As a writer, or rather as the apparent personality behind the writing, Gekoski both repelled and attracted me. While writing about Sylvia Plath's The Colossus, he quotes a personal inscription on a copy he has from Plath to Ted Hughes, which also mentions her father. Then Gekoski says to the reader:

if you haven't, in some form or another, just whispered 'that's so fabulous!' to yourself - I'm afraid you don't have the makings of a book collector. I'm not even sure if I would like you very much.

My immediate, rather humourless reaction was, 'well, maybe the feeling might be mutual!' but it illustrates the main argument I have with the book in general, and is a point Gekoski actually makes himself, without exploring it in depth - why do the physical aspects of a book matter? What's the point of paying exorbitant amounts for a first edition, or for an inscription you can read the essence of somewhere else? Isn't the beauty of a book in what's actually written inside? I concede there would be a museum-like magic in holding a book that the Great Author once held in his/her own famous hands... but how can it all be worth it?

Clearly, Gekoski would not like me very much.

Overall, there are some anecdotes worth reading - some about Gekoski's own experiences with great authors and their books; others about the authors themselves and their experiences. Some read like sordid gossip, such as the various wives and mistresses of Graham Greene; others, like the terse opinions of pseudonymed Miss Parkinson, professional reading lady of a publishing house, on first reading Lord of the Flies, are illuminating and funny:

Time: The Future. Absurd and uninteresting fantasty about the explosion of an atomic bomb on the colonies and a group of children who land in jungle country near New Guines.. Rubbish and dull. Pointless.

A good, though inconsistent, read.

I quite enjoyed this book, but it made me realise how woefully under-read I am. I've got a reading goal now and that's to read everything from this book that I haven't read, which sadly is most. Some thoughts:

At first reading a book may satisfy or disappoint, surprise or irritate, cause tears or laughter. But whatever happens is irrevocable: Little Nell will always die, James Bond will continue to defeat the forces of evil, Pooh will keep his paw in that honeypot.

So so true and 100% agreed. At the same time there's something comforting about re-visiting an old favourite. Knowing that whatever else is topsy turvy in the world, old favourites will remain constant.

Such is the pathology of ambition: a goal having been attained is merely redefined

Again, so so true. I look at this with my own life. Wanting to work overseas and I've done that. Now what, it doesn't seem enough though I know by any standards, including my own ten years ago it's plenty.

And now for my reading list for the next...I don't know. No timeline. Just books I think I really need to (re)read:

Lolita
The Hobbit (read this but only in Spanish, suppose I should try English)
Lord of the Flies (read this in high school, would love to reread)
The Picture of Dorian Gray
On The Road (Actually tried this last year, couldn't get into it)
Ulysses
Sons and Lovers (had a copy for a bit, it never caught my interest)
The Catcher in the Rye (reread this one recently)
Seven Pillars of Wisdom
The Colossus
A Confederacy of Dunces
Brideshead Revisited
The Tale of Peter Rabbit (must have read this as a child)
Three Stories and Ten Poems
After Two Years
Animal Farm
The Satanic Verses
Poems (1919)
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - I'm really in two minds about whether this book belongs on such a list. I like Harry Potter but it's fluff
High Windows

Passed the book on to iAteaBreakfast and then Ute has asked to read it so it will be doing the Osaka rounds for a bit. ( )

Rare book dealer Rick Gekoski's Nabokov's Butterfly (published in England as Tolkien's Gown) is a delightful collection of short essays centered around various important books of the twentieth century, from Joyce's Ulysses to Kerouac's On the Road to Rowling's Harry Potter series.

Gekoski's anecdotes about his experiences with these books, their authors and their (sometimes bizarre) publishing histories are enlightening and amusing from first to last: he sold Graham Greene's copy of Lolita to Bernie Taupin the day after he acquired it (and, it seems, has regretted it since); he played a bit-part in J.D. Salinger's famous lawsuit against would-be-biographer Ian Hamilton (and dared to suggest a hilariously appropriate resolution to the same); and he tries to get at the heart of such important bibliophilic questions as why it is that people find pristine copies of certain books so utterly irresistible.

One of the (not uncommon) moments at which I laughed out loud while reading this book was after Gekoski quoted his catalog description of the copy of Sylvia Plath's The Colossus and Other Poems inscribed from Plath to her husband Ted Hughes just months before her death. Following the quote, he writes "If you don't immediately feel how exciting this book is - if you haven't in some form or another, just whispered 'that is so fabulous!' to yourself - I'm afraid you don't have the makings of a book collector. I'm not even sure I would like you very much." Harsh? Perhaps, but probably quite fair.

A nicely-designed volume, with beautiful endpapers featuring color images of the books discussed within, this is a highly enjoyable book from one of the leading lights of the current trade in modern literary fiction.

http://philobiblos.blogspot.com/2008/... ( )