Report on the International Antiquarian Book Fair
.
So I went to the International Antiquarian Book Fair in New York, a huge affair occupying the entire 38,575 sqft exhibition space of the Park Avenue Armory on a single-day ticket for $32. I spent 2½ hours there until my eyes glazed over. I was carrying three catalogs in my hand for lack of a tote bag, which had the unintended effect of forced physical exercise: each time I wanted to take a picture – and I took a lot — I had to crouch to lay them on the floor, and get up again for the intended photo shoot, and crouch again to pick up my catalogs, and get up again so I could proceed to the next booth.
The fast trained eyes of most dealers dismissed me as a potential buyer even though the color of my hair should signify a certain probability of accumulated wealth. They dismissed me because I didn’t project the self-assuredness of a seasoned buyer with dispensible cash in the three-, four-, and five-digit range. In this assessment they were not wrong.
Dealers from Italy, France, Germany, and Spain carried themselves with an air of utmost sophistication; in sharp contrast, the ones from the UK made overtures to me reminiscent of outdoor restaurants in Venice. The ones from the USA were somewhere in-between these two extremes.
But what an Augenweide –- lit. pasture or grazing ground for the eyes — for a bibliophile like me! Though, because my status as a nonperson didn’t entitle me to lay my hand on century-old artifacts — with or without the silk gloves of the trade –, I had to make do with the displays at hand, often half- or quarter-opened books presenting their significant title page in a distorted way, with shadows and boundaries from the display case intruding.
Perhaps it started in Cambridge, England, in 1987 when I discovered my passion for old books. My collection now contains, among other things, a second edition of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which I found in the trash left out on the curb of my next-door neighbor, and a second edition of Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, which I bought at an antiquarian art fair in the countryside. And my specialty collection is beginners’ books on math and electricity from the 19th century.
.
.
It all sounds so wonderful. I’m more than a little jealous, I admit.