Antiquarian Book Fair

So back on April 28, we went to the 63rd Annual ABAA New York International Antiquarian Book Fair at the Park Avenue Armory.   There was an interesting range of authors and genres, including an 18th C album of Piranesi’s works.  

I count myself fortunate that I didn't see anything I genuinely craved!  For example, there were some detective stories by Dorothy Sayers, amidst a surprising amount of Agatha Christie, but I didn't see any of her work on Dante.  

one of many opportunities for collecting Ian Fleming's work 

two personally inscribed Ernest Hemingway 
books from the library of Lillian Ross

I was probably more tempted by this edition of SGGK amidst other Arthuriana than by anything else over the course of the day.

Tolkien & Gordon's edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Each bookseller has an individual stall, which they organize and arrange as they see fit; I did not perceive any particular rhyme or reason to the arrangement of the stalls themselves.  So there was a large element of serendipity to the day, which is no doubt intentional.

A fancy two-volume set of The Irish Peasantry

There wasn't much Dunsany. I might have been tempted by The King of Elfland's Daughter, but certainly not by his short story collections.

Slim pickings for Dunsany

The two most famous Inklings were reasonably represented in their more popular works.  For example, I saw a few of the Narnia books, but no copies of An Experiment in Criticism.   At least one vendor was offering something beyond the formally published books.  

asking $475,000 for a letter/manuscript and genealogical chart from the hand of J.R.R. Tolkien

what you get for your $475,000, part 2

C.S. Lewis rates only 10% of that - but then again, he failed to include a genealogical chart

What about a known influence/inspiration to the Inklings?
asking a mere $27,500 for A Voyage to Arcturus

The Day of the Triffids is practically being given away at $1,750

Geometria et Perspectiva, 1567:
if you have to ask, you can't afford it 

When wandering among the stalls, it's easy to forget that you're in the Armory; one's attention is inevitably drawn to the well-lit stalls and all the commodities and commotion at ground-level.  But I looked up as we were exiting.

The balcony reminds me of Shakespeare, though it was not in fact
used in any of the productions I've seen at the Armory

The screening on the way in was perfunctory, presumably focused on making sure we weren't trying to exercise any Second Amendment rights.  Once inside, security guards were always nearby, often sitting unobtrusively, and I'm sure there were many cameras.  Most vendors, even those with extraordinary items, allowed people to go in to their stall and peer closely through the glass at their wares; those with less valuable books sometimes had bookshelves for browsing.  A very few arranged their stalls in a manner to subtly suggest that only serious purchasers were welcome to approach.  On my way out, I was grateful that the only book I'd brought with me was a paperback of The Song of Roland in poor condition with prominent orange highlighting from a previous owner.  The security guard readily accepted my claim of ownership.

Home and Not-Home

This year's Mythmoot was a bit strange for me.   Partly, this has to do with various crises in the background at home and at work, the worries I couldn't leave behind.  And I'm very acutely aware that I haven't been doing any sort of academic writing in the last few years, consistent with a feeling (or a fear) that I have nothing to say.  Then again, the "homeward bound" theme, though certainly 100% appropriate as we returned to the National Conference Center, didn't seem to prompt truly compelling topics, even among those who have plenty to say.  And of course there was the constant undercurrent of an insider's recent ouster; a reminder that this is no longer the scrappy up-and-comer defying the odds.  Even worse, we learned over the weekend that we would not be able to see Verlyn, as she was convalescing. 

However, the bacon was plentiful, and the company was good, and I got to spend some time with SGGK.  

The "Dream Team" of Tom, Joe, and Alan were again victorious in the pub quiz -- pretty much guaranteed when two-thirds of the questions were on Tolkien! -- so our household will be enriched in due course by a book or two purchased with an Amazon gift card.    

I got to chat a while with Brenton's wife Chrissie, who had gotten lost in the maze of corridors, and with Tara, who had found her way easily (doubtless drawing on deeply embedded memories of Mythmoots past).   

In the course of a hazy and humid stroll around the grounds, I saw a deer, a cardinal, and a bright blue bird of some kind (but not a bluejay). 

Abrams, who outbid me on An Anthology of Beowulf Criticism (ed. by Lewis E. Nicholson), very generously gave it to me and (alas!) refused compensation.  If I ever part with the book, he gets first dibs.  On the way home, Tom had me read the first paragraph of each essay but Tolkien's aloud to him while he was driving; whether for this reason or another, a Great Drowsiness came upon him and I soon found myself in the driver's seat for the final stage of the journey.

I was not driving when I took this picture

My First-Ever Corsi-Rosenthal Box!

So, I ordered all the materials to make my own C-R box way back in the first week of 2022.  And I enthusiastically shared the instructions on social media.  But I also bought two commercially available air purifiers for use in my home -- nice and compact -- and just never got around to making the C-R box.  After all, I wasn't really going to get COVID at home, was I?  (I'm far more likely to be exposed than my spouse, and I generally mask up in public indoor spaces, esp. subways, restrooms, elevators.)

Enter June 2023, with wildfires raging in Canada.  Tuesday evening, I noticed the strange quality of the light on the way home from the subway... and a slight acrid smell at home, as if something had burned.  I didn't think much of it.  But Wednesday morning was much worse, and over the course of the day the sky darkened to a dull, dystopian glow.  And at home, our air filters didn't seem quite up to their task.  I was uneasy about it, but it wasn't until late at night that it occurred to me -- why not?

So I did it this morning, at long last!  It ain't pretty, but I'm proud of it.