Gavin Foster’s beloved book collection contains everything from A New Handbook on Hanging – All very proper to be read and kept in every Family (written in 1928 and revised in 1953) to an excellent little book called Small Arms Training Volume III published by His Majesty’s Stationery Office in 1931.
You may never need to load a .303 Vickers machine gun with its tripod and spare barrels on to a pack mule, but when I do, I’ll have illustrated instructions on hand.
Somewhat less warlike is my copy of Laird Nicoll’s Kitchen and Other Scottish Stories, whose author scrawled across the first page “To Miss Stanford from Joseph Wright – October 1894.” I was puzzled by the presence of a dozen full-page advertisements for Drooko umbrellas at the back of the book until I Googled the author’s name and discovered that he was, apart from being a lay preacher, philanthropist and writer, also the manufacturer of the famous umbrellas used by royalty and other dignitaries across Europe.
Fascinate
Probably half of the books I lug into our home every month I buy because I really want to read them – non-fiction relating to topics that fascinate me, with the occasional paperback novel thrown in for good measure. The rest find a niche on my overcrowded shelves simply because their topics, usually something obscure, attract my attention. These are generally old, cheap and loaded to the gunnels with outdated wisdom, but I love them because they allow people from another age to whisper in my ear while the rest of the world fries their brains with East Enders or Isidingo. Some I buy largely because of the ancient inscriptions up front. Take Ruskin’s The Ethics of The Dust– Ten lectures to Little Housewives on The Elements of Crystalisation, written in an attempt to get Victorian schoolgirls interested in mineralogy, of all things. It failed dismally because nobody wanted to read it, even then. What intrigued me about my copy was the inscription in bold black pen up front: To Marie Churchill, with love and best wishes. 28 /10/ 1881 – by somebody who simply signed it “S.R.” I paid about R5 for that book 10 years ago and still haven’t got around to reading it … I wonder if Ms Churchill did?
Books sometimes come around in circles. I love my original Everywoman’s Book of Love and Family Life, published by “Anonymous” about 80 years ago, and reprinted as a surprise bestseller in 2002. If ever you want to appreciate how much the world has changed in the past 100 years take a read of this. In a section headed “Hubby’s Last Fling” the author explains that middle aged men often feel the need to see if they can still attract young women. “Think of him as a sufferer, treat him kindly, and wait for the madness to pass. Nine times out of ten it will pass if only the wife can be patient…refrain if you can from saying ‘choose between us’ … The only thing you can do is wait, gently teasing him as if you could not take the matter seriously… giving him the chance of saving his face and ending the matter himself.”
Gently teasing? Saving his face? If I ended up in that predicament the only way I could hope to save my face would be by wearing a full-face crash helmet in the house!
As is the case with men, age often does nothing for value. You can still pick up all sorts of books which are more than 100 years old for less than R20 at fetes and flee-markets. If you wanted a mint first edition of the original Harry Potter book written in 1997, though, you could expect to pay about R250 000 at a dealer. I’ll stick to learning about machineguns, umbrellas, and bad relationships, thanks!