Thousands of books up for grabs
It’s mid-afternoon on a Friday and I’m running across downtown in the rain on my way to Janus Books. Kieran Dunn, who owns Janus, and Ian Walton are waiting for me. Oct. 25 was the first day of the Guelph Public Library’s seventh annual giant used book sale. Kieran and Ian go to this kind of book sale ever so often to stock the store, and sometimes I get to tag along. The opening proper wouldn’t be until 6 p.m., but for those who were willing to fork over an extra ten dollars, the doors spread wide at 4 p.m. The plan was to get to the place at 3:30 and wait – in rainy weather, even thirty minutes in line was not a pleasant prospect. We piled into Ian’s car with some shopping bags and a few cardboard boxes. Kieran hoped they’d provide shopping carts. What was he looking for? “All the stuff that makes you tingle a little when you see it.”
The book sale was in the former FastForms plant, on the corner of Massey and Imperial. There were maybe twenty people in line, huddling under their umbrellas – it was still raining, still frigid. Book lovers of all stripes were there, from students to school librarians. Pat Tessaro, who is a librarian at a public school in Guelph, was invited to check out the children’s section and stock up. “I’ve been here a couple years,” Tessaro said, “but not this early.” A tall, cheerful man in a fedora and a bright yellow coat approached us. This man was Trevor Williamson, someone who sits on the Friends of the Public Library committee. He collected the ten-dollar fee for early entrance, marking our hands with a purple stamp. The number of books on sale, all donations, is astounding, “we’ve got just shy of 80,000,” said Williamson, “about double what we had last year.” Williamson believed it impossible to say how many people would pass through. “Last year we had two-hundred for the early bird. And Friday night is a zoo. Over the weekend, maybe five, ten thousand—who knows?” he said. As for the “early birds” in line: “A few of the dealers have been out here since noon.”
First in line was a clean, muscular fellow with a strong jaw and a nice tan. He’d already been in line for four hours. He is a book dealer – non-fiction, textbooks. His name is John. I asked for his last name. He didn’t give it to me. I walked back to my place in line. Later, I asked Kieran about this. “Sounds like your run-of-the-mill book dealer,” he said. “They are, by nature, keepers of secrets.”
Also in line was Stefan Szpular, a short, bearded man who frequents Kieran’s store. He’s a collector, an occasional dealer, and also a scholar, currently rewriting ancient history. He has attended his fair share of these sales. “Probably about five or six a year,” said Szpular, “which isn’t very many. The die-hards will go to about twenty or thirty, but I’m not a die-hard.” The line was full of familiar faces: “Some of the people at the front of the line are involved in the antique market,” he continued. “I saw a few book dealers here. And then I saw some major collectors from Cambridge and Hamilton.” Part of the interest for someone like Stefan was watching other people. You spot someone – renowned cartoonist Seth, for instance – and check out what they’re picking up. Then, you can start to buy for them – and there are certain things, like a one-hundred dollar Bible, which you don’t pick up unless you know someone who wants it. “That’s the game of books,” said Szpular. “[It’s] like the Game of Thrones.”
By 4 p.m., we were inside with thousands of books were laid out on tables, most of them going for a dollar or two. Under the tables, even more books are packed in boxes. The next couple hours were a blur. Kieran had a shopping cart piled high in no time. I saw John zipping along the tables, scanning the codes on the books with a handheld device. At 6 p.m., the doors are opened to everyone, and by 6:30, the place was flooded. We were then ready to head home.
It’s not quite Game of Thrones: most people bump elbows amiably, browsing for reading material at their own pace. But for a few the stakes were higher. Heading back on Saturday, I found myself across the table from a young man in a broad-brimmed hat with a shopping cart full of science fiction. He tells his friend some woman had been rifling through his cart. “Did you punch her in the face?” was his friend’s reply. He didn’t – but if she does it again, he explained that he’d cut her hands off at the wrists. It didn’t sound as if he was joking.
“There are bibliophiles and there are bibliomaniacs,” Kieran told me Friday night on the way home. “The bibliophiles are mostly safe. The bibliomaniacs … they’re maniacs.”