Thinking Allowed: Racing to the Books

I went to a used book sale a few months ago with Sophia and Tova and it was great. A room full of books is always heavenly and all the better when they are used books on offer for a few dollars apiece. It was also really hectic -with loads of people everywhere, it was hard to keep track of two energetic children and I ended up leaving them in a corner with a pile of books and some snacks so I could dart back and forth looking at books. This arrangement was a little stressful, and resulted in me haphazardly purchasing more than I intended as I was so preoccupied with my children's whereabouts and needs. But between running back and forth and offering apple slices to children, I met a bookstore owner who regaled me with tales of what it is like to own a used bookshop in the modern day. It was intriguing, but not as intriguing to me as the fact that he was going to spend all weekend at the book sale. Three days of perusing books non-stop and adding to his already large tower of boxes in the corner. This was nothing, though - at the Spring book fair he would really buy a lot.

And so I was really looking forward to going to the Spring book fair because if that last one was small by comparison then holy smokes. As luck would have it Jakob would be able to watch children all morning, so I could welcome Springtime by walking down aisles caressing the sleek spines of books and taking in their musky odours. I figured if I wanted to see what the book fair was about I should go with the die hards right at opening time. The true bibliophiles. Plus, it was a good excuse to finally avoid the morning feeding dressing school frenzy.

I headed to the racetracks (what a fitting location for a book sale) and was awed. I was there at least 10 minutes before opening and the parking lot was already full, the overflow parking half full and the line stretched nearly a kilometer out from the door. This is where the action was at this morning. Even the public buses diverted their course to drop readers off right at the door. In true Canberra style, despite the masses of people, everything was perfectly orderly and peaceful with a few horseriders practicing in the background and cows grazing on the nearby hill. And I was so happy to see so many people so eager for print. I wanted to walk down the eerily obedient line up and pat everyone on the back for choosing to read real books rather than online news, ipads, texts, and glossy magazines. These were my people!

Despite the jumble of people and the enthusiastic frenzy, the book sale was everything one could hope for in a book sale. It was so large we were each handed both a map and an index to help guide us through the tables and tables and tables of words. There were dozens of volunteers in dayglo vests constantly re-sorting, replenishing, and assisting browsers. There was a cafe set up for those that needed a pick-me-up. Really I didn't need any books (though how could I not get some!) but I enjoyed roaming through the aisles of different types of books perusing or simply watching the crowds as I read titles and ran my hand along the spines. I liked that the women next to me took the day off work to come forage with us. I liked going to the reject boxes to see which books were wanted at first but returned on second thought. I liked imagining what type of people had owned each book and why they finally choose to let it go. I liked that there was a line up of people there to donate books they had bought last year so they could be reshelved for someone else to buy this year. And I liked that all the proceeds went to help with suicide prevention. I like that the last hour of the book sale they sell of books by the kilogram. But again, what's not to like about a room full of books.