posted on 25 Feb 2020

Memoirs of a Book Snake: forty years of seeking and saving old books  by David Meyer

In the world of second hand, collectable and rare books, the figure of the book scout has an almost legendary place in its mythology. By turns a figure of romance, desperation, an almost mystical affinity for books, occasional squalor and an unfathomable eccentricity, the book scout can be both a figure of fun and of admiration all at the same time.

So what is a book scout, you might reasonably ask. Well imagine a life in which you make your living touring every charity shop, junk shop, out-of-the-way curiosity shop or skip where cheap books might just be found, buying them and then touting them to more established second-hand bookshops in the hope of making enough profit to live off. That’s a book scout. And, of course the book scout lives in a state of permanent optimism (and belief) that the big money rarity is to be found in the next dive.

David Meyer was, in truth, only a part-time book scout in his native America but he was a full time bibliophile, author, bookshop assistant and publisher in his time. The title of his memoir comes from an incident when his friend, prone to the occasional malapropism, introduced him as a ‘book snake’ – a creative mashing together of bookworm and book scout. In some odd way it feels like an appropriate label but Meyer never really felt comfortable with it :

“Actually, I prefer the term ‘book scout’, as that is what I do: scout for books. Old bookshops have been the hunting grounds of my life. Also antique shops, second-hand resale shops, sometimes attics and basements, and just plain junk shops.”

Meyer was by his own confession something of an opportunistic book scout, only selling on his finds when he didn’t want the book for himself or his book collecting father. As he drifted from job to job his habit of trawling for books in the most out-of-the-way places followed him everywhere. It soon becomes clear that he is in the grip of a book hunting fever that is common to so many book lovers ( me included) and he’s never really happy or comfortable unless he has the chance to indulge his compulsion. He even finds himself hunting the bookshops of Saigon during his conscription into the army during the war in Vietnam where, even though all the books were in Vietnamese or French – he spoke neither language – he still hunted through the dustiest corners looking for catalogues that included English language listings to send back to the US.

But maybe the prize for the most obscure piece of book hunting must be the uncovering of Nathaniel West’s ‘A Cool Million’ in the mound of books being used to decorate a high street barber’s window.

“After several weeks of driving by, waiting for my hair to grow and worrying that someone else would come out of nowhere and buy the book, I finally walked into the shop when it was full of customers and said, ‘When’s the best time to catch you without waiting?’ I don’t remember his answer – only my next question. ‘Are those books for sale?’”

I enjoy reading these books because I know I’m going to recognise myself on almost every page and I can’t supress an almost permanent sly smile that creeps across my face – a look that is a confirmation of reassurance that I’m not the only book-deranged person out there.

The book is published by Meyer’s own imprint, Waltham Street Press, and is devilishly difficult to find in the UK. You will be able to get it from the US but the price will be inflated by the absurd postal rates that tend to be charged on top of the cover price. So expect to pay nearer £15 than £10.

 

Terry Potter

February 2020