Monday 28 January 2019

When books were valued.


Books were so valued once. I remember reading every one of my mother's books when I was a child, authors like Hammond Innes and Arthur Hailey. She enjoyed comedies as well, Betty MacDonald, 'The Egg and I'  and 'The Plague and I.' Philosophy - Bertrand Russell. 

Then, a book was valued. One would not dream of throwing away a book.  If a child drew on or damaged a book, there was trouble!  

It is different now.  This is the book I have just finished reading, Arthur Upfield, 'Bony Buys a Woman.' It was published in 1937.  It has some old prices marked in pencil - 3/9,  (three shillings and ninepence)  4/6,  and $4.00.  At some stage, someone has gone through and carefully sticky-taped pages where they needed it.  It was valued.  The 'Bony' books are detective books, with an interesting hero, and set in some fascinating areas of Australia.  This one is set on the edges of Lake Eyre,  at a time when floods from Queensland were filtering down and the water upswelling from below and disturbing the cracked mud of the surface of an apparently dry lake.  





It does not seem to be readily available any more.  That Aboriginals are important characters could be a factor in that.  These days,  any mention of Aboriginals is likely to be picked apart for an excuse for someone to claim offense.  

Sadly, the fate of this particular book will be the recycling bin.  

I have other battered paperbacks that I will keep for at least one more reading before wondering what to do with them.  20 years ago, a second-hand bookshop told me that these Georgette Heyer comedy/romance novels were collectors' items, worth at least $5 each.  Since I have 26, they would be worth selling.  But I don't think it applies any more, and maybe it never did really apply.  

These paperbacks do seem to be still available on Amazon, though around $15 US, which seems excessive for a paperback.  Since they have been favourites for so long, first published in the 1950s and 60s,  they can be left at one of the free book-swap places I know.  Light reading, they are amusing and entertaining. Someone will like them. 






I have other series of books.  Once they would have been worth selling.  When I asked about one of the Angelique books at an 'Antiquarian' bookshop, I was quoted $50. But  that was many years ago, and now there are few second-hand bookshops left, and those that are still around, not only reject tattered books, but insist on you buying more than any books accepted.  It costs money to take your old books to a second-hand bookshop these days.


The Hornblower books.

The Hornblower books, C. S. Forester, first published in the 1930s, are special for the complexities of character.  I'm keeping those.  It will be up to my heirs to decide what to do with these ones.  

One has an inscription - 'Happy birthday, Poppa.  From Isobel and Mat.  20th July, 1951.'  The inscription is in the sort of elegant script no longer taught when I was at school. And there is a sticker - 'MacQuarie Book Club, Paramatta.'   I enjoy seeing hints of a book's history.


The Whiteoaks of Jalna series, published in the 1950s.

They seem a touch old fashioned in parts now,  things like the old uncles being so critical of the new fangled TV,  that homosexuality was hinted at as an unmentionable and terrible vice,  and they spoke of maintaining a girl's 'innocence.'



I have often wondered what happened to some of the characters, especially young Adeline and Philip's marriage, and also poor young Dennis, Finch's son.

Yes, definitely time to re-read this series.


I have books that I enjoyed when I was young, thrillers mostly.  Sadly, many have lost their magic. And yet, I have kept many, simply for sentimental reasons. 

But it is time to let those go.  I have too many books, and I cannot re-read them all before I die.
I have some books that were once awarded to me as prizes for academic performance, and two that were Sunday school prizes.  That was a long time ago!  


                                                                                                                   And I have books that were awarded to my parents as Sunday School prizes.  'The Hunter Children' was published in 1923.

I do hope the ones that are a part of family history will be kept and valued by my heirs.


Most special of all is a tiny New Testament given to my father by his mother before he went to war.  He carried it all through those years he was imprisoned in a Japanese POW camp.  Maybe the reminder of home helped him survive when over half of his fellow prisoners did not survive. 





Books that have been friends.  Books that were once worth a great deal. But it is different now.  Every year, new books are published, not just books published by publishers, but by those who have mastered the new technology that means an author can publish their own books, without going through any publisher. 

Today, libraries have periodic book sales, selling books for a pittance, merely because they have not been read in a while, and then buying more new books. They would be better simply having more books.  

You can buy very cheap books from Op Shops, there are second-hand book sales for charity, with prices like $2 for a bag full.  I have advertised books as giveaways, and have had no takers. 

Books are used for other things. An art teacher suggested using old books to sketch on, but as the class was mostly made up of older students, hardly any took up the suggestion. We were of the era when books were valued.

Now, art installations are made using books.  We see fantastic looking bookshelves that would make it virtually impossible to pull out a book to read. 

Sadly, my paperback went into the recycling bin, where it will probably become part of a bale of recycled paper and cardboard, unless, of course, it was deemed unsuitable even for that.

Old books are no longer valued.  It is sad. 
















PS: My own books, the Shuki series.  

 

From boy of the slums to Oxford Graduate. This is the story of Shuki Bolkiah, modern day eunuch.

"Not a Man' is set in an unnamed country of Arabia. Shuki is aged ten, and a 'bed-boy.' His master wants his beautiful boy to stay beautiful, so arranges for him to have 'a small operation.' This traumatic event changed forever the life of a clever, determined boy.

Shuki learns to manipulate his master. He learns to read and write, he gets his master into the habit of giving him large sums of money, and he makes friends with the master's sons.

Shuki becomes more beautiful with every passing year. His master becomes more possessive, more jealous, and Shuki is guarded. When his master takes him to England, he escapes and starts a new life with the money he's saved. He is fifteen.