Mrs. Wife turned me loose on Cecil Court, which is the epicenter for rare book dealers here in London. It’s a hornet’s nest of trouble for someone with my proclivity. I was just going to “look” because the exchange rate is so abysmal that it doesn’t make sense to buy anything. Yea, right. Two hours later:

● A signed first edition of the script from Fever Pitch by Nick Hornby. (In paperback. There was never a hardcover issue.)

● A signed UK hardcover first edition of Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey

● A copy of Intrepid—a poetry mimeo journal from 1967 with an appearance by Charles Bukowski

● A signed hardcover first edition of Purple American by Rick Moody that has a wrap-around promotional band advertising the paperback release—a real oddity!

The first step is admitting…oh, never mind.

As I mentioned earlier, I saw The Female of the Species and loved it very much. I was going to attempt to describe how good of an actress Sophie Thompson is but, thankfully, Bob said it far better than I ever could.

We went to the big Ian Fleming retrospective at the Imperial War Museum. I know for a fact that the vast majority of you, the reading public, probably wouldn’t be the least bit interested in spending an afternoon ogling—no, salivating over—a complete set of first edition Bond novels in perfect dust jackets along with (are you sitting down?) many of the original manuscripts and many other sundry literary items, but I was in heaven. There was some movie memorabilia that was kinda fun but the bulk of the exhibit focused on Fleming’s literary output. How did he ever get away with calling a character Pussy Galore? In 1959?! Pussy Galore was a lesbian who worked for Goldfinger. She was converted to heterosexuality by James Bond’s superior lovemaking skills. They don’t write ‘em like that anymore! The exhibit was so good that I might ditch Mrs. Wife tomorrow and see it a second time. That wouldn’t be too crazy, right?

After the low-art of Bond we went high-end at the Courtald Galleries. It was an unexpected surprise. Who would have suspected that such a small, unassuming gallery would house such a spectacular collection of Impressionist work? They have a Cézanne exhibit which was okay, but their permanent collection is a real smack in the kisser. It includes Manet’s most famous work, A Bar at the Folies-Bergère…

…along with van Gogh’s Self Portrait with Bandaged Ear. Also, a big room full o’ Rubens, if you like that sort of thing.

If you’re going to visit Buckingham Palace, then do yourself a favor and bring Bob along. He has ninja-like skills when it comes to skewering the bubbles of pomposity with a well-timed quip. It’s like having the audio commentary supplied by Statler and Waldorf. We passed through the room where the Queen’s children were baptized “with water from the River Jordan.” Bob thought it could quite possibly also be the room where all that royalty was conceived. He works blue.

Arrived in London from an overnight flight a few hours ago. Typically, we are calm, cool, sophisticated travelers from another Metropolis. This time, however, we are going to be über tourists. A sassy West End musical. The Ian Fleming exhibit at the British War Museum. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if we wound up on the top deck of a big red bus. We’ve even made reservations to tour Buckingham Palace. While there, I want to try and use the royal loo. That’d be as close as I’ll ever get to a throne.

* * *

You can tell what rung of the economic ladder you occupy by where you sit in an airplane. Are you up front in one of the comfy “sleeping pods” or are you waaaay in the rear of the plane with a seat back just a few inches from you nose? Who knew they could fit 64 rows of seats on an airplane? It’s surprising, but they did it. Well, if you don’t like those flying arrangements, perhaps you should have worked a little harder and paid attention in school.

While being served dinner, I asked the steward if first class has eaten yet. He said that not only have they already eaten, but the crew just sang them lullabies and they are already asleep, so please don’t make a lot of noise by clanging my plastic flatware together. Funny.

If you check the comments of my previous post, you’ll see that the always lovely nursemyra had a few good questions regarding book collecting. Here’s a short answer for you, my dear.

Like Dante’s hell, there are many levels to collecting a book. First there’s the manuscript, which neither you nor I will ever see. Then there are the galley proofs. Although pretty rare, I’ve seen a few. Then there are Advanced Review Copies (ARCs) and proofs, which are fairly common if you know where to look. Then, the first edition. Did I leave anything out, mjp?

If any of these are signed, all the better. To some collectors, the earlier a book’s iteration, the more desirable. Others are only interested in first editions. There are SO MANY nuances. Does an author tour and sign? If not, signed copies will be sold at a premium. The smaller the first edition print run, the better. Those Harry Potter and Stephen King firsts? Worthless because there are so many of them (not counting the early titles). Do you “follow the flag?” (This means to only collect the first edition in the author’s home country, i.e., only the British firsts of Graham Greene, only the Australian firsts of Peter Carey.) I could go on and on ad nauseum. Feel free to email me.

If you buy a first edition that’s signed, you cannot read it. Reading it, even once, degrades its condition and condition is paramount. Who in their right mind buys a book that cannot be read? It’s nuts. My advice is to not get caught up in collecting books. Or shooting craps. Both are quicksand.