Charles Scribner’s Sons bookstore on Fifth Avenue in April 1984._Jim Wilson/The New York Times
“Second-hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.”~Virginia Woolf … BOOKSHOP WINDOW, Bloomsbury Street by Garry Knight (Photographer. LONDON, ENGLAND).
By LARRY McMURTRY ♦ Literary merchants reigned once upon a time, but not happily ever after.
IN the fall of 1965, I arrived in New York City, flush with somebody else’s oil money, to purchase books for a bookshop I was managing in Houston.
I am glad I got to glimpse the legendary booksellers from this splendid generation. They were beginning to thin out even as I arrived. The Argosy Book Store and the Strand are still operating, but most of the rest are gone, felled not by the Internet, but merely by scoundrel time. Here is a brief honor roll of bookshops now vanished: the Seven Gables Bookshop; House of Books Ltd.; Scribner’s; the Gotham Book Mart; the Carnegie Book Shop; Dauber & Pine; the Eberstadt Brothers; University Place Book Shop; Ursus Books; House of El Dieff; and Parnassus Books.
I was only in this Elysium for two days in 1965, but I was drawn back many, many times since and still go back, though now I feel as if I am visiting a city of ghosts.
I was reading the Sunday Times: Opinion, until the last two lines above, then inspiration when it stroke; “I was only in this Elysium for two days in 1965…and still go back, though now I feel as if I am visiting a city of ghost.” then, when I remembered the quote that Italo Calvino said:
The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts.
Suddenly, all the Prompts that I was writing about, and from which I got sometime inspired, they came to my mind like heaps of pieces of puzzles that got scattered around, then by something vacuumed and assembled in such kaleidoscopic images; to wonder about those lost book stores of New york’s past, not so far long; they where like the pigeons-tower houses adobe of olden, for flock of wild books, that came from far away back home. They carried in them dreams, stories, joys, and tears, news and truths not always good to be said. Homeless books, dog-eared, had been witnesses of too many past owners handling, but still with the charm resisting the patina of time.
“The novel speaks to us quietly, and stays with us,_” where you read on paper or on-screen, the act of reading creates the same connection_ by, Michelle W. Daily Prompts
Those lost booksellers were hosts of millions bees, hives that harbors wanted rare guests, now no more than parts of memories. Ghosts-books that still hunting some Victorians libraries.
For, the love of books…