Confessional
It's no secret that my favorite author is Stephen King.
King was my entry drug, my segue from the world of Nancy Drew to grown-up novels. My mother deemed his books usually too adult for me, so I swiped them out of her bookshelf and left the dustjackets in their place so she wouldn't notice they were missing. I read everything he wrote, except the Dark Tower books because they were hard to understand.
As I grew older and began to appreciate the value of books as collectible items as well as purveyors of story, I began to collect first-edition hardbacks of King's work. I have never had the opportunity to meet the man and have him sign any of them, but I live in hope.
The problem is, I have a dreadful memory. Although I have read everything he has written outside the Dark Tower, many of those books were my mother's, not mine. I have often found myself in a used bookstore somewhere, staring at a hardback King and wondering, "Is this one I already have?"
I have an awful, terrible memory.
Once I tried to outsmart myself. I created a careful database of King's work, complete with each book I had, each book I still needed to get and the condition/value of each tome. (Anyone got a first-edition CARRIE? Didn't think so.)
The problem is, I never have my laptop on hand in a used bookstore, you know?
Recently, I attended a party at the home of a good friend. Aware of my predilection for King hardbacks, he offered me a first-edition hardback of SKELETON CREW, one of King's early short-story collections. He had no further use for it, he said. It was in good condition and I accepted eagerly. When I got home, I placed in the holding bookcase, the one most easily accessible in the main room of my apartment where new books live until I think to move them elsewhere.
This evening, I was looking for something to read. I looked at the holding bookcase and saw the hardback for SKELETON CREW.
On the shelf right behind it, I saw another hardback first-edition of SKELETON CREW.
Rats. I had it already.
I wandered into the bedroom, already mulling whether I should sell one of them on eBay - the one in poorer condition, of course - or put one in the Collection and save the other to actually read. This led my feeble mind to the subject of the Collection Bookcase, purchase pending, and I wondered if I had enough Kings by now to need a full bookcase.
(I should add that I was talking on the phone with someone while all this was going on. I multi-task.)
So I checked out the horror bookcase in the bedroom, where most of the Kings live.
There was another hardback copy of SKELETON CREW.
You're kidding, I told myself. I've bought this book twice and then accepted a free copy.
Then my eye drifted lower.
A paperback.
And another.
"I have five copies of SKELETON CREW," I said in amazement, as my gentleman friend laughed himself silly in my ear.
Five copies of the same book. That's how bad my memory is, ladies and gentlemen. I won't go into the two hardbacks of THE TOMMYKNOCKERS or INSOMNIA or the number of books for which I have both the original hardback and paperback editions - both collector's items, see?
It's not an addiction. I can stop any time I want to.
But five copies might be a little much. Even for me.
King was my entry drug, my segue from the world of Nancy Drew to grown-up novels. My mother deemed his books usually too adult for me, so I swiped them out of her bookshelf and left the dustjackets in their place so she wouldn't notice they were missing. I read everything he wrote, except the Dark Tower books because they were hard to understand.
As I grew older and began to appreciate the value of books as collectible items as well as purveyors of story, I began to collect first-edition hardbacks of King's work. I have never had the opportunity to meet the man and have him sign any of them, but I live in hope.
The problem is, I have a dreadful memory. Although I have read everything he has written outside the Dark Tower, many of those books were my mother's, not mine. I have often found myself in a used bookstore somewhere, staring at a hardback King and wondering, "Is this one I already have?"
I have an awful, terrible memory.
Once I tried to outsmart myself. I created a careful database of King's work, complete with each book I had, each book I still needed to get and the condition/value of each tome. (Anyone got a first-edition CARRIE? Didn't think so.)
The problem is, I never have my laptop on hand in a used bookstore, you know?
Recently, I attended a party at the home of a good friend. Aware of my predilection for King hardbacks, he offered me a first-edition hardback of SKELETON CREW, one of King's early short-story collections. He had no further use for it, he said. It was in good condition and I accepted eagerly. When I got home, I placed in the holding bookcase, the one most easily accessible in the main room of my apartment where new books live until I think to move them elsewhere.
This evening, I was looking for something to read. I looked at the holding bookcase and saw the hardback for SKELETON CREW.
On the shelf right behind it, I saw another hardback first-edition of SKELETON CREW.
Rats. I had it already.
I wandered into the bedroom, already mulling whether I should sell one of them on eBay - the one in poorer condition, of course - or put one in the Collection and save the other to actually read. This led my feeble mind to the subject of the Collection Bookcase, purchase pending, and I wondered if I had enough Kings by now to need a full bookcase.
(I should add that I was talking on the phone with someone while all this was going on. I multi-task.)
So I checked out the horror bookcase in the bedroom, where most of the Kings live.
There was another hardback copy of SKELETON CREW.
You're kidding, I told myself. I've bought this book twice and then accepted a free copy.
Then my eye drifted lower.
A paperback.
And another.
"I have five copies of SKELETON CREW," I said in amazement, as my gentleman friend laughed himself silly in my ear.
Five copies of the same book. That's how bad my memory is, ladies and gentlemen. I won't go into the two hardbacks of THE TOMMYKNOCKERS or INSOMNIA or the number of books for which I have both the original hardback and paperback editions - both collector's items, see?
It's not an addiction. I can stop any time I want to.
But five copies might be a little much. Even for me.
Um... Why not just pringt a copy of your King data and keep it in your purse. It might not have helped at the party, but you could pull it out in the shops.
ReplyDeleteI keep mine on librarything and Delicious Library. DL syncs to my iPod, so I can have my catalogue wherever I take the iPod, and LT is accessable on the Internet, so I can check it via cell phone in a pinch.
ReplyDeleteOf course, just the act of catalogueing has led to me remembering better what is or is not in my library.