Ugly is the day to day intercourse among the rare book men? Actually not... at all. Rare book proof and its pudding are held in the hand and... generally from a discerned distance... the discernment... tale... is tattle-...tailed... ‘by the book’. This is not a popular resolution. That ‘not a popular’... continues to a concerned
That one’s tattled tale may actually be “embarrassing”. That last “pitiful” is self protected by the “I didn’t know (realize) that ...that... could... would... and IS being done
To an “I”
(Old) “RARE” “BOOKS”.
Simply, if one ‘shows off’ an ‘I say’ it is a “rare book”, I (this writer) may not see it that way and do that from a ‘safe distance’. How can one taste this bibliodemon’s liquor? I feel one should START by knowing that a simple shelf of spine ends ‘lined up’ do, as Arlington advised the woman about her father’s books (Part Twelve)...; “Show... what the man really knew”. “Knows”. “Is”. And falsely claims to be... by their... spine... ends... sitting in a row for the whole world to see.
It is not a glance I use. No... I use a rake... of my eyes... from ‘a discerned distance’ and... as that is, in fact, “usually enough” for the “your old books”, I go back to hunting for a ...painting... or such “of such”. It’s ok: You don’t need to speak up a point out... “No, please”. Leave them; your old books... “PLEASE NO”. Really: I do not want them, to look at them, touch them and... have you... discourse your discernments (“ON THE INTERNET THEY”). These ‘your books’ shelved have already tattle-tailed about
JUST HOW LITERATE YOU REALLY ARE.
That is the big lie of all of this ‘rare book chat’. They, with grace of their hand as companion gesture... assure ME how much THEY “READ”. They will tell me this when ...from five feet... I may discern in their shelved clutch... their college sociology ‘intro’... course books... that they didn’t read then... and that they STILL shelve ‘spine ends out’ TO THIS DAY “I JUST TURNED FIFTY”. It is time to shelve books like a grownup?
“But my old college books are all... the books... I have?”
“And you have never bought and read a rare book in your entire life?”
“No... I have not. But... I LOVE old books”. Probably... you shouldn’t say that (anything)... for as history proves... Titanics... sink... “spine ends out”.
While you ‘crunch the numbers’ I notice two: Most (people with their spine ends out) ‘are that way’ so the company kept is ‘well established’; the ‘dominance’... with this including the delusional ‘home décor’ shelf showoff of ‘my books’ “ah....”: It actually gets ‘creepy’; this people showing their ‘spine ends out. It’s a sort of ‘standing there
In they’s... underwear.
Second... should one... when one... and being one that knows... comes upon this ‘spine ends out’ that are a ‘this is a real (personal) library’... it does take away my bibliolater (book worshiper) breath. Dizzy... I become at the ‘discerned distance’ ‘rake’ of a “this is a real library”
(Private library; collection).
Usually... they are dead... the curator of the ‘this collection’. NOT that I didn’t living-visit Arlington in his rare book room for a ...near... half century. But I do like the surprise discoveries best; the ‘in the field’ message to self “CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS GUY” ...was in here all alone forever and ‘shelved’ all this...; that “message”... is to self. I keep my God damn mouth shut. NO ONE (of the non-biblio) IS GOING TO KNOW (a ‘good one’; a rare book man’s hoard). It’s “just so many of his books he never threw anything out”.
“NO NEVER ANY I NEVER WAS ALLOWED TO EVEN clean IN HERE.”
Isn’t this a wonderful setting? One gathers rare books, in bibliomaniac fever, for ‘one’s lifetime’, dies and the maid opens the door and lets me in. I, dizzy, purchase (purloin) the whole contents of the hoard and... flee. I. Me. Not you. You fumbled the ball when you defined: “What is anyone going to do with this?”
Your word. And your right: It is mess. (Bibliocharylodis):** Frantic lifelong obsessive compulsive door closed never look up from a ‘the damn book’ died in there “I” am a bibliomaniac who has left all of my in-this-world (non book living) to see my world of I be in behind this desk and before my shelves and ...I am happily...yes... dead... so take me (my book body) away to the bibliobibuli (readers of ‘too much’).”
I do that (this). It is a blast: “JUST how (biblio) crazy was this guy COME ON go for the gold in here EVERY ... THING (rare book related) you ever touched is... to my dizzy eye... spine ends out “I”... your tattle-tale and “I” will never.. tattle-tail
You do not have to worry about a thing. My lips are sealed
Now most of you have never even seen ‘from a safe distance’ a ‘that kind of library’ (bibliocharylodis)... let alone run amuck in one on to let alone ...buy one and ‘get it out’ (bibliolestes; one who plunders/steals books)... of
It’s little (old) rare book room. I will stay off of the ‘making such’ (a bibliomaniac rare book room lifetime library) (to die in) yourself ...for yourself. That’s asking too much and, anyway, you have already wasted a lot of time so may only get a
** A dangerous whirlpool of books possibly ‘drowning’ an ‘unwary’.
*** Just to alarm the reader, I treated the discovery and purloinments of just such a rare book library hoard as this ‘let alone buy one and get it out’ in a ...thirty-six post... tale titled “Can B. Worth” that by exploring that title as a blog post ‘label’ one may find it all there to read. Again; it is a thirty-six posts long tale ‘about this’.
Let me review and summarize these ‘underestimate’. It is easy now, a few paragraphs ahead to understand the premise of the concept that one’s shelves of old books with their spine ends out are to... the knowing rare book eye... a chance for that eye to... from a safe distance... see you in your underwear... of your ‘old books’ “I shelved them over there”. Considered as an actual weapon of insult, I demonstrated Arlington St. John’s (that ‘rotten man’) skillful deployment of denoting to that shelf showoff that this does... show what the ... “I know”. As factual truth... this... ‘it does’. A review of one’s shelved books in one shelved home... may be in order? An internal ‘audit’ or ‘policing’ of one’s tawdry ‘old books’ ‘spine ends out’. Why not just reverse the horror show to ...spine ends “in”?
After this... call it what you will... private eye insight... I startled the shelves by saying that there are actual true ‘real libraries’ and that I delight in unexpectedly coming upon them, discern them very... very promptly... accept the LIVING personal library but am ‘dizzy’ from the discovery by chance of a... dead man’s... old book room... library... “BEST” and
There, then... when
I say nothing at all about this to anyone ever as a protective
Gesture of solidarity to
A DEAD MAN.
Who was a living bibliomaniac; a wretched zombie of obsession of books.
And I... ‘get it out’
Eventually... I was alone in Arlington St. John’s ‘rare book room’ with just
That is where this tale... a tattle-tail... began (Part One).