Book sale Abigail and the great literary circle of life

Sideways view of Book Sale Abigail

I am addicted to used book stores, sales, and stalls. I haunt the stores, frequent the sales, and scour the stalls. I don't often buy much but I love nothing better than to make my way, slowly and quietly, through a collection of used books.


Sure, I come up with the odd find from time to time -- a first edition Ian Fleming, for example, or an autographed Robertson Davies -- but the fun, for me, is simply in the looking, in the feeling that, as a writer of middling success, I might just be permitted to consider myself part of that great, multi-generational community of writers with books out there in the great wide world.


From time to time, I've even permitted myself to wonder what it would be like to find one of my own books amid the stacks and rows. I've known other authors who have found that particular experience to be upsetting and disappointing -- thinking bitterly, "someone didn't like my book well enough to want to keep it".


I always hoped that, upon my own discovery of one of my books in a used book sale, I would be much more positive about the experience.


Well, now I know -- and I'm glad to say, I was and continue to be much more positive.


As is my wont, I visited the local public library's standing book sale in its front lobby on my lunch hour today. I started scanning the collection on offer and felt a quick inhale of breath. That's my first Abigail Massey at McAdam Station book, isn't it? I thought to myself.


Indeed it was. A pristine copy of the first volume of stories, with my own autograph on the title page, dated December 2012. No inscription, just the signature. The date suggests that this copy comes from the original print run of 500 copies (or perhaps the second print run of 250 that was ordered within days of the book's release and rapid sell out).


My honest reaction was excitement -- excitement at seeing my own book out there in the world, among all the other books on sale, fitting in so nicely, yet prettier in its presentation (in my humble opinion).


My second thought was: should I buy it and give it as a gift (or even re-sell it to raise more funds for the Station)? or should I leave it so that (hopefully) someone else will come along and decide to buy it for themselves (or their child) at such a reduced price?


I think the picture at the top of this blog entry probably answers the question for you. I bought it. I put down my dollar and took it with me, feeling quite delighted to have found such a deal!


And now I know. It's a great feeling (at least for me) to think of myself as an author whose work has made its way from the sales table, to the living room table, to the book shelf, then to the used sale shelf at my local library. I am part of the great literary circle of life!

Positive reinforcement from my local library

I'm a writer, for sure, but I am not sure my behaviour is normal for your average writer of middling success.

For example, on my lunch hour today, I made my way to the central branch of our city's public library system to browse their ongoing, and always interesting, used book sale.

I found nothing I was willing to buy, even at the ridiculously low prices they offer, but then I remembered that the library system had purchased about a half dozen copies of my first collection of children's stories.

Wouldn't it be neat, I thought to myself, to see my book in situ in a real library? On the shelves, among the other children's books? Like my self-published little gem was actually the real thing?

So I wandered down to the children's section and started to browse. Now, you have to realise, when you're a middle-aged man, you can't simply stroll into the children's section of a public library without being noticed.

I couldn't immediately find my book on the shelves and, after a few moments, the librarian came over to enquire if she could help me. I couldn't help but feel her helpfulness was driven, at least partially, by suspicion. You can't blame her, and it was probably all in my head, but....

What do you do? How do you answer that question?

Any answer but the truth -- that I'm an author with an ego issue who wants to see his own little book on the shelves of the library -- is likely going to make me look pretty creepy and result in a call to security. But the truth itself is pretty embarrassing.

I chose embarrassment over creepy and told her that I was the author of a children's book, that I understood the library system had purchased a number of copies of it, and that I had decided I wanted to treat myself to the thrill of seeing it right there on the shelves.

I'm grateful to say that, instead of mocking or pitying me, she helped me find the book.

Boy, did it ever look nice right there on the shelves. It looked like a real book and it made me feel like a real author.

"Do you want to sign it?" the librarian asked. "We like our books to be signed where possible."

So, after a little hesitation, I agreed to sign the book. While I was doing that, and feeling pretty good about myself in the process, this kind librarian handed me another gem.

"Wow," she said. "I'm looking up the borrowing history of your book. We've only had it on the shelves for 11 months and it's been borrowed 10 times. When you figure each person can borrow it for up to three weeks, add a week for processing when it is returned, that makes your book pretty much out 100% of the time."

Awesome. What started as a potentially embarrassing situation turned into a fantastic ego boost. Thanks Fredericton Public Library.