. But the appreciation is an intellectual one, not a visceral one. It’s not the same as if you actually grew up with it, a child listening to a radio drama in the dark. Or to turn it around, think of the film The Wizard of Oz. It’s almost impossible for contemporary America adults to assess that film in the way it was reviewed in 1939, because almost no American since the 1950s has grown up without seeing the film on television as a child. No matter how critically we want to look at the movie, we cannot divest ourselves from the wonder and attachment of our childhood experience with it.

What I’m getting at is, as Buck Rogers as it sounds now, if there comes a time when children start with e-board books, and then graduate to e-story books, to e-chapter books, to e-young adult novels, and so on, they won’t have the same object-to-text associations we have. Are we talking 20 years, or 50 years, or 100 years? I have no idea. But I believe it will probably happen eventually, though you and I may not be around to see it. I don’t think booksellers, particularly antiquarian booksellers, have anything to worry about.

To switch gears a bit, Between the Covers was involved in the appraisal of the William Burroughs collection that sold to New York Public Library. How could archives such as that be best served by the internet?

Suppose all the letters, notebooks, and cutups of Burroughs were scanned in. In theory, the more manuscript and archival material scanned in, transcribed, indexed, and searchable the better. The possibilities for advances in our understanding of authors, their writings and their personal lives, are tremendous. Anybody, anywhere, could sift through the raw material themselves and make connections that nobody else would make. This isn’t the best example, but look at what Scott Brown was able to do with the issue point on Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury. Scott, the editor of Fine Books magazine and a tenacious researcher, examined via scanned archives of periodicals the advertised prices of a certain book over the course of a few weeks in 1929, and in doing so figured out roughly when that book’s price was changed. Since the book is advertised on the back of The Sound and the Fury, but at different prices on different copies, this allowed him to determine which issue precedes (the one with the lower price, rather than the one with the higher price). With an archive of manuscripts and correspondence made truly publicly accessible via the Internet the possibilities for fresh insight are almost infinite.

But there are at least two problems with this information Utopia. First, scanning archives costs money, and institutions need to see a return on their investment in some form or another. Hopefully page views by interested patrons would be enough to justify a grant for further scanning. Secondly, I’ve heard from some librarians, such as Dan De Simone, Curator of the Rosenwald Collection at the Library of Congress, that counter-intuitively the increased accessibility of scanned material leads to an increase in requests to see the real thing. Maybe it goes back to my mantra of appreciation for the physical object — I don’t know. But if institutions are spending more not ONLY on scanning, but also on increased supervision of requests to touch as well, then they might be doubly disinclined to get that unique material digitized. I hope not — I hope one day any person anywhere had as great a likelihood of making a unique contribution to the understanding of an author or a work as the couple of people have ready access to the physical archive.

Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

Whenever I see a notice for an auction of an individual’s collection, my first thoughts are not so much about the books in the collection, but about the motivation for the sale. Why is he/she selling their books? I must admit the scenarios that run through my head are bleak. If “Condition, Condition, Condition” is a primary law of book collecting, another maxim is “the rare book business revolves around death, divorce and debt.” Not a rosy picture, but when you think of it, selling a collection is often an act of desperation. Why else would someone separate himself from a source of great joy and passion? For the most part, I acquire rare books. I generally do not trade. I probably should as there are books in my collection that I could trade for more desired Burroughs items. My copy of Hemingway’s Green Hills of Africa or a signed copy of Bukowski’s It Catches My Heart In Its Hands come to mind. Yet I can never get myself to do it. The Hemingway has associations with my grandparents and the Bukowski actually fills out my collection as it is a prime example of the beautiful work of Loujon Press. In the paranoia of book collecting, everything is tied together and everything fits in.

Yet at some point desperation might set in. In the 1990s, I sold books in my collection for a brief point in time. It was a particularly difficult time for me. For example, I got rid of an Olympia Press first of Beckett’s Watt. I wish I had it now as it would be a nice link to Olympia Press, Alexander Trocchi, Baird Bryant and the Merlin Group to say nothing of its importance as a Beckett publication. Rock bottom must have been when I put my complete set of Fuck You Magazines on eBay. I really did not want to sell them which was reflected in the high initial bid I placed on them. Luckily nobody bid on them, but to this day I get very upset when I think how close I came to losing those mimeos.

Let me add to “Death, Divorce and Debt”: depression. After years of book collecting, for some people, there comes a time when the collection no longer excites or moves. In fact, the presence of all those books becomes oppressive. You feel overwhelmed, buried. Maybe bored. The passion is gone and replaced with a sense of ennui. What am I going to do with all these books? Why do I keep all this stuff? What was once a prized possession becomes clutter. An auction provides cash but it also provides a quiet, peaceful mind. You no longer have to worry about all those books. The book auction as Zoloft for book collectors.

Closely related to the depression and, maybe a more positive spin on it, is the urge to disseminate, the act of dispersal. For a collector who has spent years and years assembling a collection, the time comes when there is a feeling of satisfaction and contentment. Although it is impossible, there is the sense that the collection is complete and there is a need for closure. The auction provides that. For many collectors, the auction catalog and its bibliography is the summation of a life’s work. A eulogy, a retrospective, a tombstone. Despite the positive feelings surrounding a sense of closure, I can only think of death.

When the time for dispersal comes around for noted collectors like Robert Jackson, Nelson Lyon, Edwin Blair, or Joseph Zinnato (just to name Beat or Burroughs collectors), the decision has to be made about how to disperse your books. Should the books go to an institution or be sold at auction? Financial considerations aside, those who choose the auction feel a sense of connection to the book-collecting community that supported and sustained their efforts to build a meaningful collection. If everybody with a collection of any note placed their collection in an institution, the rare book market would slowly die. (Has anybody written about the ecology of the rare book market? There is definitely a relation. Conservation, extinction of bookstores, sustainable communities, limited resources.) I always applaud those who choose the auction route. Without the Nelson Lyon sale, my collection would never have gotten the push it needed to make little magazines its focus. Should my collection ever be worthy of institutionalization will I decide to share my books with a community of scholars or will I disperse them to the rare book community? It is a tough decision.

David Oakey chose the latter route and collectors of Gary Snyder are rejoicing. Since the 1970s Oakey gathered together a formidable collection of the works of Japhy Ryder as Kerouac immortalized Snyder in Dharma Bums. Oakey’s collection has won awards and been the subject of exhibitions over the years. He has close ties to the Arizona State University so the collection could easily have gone there, but Oakey decided to go with the auction. Oakey writes, “Finally, rather than institutionalize this collection, Sale 364 represents my wishes to replicate those thousands of moments of joy that I experienced.” Through an auction, Oakey gives back to the book collecting community. Let’s hope the decision to sell was from a sense of completion and an expression of joy as well.

Sale 364 at Pacific Book Auctions was entitled “Fine Literature of the 19th & 20th Centuries with the David Oakey Collection of Gary Snyder.” It was held on September 27, 2007. There was an entire Beat section that included the Snyder material. I suspect this is overflow, additions and remainders generated by or resulting from the various Beat auctions that have taken place over the past year. The Loujon Press and Bukowski material definitely fall in that category. For example, The “Mistah Leary He Dead” piece by Hunter S. Thompson published by X-Ray Press was also available at the Blair Sale.

There were only four Burroughs lots in the sale: Lots 319-322. The usual suspects were present. A copy of Cities of the Red Night inscribed by Burroughs to Larry Lee sold for $173 ($300 low reserve). This is about par for the course. Signed copies at rare bookstores can get over $250. Larry Lee was a friend of Jimi Hendrix and played rhythm guitar with the Gypsies. A copy of Yage Letters, The Dead Star and The Retreat Diaries sold for $460 (low estimate $500). At a rare bookstore a signed Yage Letters is about $200. The Dead Star can be had for $125-175. The Retreat Diaries sells for about $75. So no deals here. Another lot had a signed UK edition of Ticket That Exploded (around $200), a signed Last Words of Dutch Schultz (around $300) and a copy of Tornado Alley (around $30). The Dutch Schultz included a clipped article from the 1935 New York Times detailing Schultz’ deathbed transcript and confession. A wonderful piece of ephemera. They sold for $460 as well. The estimates were in line with rare bookstore prices but book collectors usually hope to gather these more common titles at a lower price at an auction. With lots 319 and 322, buyers just barely succeeded.

Lot 320 was the lot to watch for Burroughs collectors. It was a signed copy of the Grove edition of Naked Lunch (1962). The book was signed in 1988 at City Lights and has a penciled note to that effect. I don’t think the note is in Burroughs’ hand. The book is in less than stellar condition. There are small tears, some rubbing, and even slight staining. Calling it very good or better seems a stretch to me. In addition there is a bookplate from the library of Alvin M. Scher. I am unaware if this is considered an association in some way, and Google did not help me out. Clearly this is not a top-shelf example of this book, and PBA doesn’t want top-shelf rare bookstore money for it. The estimate was $1200-1800. Fine signed copies are now topping $3000 at high-end dealers. Lot 320 went unsold.

There is no doubt that signed copies of the Grove titles of the 1960s are becoming harder to come by but even at $600 (half the low estimate) collectors stayed away from this copy. As I have mentioned before with the Grove and Olympia titles, signatures, associations, and condition are extremely important. This edition of Naked Lunch had only the signature although the link to City Lights is nice and can establish provenance. At $600, there are unsigned copies available on the internet, but given the issues with this book I think buyers made the wise choice on passing and saving that money to invest in a better quality unsigned Naked Lunch as signed copies are getting priced out of reach of most collectors.

At Sale 364, there was a small selection of Ginsberg and Kerouac material including an unsigned first edition, first issue (with Lucien Carr in the dedication) copy of Howl that performed very well. It sold for $4025. PBA described it as “[r]arely seen in such clean and crisp condition; the finest copy PBA has ever offered.” Unlike the Grove Naked Lunch, buyers responded to this fine copy of Howl. Possibly more than other rare books, condition is huge with the Beats, particularly since so many copies of Naked Lunch, On the Road, and Howl survived in such horrible condition. Despite the feelings of those on the forum of RealityStudio, Howl looks like it has legs as a collectible over fifty years after its publication. Unsigned copies of Howl approach the $5000 range on the internet. It is in the same league as Naked Lunch and On the Road and deserves to be considered with any blue chip first edition of the post WWII era, like One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, To Kill A Mockingbird, Catcher in the Rye or Catch-22.

It can be argued that of Beat collectibles, Howl is the book that will appreciate the most in the future. I say this solely based on print runs. The Olympia Naked Lunch first edition was 5000 copies. In fact, the Grove edition (1962) has a smaller run of 3500 copies. Could the Grove Press Naked Lunch become more desirable than the Olympia Press title? I never thought it could be possible but prices are rising. But that is another column. The first edition of On the Road by Viking came out in 7500 copies. There were only 1000 copies comprising the first run of Howl. This is quite a difference and it is reflected in the availability of these titles on the internet. Over 40 copies of On the Road (not all in collectible condition mind you) are currently available on Abebooks. Around twenty copies of the Olympia Press Naked Lunch (again some are missing dust jackets) are out there awaiting a bookshelf. Yet only six copies of Howl (signed or unsigned and in any type of condition) are now available. Provided that the reputation of and fascination with Ginsberg and Howl hold over time (and according to the forum that is a big if), Howl should greatly appreciate compared to On the Road and Naked Lunch in the long run if you are able to find a copy at all, to say nothing of one in collectible condition.

Given the token presence of Kerouac, Ginsberg, and Burroughs at Sale 364, this auction was really about the lesser known, lesser read, and lesser collected Beats, represented in this case by Gary Snyder. Why do people collect the “second-tier” Beats like Snyder, Lew Welch, Philip Whalen, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, or Gregory Corso. Let’s take David Oakey as an example. On one level, Gary Snyder’s work spoke to Oakey, particularly the environmental and political concerns. Oakey writes, “Another handwritten poem, ‘Strategic Air Command’ best reflected my political leanings: ‘these rocks and these stars belong to the same Universe; the air in between belongs to the Twentieth Century and its wars.’”

Yet there is more that appeals to Oakey about “Strategic Air Command” than the text. The breadth and beauty of the design of Snyder’s books also speak to the collector. Take the description of “Strategic Air Command”: “12 X 10, manuscript broadside, unique. Hand-Calligraphed poem on grey hand-made BFK Rives paper, red line under title is water proof calligraphy ink drawn with quill pen carved by author from vulture flight feather. Orange seal at end, Han, is medium-age Chinese characters saying Chofu — ‘listen to the wind,’ the author’s Zen name.” What a personal item that symbolizes many of Snyder’s central concerns as man and poet in one piece of ephemera! The handmade is foregrounded as is a sense of poetic creation coming from and coexisting with Nature. Throughout Snyder’s bibliography, you’ll find the words: hand-crafted, hand-painted, hand-engraved, hand-stitched, hand-bound. Many works are reprinted from Snyder’s own distinctive calligraphy on hand-made paper. From Snyder’s first book of poems, Riprap in 1959 to the present day, the merging of poetic form, book format, and content is a major concern for Snyder. I find this to be true of almost all of the Beats. In addition, the Beats expressed these concerns through the small and fine press not the mainstream publishing machine.

“Strategic Air Command” sold for $345, safely above the high estimate but well within many collectors’ budgets considering the personal, unique nature of the item. This is another reason to collect beyond the Burroughs / Kerouac / Ginsberg troika. What would a similar item by the Beat trio fetch at auction? Surely in the four figures. Not only does a collector of Whalen, Welch or Snyder get the opportunity to get a hold of incredible examples of post-WWII fine and small press publishing at lower prices, they also can obtain a more diverse universe of material beyond the A, B or C items of the bibliography. Correspondence, paintings, elaborately inscribed books, manuscripts, books or poems with holograph edits. Sale 364 had such items available for Snyder, Jack Micheline and Kenneth Patchen at a fraction of the cost of Burroughs / Kerouac / Ginsberg. An archive of Jack Micheline letters (lot 345) sold under the low estimate at $173. A letter from Snyder to David Meltzer (lot 366) sold for $138. As I wrote recently, a Burroughs letter to Ginsberg from 1969 is currently selling for $25,000. The slightest of Burroughs postcards from the 1980s sells in the hundreds, particularly if it has a full signature. I do not want to argue the relative importance of all these letters just show the vast disparities in price.

And this is not to say that items from those on the fringes of the Beat core cannot get expensive. Kenneth Patchen’s Fables and Other Little Tales published by Jargon in 1953 (lot 358) as 50 hand-painted covers and colophons by Patchen is an example. It sold for $1955, just shy of the low estimate. Pricey, yet look at what you are getting: “The rare Author’s Edition; no copies located for this edition in ABPC auction records for the past twenty-five years.” Compare this to a Bukowski title (another author who hand painted his books in limited editions) of a limited edition from Black Sparrow. The Patchen is far rarer and less expensive. As I will argue later, the fact the Fables is from a legendary alternative press like Jargon is nice as well.

But the desirability of the lesser Beat goes beyond affordability. Even decades since they first burst on the scene, their work is largely unexplored by scholars and relatively uncollected. Great material is still available on the market. As I mentioned in another column, substantial Burroughs letters from the 1950s and 1960s just do not exist outside institutions. The same is true of Kerouac and Ginsberg. That goes for manuscripts, paintings, and other items with a personal touch as well.

There were about 125 lots in the Beat section of Sale 364. Sixty-one items sold below the low estimate, roughly 50%. Only twenty items beat the high estimate and twenty-two lots were within the estimated range. An equal number (22) did not sell at all. With the Snyder items, several lots sold for half the low estimate. Why not take a glass half full attitude on this. The lesser Beats are undervalued and have tremendous opportunity for growth especially given the fact that a diverse range of items can be obtained beyond a simple first edition hard cover.

In lots 370-379, there were several beautifully constructed broadsides (usually signed) available for $115-200. Like with the expensive Patchen, some Snyder items fetched high prices. Take the first edition, first issue Riprap. Although PBA is incorrect in listing Snyder as a Nobel Prize winner (he won the Pulitzer in 1975 for Turtle Island), they are correct in describing Riprap as “one of the most important books of poetry published in America post-WWII.” This “exceptional” copy sold for $2070, just over the low reserve. When a Holy Grail item in fine condition is available for just over $2000, I would say that there is some degree of financial wiggle room to build a substantial collection. Yet a hand-bound copy of High Sierra of California proves that Snyder can command big money as a small group of material associated with that title blew by the $1500 and sold for $4025. The highlight of the sale may have been lot 416, an incredible copy of True Night, painstakingly produced by Bob Giorgio in 1980. The book was made in “the ancient oriental tradition. I carved each word and each image in wood and linoleum. Furthermore, I printed the entire edition with a press, using only a bamboo spoon baren. Lastly I bound each copy by hand. This slow, patient process has taken one year to complete…” This work, like “Strategic Air Command,” captures the spirit of Snyder’s life and work. It sold just over the high estimate at $1610.

Collectors of the lesser Beats can build a collection that really means something beyond the financial bottom line of making a profit. Gathering a large archive of material dealing with Herbert Huncke for example has value to scholars and institutions because not many people have done it before with any thoroughness. In addition collecting these authors also allows the collector to build a solid archive of post-WWII little magazine, small press, and fine printing material. Look over Gary Snyder’s bibliography or the Sale 364 catalog to get a sense of what I mean. As electronic publishing grows and the print industry slowly changes or dies, these examples of the book as art object and the alternative publishing industry are only going to grow in desirability and historical importance. Collecting blue chip authors, like John Steinbeck, William Faulkner, F. Scott Fitzgerald, or Ernest Hemingway does not present similar opportunities at any price. To get more current, Thomas Pynchon, Ken Kesey, Hunter S. Thompson, Harper Lee, J.D. Salinger, Ian Fleming, Anthony Burgess, Joseph Heller or Truman Capote (to list only those authors with an extremely collectible title) also fail in the same way.

I guess that the bottom line is that with the lesser Beats much more interesting and intimate material is available at a fraction of the cost. A copy of the Olympia Press Naked Lunch is wonderful and very desirable. It is an absolute cornerstone of my collection and I look at it almost every day, but there is something incredibly attractive about Snyder’s “Strategic Air Command” that goes beyond the text. It is a printed object that gets to the core of Snyder as a person and poet. Is there something comparable for Burroughs? I would argue that there are: My Own Mag, Time, APO-33. It is in the little magazines and alternative press material that I most powerfully feel a merging of Burroughs’ creative philosophy with the published object. This goes beyond whether or not these texts speak to me personally since I think they speak for Burroughs on a multitude of levels as nothing else in his entire bibliography. And that makes them priceless for me.

Reports from the Bibliographic Bunker

Jed Birmingham on William S. Burroughs Collecting

In my recent piece on the Baltimore Bookfair and elsewhere, I sang the praises of the Between the Covers web site. It is one of the most innovative on the Web. With his presence at all the major book fairs, in several bookseller associations and organizations, and in book magazines, Tom Congalton acts as the face of that operation, but he has a dedicated, fun-loving, and incredibly knowledgeable staff behind him. In terms of the web site, Dan Gregory is the one of the wizards behind the curtain that makes the site work so efficiently and effectively. Tom Bloom deserves special mention as well. Back in the mid-90s when I first started collecting, his artwork on the Between the Covers catalogs — as much as the books within them — made me eager to get my mail every day. To this day, despite a series of moves, I’ve kept all those catalogs.

Gregory and I have emailed back and forth a few times and the subject of an interview on the Internet and the rare book trade came up. I was curious about the philosophies and day to day activities that made the site possible as well as what betweenthecovers.com means in terms of the past, present, and future of rare bookselling. Besides putting together a wonderful web site, Gregory has developed some interesting web tools that make buying books on the Internet a more personal and more intimate experience. For example, the rotating book technology (e.g. a rotating copy of Burroughs’ Junkie) has far-reaching implications for the development of virtual archives. Not surprisingly, Gregory possesses some interesting ideas and opinions about the relastionship between the Web and bookselling. What follows is the first part of what is shaping up to be a two part interview on the topic.

Interview with Dan Gregory

You began working with Between the Covers in 1996. Did the bookstore consider itself a pioneer in cyberspace? What was the trade’s feeling towards the internet at the time?

When Tom hired me he told me that he wanted to launch a web site of some kind, but he didn’t have very clear ideas. At that point at least several dozen very good dealers had sites, so we certainly weren’t pioneers. We launched our site in early 1997 and I think it was very solidly laid-out, so that we didn’t need to overhaul it for a good long time. I also gave a lot of thought to “what should this web site ‘be’? What should this web site ‘do’ for customers?” So in that sense perhaps we were pioneers because I think most dealers, then and now, don’t really put much effort into giving their web site a purpose. For many it is basically a business card, especially today — they have it because they would feel “unprofessional” without it. Most of the things in the 2006 version of the web site were things I wanted to do in the 1997 version, but at the time both we and the web weren’t ready (that is, neither 1997 software nor 1997 connection speeds would have allowed our current site to work for customers).

As for the second part of the question, I think that in the late 1990s the segment of the book trade that I knew (mid- to high-end antiquarian dealers) was simultaneously optimistic and skeptical. They all understood something big was going on here, but they weren’t sure at the end of the day how it was going to affect their part of the book market. Ultimately I would say a considerable amount of dealing, particularly the really pricey stuff, still goes on outside the Internet. As happy as I am with our web site, and with the number of books we sell online through all our partner-venues, it is still only a fraction of our business.

I started collecting in 1993 and Between the Covers had one of the most distinctive catalogs around with artwork by Tom Bloom. When you started was there a philosophy regarding the appearance of the web site such as trying to recreate the distinctive feel of the catalog or did that come later?

With both our initial and our re-launched sites, I thought it was essential to use Tom Bloom’s work. I am a big believer in branding as one of the most important elements of a rare book business. And branding goes beyond a consistent logo or a consistent font (although that’s a good start). For me, branding is also about presenting a philosophy of business. The reason I like working with Tom Bloom so much, and Tom Congalton for that matter, is that it is very clear from both their artwork and their writing that we don’t take ourselves too seriously. We actually enjoy having and selling the books in our inventory. We’re having fun. We laugh a lot.

Other businesses, particularly rare book businesses, are very buttoned-down. And there is nothing wrong with that. It works for them, and it works for their customers. To a degree very rare and valuable material lends itself to hushed tones and cloistered settings. But it’s not what we’re about, either in Tom Bloom’s artwork, in Tom Congalton’s catalog descriptions, or even in his choice of inventory. So for our first site, I used pre-existing Tom Bloom artwork and a very colorful palette to try to communicate that sense of fun. For our current site we got much more ambitious, and commissioned pages and pages of entirely new artwork for each “section” of the site. And of course we added animation and a sense of “depth” to the site in our layout. With the new site we were trying to recreate the experience of visiting our office or visiting our booth at a bookfair.

As it stands right now, what are some of your major tenets regarding bookselling and the internet?

I don’t think any of the elements that went into professional bookselling before the Internet have really changed or become minimized. The one major difference is the tremendous availability of books and book dealers. At the Colorado Antiquarian Book Seminars I urge new booksellers to identify WHAT KIND of professional bookseller they want to be. That is, are they naturally inclined toward research? Toward service? Toward competitive pricing? Booksellers need to figure out their own identity, and then communicate that identity to potential customers. You can do that in a limited fashion with your book descriptions, but obviously a web site allows for much more of that. Selling is much easier when your potential customers have the confidence that there is a real and distinct (and hopefully professional and likeable) person on the other end of the Ethernet cable. In the past couple of years we’ve seen many more bookseller blogs, and that is one of the easier ways for a bookseller to personalize the web experience for collectors.

If you are a specialist dealer with unique or nearly unique knowledge, it’s much easier to carve a niche in the marketplace. Now I don’t have data on this, but I would hazard to guess that the percentage of dealers who would define themselves as specialist dealers, or as having genuinely specialized knowledge, against the full spectrum of sellers out there, has probably gone down dramatically over the last decade as the number of people selling books has skyrocketed. In other words, fifteen years ago perhaps 30 out of every hundred booksellers were specialists. Now perhaps the number is not more than 5 out of every hundred booksellers is a specialist. (Again, the numbers are purely speculation.) But, even in the absence of data, I believe for the vast majority of dealers now, there are hundreds of other dealers out there with similar experience selling similar material for similar prices. If you can’t stand out because of your inventory, then you have to try to stand out in other ways. And you MUST communicate to the potential buyer than there is a real, unique and interesting person at the other end of the transaction.

The Between the Covers site must take a remarkable amount of work. Can you give some idea of the daily grind it takes to make the site work? If you can give some idea what are the economics that makes all that work and man hours worthwhile?

Regarding the economics, our first site cost us almost nothing and so anything we sold would be considered a profit. One day a very wealthy person wanting to get a book for his son assigned his secretary to research rare books and she found our site. That resulted directly in a six figure sale, so when it came time to redesign I felt we could devote a lot more resources to it. Of course sometimes throwing money is not a good solution — most of the big book sites are very uninspired, and in some cases just a mess of jumbled data, despite their deep pockets.

Specifically regarding the amount of work that goes into our site, it can be very hard to find time to add non-product data. That is, like all book dealers we are always adding books to our inventory database. And for many years we’ve had a picture for every book. So the books on our site are changing daily. And we built in programming to add a degree of randomness to every load of the home page — every visit gives you a unique initial set of books to view that will never be repeated. Coming from several years of managing brick and mortar stores, I was wary of what I call the “shop window roller coaster.” When you are first put in charge of a shop window you put a lot of effort into the display. Every element is carefully considered, every inch is an inspiration contributing to a thematic work of art. Then you unveil it, and maybe the customers respond, or maybe it falls kind of flat. Either way, in a few weeks you have to do it all over again. You pick another theme and set to work. After doing it a few times frankly you get pretty sick of the whole process: the fun has leached out of it like the colors of the books in the window that have been hit daily by the morning sun. It becomes a chore, and so the results suffer as the enthusiasm wanes. During our planning sessions there were several times when our designer said, “Let’s build it this way so you can change it as often as you wish.” My reply was often, “Let’s build it to change automatically, because otherwise I will never get to it.” We have a lot of algorithms designed to make the kinds of display choices we would make manually.

But much of the content on the site, particularly all the bibliographic and unique content, has to be added by people. Adding articles and reference information isn’t normally part of our work schedule, so it can be tough to find the time. In the summer we usually hire students on their academic breaks, and so we get a lot of data typed in then. And we built the site to be very scalable, so there is infinite room for growth. When I get a chance, say when I’m in between catalogs, I’ll add photos from our archive, or add articles, or award lists, etc. Regarding profitability, our site is just one more “arrow in our quiver.” But in addition to the direct sales it generates, it also I think leads indirectly to a lot of business. More specifically, we make much more from our catalogs and direct quotes to customers. But about of a third of our Internet sales come through our web site, and of course we pay no commission or fees for those sales so they are also more profitable than our other Internet sales. And when people hear about us and look us up, I think it helps that they see a very deep site with a lot of information.

Let’s talk about the current site. You provide a brief description of your thoughts behind the site such as the attempt to recreate the old cluttered brick-and-mortar bookshop in cyberspace. As a result your site is “busy” or “cluttered.” Has this been the major criticism of the site? Can you touch on how “busy” ties into the need for constant content on the internet?

Actually that was only self-criticism — I’m happy to say that quite a few people have written in to say how much they like the structure and look of the site. Some of our more enthusiastic visitors have even posted messages along the lines of “Don’t change a thing!” The only major criticism we received when we launched the site was about the speed. It was pretty slow, especially compared to the normal expectations of page load these days. There is quite a lot going on “under the hood,” so the coding for each page is very complex. But we did a lot of recoding and indexing, and now I think the site speed is acceptable. We’ll try to get it even faster, but that was the main improvement we’ve made since we launched.

Regarding the constant need for content, I’ve never understood why any bookseller would think that a collector would want to go to an individual dealer’s site if all that site had was a search engine no different than all the other book search engines out there. You have to give people reasons to visit. It’s not uncommon for us to have half hour or even hour long visits from web viewers, which I think is great. And happily those aren’t flukes. Our average visit is several minutes long. And we also see a lot of people going from one page to another, to another and only leaving the site after they’ve visited a half dozen or a dozen pages on it. I have faith that “stickiness” pays off, either directly or indirectly.

I often think about the age of collectors. Your site seems to be perfect for younger, more computer-savvy collectors. Is this an effort to get in touch with and spark the interest of younger collectors? Is the print catalog in a similar way a means to keep in contact with your older, more traditional clientele?

Actually both our site and our catalogs are based mostly on personal aesthetics. We try to make catalogs we would like to receive in the mail, and a web site we would like to visit. It’s partly selfish, partly a confidence in our own judgment, and partly a sensibility that there is no point in copying everything else out there, especially when, to be frank, so much of it is mediocre. To a large extent this philosophy comes from Tom Congalton and the way he buys books — he buys things that are interesting to him, taking a calculated risk that if he found it interesting our customers will as well. Early on when we were planning the redesign we were advised to survey web customers and we said, “Nah, we’ll just do it the way we like.” Surveys have their place, but it is also a quick path to mediocrity, especially when there is, I think, a dearth of originality and inspiration in the rare book trade.

Some of our best web site customers are also our steady catalog customers, and they are mostly middle-aged. Since I know them and can see what they buy, I can assess that. But we haven’t bothered to survey our web visitors beyond that, so I don’t know if as a group they are younger than our catalog mailing list.

More to come…