Allan Milkerit, 1945-2007

Kinky 2

More from Joe Marchione:

I've owned 37 of Kinky Friedman's books over the years, 36 sold, one stolen. Currently have none in stock. So you're talking about a writer who was a sure (albeit low-to middle-end) seller and one I'd continue to pick up, though only at thrift/library sale prices.

All collected writers have a book that is particularly elusive and valuable. For Kinky it was Musical Chairs -- unusual because it was his fifth book. There seemed to be no particular reason for the scarcity ... no change in publisher or anything like that. It was a quintessential Allan book. You needed to know it was uncommon. You couldn't rely on cues like hey, this is his first book.

I remember once Allan had gone on a scouting trip with John Lelas. He and John came back into the store while I was working and Allan started unloading his haul. He took great delight when thefirst book I picked up was Musical Chairs. He nudged John and said, "See, what did I tell you.... First book he picked up." I imagined it was the coup de grace to a discussion that took place when Allan first found the book. I was happy that I provided my little bit of validation to his find (and, truth be told, secretly proud that my reaction was valued enough to provide some little bit of validation).

Straight from the database, here our sales of Musical Chairs. Read it and weep:

7/18/1998      $95 (In-store, retail)
1/28/1999      $125 (In store, retail)
5/5/2000        $80 (Collector, large in-store purchase with discount)
5/13/2000      $76 (Book fair, dealer sale)
8/10/2001      $90 (ABE)
12/16/2003    $72.25 (eBay)
2/16/2005      $19.60 (Dealer sale)

There are now 79 firsts on ABE with the cheapest VG copy starting at $5.75+ shipping. Sigh.

Kinky 1

Joe Marchione, Allan's former partner at Valhalla Books, was inspired by the previous post to write:

While I try to keep my comments for this blog focused on various facets of Allan, one line you wrote got me thinking in more general terms about the future of bookselling ... need to purge by posting even though it's not done or I'll never get my Q3 sales tax done...

" ...how much second-hand bookselling...has changed in a handful of years."

On my good days, I read a comment like this one about Burgess and try to convince myself that if you think about it, things really are not *that* different now from the way they used to be. Authors come into vogue, slip back out, same as it ever was. I rationalize that every generation imagines themselves on the edge of something new, of some radical change that will fundamentally change an aspect of life that is important to them. No matter if that place is viewed as a cutting edge or a precipice, the tendency to believe that we stand on the steeply sloped part of an exponential curve at the moment we live in, here-and-now (whenever that here-and-now may be) could be a fundamental human trait and, in retrospect, proves to be illusion.

That's on my good days. I haven't had a lot of good days recently.

Earlier today, a fellow bookseller (brick & mortar, general stock, highly technophobic) who used to pick Allan's brain about 1st editions came in with a stack of books by mystery writer Kinky Friedman. At one time, these books would been worth something. Friedman was a mid-list mystery writer, always salable with a least one title that consistently commanded (and received) mid- to high- two figure prices.

My half-smile and shrug probably told my colleague all he needed to know but I went through the motions anyway, checking each title on-line for him. It turned out my indifferent shrug way overestimated value. The collectible market for Friedman had basically collapsed. He is still salable, but at reading copy prices -- meaning $10 or so -- for signed first editions. Mind you, he's still alive, writing and selling new books. What happened?

That illusion I was talking about in the first paragraph? Sometimes it's no illusion. I sit here composing this draft on Google docs, my efforts periodically and seamlessly saved to The Cloud. I am a click and a search from what most of us, 30 years ago, would have imagined as heaven ..., a bookstore in that same (OK, not really, but close enough) cloud, where a nearly unimaginable number of books proclaim their availability, needing no more than a click and a credit card to bring them to us. That technology has radically affected the supply side of the book marketplace need hardly be examined. A curmudgeonly rant about what we are losing might make me feel good but is, in the end, useless. Worse, the supply side of the equation is not what I am most worried about.

Are we a generation or two away from childhood completely without books? I mean the physical objects ... with covers and pages and smells and texture. And if so, what difference will it make? Remember, I'm not positing a world without stories. In fact I can imagine a child being every bit as enamored with Ferdinand the Bull as I was. The exact same story. But for them, the memory may well be of words on a computer screen, moving illustrations above the words, an actor's voice. Better? Worse? Probably neither. Just different. But twilight of the booksellers? Probably.