Talking about discovering a history of psychoanalysis in the 'Land of Saints', i.e. Morocco, in French, in a down-at-heel bookshop in Casablanca, Alexander McCall Smith* goes on:
"This book was irresistible. It is a mistake not to buy books as unlikely as that; I once spotted a large tome on monastic sign language in a used books store in Toronto but caviled at the outrageous price. Returning to Scotland, I regretted my failure to buy the book: of course I would have loved to have had it, with its lengthy photographic section showing Trappist monks signing their various messages: 'The Abbot says that bell must be rung ... We must plant potatoes again this year.' That sort of thing.
I returned to Toronto the following year and made my way to the bookstore in question. Going up to the desk, I asked the proprietor whether by any chance - and I said I knew it was a remote one - they had in stock a book on the sign language of monks. He looked at me in astonishment that shortly became delight. 'As it happens,' he began ..."
Have you ever had a similar experience, coming upon something delightfully recondite or special, leaving it behind, regretting not buying it, perhaps even returning to find it again?
Not quite, but I think this is in the spirit of your question.
As a PhD student I coveted a colleague's copy of Theory and Practice of Scintillation Counting by J Birks. It was already well out of print and unlikely to be obtainable even from the wonderful H.K. Lewis bookshop on the corner of UCL. To my great pleasure and surprise when H.K. Lewis closed in the late 1980's he managed to buy a copy in the stock sale which had been in their lending library and gave it to me.
Posted by: Dark Puss | 28 December 2013 at 11:19 AM
A happy outcome, and a thoughtful colleague, though I dare say the book would be a less 'scintillating' read for the layman than for the likes of you, DP!
Posted by: Cornflower | 28 December 2013 at 11:26 AM
About thirty five years ago, at an auction in Honiton, I passed up the chance to buy for about £10 a 1603 edition of John Stow's "Survey of London", which you can now find on Abebooks for over £2,000.
Posted by: Mr Cornflower | 28 December 2013 at 04:41 PM
Ah but that was back in the days when you could dine at Le Gavroche with a decent burgundy and still have change for the taxi home from a tenner (as if!).
Happy Christmas!
Posted by: Dark Puss | 28 December 2013 at 05:06 PM
That may be true, but even I would be hard pushed to spend £2000 at today's prices at Le Gavroche. The compound annual rate of return is about 16%, which is roughly three times better than the return from the stock market over the same period.
Posted by: Mr Cornflower | 28 December 2013 at 08:34 PM
You know of course that it isn't true, though I did eat as a PhD student twice at the Gavroche on money saved over 6 months from the housekeeping kitty!
Posted by: Dark Puss | 28 December 2013 at 09:16 PM
To relate the negative story:
A very important (absolutely key) book of flute exercises is Tone Development by Moyse. All flautists above a certain standard will have it or want it. It appears to be subject to some dispute and appears reprinted very infrequently. My wonderful teacher (Ms Kate Morgan) urges all her students to acquire a copy. I was lucky enough to know that 10 copies would reach the UK and put my name down for one (and got it). Some of her other students were more laid back and waited a couple of weeks. 10 copies were sold in about one day. She (most students of the flute are female) who hesitates is lost.
It appears to be available again, at about 3 times what I paid for it a couple of years ago.
Posted by: Dark Puss | 28 December 2013 at 09:22 PM
Well done, canny flautist!
Posted by: Cornflower | 28 December 2013 at 09:40 PM
Many years ago I came across Malory's Morte d'Arthur, illustrated by Aubrey Beardsley, newly unpacked in an antiquarian bookshop in Cardiff. I think there were four volumes and I can't remember what it cost but it was a lot, even then. I've never wanted a book so much but the responsibility of owning it would have been too much, so I left it without too much regret and hope it found a good home.
Posted by: Georgina | 28 December 2013 at 11:17 PM
Yours sounds like a very mature response, Georgina.
I wonder where the set is now.
Posted by: Cornflower | 29 December 2013 at 11:38 AM