There is a half-arsed filler piece in the Guardian today by a man who doesn't like second-hand books. His main complaint is that second-hand books are tatty and somehow impure.
He could open up a second hand bookstore in Barcelona, where the same attitude prevails. I was attempting to sell a stack of books before leaving the city, mostly well-known quality authors, and no bugger wanted to buy them, because their condition wasn't perfect.
There is an inherent phillistinism in Spanish culture regarding books; many people have shelves of leather bound tomes that I'd bet good money never get taken down, whereas rows of tatty paperbacks, the hallmark of a literate house, are rarely on display. In Spain, books are often items of decoration rather than convenient devices for the transmission and storage of ideas. Personally, I don't care if my second hand books have coffee, snot or blood stains on them (and it's surprising how many do), as long as the words are in tact, the immortal soul of the book survives.
If you have a similar attitude, try the book stall in the guinel between Carmen and the Plaça San Galdric near the Boqueria. Some of her books are in bad nick but she's usually got some quality stuff in various languages, it's a refreshing change from the sterile, cultureless second-hand bookshops of Muntaner.
viernes 20 de junio de 2008
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Boynamedsue, thank you for the tip off. I in fact happen to have been a regular visitor of the old book Encants at the Santa Caterina Market on sundays (before it became a huge vintage porn and videogame bazaar, while trying to avoid the Glories unspeakable flea market) as well as the thrift bookshops at Muntaner (where I often found some of those lovely, wonderfully illustrated and mostly declassified books on gardening, farming, grafting or home-made marmalade being published in Europe back in the 1970s and 1980s hidden between the latter-day pilates paperbacks) to beef up my library.
There is much truth indeed in what you call the philistinism of Spaniards towards old books. As a matter of fact, I split up with my last Spanish girlfriend as a result of one of those cultural gaps on (old) books.
The thing is the twat systematically used my books as bricks to prop up things in the house, from raising a plant pot or a lamp to muffling the loudspeakers through laying her cup of tea on the desk.
This unsustainable situation exploded after one day I found my bone-coloured 1938 Penguin edition of Ourselves and Germany supporting a reeling fridge, soaked and with what appeared to be salad dressing atop. So that evening, while she was at the hairdresser’s, I decided to take revenge by playing darts against her books –namely, we never mixed them- and the day after I was packing my books away.
It is interesting that we never had the slightest interest to mix the books, what could arise another interesting debate.
By the way, books offer an optimal resistance to darts, rather than the usual camel leather –once the tip of the dart has gone through the carton spine, it swiftly glides between the pages with an unmistakable paper ripping noise.
Regards,
alcinous
By the way, Boynamedsue, I appreciated you not mentioning the name of discreet, charming Barcelona's Best.
Thank you.
alcinous
I'm worried you might be diappointed now. It's basically just a trestle table of books in Catalan, Spanish, English and French (only occasionally German). Opposite a Bangladeshi stall in a piss-reaking alley. No first editions or fancy stuff, just a good selection of books, often with historical/scientific themes.
My last purchase was the complete works of Marx and Engels in Spanish (old Leningrad run).
I would kill anyone who put one of my books under a fridge, but I would never throw darts at their books. What came over you Alcinous?
wait, wait...stop the clocks right there!
I dont care that much about old books and stuff, but, hello? Alcinous having a girlfriend? that is some news.
Mate, I hope you are not making up a story in Rigoberta Menchú's way: you know, 'I remember when my village was burnt by the evil Guatemalan army, they killed my parents and raped my little sister' and then she receives the habitual lefty Nobel Prize to be caught only later telling lies and then she comes up with the 'I was interiorizing the suffering of fellow peasants', in other words: LIAR.
Chiki-chiki-Nobel prizes have gone the Eurovision way, havent they?
De Jong.
Marx and Engels' fusty stench definitely matches to perfection piss reek, armpit and fritanga puff at the Fòrum d'Abril, oldman palomino pong wrapped in a jogging suit and all such smells my pituitary associates with the proletariat dictatorship.
Boynamedsue, I could lie and fable an epic Untergang touch to the darted books scene à la Ernst Jünger. However, I must be honest and avow that it all started as I idiotically tried to measure the probabilities of hitting, or rather inserting the dart in, the commissure between two books.
My conclusion was that the wider the empty space -the commissure- and the thinner the matter -the books-, the more probabilities you have of meeting the antitarget.
Regards,
alcinous
De Jong, it's rather Alcinous having HAD a girlfriend.
On the other hand, I don't blame Rigoberta Menchú for being a sound liar -not only did American natives ignore the wheel, the horse, the iron or the alphabet, but nearly agriculture, the textile fabric, music, love, right/wrong or even truth.
I hope you didn't believe either that Chief Seattle displaying a pristine Scottish rhetoric, did you? I remember ecolocos loved it back in the day of omnipresent "Atomwerke? Nein Danke!" and Integral almanacs.
Regards,
alcinous
Ok, but if Alcinous HAD one, hopefully one day he'll have another one. But let's keep it there, since this blog is about many things, but not about my hopes regarding Alcinous and his civil redemption.
Other than that, I have to say that I am delighted at your participation in here so far. Please keep the good work.
By the way, I wanted to say that I immediately regretted it when I had suspicions of la bete being another moniker for the Alcinous thing (my own contributions at this blog are rather below the expected quality, I know, Alcinous). It is self evident that your style guys is a whole different one.
Oh...Integral...I forgot about that one...is it still in press or it is only seen at those subprime libraries you are talking about?
Well, who cares.
Oh, no, De Jong –I don’t think I could ever endure again such ordeal. I believe this time I’ve dumped the lunar calendar forever.
Well, as far as I know Integral is still being published. It doesn’t contain anymore the more activist leaflet el Correo del Sol in recycled paper (the first I ever saw), but catalogues advertising vegetal salts low in iodine and rei chi lingerie. The first guys, who were rather sporty, biofarming autarchists and thinking about how to enforce the replacement of nukes by windmills or solar cell pannels –with its paramount symbol the sunflower- are gone or about to go forever. The immigrant-friendly ullerapasta Feng Shui fans now rule the scene.
Alright sweetheart, I must go back to my mincing baked veggies and slicing crudités –lovely blue cheese sauce BTW- as I’m expecting some guests for birthday tonight and... I can hardly wait to open all my presents :-D
Stay like this De Jong –you’re just fine.
I will call it a day and hopefully a week as well with your permission and cantankerous Boynamedsue's.
Regards,
alcinoos
Ok, Alcinous, take your deserved break, we'll be looking forward to hear from you at your earliest convenience.
The break is certainly deserved because, dude, when you write things like this:
"(being a fluent speaker of Turkish with a poor command of German in Austria equals a promising future as Kebab-Imbiss attendant, Oriental grocery owner or overworked truck driver).
As usual, bongo-bangers denounced "a new fascist attempt by the reactionary blue-black government to criminalize immigrants and the diversity of languages and cultures coexisting in our country". Again, the same old tub-thumping Maoist rubbish. This time, however, they dropped out the "more suitable of other times, happily foregone" since they were in hurry to go play the bongos and guzzle beers (sold by Turks this time, not by Pakistanis) in Prater".
you certainly strike the right chord, man. Hats off!
That is such a fine and, I dare to say DeJongesque piece in essence (if not in style, which is 100% Alcinous's....I've got the brain, you've got the looks: let's make tones of money, Alcinous) that I forgive you for having called la bête 'pompous' without a reason.
However, I wont forgive you the fact that you didnt care to invite me to that birthday party. You only tell me that you love me when you are drunk and alone or what?
De Jong.
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