First Editions.

I hadn't been on High Street in Auckland for quite some time, but I took you along it with me in a post recently when Jeanne and I sought out the Indochine Express, our newly discovered hole-in-the-wall restaurant. In that post, I showed you a picture of a rare book store that was across the street and not far from the restaurant. I said that I couldn't be bothered to go to the trouble of going there during its very limited hours of operation. Well, I changed my mind. 

As I sat here in front of my screen yesterday, I got to thinking about it. I wondered if it would smell like I think a rare book store ought to smell. Kind of like a library, but without the furniture polish. Certainly old and papery, and dusty.  And I wouldn't have minded if there was a trace of stale cigar smoke dripping down from the highest shelves. I hoped that it would have books stacked all over the place, in narrow rooms with high celings.

I decided that I'd see what I could find out about it on-line. A few key punches later, I was on its home page and it wanted to know what books I would like to buy?  P. G. Wodehouse came to mind of course and I soon found that they had three first edition titiles on hand. Had I not been sitting, my knees might have started shaking, and, while I didn't actually salivate, my brain did do a little bit of mental drooling...

"Gee, do you suppose I could really own a first edition? Well, maybe I could just go there. I'd just be looking at the books after all. But then, maybe the price wouldn't be too high, you never know. Well, what have I got to lose? Why not?"

As it turned out, Allie had business to do in Auckland the very next day and Jeanne and I had already decided to ride along with her and to take her, for the first time, to The Federal deli for lunch. Although I didn't expect the bookstore to be open, after we left the carpark I thought I could do some preliminary photography, hopefully to be used for a post about my future visit to the bookstore. We agreed to meet Allie after her business meeting was completed and off we went. The rest is history.   

We found the place, four floors up, with the lights on, but the door locked. The note on the glass gave a cell phone number, explaining that the owner was on another floor. I thanked Allie in my heart as I grabbed the phone she gave me for Christmas and dialed. While we waited for Anah to arrive, I noted that the rooms did in fact, appear to be narrow and the ceilings acceptably high. 

 Inside, it turned out to be very acceptable, meeting all my criteria, well, except for the cigar smell. Anah didn't look the type to indulge. 

You see Anah back there in front of her mostly-buried desk. (the proper sort of desk for such a place) 

Nooks, crannies, and corners

Ah, it smells like history. What would it feel like to own such a place? 

There it is, a first edition, 1969, of A Pelican at Blandings. 

I first read this book after I found it while brousing at the Escanaba Public Library many years ago. It is known by the title, No Nudes is Good Nudes in the U.S. (A painting figures in to the story.) 

Since this was my very first taste of P. G. Wodehouse, I think it would be fitting for me to buy this first edition, don't you? 

I also asked Anah if I could see this book. It is an account of the very first over-wintering of an expedition on Antarctica. Unfortunately, they are very expensive. The red one is $800 and the blue one is $1,500. Way beyond my means. 

But look what a treasure I already have. That First Antarctic Winter was written by the granddaugther of Louis Charles Bernacchi, a physicist who served on Borchgrevink's expedition and who related, in his private journals, a very different version of the events from that which the First on the Antarctic Continent tells. Bernacchi was extremely critical of the expediton leader and the author of the other book, C. E. Borchgrevink. 

This first edition was easy to come by. For one thing, there has been only one printing of this book ever made, and that was in 1998. I bought it for $1 from the Henderson Public Library when they withdrew it from circulation. It is like new.  

I mentioned earlier that there were three Wodehouse books in stock at the store. The second one, Service with a Smile, was written in 1962, and I have never read it before. It is one of the 10 Wodehouse stories that take place at Blandings Castle. I couldn't walk away without it. 

These books were both rated as being in very good/fine condition, but it was obvious when I looked carefully at them that their spines have seen lots of use. I will be handling these carefully. The last Wodehouse in the store, The Coming of Bill, was a much earlier book, first published in 1920, and was therefore much more expensive than the other two. I had to pass on it. 

This book store specializes in travel, arctic and antarctic books. 

And look at these dates on a book behind glass. 

We're on our way down four flights feeling very happy.

And there's the street. It pleases me that the stairwells and hallways are narrow, just like the rooms we saw. It adds to the character of the place somehow. 

This business apparently shares the building with the bookstore. Can you imagine coming to buy shirts here? I did a little research into this company.  The mens' shirts were not currently being shown. They want your email if you're interested. The womens' shirts are marked down from $159. to $125.  Good grief. 

 This is a neighbor of the rare book store and shirt building. Pleasing to the eye, isn't it? 
There is a sixth floor penthouse  up there, with a pull-down ladder that leads to a private conservatory (greenhouse) and deck on the roof. Someone just bought it for $379,000. 

And here's a high-rise on the very next block. Modern Auckland is encroaching on the older. (And looking down on our friends sunning themselves in their new conservatory.)

In honor of P.  G. Wodehouse, here are a few quotes from his books that give you a taste of his very gentle humor. 

I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled. 

It was my Uncle George who discovered that alcohol was a food well in advance of modern medical thought.

She had a penetrating sort of laugh. Rather like a train going into a tunnel. 

Why don't you get a haircut? You look like a chrysanthemum. 

Sudden success in golf is like the sudden acquisition of wealth. It is apt to unsettle and deteriorate the character.  

and then there's my favorite: 

She gazed at him as if he were the smell of onions. 

Mind you, that is not the same as saying that he smelled like onions. Wodehouse was a master of the language.    -djf