McHuston Booksellers

Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: paperback (Page 38 of 40)

Killer Queen.

February 13, 2013 /

Sunshine. Blue skies. Looking down the sidewalk, I see a number of my merchant neighbors with their doors propped open, enjoying the scant breeze. I don’t mind the cliché about the weather in Oklahoma, you know – the one that advises those who don’t like the weather here to just wait a minute. It’s refreshing – in every sense of the word – to have a rainy, dreary day that was topped off with a brief snowfall followed by such a bright day that it might be the meteorological opposite of its predecessor.

So nice outside, it compelled me to grab the spray bottle and wash the front door glass. So nice outside, it called for a new snapshot of the storefront. It’s a regular play-hooky day, but I better stay put for those book emergencies that pop up of an afternoon.

Since I was here instead of playing outdoors, I was able to field a question:

Nice lady: How does this work?

Me, holding a book: This front part opens, revealing the words inside, fresh and ready for reading.

I’m kidding. A lot of folks wonder about the mechanics of a used book store and things like trade credit. The nice lady had come across a tag inside one of the books that stated: Not available for Trade Credit.

Unlike some used book stores, most books here at the shop go out as a result of a cash or credit card transaction. I have a few trade accounts, although not too many. My selling rationale is pretty simple: If I pay cash for a book, I have to sell it for cash. The light company won’t take used books to settle the monthly utility bill. And there it is.

There is a great selection of the inventory available for those who bring in used books, and there are no policies here that are etched in stone.

Some feature selections – those books propped up on easels or displayed in the cases in the front of the shop – are also reserved for non-trade transactions. Some are new, unread copies. Others are harder-to-find, collectible, or specialty items. The set in the image is an example. The volumes are beautifully bound and kept, with ornate gilt embossing.

The set is edited by Ellery Queen, but of course they weren’t really. There wasn’t really an Ellery Queen. Two cousins from Brooklyn made up the character and then used the persona as a penname to write detective stories. Keep up here: the character Ellery Queen is a mystery writer and editor. In the stories. In real life, the Ellery Queen on the spine of the books was the pseudonym of Daniel Nathan and his cousin Manford Lepofsky.

You can see why they chose to write under a different name.

In this ten volume set, the fictional editor has selected classic detective stories from different eras and a range of authors and set them off in a fine-binding affair that certainly stands out in a bookcase.
Great stories. Fantastic price.

No mystery about that.

McHuston Booksellers & Irish Bistro: in the Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow, Oklahoma

Scribner. Another Tulsa ghost.

February 4, 2013 / / 0 Comments

Before the American Civil War, in 1850, Isaac Baker died. His business partner paid off the estate and repainted the sign out front to read – Charles Scribner Company.

He published books.

After the war, the company began publishing a magazine, and then another – in that grand age of monthly editions. Later, his sons joined the firm, and at the father’s death the company was renamed Charles Scribner’s Sons. Over time, it became simply – Scribner.

When an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel was published, it bore the Scribner imprint. Same with Hemingway. Scribner managed to corral a number of influential writers like Kurt Vonnegut, Thomas Wolfe, and Edith Wharton. Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings won a Pulitzer for The Yearling, published by Scribner.

Stephen King didn’t win any Putlitzers, but won over a legion of readers during his contract years with Scribner with works like Dreamcatcher and Under the Dome, the latter soon-to-be-released as a film adaptation.

The name Scribner survives, in a fashion. The imprint is now owned by former rival Simon & Schuster, which was in turn acquired by CBS Corporation. During its heyday, Scribner operated a chain of bookstores anchored by its flagship location on Fifth Avenue in New York City.

The store was a marvel to behold, evoking a grandeur reflecting the lofty position held by books and authors at the time. 597 Fifth Avenue was built expressly for the housing of Scribner’s Bookstore. A glass front stopped passersby, who peered through to take in the two story interior complete with a mezzanine, an architectural masterpiece done up in a Beaux Arts style exterior. There was a vaulted ceiling and sunlight filtered in through clerestory windows.

At its demise in 1988, the New York Times treated the news as an obituary: SCRIBNER BOOK STORE, 75, TO CLOSE NEXT MONTH. A descendent of the founder lamented the occasion, but by then his paycheck was backed by Macmillan publishing which acquired Scribner four years earlier.

”A chapter of history is about to close,” said Charles Scribner 3rd at the time. No longer strictly Scribner, Charles the Third served as a vice president at Macmillan.

The Scribner stores were eventually acquired by Barnes and Noble following the breakup of the Scribner publishing and retail divisions. The Utica Square Scribners book store in Tulsa lingered past the millennium, but I could find no obit in the Tulsa World archives. A book signing was hosted there in 2001 – the final mention I found – although relics exist, like the bookmark tucked into a recent acquisition.

A bit like viewing gravestones, they underscore the often-fleeting nature of success. Makes me appreciate even more the opportunity I have to serve as a proprietor in a similar establishment – even if we’re on the economic endangered species list.

We know Oscar Meyer. Oscar Wilde? Not so much.

February 2, 2013 /

Dad and son came in to look around.

“Hmmm,” said Dad. “A bookstore.” He didn’t sound optimistic, but came in anyway.

His son might have been nine or ten years old. Certainly old enough to read and tall enough to see over the edge of the counter, where a doll-sized figure was displayed in a clear plastic card-backed package.

“Dad,” he called out. “Who is Oscar, Wild…Will-dee?”

“Uh-oh,” I thought. “This could be an awkward moment.”

I was remembering the scandals associated with Oscar Wilde (his name has an E at the end, which is – I suppose – why the young man read it as will-dee).

Even as the dad was considering his answer, I recalled putting a similar question to my mother.

“Mom,” I called out. “Who is Bridget Bardot?” Her name must have been mentioned on the television, that big clunky piece of furniture in our living room that displayed only black and white pictures. Maybe I saw a black and white version of Bridget Bardot that piqued my interest.

My mother didn’t hesitate in her reply.

“A movie star,” she said. “She likes to run around wearing nothing but a bath towel.”

I guess the answer worked well enough. I got the idea.

With the young man’s question posed in the book shop, I waited to hear the father’s answer. Finally, he sighed and admitted, “I have noooo idea.”

“He was an 1800s English writer,” I offered, trying to help out the dad. The kid was quick.

“Then why does that say ‘Action Figure?”

“It’s kind of a joke,” I responded. “He wasn’t known for X-Men kind of action.”

When Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde died in 1900, he was destitute and living in Paris. A victim of a scandal of his own creation.

He objected to something that was alleged to have been said about him by John Douglas, the Marquess of Queensbury. It was whisperings (some not so quiet) about Wilde and the son of the Marquess, Lord Alfred Douglas. Wilde sued for slander. In the course of the trial, enough mud was dragged into court concerning Wilde’s antics that he dropped the slander suit. It was too late, though. Wilde was charged with “gross indecencies,” convicted, and sentenced to two years of hard labor. He spent time in jail, although he spelled it gaol. He might have had better fortune in our current society, but in 1890s London there were some things best kept out of conversation.

In his day, Oscar Wilde was one of the most famous personalities around. He was born into a wealthy intellectual family, was well educated, known for his quick wit, and in 1890 authored a popular story called The Picture of Dorian Gray. It didn’t help the author during his lifetime, but when moving pictures were invented it was one of the early books adapted to film. It has been redone several times since that first Hungarian version in 1918.

Wilde had the intellect and wit of Dick Cavett, the social circles of Oprah Winfrey, the theatrical following of Neil Simon, and a wife as influential in her day as Hillary Clinton (well, maybe that last one is a stretch…).

Dapper-looking as he is, I thought Oscar the action figure would be gone by now, landing under some lucky literary Christmas tree. His action figure comrade Charles Dickens found himself a home over the holidays.

But then again – he was more will-dee than Wilde.

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