Isadore Brodsky and Me

At some point in mid-1980s, I decided that I wanted a copy of Isadore Brodsky's Sydney's Phantom Bookshops (Sydney, 1973), but was unable to find one in any of the new and second-hand bookshops that I visited.

Whether I encountered a reference to the book in my reading, or a bookseller had suggested that I read it, or even whether I had found the book myself, while browsing library shelves for Australian books on book-collecting—which I probably did, about the time I was reading A. Edward Newton’s This Book-Collecting Game (Boston, 1928)—I can’t now recall.

What I do recall is that, since I was (fortunately, as it turned out), young and gloriously naïve, I decided to go directly to the Sydney University Co-op bookshop on Broadway in Ultimo—the publisher—and ask for a copy, figuring they should still have one. After a long walk to my local station, a long train journey to Central Station, and a long walk from Central to Broadway, I was told that the book was out of print, that they didn’t have a copy in stock, and may never had carried it.

When I pointed out that Sydney University Co-op bookshop was, in fact, the publisher of the book, and that they must have a copy somewhere, a manager was called over. Fortunately, he recalled the book, disappeared into a storage room to search for stray copies, and emerged, struggling with a heavy-looking box.

"How many do you want?" he asked jokingly. It was an unopened box of copies! I asked the price, and he suggested fifty cents a copy. I made a snap decision—based much more on how much money I had on me, than on how many copies I thought I could easily carry home—and bought twenty copies for ten dollars! It was a very long journey home, longer it seemed than it had been to get from home to Ultimo, with many, many rest stops along the way, but I secured twenty copies of the book.

And here, a sane person might ask, as my family did once I eventually got home: "But why though?" A reasonable question, since you can only read one at a time, and even a brute who rips out each page of a book, once it's been read, would be unlikely to read-and-destroy twenty copies of Sydney's Phantom Bookshops in a row.

The answer to this very reasonable question is probably to be found in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, or a combination of genome sequencing and years-long therapy. Alternatively, you could consult Dibdin's Bibliomania (1809) or Halbrook Jackson’s The Anatomy of Bibliomania (1930), or—as mentioned—Newton's This Book-Collecting Game, which I read in December 1986.

My justification, at the time, was that I was going to profit from my bold and exhausting actions by selling nine-tenths of them, which is what I did. I gave one copy to a close friend, and I recall selling a large handful to Peter Tinsley, from ABC (The Antique Bookshop and Curios), then in Spofforth Street, Cremorne, but now on the Pacific Highway in Crows Nest (above Tyrrell's old shop). Other copies were sold in ones or twos to other booksellers in Sydney and Hobart, over many years, until I was left with just the single copy I now have and treasure.

Although, I am sure, almost everything written by Brodsky could now be significantly improved on, my interest in Sydney’s long history of second-hand bookselling was fired up by the book, and in particular the rear panel of the dust jacket (above), which has a photograph of a goodly collection of Sydney bookseller’s labels: 113 by my count. As this website explains: "Back in the good old days, some of your 'better' booksellers, of both new and second-hand tomes, often affixed their own custom-printed labels inside the books they sold." After spending a lot of time staring at Brodsky's picture, and searching through my books, I was able to assemble a modest collection of my own.

(I plan a post or a series of posts on these so I will only say here that, in a weak moment, in a period of penury, I was persuaded to sell my collection of fifty labels to an Austrian collector (Reinhard Öhlberger, of Vienna), who—I only recently discovered—went on to publish one of the few books on the subject: Wenn am Buch der Händler klebt (1999). I have since assembled a second collection, of about three hundred labels, but have not been able to replace many of the ones I had in the 80s. A copy of Wenn am Buch der Händler klebt is on its way to me now and, after it arrives, I will post more on this subject.)

On a recent trip to Sydney, I found copies of two other works by Brodsky in secondhand bookshops: The Streets of Sydney (1962) and The Sydney Press Gang (1974). After leafing through each, I decided against buying them, though they were both cheap. According to his Wikipedia page (here), wrote a regular column—"Out of the Past"—for The Sun newspaper, about the history of Sydney. His books are certainly journalistic, which both a good and a bad thing. Although they are a little insubstantial and lack the scholarly exactness that I prefer these days, they are light, easy, and fun to read: perfect for the "young and impressionable creature" (††) I once was.

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(**) I bought a lot of books from Peter from the mid-80s through the mid-90s, when he moved to Crows Nest, and I moved to Melbourne, and I learned a lot by reading his catalogues. My copy of Newton's This Book-Collecting Game, from the library of Walter Stone, was bought from Peter. It is the first trade edition; a 1930 reprint is here. Peter has a copy of Sydney's Phantom Bookshops for sale at the moment (here), but it isn’t one he got from me: they would have sold donkey’s years ago!

(††) this phrase seems to date back to about 1840s, so I assume it can be used ironically now. One of the earliest citations I can find is this glorious passage from Mrs. Gordon Smythies' The Matchmaker: A Novel (London, 1842), 130: "… with a woman's rapidity of thought, she in a moment conceived and discarded a suspicion that Julian had wished to excite the interest and win the affection of this young and impressionable creature." (For more on Julian and this young and impressionable creature, see here.)

(‡‡) This whole post is a footnote to my previous post, in which I mention Brodsky's Sydney's Phantom Bookshops.

(§§) Some of the images in this post are taken from this copy, for sale online. I strongly recommend buying this copy—before I do something stupid, like making it my 21st copy.