I will not go gently onto a shelf, degutted, to become a non-book...

It was pointed out to me once that it seems quite odd that for such a lover of books it took me until my early twenties to begin finding things in them to collect. For this I have an explanation...or, rather, several reasons likely responsible. One was that I often didn't have used books as a child. We would go to the bookstore and if I was good I would get a book. We lived in a town outside the city where I grew up which made frequent trips to the library taxing on my mother, so she preferred getting things we didn't have to return. The PostSecret phenomenon has led to a rash of people putting secrets in the new books, however that isn't nearly as common as finding some forgotten in a library book or (even better) one that was long owned or had passed through several closely connected hands. And while I utilized my school library quite a bit in elementary school I almost never have used one since. I suppose, actually, that my first find was this one I got in an econ textbook my senior year of high school:
Hello underage drinking! The fact that I at least recognized some of these people made this less interesting to me, although I suppose this is still a taste of what's out there. After all, it's not all human drama or lovenotes. There's humor too.

That random find in the Ikea, however, was what made me realize how amazing a find can be, and the relative cheapness of used books at booksales and goodwills combined with that awareness was what really spawned my collection. And even with the great number of finds out there the vast majority of books are probably empty of anything of real interest. You can look through tons of them and find nothing except maybe a torn scrap of blank paper.

I've considered counting some of the bookmarks from other stores that I find in books, but eventually decided to discount them. Some of them are pretty cool (and there is one I think I will include later on) and it is interesting to consider where a book has traveled with its various invisible owners. Ultimately, however, they don't really contain the elements I find compelling.

At any rate, on to the finds.


This is the first of two finds from a collection of short stories by Maupassant I bought at the Oswego Players/Art Association booksale in my hometown. (My mom is currently president of the Players and I was an active member in high school.) The volume itself was gorgeous - red, detailed, leather. It was the first thing that drew me to it, and how lucky I was that there were finds inside! I don't really know too much about plants - this looks like a ginkgo leaf to me, but considering how rare I've heard they are it seems unlikely. If anyone is up on their botanical knowledge and can safely identify this, let me know.

Second find:
An old black-and-white photograph of a very pregnant woman. She looks pretty happy, somewhere in her thirties, perhaps. A kitty is coming down the steps behind her. The house doesn't look too fancy but it's reminiscent of many of the places in central and upstate New York where I grew up. No way of telling how happy she actually was, or if she remained so. I like to think her husband or a friend was taking a "Look how big she is now!" picture, and that while she likely had her ups and downs like everyone she was - and maybe still is - genuinely happy. A little of the mystery is actually taken away here, however. The photo had a new-looking sticky tag on it when I first found it. I removed it so you could actually see the woman (it was convering her face before) but I took another pic with the tag in the photo so you could take a gander at it:

This is another of my many assumptions, but this note looks pretty new to me. It makes me think that someone dug out this old photo of a friend or relative and gave it to someone else who also knew and loved her. A "Remember when - ?" (I'm a big fan of doing that). Irene could still be around to remember when she had the kid, or maybe she'd passed and her loved ones were looking back on her life. Oh - the handwriting on the note I find a little difficult to read when it came to her name. I came to the conclusion it said Irene, and that's what I've been calling her. I believe I even got a second opinion on it but can't remember who gave it to me. At first glance it looked almost like Terese, but I decided that really didn't work. If anyone else has a good argument for/against Irene or another name I'd be glad to hear it.

That history should have copied history was already sufficiently astonishing; that history should copy literature was inconceivable...

I am an avid consumer of books. In fact, some may say I'm something of an addict. I have a hard time passing bookstores and a harder time leaving them empty handed. As of yet I haven't woken up in an unfamiliar alley covered in crumpled pages with a headache, so I'm not yet prepared to seek help. This blog deals with a secondary obsession fueled by both experience and delightful concepts like Found Magazine. I collect everything I find in previously owned books (which is why I also tend to prefer to by used rather than new). Inscriptions are great, sometimes excellent, but letters and cards and photographs are even better...especially as those can be smuggled out of a used bookstore without having to purchase a book by Paul Riser or something of that nature.

Those of you who know me probably also know that this blog existed in a slightly altered form on another blog site. However, after a few consistently-updated weeks I was told I had exceeded the number of pictures I could post for that month. For some reason they also replaced all my images with an annoying gif of their own. I was annoyed by this and decided to jump ship, which resulted in several months of delay. At any rate, the first few entries will be repetitive for some of what I assume will be a very small readership.



This was my first find, ever. I was living in Rochester at the time, and the guy I was seeing wanted to go to an Ikea to get furniture. The closest one happened to be in Canada, so one day we took several hours and headed out of town. Of course I am more interested in the fake room set-ups than actually helping pick out furniture - eh, we wouldn't have agreed anyway. So I start inspecting the books on the shelves. I don't know where they get them from - donations, libraries throwing the last stuff out after a sale, maybe - but they managed to have a plethora of copies of the same boring editions of the same books. Occasionally, however, one would pop up that looked pretty hilarious. I picked up one called How to be a Good Husband or something close to that, I don't remember now. I called Jason over to laugh at it with me and flipped it open, hoping to see some great chapter headings in the table of contents. Instead, I found a letter from a woman named Wendy to her fiance, Dwayne. In case you have trouble reading it from the pictures, here is what it says:

"Dwayne -

Here it is! I'm interested in finding out what you think of it! There's no hurry though - we've got a whole lifetime to learn and practice what it means to be the best husband and wife possible for each other. Even now though, I believe that you will be the ideal husband and I couldn't be more certain that I want to marry you, or more confident of our ability to make a happy, vibrant, fulfilling marriage together.

I adore you Dwayne, and I remain totally, completely, absolutely head-over-heels in love with you.

Your,
Wendy"

I smuggled the letter out with me, full of questions. Was the book, seeming to be something of a gag gift, given away without Dwayne realizing the heartfelt letter was still inside? Or was Wendy's vision of their future tragically wrong? Why did she right what was obviously an outpouring of strong feelings on such silly stationary? The answers to these I'll never have, but it's moments like that, stealing a glimpse at another human being's total vulnerability, that reminds us we're not alone and endgenders compassion.

And just to make sure we're not getting too serious here:

"Doing businees with you is like wearing a CONDROM. It gives a feeling of warmth, faith, and security while being SCREWED."

Ah, doesn't everyone enjoy the security of a condrum while they do businees? I know I do. Just sayin'.