It’s a great fair. Set-up (as you can see in the photos) was a snap. Load-out was a bit of a cluster-f$&%, with long lines to both get into the Convention Center and (once there) to unload. Ian and I agreed that next year we’ll just pack up and go straight to dinner, waiting to load-out once the back-log has cleared. Much more civilized.

The fair draws about 60 dealers, with a good mix of established dealers (Ken Lopez, Between the Covers, Royal Books) and smaller, more regional dealers. And because so much of the fair is dedicated to antiques and fine art, the crowds were strong despite the economy. That said, sales at least for me – and most dealers I spoke to – were soft. Since I don’t have to travel far, this is a relatively cheap fair for me to do, so I did okay. I also bought some great material at the fair, and had at least two good collections come my way via a couple of civilians who sauntered into the booth asking if I might be interested in their books. So on the whole, a good fair. I’ve already put down my deposit for next year.

It’s newly-arrived archive I’m evaluating. I love going through, digging into, and organizing an archive, trying to piece together the story it tells. Especially useful in these situations is an over-sized dining room table (and an understanding wife). Can’t say much about the archive yet, but will post some (very) interesting tid-bits as I can.

So in short: feeling icky, but with plenty to keep my mind off it.

Now there’s an argument to be made that the best dealers are those who do this the least. And while to a certain extent this is true, no dealer can avoid it entirely, and I’ve come to find that the best dealers are more often the one’s who know what to do when the dreaded happens. As I’ve been cataloguing an uncomfortable amount of material I have – ahem – “over-pursued,” it’s a subject that’s been on my mind of late.

Though it’s taken me several years, and some days I do this better than others, I’ve found the following helps lessen the sting somewhat:

1) Catalogue the material immediately. For me, this is the hardest part. It’s easier to ignore that pile of margin-challenged books. After all, to process it is to admit – to put in cold hard numbers – how little you will make (or conversely, how much you will lose) on your new acquisitions. It’s also to admit that your judgement was wrong. Very wrong. Wrongity-wrong. Better to set aside and hope the market improves. Better to just sweep them under the proverbial rug. *Fingers in ears* NANANANANAN – I don’t know you’re there!

Not that *I* ever did anything like that. But the bottom line is this: the market is very unlikely to get any better and the sooner the books get on the market, the sooner you are likely to get back (at least some of) your capital and the sooner that capital can be put towards better purchases. That is assuming you…

2) Examine why it happened and learn from the mistake. Was I feeling flush? Did I let my emotions get the better of me? Has a market that I thought I knew well changed? Did I ignore my gut instincts? Did I listen to my gut instincts? Did I not stick to my budget? Did I buy something I didn’t fully understand? The more I recognize how it happened, the better l can avoid repeating the error in the future.

3) Think more creatively. Bad buys make me think about how I can turn them over as quickly as possible. They make me dig deeper into who might be a potential customer for the material and consider more fully how I might reach them. Maybe I can’t make much money but I can use some of the material to acquire potential new clients. In other words, bad buys can (sometimes) make me a better seller.

And I also find it useful to remember the words of my colleague Garrett Scott, who recently tweeted me on this topic: “But remember Einstein’s general theory of bookselling: As the speed of turnover increases, margins appear larger.”

Now, I’m off to look at a collection of music books. I will not let their siren song lure me to the rocky shores of over-paying…

“Yeah. Where you located?”

“Um, I’m open by appointment. What was it you were looking for?”

“Esoterica.”

“Are you looking for something in particular?”

“You know: esoterica. Says here you sell esoterica.”

“Yes, odd or unusual books are a specialty.”

“Book!? Naw. I’m looking more for like videos or DVDs.”

“Sorry?”

“Esoterica videos.”

“Well, I’m a bookseller.”

“But I typed ‘esoterica’ into Google and they say you sell esoterica.”

“Yes, but books.”

“JUST books?”

“Sorry.”

“.”

“Did, perhaps, Google ASK if you MEANT ‘esoterica’?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Ah. I don’t think that’s the word you’re looking for.”

ME: “Let’s take a look.”

SHE: “Well, I said it’s going for $85.00.”

ME: (typing) “MmmHmm”

SHE: “You don’t believe me?”

ME: (typing)

SHE: (straining to see my computer) “What would you pay for a book worth that much?”

ME: “For this book and these couple others, I can give you $35.00″

SHE: “But I said this is an $85.00 book even without those others! I can’t take that!”

ME: (trying to hand the books back) “Well, there are people ASKING $85.00. But prices for this book on this condition start at about ten. I understand if you don’t want…”

SHE: “Okay, $35.00.”

I’m a bit overwhelmed at the thought of coherently summing up the experience of this year’s Annual Colorado Antiquarian Book Seminar, which I was lucky enough to attend. So much is packed into the week. So I’m just going to kind of list my thoughts in the order they occur to me -

– The most common question I’ve gotten from other booksellers is “Was it worth it?” To which the simple answer is, you better &%$#@(&%-ing believe it was. Every penny, every hour, every bit of lost sleep was worth it.

– The seminar struck a difficult balance between being useful for the newbie while not boring the more experienced sellers. They managed, in my opinion, to engage both the more advanced attendees as well as those just beginning. This is, of course, a testament to the faculty.

– Was a surprisingly diverse group. Many attendees were literally just starting out. Others had been working at it for year. A few open shops. I was also interested to see that there were a fair number of librarians and pure collectors in attendance. I was also struck by the number of (like me) younger students. Still a minority (about ten of about fifty), but as someone who’s used to usually being the youngest person in a group of booksellers, a nice change. I think part of the liveliness of the discussions stemmed from what was a reasonably eclectic group.

– In a strange strictly-speaking kind of way, the information given during the seminars was in some ways the least of the entire experience. Which is not to say the information wasn’t invaluable, or that this alone wasn’t worth the price of admission all by itself. It was. But for me, two other elements are what really made the seminars outstanding…

– The first was how what the faculty taught told you at least as much about what you DIDN’T know as what you did, and in this way sketched out the boundaries of your expertise while simultaneously inspiring (at least me) to continue to learn more.

– And second, the other amazing part of the week were the other attendees. I think I learned more from the other “seminarians” than anyone else. In addition, it was wonderful to finally be able to talk with other people who know what you’re talking about. We all basically work alone in a business that most people don’t understand. What a relief then to talk books and not have to explain what you’re talking about. Haven’t laughed so hard as I did last week in a LONG time. In addition, the other students are, of course, the people who will be your colleagues for the foreseeable future. Good people to know.

– Highlights? Faculty member Terry Belanger. Erudite, engaging, a bit eccentric and with the driest sense of humor I think I’ve ever encountered, he made what were often fairly dull topics (bibliography, collation, etc) utterly fascinating.

– Also: good bookscouting. Paid for my plane ticket with a few finds from our various field trips. Huzzah!

In short, one of the best week’s of my life. Can’t recommend it too highly. Beg, borrow, or steal but go go go. You won’t regret it. Happy to answer other questions for anyone who’s interested.

As Chris pointed out, there are many scholarships available (indeed more than ever before). But even without scholarship support, any bookdealer or bibliophile looking to expand their knowledge, grow their business, or meet their colleagues would be well advised to attend.

The hope is between the ease of posting, relatively quick turnover, and side-stepping the commissions of listing sites, it will be a worthwhile venture. At the same time, however, I like the way the shorthand Twitter requires recalls earlier days of bookselling: of quotes to Bookman’s Weekly or the inscrutable abbreviations of mimeographed book catalogs. So while on the surface this may seem a slightly gimmicky bookselling tactic, I like to think of it as just another extension of venerable trade traditions.

Some basic info:

1) What you see is what you get: All prices INCLUDE postage (within the US via USPS media mail). Elsewhere and/or via other methods would require additional cost.
2) No scruffy books here: Unless noted, all books are in Very Good or better condition
3) Act fast: All books are subject to prior sale. Reply or direct message via Twitter to reserve.
4) Keeping it simple: Paypal payment preferred (to books@briancassidy.net), though checks, credit cards, moneys orders all acceptable as well. Please await confirmation before sending payment. And as much as possible, books and their respective tweets will be deleted as they sell. So if you see something you like that’s still listed, even if an older post, it’s probably still available.

SOME FREQUENTLY USED ABBREVIATIONS:

HC = Hardcover (no DJ)
HC/DJ = Hardcover with dust jacket
PB = Trade paperback
MMPB = Mass market paperback
BCE = Book club edition
1st = First edition
VG = Very good condition
NF = Near fine condition
F = Fine condition
NF/F = Near fine hardcover in a fine dust jacket (or VG/NF, F/F…you get the idea)

Through the wonders of modern technology (read: my iPhone), I’ll be posting nearly-live updates from the fair – from set-up to break-down and everything in between, maybe even a few from the road – via both Flickr and Twitter. If you’d like to follow along, here are the links:

The Santa Monica Book Fair – A Flickr Set (also available in RSS flavor)

Me on Twitter (or RSS)

Booth shots, interesting books, behind-the-scenes info…The next best thing to being there.

And I even have a few free passes left. Email me at books at briancassidy dot net and I’ll leave one for your at the door if you’d like to attend; first come, first served.

Now, for those handful of readers who’ve managed to stick around this long, some posts to look forward to in the coming days and weeks:

1) A book scouting report from my family’s road trip up the Pacific Coast.

2) Why book scanners and those who rely on them will never uncover the best or most interesting book.

3) What “The Cask of Amontillado” is and why its a useful tool for booksellers.

4) An uncomfortably prescient picture I discovered in a magazine recently

5) Some great additions to my collection of unusual and interesting book inscriptions, including one I am unlikely to top anytime soon.

Hopefully, this is tantalizing enough to keep folks reading despite my recent and chronic case of blog neglect.

And until get around to these other posts, here’s some of the results of my work in the shop yesterday. I spent most of the day culling books (read: getting rid of old and slow-moving stock) and redoing all of the book displays. Here’s my display just in time for the upcoming political conventions:

For those who’ve never been to my shop, my desk is right behind these shelves. Note the teetering piles of books. Probably should get to some of those…

Junk is a major problem, it tends to creep in. The taste of the bookseller is important. We sell only our kind of books, a general humanities selection, all in very good condition.”

Sadly, the shop is closing.

Ready? Have your number?

Answer: Five boxes. About 150 or so books. Less than 2% of what I saw.

I’m often asked over the phone, “What books do you buy?” I’d like to answer “Very few.”

Sad truth most people don’t understand: The majority of books are worthless, or nearly so. Too damaged, too dated, too common, too many online, too little demand.

I know dealers who might have taken more than I did (and several who would have taken even less), but the larger truth remains: Books are a dime a dozen (and often not even that much).

On a related note, Jason Kottke points to several other economic indicators including sushi, lipstick, and Jay-Z. Strangely, bookseller was unmentioned.

“You mean that would be attached to the covers and used to close the book?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Does it matter what the book is?”

“No, I collect books with interesting clasps.”

“Actually, I do. I have this lovely 19th Century Bavarian prayer book.”

“Oh, that is nice. I’ve never seen one quite like this. This should be fine.”

“Great, should I write that up, or would you like to look around a bit more?”

“Oh wait.”

“What?”

“This is a Catholic prayer book.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. Thank you though.”

!?!?

I wasn’t so much offended as I was confused. Question: Can a clasp be “Catholic”?