Swaziland or bust!

There was a time last year when I (Lydia) announced that I was departing forever! and disappeared for a few months ... then reappeared at O'Gara and Wilson, seeming not much the worse for wear and refusing to speak of the details. Well, my gentle readers, this is now about to happen again. That is, I will announce that I am departing forever! And I may be back in a few months in actuality. But I'm pretty sure that this time I'm departing forever. For Swaziland, actually. No, really. Darkest Africa itself. I'll write to the bookstore once or twice -- maybe my successor (Alan, most likely!) will post my letters to the store blog!

In the meantime, I feel like I ought to make my last blog entry count. So I feel a little silly that for this week's Favorite I chose something we've already somewhat covered:



In the past we've posted about our vintage "Playboy" magazines (regrettably, the image hosting service we used for earlier blog entries appears to be kaput, so there are no images on that old "Playboy" entry). Here's the rub, though: those "Playboy"s were different. No, really! We have now received a whole assortment of "Playboy" magazines that are, granted, from the same era as the other ones -- and in the same excellent condition -- but many of them are scarcer, more unusual copies of the magazine. This one, for instance, is the very "Playboy" issue that (as noted on the cover) began the final written James Bond adventure: The Man With The Golden Gun:

The Secret Service holds much that is kept secret even from very senior officers in the organization. Only M and his Chief of Staff know everything there is to know.

With an beginning like that, how could the rest go wrong?

These issues are $12.50 apiece instead of our former price of $4.00 apiece. Eventually we will sell all these off and revert to selling more common vintage "Playboy"s for $4.00 each, but for now, get 'em while they're hot. I guess they're always hot.

I doubt you'll ever see another entry on "Playboy", if only because Alan has more taste than I do. But you know what? I look better in costume jewelry than he does, and if that's not good taste, then I don't know what is. Just look at this Collector's Item:



It's a beautifully produced book all about amazing rhinestone jewelry! Rarely do I wish that I made more money than my bookstore job allots, gentle readers, but sometimes I really do just want to cover myself in barbarically massive cuffs and collars:



... or perhaps small rhinestone lizards, articulated to bend gently around my body:



I wonder if rhinestone costume jewelry is appropriate wear in Swaziland? I'll be sure to let you all know ... and if it's not, then I'll set a fashion. In my absence, please do me proud -- prance the streets covered in false jewels, or just buy this book for $40.00. Life really is all about the simple pleasures.

I might also create a Swaziland comic. I bet Swaziland would make a fantastic comic. After all, everything can make a fantastic comic -- including World War II, as demonstrated by these Affordable and Interesting little things:

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The strong-featured men and cringing natives that populate these comics blow up many things with extreme prejudice, and typify many racist tropes. But let us not forget that there are moments of emotion, philosophy, and sage advice:



To transcribe,

Native gentleman: Braden-sahib, Karan Singh says you are once a military man. Is that the truth, Sahib?

(There was no expression on the Englishman's face, as he answered ...)

Braden: Do I ask what the bully-beef was before it was condemned to a tin? Perhaps it was a brave bull -- or just a cow. Who knows? It is better not to know. Take the beef -- or a man -- for what they are today -- and never mind the past.

That's quite the metaphor. I think that from now on, whenever anyone asks me about my history, I shall smile mysteriously and say: I, Lydia, am much like tinned beef in my tacit mystery. But seriously, these comics do cover actual historical events. They were written in the 1970s and have all the advantages and disadvantages of thirty-year hindsight. And they are quite exciting. So for $3.00 apiece, you are provided with an education on certain battles of World War II as well as amazing tinned-beef philosophical metaphors. Where else could you get both those things in the same place?

I've been keeping a running list in my head of "things that are not in Swaziland". This list includes (but is not limited to) everything I have mentioned in this entry ... and also includes this fine store, O'Gara and Wilson Booksellers, itself. I will miss this place sorely, gentle readers. Thank you for putting up with my rantings for the last ... what is it, a year and a half now? And do keep reading Alan's entries. I know I will -- all the way from Swaziland!

Incredible article about our store in the Chicago Maroon!

The Chicago Maroon -- the University of Chicago's student newspaper -- recently ran a wonderful article on our humble store. It's got a lot of background for O'Gara and Wilson, some lovely quotations from owner Doug, and is simply all-around charming.

Read the article by clicking here!

Excerpt:

O’Gara & Wilson owner carries on century-old bookselling tradition

Antique typewriters, Victorian postcards, and Soviet-era lapel pins overflow in O’Gara & Wilson window

Though he may be the sole owner of O’Gara & Wilson Booksellers on East 57th Street and South Harper Avenue, Doug Wilson doesn’t delude himself into thinking the store is his alone. As the fourth person to take the helm of what is now Chicago’s oldest continuously operating bookstore, Wilson can trace the store’s lineage from the 1890s, and sees himself as merely the latest bearer of “the torch of the ins and outs of bookselling.”

“Book stores aren’t so much a set piece of real estate as they are a line of knowledge, a passing of a profession from one person to another,” he said.

In 1972, Wilson was a 22-year-old college graduate “on a fast track to a job I would hate” at a Chicago department store. He had wandered into Joseph O’Gara’s store a few times as a “book scout,” trying to sell used books he’d found at local Salvation Army stores at a markup. But O’Gara gave him more than he bargained for.

Keep reading ....

Villainry, villainry, wherefore art thou villainry?

I have a confession to make, gentle readers: I love villains. I love villainry! If I could be a villainess then I would do so. Swiftly and decisively. Since actual outsize villainry does not exist, I settle for trying to be a very moral and responsible girl. But seriously, I'd rather be a villainess.

This Affordable and Interesting book might give me some pointers:



From the dust jacket:

"Rosalind Valdar," he hissed, "my bed shall be your bed! My will shall be your master! My lust shall feed upon your charms, and your body shall be minister to my passions! I'll use thee -- use thee as I list -- and when I tire of thee I'll cast thee out into the streets for dogs to bark at; for men to sneer at; and for all honest women to shun! So will I do if you become not my wife!"

Now that's a healthy relationship for you. But actually, that's an excerpt from an excerpt quoted in this book, and not a passage from the book itself -- because Villains Galore is a book about the low-priced weeklies that were filled with villains, rather than a book of villainry itself. $12.50, and you can think about villainous literary theory all you want! What's not to like?

If you have more resources to throw behind your villainous studies, then you might be interested in this Collector's Item:



Louis Wain was a Victorian gentleman who liked to draw cats ... a lot. He drew them all the time. Eventually, he became famous for it! Everyone loved his cats! But then at some point I guess some folks decided that Wain was unbalanced, not to be trusted, etc. He spent the last fifteen years of his life in various mental institutions, and indeed, while Googling Wain I came upon this online Neuroscience Art Gallery feature on him: Cats Painted in the Progression of Psychosis of a Schizophrenic Artist. I enjoy the apparent progression rather a lot.

Now personally I don't feel 100% comfortable judging Wain's mental status, and in fact it looks to me as though his later cat portraits were far more enlightened than his earlier ones. I'd much rather see a glowing electric cat than a tamer cat dressed in Victorian clothing! Unless, of course, that cat is Bluebeard:



... Wain's version of the tale starts like this:

Bluebeard the Pasha, a wealthy cat,
Married and mourned three fair wives;
They were dutiful tabbies, be sure of that,
And yet in the end he took their lives.

So if you're interested in fairy-tale doggerel by a pre-schizophrenic cat enthusiast, then there is just no way you can pass up this book. It seems that there are lots of people interested in that, because this item is a bargain at $950.00! Before it sells, I plan to study and see if I can dye my own hair blue. I'd like to murder some fine husbands before I die.

Just kidding! Just kidding, really. Here, I'll distract you from my macabre little joke by bringing up this week's Favorite:



... arguably another macabre little joke. We actually do have a (perhaps surprising) number of gun-related books here at O'Gara and Wilson, and this was recently added to the group, but I think that perhaps it would be better in our Mystery section or even True Crime. Or maybe I should just make a section for "incredibly weird books that Lydia likes because she has been driven mad by spending long hours indoors with books when what she really needs is healthy fresh air; she'll be drawing cats next".

So anyway, apparently certain guns are famously good only for committing suicide, and this is a primer for the discerning collector! The Introduction assures me that this book is needed (or was in 1958) because "the field is wide open" and "the scope of variation in these arms is incomprehensible". Only $60.00, my dear dear readers, and you'd better come buy it so that when I snap and go Bluebeard I won't be able to make my boyfriend's death look like a suicide.

I think this place is twisting me, gentle readers. Till next time, au revoir, and I'll try not to go homicidally mad on the interim.

Transportation! I like how it looks.

Greetings, O Gentlest of Readers! I am posting the blog entry early this week, because I (Lydia) will be away on Wednesday; I considered dragging Alan in to write another of his incredible blog entries on the right date, but I figured it was just as easy to write it myself two days early, and I wanted the excuse to indulge my latest idea for a theme.

You see, sometimes I do shiny themed blog entries here at O'Gara and Wilson. The themes are frequently somewhat loose and ill-observed, and always ridiculous. This entry's theme? Transportation!

Observe, for instance, this Collector's Item:



The book containing this plate, Advertisements of Lower Mississippi River Steamboats 1812-1920, starts its Foreword with a historical analysis of steamboat advertisements and notes that

Now that Leonard V. Huber has unearthed this interesting sample of art -- for art it is -- of attracting patronage to a particular steamboat through stylistic advertising, the wonder is that nobody thought of doing it before. Individual boats were noticed as "new and splendid", "new and elegant", "new and light draught" (always new, even though overdue at the boneyard); but this business of republishing their ads has real newness. They have the tang of fresh-brewed coffee, and should be sipped gingerly to be appreciated. The reader will discover herein a treat which bears repetition from day to day, from week to week. These ads are ageless.

Convinced? I am. And better yet, the book doesn't just contain steamboat ads! $60.00 gets you the ads, plus some old articles about steamboats, plus other little bitty bits such as:



This scan comes from a page headed "Steamboat Money". There is no other description or explanation; I tried Googling "Steamboat Money" but came up with nothing of use, though I did find a page talking about tokens that were used to represent money for travelers on on some steamboats, so that those travelers wouldn't have to carry actual money. Maybe that's what's going on here.

So yeah, I wish I could use steamboats for transportation. I also wish I could use a car -- but not just any car: a vintage 1920s car that utilizes this week's Favorite.



Being as I really know nothing at all about transportation beyond what I write in random bookstore blog entries, I can't say much about this $30.00 package of 1920s auto bulbs. I am excited by the packaging, because I like deco stuff! Plus I have a thing for mythology, so representations of Vulcan are fine by me! Also, I love Googling for pictures of 1920s cars! But I guess that once I get past how pretty it all is, I'll have to move on.

And hence we find ourselves at this Affordable and Interesting book ....



I've mentioned before that I love it when customers point out really fascinating items that I have somehow missed. I love it even more when those customers decide in the end against buying those items. That way, I can fall upon said items with cries of glee and fascination, and examine them myself.

I am so excited about this book that I stretched the blog entry's theme to include it -- viz., this book is relevant to transportation because the cover features a gentleman riding on an elephant. But it's actually about race and culture! You see, the title is The Exotic White Man: An Alien in Asian and African Art. Note the looks of the gentleman atop the elephant:



And then there's this couple, a Japanese woodcut featured on the back:



I hear people talk about representations of other cultures in imperialist Western art all the time, but never ever have I seen a book like this. I am fascinated! It is from 1968 and has a slightly racist tone, which makes me sad, but it seems like the authors were doing their best at the time. And I'm amused by their note in the beginning that the Caucasian "pinkish color [is] somewhat revolting". You can buy this book for $12.50, but only if I don't weaken and take it home myself. I'm still thinking about it.

Thinking ....

I'd better end this blog entry before I think too hard. See you two weeks from Wednesday, gentle readers!

Local, independent used bookstores are better than Amazon!

You may have heard of the ruckus that erupted around Amazon this weekend when a glitch caused the site to make many books on gay, lesbian, and sexuality themes largely unavailable for search by its customers. This was apparently a mistake on the site's part and not an outright act of attempted concealment -- but I am here to tell you, gentle readers, that such a mistake would never happen here! For one thing, we have an entire section on Sex/Gender/Sexuality that is just as available to the public as the rest of our books; indeed, you may recall that -- just two months ago -- I wrote a blog post that included "Kama Sutra Marketing Through the Ages". More to the point: if we make an inventory-tracking mistake around the store, then we lose just one book, not entire categorizations. We're better than Amazon. Convinced yet?

No? Well, these Affordable and Interesting items demonstrate another reason we're better than Amazon:



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A lovely antique fairy-tale book, illustrated by Frank Adams, was recently badly damaged -- it lost many pages and the binding came apart. We could have simply thrown it out, but instead we elected to save as many pages as we could and then sell them each for $3.00. Amazon would never show such tender loving care. As you can see from the above, the pictures are lovely, bright and sickeningly cute: ideal for people who ... enjoy cute things! There must be people like that out there.

This week's Favorite is another excellent example of our betterness.



Here's the thing about bookstores that you could never, ever find on Amazon: random chance and serendipity. Personally, I love knowing that I could come upon an 1899 book called Fables in Slang at any time. It's not that I wouldn't live a happy life without it, but I just think my life is better now that I've read "The Fable of the Visitor Who Got A Lot for Three Dollars", the main character of which is referred to as the Learned Phrenologist. (Did you know that there are still phrenologists out there? Learn all about the history of phrenology at this very pro-phrenology page: click here!)

Check out how the 1899 slang book characterizes phrenology:

The Learned Phrenologist sat in his Office surrounded by his Whiskers.

Now and then he put a Forefinger to his Brow and glanced at the Mirror to make sure that he still resembled William Cullen Bryant.

Near him, on a Table, was a Pallid Head made of Plaster-of-Paris and stickily ornamented with small Labels. On the wall was a Chart showing that the Orangoutang does not have Daniel Webster's facial angle.

"Is the Graft played out?" asked the Learned Phrenologist, as he waited. "Is Science up against it or What?"

I love this book. $30.00, and you get tons of Fables in the above style. Did I mention that all of them are illustrated?

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People who buy all their books on Amazon don't come across slangy 1899 fable books with awesome illustrations of stern phrenologists. Nuff said.

Or wait, not quite enough said. I still need to cover this Collector's Item!



Not only is this pamphlet unavailable at Amazon, but when I tried to search for it, I was confronted by a horrible banner of grinning and cavorting Disney characters. We will never assault you with obscenely vivid moving advertisements, gentle readers -- that's a promise that makes O'Gara and Wilson much classier than Amazon. But to return to my point: this incredible item -- all the way from 1922 -- is too rare to be found on Amazon. I assert that the cover alone makes it worth the $40.00 we are charging, but the pamphlet's historical perspective is icing on the cake.

The moral of the story, gentle readers, is that we are better than Amazon. Love us!

I wish I lived in the 30s-60s just for the headlines ....

Here I am again, gentle readers -- Lydia, writing this week’s blog entry! Though I don’t know why I do it, with Alan writing such incredible entries when I'm away. Please, if you missed the last two blog entries here at O’Gara and Wilson, I entreat you to read Alan's work: Here’s the one on Ireland and crotchety bookstore ghosts, and here’s the one in futuristic science-fiction style. Read them, for your own sake. They are amazing.

Now before I get into silly unimportant stuff like what we're actually selling at the bookstore these days, I want to let you all know that my hometown literature club is running a poetry contest. My hometown is in New York, but you can certainly enter the contest from afar, and all you have to do is write a literature-related clerihew! "Clerihew?" you may ask in bemusement. "What's that?" Well, here is an example:

Edgar Allan Poe
Was passionately fond of roe.
He always liked to chew some,
While writing anything gruesome.

Go write one and enter the contest (click here for details). It'll be great. Trust me.

OK, now let's get down to business. This blog entry's theme is Lots of Pictures of Antique Periodicals, folks, and we're starting with these astounding Affordable and Interesting old science magazines!

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We've got stacks and stacks of various science magazines from the 30s, 40s, 50s ... for $15.00 you get that glorious "Popular Mechanics" with the picture of smilingly excited guys leaping out of a sky machine; or you could pay $7.50 for the "Science and Mechanics" featuring a glove-ridden contraption that does ... wait, what does it do?

But I think the best example -- available for a mere $15.00 -- is this one from 1933:



BAAAAAHAHAHAHA! IT LIVES!

Moving right along ... let's talk about Collectible Scottish material. If you like Scottish material, then we here at O'Gara and Wilson have exactly the magazine for you!

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"Tocher: Tales, Songs, Tradition -- Selected from the archives of the School of Scottish Studies" ran from 1971 to 1995, and we have a complete set of all issues! I have elected not to show you, dear readers, the approximately 30% of "Tocher" covers that feature bagpipes in some fashion. Really, I felt that the above two cover images were most representative of Scottish life in general.

But this periodical has so much more to it than Scotch gentlemen hitting each other with golf clubs; there is a truly bewildering array of stories about people whose names start with "Mac", and some of them are in Gaelic! Some are even translated! You could also learn productive skills from "Topher", such as how to dye cloth black by using the roots of the water lily. All this for $400.00. It's a steal, gentle readers, let me tell you, an absolute steal. Especially since you get this winsome Scottish maid to boot:



Last but certainly not least is my Favorite thing. Ever.



We're selling these 1950s-60s scandal papers for $15.00-$25.00 apiece, and if I had to choose a word to describe them, it would be "hilariousincredibleamazingbrilliant". But unfortunately our scanner cannot encompass the entire front page of all the papers I want to show you. Case in point: My scan of the above 1968 "National Mirror" regrettably cut off the top two headlines: "Surgeon Uses Virgins in Sex Transplants" and "Insane Nurse Sets Mental Hospital on Fire". At least you can read for yourself the "Raid Flesh Club In Funeral Home" and "Barmaids in Bloody Brawl Over Lesbian". $25.00 for this issue, which -- need I remind you? -- includes not just the headlines but the interior articles. And the articles are even better!

Or you could buy one of these others ....



"The National Enquirer", 1964. "Deadly Flies Make Everyone Blind ... Whole Town Doomed". $25.00.



"The National Informer", 1968. "Should A Girl Proposition A Guy?" plus "Women Are More Excited By Pornography Than Men" and "A Report of the Disappointments of Wife-Swapping". $25.00.



"The National Enquirer", 1963. "Rita Hayworth Says: I'm Back From the Dead. For Two Years I Was a Zombie". $25.00.



Another 1963 "National Enquirer". "Mamie Van Doren: I Still Love the Crumb Who Jilted Me!" $20.00. I'm thinking of buying this one and mailing it to my ex-boyfriend ... what do you think, gentle readers? I'm a classy girl, aren't I.

I'm almost tempted not to advertise these scandal papers, because they really do make the best lunchtime reading ever. Don't buy them too quickly, folks, and I'll see you in two weeks!

Homage to the Kindle. Not.

It was March 18, 2109, and I was bored. Quendy and I were lying next to each other on Quagnar beach, drinking Zoofle Blasters and watching sky pirates shooting each other down over the ocean.

“I’m sick of Zoofle Blasters,” I said, throwing away my fluorescent blue cup. It disappeared as soon as it hit the sand. “And I’m sick of sky pirates. They always do the same thing every time.”

“Me, too,” said Quendy. “Maybe we should go visit the Xenon 5 beach. They have a whole new sky pirate show.”

“Okay,” I said. We both felt 25 zilodollars drain from our accounts, and the beach around us changed. Now it was green sand, instead of black. The sky pirates were black, instead of red, and they shot each other down even more frequently. There were four suns in the sky.

“What kind of drinks are there here?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” said Quendy. Immediately a pull down menu appeared in our heads.

“I’ve had all of these,” I said.

“Me too,” said Quendy.

“Well,” I said, “maybe we should call it a day. I can’t think of a single thing to do.” We lay there in the green sand, not wanting to go somewhere else because we’d already spent 25 zilodollars getting to Xenon 5. Suddenly Quendy spoke up.

“I have an idea,” she said excitedly. “I know something we could do. Let’s go to a bookstore.”

“A bookstore?” I asked. “Why?” I’d already downloaded all the books I needed for school. I had them on background filter, and they were slowly transferring directly into my brain. Some people like to do it all in one go, but that makes my head hurt.

“No,” said Quendy. “This is different. I saw it when we went to visit Grandma and Grandma in Happy-Old Land.”

“Oh,” I said. “So it’s out there?”

“Yeah,” said Quendy.

“Weird,” I said. “Why would there be a bookstore out there?”

“You’ll see,” said Quendy. We turned off our Virtua-Screens, and got up from my sofa. Then we got in the hyper-car, and Quendy set it for 5212324 Happy-Old Land Drive.

“I know it’s near there,” said Quendy. When we appeared, things looked pretty familiar. I’d only been to 3423435 Happy-Old Land Drive, to visit my grandparents, but this place wasn’t so different.

“I think it’s next door,” said Quendy. “But we have to walk.” We got out of the car, and walked about twenty feet to the next building, which felt strange. The building said “O’Gara and Wilson” on an green cloth thing hanging out in front.

“This is it,” said Quendy. “I’ve been here with my grandmother once.”

Inside the store were all sorts of things that I’d learned about in history class, called realbooks. There were big realbooks, and little realbooks, and they were filled with words, just like the ones in the advertisements and pull-down menus.

“This is so weird,” I said. “What do you do with these?”

“Read them,” said a voice behind me. “Although no one really does, anymore.” I turned and saw an ancient man, with bushy eyebrows and a goatee.

“Why would you read them,” I asked, “if you can just download them instantly and transfer them into your brain in the background?”

“Well,” said the old man, “some realbooks aren’t actually available for download. Take this one, for example.”

He opened a case made out of something called glass, and took out one of the strange old things. The front (he called it a cover) looked like this.

“Careful,” he said, as I flipped through it.

“Cool,” said Quendy.

“Not just cool, young lady,” said the old man. “It’s the coolest Collectible realbook in the store. Written in 1901 by H.G. Wells, a first edition, back when people had never visited the moon before.”

I’d been to the moon with Quendy lots of times. Super boring, unless you’re a little kid. “Can’t download a first edition,” added the old man, though I didn’t know what he meant. “That’s why it’s so expensive.” 400 zilodollars, said the price tag. That was like 16 beach trips.

“What are these?” asked Quendy, who had found something somewhere else in the store.

“That’s a magazine,” said the old man. I recognized the little white cylinders in the picture – they were cigarettes. Long ago, said the history textbook I’d uploaded last year, people used to kill themselves by smoking them.

“Is a magazine a realbook?” I asked.

“Not exactly,” said the old man. “But it would take too long for me to explain the difference. Not too expensive, though,” he said. “Only 6 zilodollars, so you could probably get one yourself. We’ve got Time magazines, like that one, and also Life magazines. Affordable and Interesting, magazines.”

“Of course,” he said, “you probably don’t know how to read.”

“Nope,” I said. Only old people knew how to read, like this guy or grandparents. “It would take so long. And these realbooks are big and clunky. I think downloading is much easier.”

“I don’t know,” said Quendy. “Maybe it would be fun to learn how to read.” The old man didn’t say anything. He just went over and pulled another realbook off the shelf and started reading from the back.

This is what he read:

“We read to find the end, for the story’s sake. We read not to reach it, for the sake of the reading itself. We read searchingly, like trackers, oblivious of our surroundings. We read distractedly, skipping pages….We read in gusts of sudden pleasure, without knowing what brought the pleasure along.”

Quendy and I browsed for a while, and I ended up buying the realbook the old man had read from, for only 9.5 zilodollars. It was called A History of Reading, by an elder-one named Alberto Manguel. Even though it didn’t look that special, it was my Favorite thing in the store, and no matter how much I searched the Virtua-Center, I couldn’t find a copy available for download, at least not at that price.

(Thank you to M.T. Anderson and his wonderful realbook, "Feed".)