McHuston Booksellers

Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Author: admin (Page 112 of 220)

A-sworded thoughts on old stuff.

May 15, 2013 /

You know what they say about Live by the Sword, and all that… well, here I am at this moment – sword in hand. Strange what ends up in the shop, isn’t it?

Even stranger, the long-blade in the picture isn’t the only one. The sword I’m holding up is a US Civil War Confederate army cavalry sword made by Boyle & Gamble, a Richmond, Virginia arms-maker. The one I’m not holding up (mostly because I’m nervous about cutting my fingers off trying to remove it from the scabbard) was made by a company called Klingenthal that began making blades for King Louis XV of France in the early 1700s.

I’m thinking about having a sword-fight with myself, just because I could do that if I really wanted to. I’m deciding against it, right now, since I would probably lose.

Perhaps it isn’t true for other book dealers, but I’ve always found old relics interesting, even if they aren’t books. When I was much younger, someone brought in a box of items dating to Indian Territory days, and said they brought the things to me because they’d heard that I “like old stuff.” Old Stuff?

Bring it on!

In that box was an old property deed, a “License to Trade with Indians,” and some personal correspondence between a New York Metropolitan Opera soprano and the wife of Mr. Hailey, for whom Haileyville, Oklahoma was named. The singer was discussing a trip to McAlester to sing at the Busby Theater. Big Art in Indian Territory times. Hey, that would be Big Art anywhere in Oklahoma, even today!

These days, I see a lot more new than old. Some things so new they aren’t even on the shelf yet. When people special-order a new book, I always let them know the arrival date – and if they can’t make it in that day, I promise to protect their purchase…

With my Life.

At least now I have some method of protection. Book thieves beware! This seller is now armed with steel, and should you be so kind as to allow sufficient time for me to get these rusted old things from their sheaths, I’ll try to keep you at bay while pointing you in the direction of Self-Help or Science Fiction.

Actually, my mission is to photograph the items with a macro-lens that will provide evidence as to the manufacturer and what other information might be gleaned from the various stampings and insignias. When the blades are documented as much as possible, I’m to forward the images to an expert (sort of an Antiques Roadshow type) to determine whether they are worth putting up for sale at auction. You can click on any image to see a larger version, although the Klingenthal blade is still hard to read…)

Some of the old swords are pricey. Whether these are, or not, will depend on the evaluation of my pictures, I suppose.

In the meantime, while they are in my custody, I have three options:
1. I can defend myself as best I can against whatever has caused the death of a citizen in downtown Broken Arrow this evening. (No kidding. There is CSI-type yellow tape blocking off part of the intersection down by Fiesta Mambo’s restaurant, with two BA officers guarding the “crime scene.”) I was just mentioning how the BA firemen make daily runs down Main, just to keep in practice – usually shutting off the sirens and lights near Dallas Street. (Where the body was found.) Oooooooh, the irony! Also, (not to be mean, but) I’m wondering if the BA Ledger will report a death just blocks from their office in a more timely fashion than the news of the Elm Street MovieStar Cinema’s demise. (15 days.)

2. I can symbolically protect the purchases (at least until the swords are removed from the shop) by waving them above my head every time someone makes a special order and isn’t sure they can pick the book up on the exact day it arrives. (I’m not sure this activity is covered under the current business insurance policy.)

3. I can loan the blades out to anyone who orders Bangers & Mash from the lunch menu. (I’m only kidding about using the swords to cut up the sausage links, as it takes a sharper blade.) (I’m kidding about the kidding. They can be cut with a dull blade, too.)

So, until a resolution is reached as to their auction-house-viability, I’ll have to contend with Hara-kiri temptation, the urge to hoist one aloft while shouting “All for one and one for all!” and the obvious –

Finding someplace to stash two attention-grabbing swords where they won’t end up in the hands of an Inigo Montoya fan determined to act out his pivotal scene in the Princess Bride.

Wanna see a vintage sword up close? Come visit!

“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” (Just kidding, I’m McHuston…)

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow OK!

Pooch fashion. Dog-earing.

May 9, 2013 /

At some future point, a child will pick up a book and turn it over and over looking for the On button. The rise of the eReaders is upon us.

Some schools are already incorporating tablets and other electronics to replace the old paper-based thing. That’s okay.

I don’t want to say this out loud, but if you’ll lean in to the screen there, I’ll whisper it:

Schools have a racket going with the textbooks. I don’t mean the elementary schools where books are handed out at the beginning of the year and then returned before summer vacation. (Do they still do that?)

Universities and colleges. Campus bookstores. Pick up the syllabus and wander over to the student union. Drop several hundred on the required materials, and that’s at used-book prices. Try to turn them back in later and Boom! Curriculum change. Won’t be using that book next semester. Can’t give you anything for it.

Sorry.

Okay. Whispering ended.

If the collegiate texts could be downloaded onto a reader, a sizable chunk could be hacked out of those education costs. I’m all for that.

Reading books for pleasure, though?

I’m hoping that the books will linger around for a while, but who am I kidding? Go ahead and give me your thoughts – call me on your rotary dial phone. But call before closing-time. Look down at your wristwatch and check the hour. Go ahead, I’ll wait a minute. A couple of you are actually wearing one. Does it have the big minute hand and the little hour hand?

Telling time used to be a school-day lesson. Pass back those purple-y colored mimeographed sheets with the little clock faces all over, and write the correct time underneath with the old #2.

Well, I’m here to tell you, THAT lesson plan is gone.

Another one gone bust is the book-respect lecture, which brings me the long-way back to our first reference: kids and those darned non-electronic readers. Books, as we call them. I can vividly recall my teacher holding up a book for the demonstration. Even as an educational tool and example, she was unable to physically turn down the page corner in teaching us that such an action was unacceptable. She curled it over a little bit, but didn’t crease it. She just explained the creasing part. Couldn’t do it. The woman RESPECTED books.

No dog-earing the pages, she said. And of course, I heard dog-ear-rings, a fashion faux-pas if there ever was one.

TEACHER: Don’t do the dog-earing.

ME, harboring a dog-earring question while raising and waving my hand, supporting it aloft at the elbow with the palm of my other hand as she continues to look around the class, ignoring my attempts at getting her attention to the point that I cannot keep my waving hand up any longer. I coughed. No good. Hand down.

TEACHER, finally looking in my direction: Did you have a question?

ME: Dog earrings?

TEACHER: You’re asking about dog earrings?

ME: Uh, no. Can I go to the bathroom?

As I headed out, she held up a scrap of paper for the class to see, wedging it near the spine. Mark your place with a piece of paper instead, she said. (A book-wedgie, I thought, but did not say aloud.)

Later, the teacher brought a pencil dangerously close to the book’s pages while warning us to never, ever – write in a book. Ever. Her eyelids kind of lifted as she said it. Never, she repeated. Ever.

I got it. As a result, I am a lifetime supporter of the post-it note foundation. I don’t write in books, despite the practices of others in the book-selling profession. Don’t write in books. Ever. No dog-earrings, certainly.

Which brings us at last to the point of today’s entry. (You’re asking – I know: What’s the point?)

A fellow carried to the counter a 1930 first edition with a surviving (now in plastic protector ) dust-jacket and slipcase, then turned it over in his hands several times, for my benefit. He didn’t see a sticker on it, he said, and wondered about the price. He opened the front cover and pointed to a penciled-in price of four-dollars.

For back-story purpose: The book was in a rare book case and a sign-card in front of it displayed the price. Another copy of the same book is currently listed on the internet at well over three-hundred dollars. I’m asking $285, the price that was written on the tent-sign. But there was no disputing the fact that $4 was lettered in pencil on the front end-page. A used-book dealer had priced it at four-dollars once. Once, in the eighty-plus years since it had become a used book. Back when it wasn’t scarce or hard to find, I’d guess. Sometime when new hardbacks sold for under ten bucks. Well under.

That must have been an old price, I suggested. A really old price. (I suspect he knew that, since he admitted to having noticed a card with two-hundred-something written on it.) The $4 notation-in-pencil was a price once – but not mine.

I don’t write in books, I explained. Never.

Ever.

Holster your pencils and come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow OK

Teach me. Preach (me).

May 7, 2013 /

I either failed the test, or passed it. I imagine it depends on your point of view. The test results indicate whether you are officially approaching your good-until-date, your use-before-this-milk-carton-date, or – if you will – your expiration-date. Like age. Getting older. Old.

It’s a pretty simple exam. Sit down in front of the television, remote in hand, and settle on a program. If you cruise right past dramas featuring handguns and arrests, then bypass the forensic science shows, reality (of any ilk or invention), awards presentations, sports (or mock sports), cartoons, game shows, shopping channels, religion, or news (including the many offerings disguised as news…).

What’s left?

Presumably, my list overlooked something, but I’m imagining that the only thing remaining is the show that features someone on a stage talking to a group in a lecture hall. Sort of like eavesdropping on a classroom. Like a professor on a stage, in a spotlight, speaking in a normal tone in passing along information without trying to take orders for a product.

Ooops.

I passed (or failed) the age test by landing on the TED talks. I’d heard the term, but wasn’t really sure what it referenced. As it turns out, TED is Technology, Entertainment, and Design. The talks have been going on for years, but have been popularized by their availability on the internet.

If I have an excuse, may I claim John Legend? He was the host for the TED talk on education tonight on PBS, and as a thoroughly engaging singer/pianist, it was a part of the sugar that made the medicine go down. I say “part” only because I found the topic (and the guest speakers, including Microsoft’s Bill Gates) engaging.

My kids aren’t kids anymore. My only vested interest in US education is on behalf of my granddaughters. My opinion hasn’t changed from those years when my own were in the system.

There is no inference here that I have any answers.

All the rankings worldwide place the US waaaaaaay down the list on proficiencies regarding math, reading, and science education. There wasn’t really a debate, but I recall shooting my mouth off (I generally keep that part running, but the mental mechanics of age and accumulated wisdom have kept the mouth-backfires to a relative-minimal amount in recent times) while out to dinner with my son and one of his friends.

He might have been one of our friends before my musing on the US education system. I came away thinking I had shot my own friendship with him right out of the water. His field of academic study was education, and his aspiration – as I recall – was to become a teacher. I made some disparaging comments about American schools, teaching, and the apparent failure of the US system. Linear thinking, I said. And that was the final straw.

Our friend stood up and excused himself, polite to a fault. He expressed dismay that he couldn’t continue as a part to the conversation and left. It had to have been out of respect for the old geezer shooting his mouth off. Looking back, I imagine I would have been belligerent enough to get myself firmly involved in a heated debate. I respect him for leaving, if only for his ability to perceive that my ideas and conclusions were firmly entrenched.

I was questioning the system.

The reason that I’m recalling a simple chips-and-salsa-evening so many years ago is this: tonight’s TED talks program on education was focused exactly on my point. Something isn’t working in the schools. Hasn’t for a long time.

Some kids learn. Others drop out. One system fits all. Or mis-fits all.

Before our collegiate-buddy stood up and left, the point I was trying to make had to do with teachers. Not just the teachers, though. It was more about the way that teachers will either make the best of the situation or settle in to present information to be learned by rote. Here is the formula for US learning (in my opinion): Conclusions that are presented even before questions can arise.

I sell books, including mysteries. The only reason those mysteries sell is because the readers have a curiosity about who-dunnit. If each page included the sentence “So-and-so did it, please memorize this fact as you will be tested on it later,” I don’t believe I’d sell too many of them.

The media’s news providers have already figured this out. It doesn’t work to preach to the public what they “need to know.” News-users gravitate to locations that provide information that they “want to know.”

This blog has gone on entirely too long. Apologies.

I’ve failed (or passed) the age-identifier. The program was certainly interesting to me, in the same way I enjoy discussing authors and their works with my guests. People have told me, straight out: I like a book that entertains me and still lets me learn something.

People want to learn things. It makes us feel more intelligent. We all would love to be smart. Those two things aren’t exactly synonymous. We all know people who can learn more things a lot faster than we can. But we all can learn. Some of us learn more easily by visualization – some need a hands-on approach. Some have limitations. A few don’t suffer that handicap.

Watching the TED lectures tonight provided partial vindication for me. When it was finished I realized I wasn’t the only person who thought the public school experience was suffering. This isn’t an “I told you so” sort of essay. There’s no feel good aspect.

Our kids need to be able to read. They don’t need books from my store. There are the public libraries, Kindles, iPhones, and Nooks. Reading is the basis for education. Even if your field of endeavor is science or math, you gotta be able to read the book for its theories, facts, and equations.

There are great teachers out there, and I assume our friend is now one of them. They are the ones who realize that – sometimes – there is more than one correct answer to a test question, and when the parent argues the point with the teacher (who may or may not concede), it is just as much in defense of a student as it is an accusation against the system.

The Mentalist. CSI. Even as far back as Monk, using the curious-detective TV references as they keep our interest – the way the schools should.

In paraphrasing the quote from 17th Century English philosopher Francis Bacon: Regarding the truth, there is always one instance of the sign post that points toward it.

If those sign posts are those angular pieces of wood pointing road directions and suggesting mileage to the destination, it is easy to imagine them spun around in 360-degrees.

Still.

One degree must point to the truth. And the truth, I am still convinced, is that the US public education system, in general, continues to fail our children and grandchildren. Read to your children. Find a fun book and read it over and over and then… Ooops, here is the radical in me: Divert from the actual text on some page and make up your own next sentence.

If your child questions you at that point, then rest assured, you are doing a great job in your position as a teaching parent.

The soapbox is back in the corner, so come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street
Broken Arrow, OK

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2024 McHuston Booksellers

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑