books

While the sci-fi paperback genre has always been replete with busty warrior women who are impossibly ill-equipped to deal with marauding dragons, or impractically designed space vessels hovering above rainbow-hued planets, or if you’re lucky, a really freaking insane monster that’s mostly made of teeth, some of my favorite covers include none of these obvious things. While I’ve had a difficult time finding any that were published after the 1970s, I’m a fan of the ‘human abstraction’.

There’s no doubt that once you see a warrior chick or crazy beast on the cover of a sci-fi book, it’s the image that’s planted firmly in your head from introduction to final chapter, whether or not these descriptions fit what the author actually describes. Much of the time, the illustrator is given a brief synopsis of what the story entails, and a quick outline of what the main character may look like. There’s little nuance, and an illustrator on a deadline usually won’t have time to sit down and read through the entire book to seek all of the vital details out.

While Ray Bradbury’s ‘The Food of the Gods‘ (1964 Popular Library Eagle Books edition) isn’t an ‘abstraction’ as much as a non-literal interpretation of a human head, it doesn’t ruin the form of what might be inside of the book itself. This particular painting, ‘Head’ by Pavel Tchelitchew, was not created specifically for this book, but the publishers thought that it fit. Tchelitchew was actually a well-known Surrealist painter who died seven years before this edition of ‘Gods’ was even published.

‘Earthblood‘ by Keith Laumer and Rosel George Brown uses another abstracted humanoid figure on its 1966 Berkeley Medallion edition. A little bit of digging reveals that the artist of this cover is Richard Powers, who dabbled equally in Surrealist designs and the obligatory ‘hot alien’ chick cover. He’s considered revolutionary enough, and justifiably so, to have warranted a book completely about his artwork.

‘Odd John’ by Olaf Stapledon is regarded as a fairly important work of science fiction, and if the blurred signature in the corner of the image says what I think it does, this is another beautiful work by Powers. There aren’t many reliable web resources about Powers.

This is also a title that saw a few more interpretations which aren’t quite as creative. We have the alien-faced cover…

… and the sensationalist, sexy cover. The fact that one book can be interpreted so many different ways is either a really great, or really terrifying, thing.

Early Penguin paperbacks also explored a more abstracted view of science fiction also, with beautiful results. Forget about the starships – I want the vague implication of a human head and my imagination.

And for no really good reason, except that it’s my new favorite paperback cover, I present to you ‘Who?‘

I don’t usually cross paths with philately while browsing the thrift shops, but last weekend I was luckier than usual.  We were visiting relatives over Thanksgiving weekend – an excellent time to hit far-off shops in hopes of seeing something new – and I found a couple books on stamps, the first two editions of United States Stamps and Stories.

First published in 1973, Stamps & Stories was a small paperback put out by the United States Postal Service and edited by stamp collecting giant Scott Publishing.   It is largely a catalog and price guide, its data compiled from the Scott Catalogues of the time, but the ’stories’ part includes various tales and trivia regarding the subjects of the stamps  through history.  The most remarkable thing about these books is that they are in full color throughout, printed on heavy, glossy paper, which these a step up in quality from  most stamp catalogs.  In these older editions, unfortunately, the glue has dried out quite a bit, which means for careful page-turning to avoid cracking the binding and losing pages.   Through the 1970s and 1980s, the USPS advertised these books as an easy-to-read encyclopedia of stamp collecting, and they were quite right.  Although the books aren’t quite as thorough as the Scott’s catalog from which they are derived, they provide a significant eye-catching and engaging reference for casual or new philatelists, and includes practical information from prices to basic collecting terminology and identifying features of rarer stamps.

In 1982, Stamps & Stories changed its name to The Postal Service Guide to U.S. Stamps, and continued its full-color catalog of stamps and philatelic tips.   Modern editions of the Guide have grown in size from those early mass-market paperback sized books, now measuring about 8½” x 11″ and spiral- or comb-bound to lay flat.  Now in its 36th year, the newest edition of The Postal Service Guide to U.S. Stamps is available for purchase from the USPS and other major booksellers, along with the newest stamp yearbook.  The yearbook might be the Cadillac of collecting, with twice the pricetag to boot, but the Guide to U.S. Stamps stands as an expansive reference for all postage stamps through this year.

Antique Personal Possessions

Antique Personal Possessions by Silvia Druitt is a 1980 publication covering collectible personal items from 1860 to 1930. The book, measuring 10 X 7.5 inches, has just 128 pages (including small bibliography & index) and features illustrations — black and white throughout the text and 32 color plates — by Mary Camidge and Mary Sims.

If the 70 years seems like a lot of ground to cover in such a rather slim book, consider the breadth of collectibles included.

Here are the chapters (topics):

1. Toiletries and Dressing Table (vanity collectibles such as perfume, cosmetics, etc., as well as vinaigrettes, smelling bottles, soaps, and razors)
2. Hair (lotions & potions such as fixatives and pomades, hairbrushes, curlers, hairpins, etc.)
3. Accessories (jewelry, hat pins, fans, visiting cards and card cases, muffs, handbags and purses, chatelaines, lorgnettes and glasses, stocking suspenders, etc.)
4. Sewing and Writing (sewing accessories and sewing machines; pens, pencils, stationery, writing desks, etc.)
5. Smoking (snuffboxes, pipes, cigar cutters, cigarette holders and cases, cases for matches and/or wax vestas, smokers’ lamps, and other tobacciana)
6. Excursions (travel items, such as luggage, trunks, and baskets sets, muff and pocket warmers, damp bed detectors, travel clocks, battery lighting, thermos flask, umbrellas and parasols, shoes, skirt lifters, etc.)
7. Children (pottery sock dryers, baby bottles and feeders, diapers and safety pins, teething sticks and rings, nightlights, rattles, infant spoons, learning to write educational items, dolls and toys, etc.).

To Druitt’s credit, she notes in the book’s introduction that any such study or indeed collection of these items is limited:

In writing of personal possessions in the nineteenth century it is inevitable that one should find oneself speaking almost entirely about the more privileged sections of society, as it was their possessions, in the main, which survived. Such possessions as belonged to the very poor were liable to be handed on and on, to the point of destruction. The many examples taken from the periodicals and magazines reflect the same trend, less accentuated as the period progressed.

The accuracy of such realities is noted; but still, that’s a lot of collecting categories to attempt to cover in one book. However Druitt does a fine job. As she should; the author was, at least in 1980 when the book was published, employed by the Hampshire County Museum service, “an expert on the period covered.”

If you’re looking for in-depth information, you’ll probably want to get a guide book dedicated to a specific collectible category; but the beauty of this book is the context of seeing all these items with their contemporaries, gaining perspective on life a the time, the practicality &/or impracticality of the objects, and the desires of the people who used them.

The brevity is also tantalizing… At least for a history nerd like me. For along with the collectibles in context are a myriad of clues for those who love to learn about history and culture.

Illustrations in Antique Personal Possessions

I have a modest collection of vintage vanity items, including cosmetics etc., and this book taught me more about dirty tricks in ye olde beauty business; but I’d never really thought about collecting many of these other items… Like skirt lifters or chatelaines — mainly because I rarely see them.

And I don’t think I’ve ever heard of, let alone seen, pottery sock dryers or damp bed detectors. If I have, I likely didn’t recognize them. Considering them now — without the diapers angle, even — reminds me just how damp yesteryear was… It may be easy to romanticize delicate ladies drenched in lead-based cosmetics fanning themselves as they await the next gentleman listed on their dance cards, but to know the complete picture, we ought to at least remember that the ride home was cold and damp. As was the house when they got home. And need I remind you of the plumbing situation?

Since this book is now out of print, you’ll be looking for used copies; as it was published in the UK, most copies at Amazon and eBay are located in the UK, so US collectoras should look closely & consider shipping before committing to any purchase. But wherever you find a copy of Antique Personal Possessions, I think it’s worth it.

Fundamentals of Collection Development and Management

The second edition of the ALA’s Fundamentals of Collection Development and Management was staring me in the face at the ‘new arrivals’ display while I was waiting in line to check out my stack of books and I wondered if it would be helpful in terms of developing one’s personal collection — books or not. Curious, I added it to my pile.

They aren’t kidding when they say this book is for library professionals; not being one, I cannot properly review the book in that context — but skimming the pages I did pull a number of things which may be of use the collector.

Obvious parallels are the matter of funds (while we may dream of “funding,” we may content ourselves with merely having to please a mate’s inquisition, and not a Board of Acquisition) and, when funds are available, the proper selection of items to add to collections. Is it good enough? Does this object add to the collection as a whole? Do I like it that much — at the expense of the next things I (invariably will) find? The author, Peggy Johnson, states this situation very well:

A tension between collecting as much as possible and collecting only the best and most appropriate has been a constant feature of library selection. This is coupled with defining what is good and appropriate and balancing user demand against librarians’ perception of value.

While individual collectors do not have a general public to think of when considering user demand (generally, like the matter of funds, it is the collector and his family), considering your collection in terms of a user and their demands rather than a person and their hobby can be helpful to those who wish to accept that as collectors they are curators.

So what are the sorts of things collectors should consider when selecting items for their own collections? Well, really the question is, “Does the object fit the mission statement you have for your collection?” If you don’t yet have a mission statement, perhaps the following questions will help clarify things for yourself.

(I barely have any of these things figured out for my own collections, so I can’t even begin to presume answers for yours. But don’t skip this list — bookmark this post for further thinking, or cut & paste the questions into a document for brainstorming later.)

Who does this collection serve?

In the smaller picture sense, will the objects only be handled by and displayed for yourself, or will they be seen or used elsewhere, such as exhibited at libraries, collector shows, etc.?

In the bigger picture, is the collection really just to amuse and entertain yourself, or do you hope to leave it for future generations? And if for future generations, do you mean for your own children, or the future generations of humanity at large? What do these future generations require in terms of pieces and/or documentation in order to understand &/or value the collection as a whole?

What is the character of the collection?

Does it capture a personal narrative, a cultural one, both? Does it focus on the rare and elusive, or is it the largest?

Sustainability must also be considered — both in terms of interest and physical survival. What objects are necessary to keep the collection interesting, to set it apart from a simple grouping of items? What items are perhaps already too fragile or require more care than you can handle?

Please don’t let these questions intimidate you; there aren’t any wrong — or right — answers. Just as there aren’t any wrong or right collections or philosophies about them. (And, if you are intimidated or embarrassed by this, check out my upcoming presentation at the first Bookmark Collectors Virtual Convention!) Let the questions empower you to see more in your darling little hobby than ever before!

In truth, you may never really arrive at concrete answers; collections are ever changing, growing, just as the people behind them are. As Nancy M. Cline is quoted in the book (from “Staffing: The Art of Managing Changes,” in Collection Management and Development: Issues in an Electronic Era), you must have “the ability to tolerate ambiguity.”

Magnificent Obsessions

Magnificent Obsessions: Twenty Remarkable Collectors in Pursuit of Their Dreams by Mitch Tuchman (photographs by Peter Brenner) was published in 1994, however that doesn’t diminish the book in the least because this isn’t a price guide or even a true collectors guide; this book is a celebration of collecting.

Each of the 20 collectors covered in this over-size softcover is given a few pages for some Q & A about — and beautiful photos of — their one obsession. While many of the collectors admit to collecting more than the one “thing,” they are limited primarily (otherwise how would I know they collect more things?) to just the one collecting category. However, what they say isn’t only of interest to those with similar collecting obsessions; the joy, pride, humor, collection rearranging, haggling, discovery, etc. are universal.

But that doesn’t mean you won’t learn anything. Well, maybe I can’t promise that; I don’t know the depth and breadth of the knowledge you retain in your noggin. But I learned a few things. Or at least was reminded of things.

Like the pre-internet days of collecting.

Not only because what this book is, really, is a paper bound version of excellent blog posts with gorgeous photographs, but because it’s a time capsule of collecting before the days of search engines, online shopping carts, e-newsletters, and digital communities of pixel sharing comrades. Each of these 20 collectors was, at the time at least, a pretty big-time known collector in their category. (I Googled a handful of them; some have since passed away, others only exist in their daytime gigs, others I found no online mentions other than this book. But like I said, I didn’t Google everyone.) And every single one of them became a Big Time Collector without the internet.

(Sure, we all know about the joys of hunting at flea markets, many of us belong to real world collecting clubs, and most of us know that not everyone is “on” the internet; but still, are we making the most of forays into real places, meeting real people, as much as we are saved searches and bookmarked pages? Just something to think about.)

The book also holds another pre-internet reminder… In these days of complaining that eBay and other online selling avenues have “ruined” both the prices and spirit of the antiques and collectibles marketplace, don’t you remember that collectors have always complained about, feared, or been annoyed by other (real or perceived) influences in the world of collecting? This reality bonked me in the nose when I read swizzle stick collector Norma Hazelton’s lament:

Kovel wants to put a book out on swizzle sticks. Of course, that’ll kill the business. It’ll make the prices sky high like antiques and everything else went.

I haven’t studied the swizzle stick collecting market and I’m too lazy to even check to see if Kovel’s put out that book; but I bet that swizzle stick collecting has been affected by a great number of things outside of the collector’s control — and that’s rather the point, isn’t it? We can’t control the collectibles market any more than we can anything else we care about.

What else did I learn or remember? Along with some very specific things about very specific categories of collectibles, these general points stuck out:

• The differences between collectors and accumulators may be sound, even agreed upon; but here there were Big Time Collectors, known in their category, who identified themselves as accumulators. (Score one for my fellow accumulators!)
• I was reminded yet again *heavy sigh* that ephemera and books are of seemingly little value; there’s not a single collection dedicated to either. (Boo-hiss!)
• For nearly every bit of good general collecting advice, there was someone to corroborate otherwise; the anecdotal evidence continues to support the fact that each collection is as unique as the collector/curator’s individual philosophy, process, and, yes, I’ll say it, dreams.

Magnificent Obsessions: Twenty Remarkable Collectors in Pursuit of Their Dreams is available for very cheap at Amazon — and that’s something that any collector, in any category or however self-identified, can be happy about. (Makes a great gift for the collector in your life too — hint-hint nugde-nudge.)