“In the shop we buy and sell them, but in truth books have no owner. Every book you see here has been somebody’s best friend.” – Carlos Ruiz Zafon, The Shadow of the Wind.

I went to a used book sale recently and overheard a comment about the behavior of used book dealers. I was the only “dealer” in the immediate area. The implied comment was maybe in humor. Maybe not. Maybe to send a message. Maybe not. I wasn’t sure. I let it pass but then maybe I didn’t. Obviously not if I feel the urge to address it and feel the need to set the record straight. Or at least to introduce myself and present myself as to how I feel I represent a dignified group of people. The type of people I associate myself with. And to also point out that some private citizens behave badly at used book sales. Worse than dealers. But then I generally find people are quite civilized at most of the used book sales I attend. Granted, I don’t attend many since I purchased the store. I have come to rely on book scouts to represent me and the store. And I know they are very polite. Even the one who is trained for outdoor living skills.
I get it. Used books can trigger a need of possession. The need can be overwhelming to some people. They will go to great measures to be the one to scout out the book, grab it, shield it so others will not discover they are now the owner of the book. You know. They are the type to keep window curtains closed to their library from prying eyes who also will want to possess their books. Yes, I do know people like that.
That is not me. Far from it. I enjoy books. I take great satisfaction from books. I seek books out when I’m in the need of a good friend. Books offer comfort. Stability in a crazy world. A good cup of tea or milky coffee, a comfy chair, an afghan for chilly nights or rocking on my front porch to catch a cool breeze. I’m not married to books. I don’t personally need to possess them. When I finish reading my books they come into the store to resell. I pass them along and get great satisfaction to see someone picking up a book I just finished. Don’t get me wrong. I do have a library at home. Of books I want to read. See the difference?
And in case you are wondering, dear reader, yes. We are daily going through boxes of books and getting then on the shelves – or piled on the floor. Inventory is coming in, it seems, daily. Trying to keep up.
“So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books.”
–Roald Dahl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

I can’t do much. I had minor surgery on my arm and I’ve been told I can’t lift anything over 5 lbs. Seriously? But, I own a used bookstore! I lift all day long. Ugh! So as I look around me all I see are piles of books: to be sorted. to be clean. to be shelved. I don’t work one-book-at-a-time. I work in piles. Armloads. I told my family I’d be good. Can’t even embroider. Truly a unhappy face.
I know. I haven’t updated this website for a couple of months. Very bad. The good thing is I have been so busy working on inventory. We receive boxes just about daily and I try to go through them as they come in. SPS is my daily thing. Sorting the books, pricing and then shelving. Cleaning when needed. It’s just Hannah and I in the store and we generally work alone so whoever is in has the responsibility of maintaining the inventory and shelving. I envy those stores who have assistants dedicated to shelving. On top of all that I currently have an overflowing box full of books needing protective covers. Always things to do.
Ok, to be totally upfront, I really, really wanted to post about a situation that recently occurred in the store with a ruder than rude customer. But 2018 is a year of being positive. At all costs. So instead, I am going to write about checking-off items on my personal bucket list that I’ve neglected for so long. So pooh! to that person and here’s to positive energy and being happy and joyful.


My family has always followed the Icelandic custom of exchanging books on Christmas. We didn’t know it was such a tradition nor that it had a name. We just thought it was our thing to do. You know, sitting by the wood stove, sipping hot chocolate or coffee while reading a good novel. That was pretty much all we did that day.


