On Falling Prey to Yet Another Book Sale

This weekend at Wells Library, the Indiana University Library Association held its annual book sale. Being altogether too aware of the hoarding-inducing effect these sales have on me, I opted to wait until this afternoon, when books would be sold for $2 a bag. I figured that way, my accumulations might be the same in the end but I could use up the change at the bottom of my purse!

I arrived at the sale knowing I would be taking the bus home eventually, so whatever I bought I would have to cart around with me in the meantime. At UW-L sales, I would emerge with bagfuls that I could not physically carry. This time, I was determined to keep it manageable. When I entered the room the book sale was held in (E174, otherwise known as “that room between the library foyer doors” to IU folk) I was simultaneously overwhelmed and impressed. My fellow cheapo scavengers were jammed in the narrow aisles between boxes upon boxes of books, each looking rabidly toward their accumulations before shuffling through the next pile of potential treasures. It was clearly my type of people, though I wasn’t necessarily in the mood to hunt.

I saw fellow SLIS friends who were volunteering and they informed me that the amount of materials had been double the previous day. I truly wish I had a picture of the disarray to share. Imagine this, though: space-wise, UW-L’s book sale took place in a room of comparable dimensions, and IU is four times UW-L’s size. That’s a lot of books and a lot of book hunters commingling in one very small place. Heating the place up, literally; half the reason I didn’t bring home more than I did is probably because I needed to escape the blazing inferno.

I’m happy to say I spent around half an hour at the book sale and didn’t do nearly the amount of digging I could have. There were a lot of odds and ends at the book sale and more than ever as I review my selections I am reminded of how cheap my tastes are. I love battered pulp paperbacks, torn scraps of ephemera, the charming typography and faded ink of decades past; I wasn’t hunting for valuable books to resell, just whimsical finds that I may someday make into art journals. Here are some photos:

Birds of America! Ephemera about victory gardens and Leningrad! A Polish (?) children’s book!
I may have a thing for maps, especially pocket sized collections of them.
Pretty atlas, in which I promptly found B-town. 
I judge books by their covers allllll the time. Especially cheap paperbacks like this one, which I’m an absolute sucker for.
Le Petit Prince, I saved you! In many languages… none of which are my mother tongue, to the LSB’s perpetual amusement. 
There weren’t only old, crumbling books I leapt to save at the book sale; I found copies of some brand-new novels in almost perfect condition. 
Sure enough, Francine came creeping around to see what my makeshift photography setup was all about. Maybe she spotted the bird?

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