Monday, June 28, 2004
· posted at 2:36 AM
Butterfly in the sky.
Today was the San Diego Open Air Book Fair hosted by the San Diego Booksellers Association and made possible by San Diego’s resident cruise director. I didn’t even know flea market style book fairs existed, although I have an autographed FoxTrot book, courtesy of my sister, that contradicts that. I’m surprised San Diego has enough readers to block off one city block for one Sunday. The last book fair I went to was in the library of my elementary school where I bought Ruth Chew books and Garfield door hangers (sidebar: I loved book orders back in elementary school. I used to order so many books – always enough to get the free poster of the kitty hanging from the tree, or the dog in the bubble bath, or whatever. In 9th grade, my English teacher somehow conjured up book orders once again – making me love her class even more). I was so excited by the prospect of a book fair. Not so much because I was in search of a rare 1st edition or copy of Love in the Time of Cholera with a phone number inside, but more so because I’m a nerd, and a penniless one at that. I used to have issues with used books and library books. Probably because when I was growing up, my mom would 1) cover these books ala brown bag, 2) make me wash my hands at 15 minute intervals whenever flipping pages, or 3) insist on buying it from the bookstore. “You don’t know where it’s been” – which is extremely true. Then college came and texts were $100 each. After that first quarter I paid exorbitant fees to UC Regents for brand new books that I opened three times a quarter (after the first day of class, the day before the midterm, and the night before the final), I learned quickly. I could justify buying used textbooks because 1) exposure would be minimal, 2) studying was already associated with discomfort, and 3) I could pretty much say with certainty where this book had been – sitting untouched in someone’s backpack or dorm room (the people who actually used the books tended to keep the books). The problem with used books for leisure, however, is that the situations for handling them is very different. Reading is not relegated only to a desk or library. I like to read in my bed and what this often means is that I fall asleep with a book on my face. I don’t know where that book has been... do I really want it lying on my face so close to mucous membranes for a minimum of 6 hours? The case for used and rented clothes (though thin) is that you can clean and sterilize them. To my knowledge, no such procedure exists for books. According to my required course education at work (with topics such as corporate compliance and occupational health and safety), the Hepatitis B virus can live up to 7 days in dried blood. With the preponderance of antibacterial everything at an all time high, one can only speculate about what Supergerms exist today. You really don’t know where it’s been but can expect that someone at one time has coughed, sneezed, scratched an inappropriate area, not washed their hands, dropped some kids in the pool, etc. while holding this book. I cannot even fathom why someone would buy The Joy of Sex from a used bookstore. So what’s changed? Has my Public Health class converted me from a germaphobe? Has my work with children led me to believe I’m immune to all microscopic yuckies? The answer is simple: necessity. Necessity remains the only driving force for change in my life. Interest (e.g. scrapbooking) and motivation (e.g. going to the gym) can really only maintain a 3 week manic episode. Necessity, however, produces results. I need money, thus I work. I needed to ensure my website didn’t look like a "crying eagle" one, thus I learned barebones HTML. I needed to have reading material that wouldn’t empty my wallet or accrue late fees, thus I got over my mental trip about used books. I know I won’t become one of those fanatical book collectors who try to find signed copies or limited press editions because that would defeat the rationale for used books in the first place. It was disappointing that I didn’t find any books from my childhood that I wanted to buy. Then I realized it was because every book I loved as a kid is sitting on a bookshelf collecting dust in my parents’ house. I waver between wanting to keep those books and wanting to sell them. One seller had Value Tale books listed at $25 each... which makes me want to sell them. Then I think about the sentimental worth of those books (e.g. every book report from grade 2-8 was based on or referenced a Value Tale book) and want to keep them. And then I think about whether I’ll actually pick them up and read them or learn anything new and feel I should sell them. Then I think that the only person buying them would be 1) a sentimental shmuck like me or 2) a teacher/educator/librarian, and that children should be able to access and be inspired by those sorts of books and I should just donate them to a library – though not the Millenium one because revenue from the giftshop should bring in revenue and it really doesn’t need the help. So the value for today is... Learning (Marie Curie) and I’m about to go learn all about the big impact of little white lies in Pinocchio Nation - sociological observations/interpretations and personal integrity workbook all rolled into one. |
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