To not buy any books (and instead make better use of the library) is a lofty goal, but surely I have the willpower to not buy multiple copies of the same book?
Yes?
NO.
Not buying multiple copies of the same book is a rule I set for myself (unsuccessfully, evidently) because I have a problem with aesthetics over content, and buying multiple copies of the same book is one of the avoidable ways it manifests in my life (obsessing over aesthetic consistency on Instagram is another way, but let’s save that conversation for another time).
So let’s see which stunning books I made exceptions for, shall we?
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
So they soon forgot their pride, and interchanged kindnesses without stopping to think which was the greater.
In the summer of 2012, on a free afternoon during my week-long public speaking program at UC Berkeley, I strolled into the Shakespeare & Co in the neighbourhood (closed in 2015). Leafing through the stacks, I found a gorgeous antique edition of Little Women, which I brought up to the clerk to enquire about its price. He flipped to the first page to look for a price scrawled in pencil at the top right corner but found none, then closed the book and handed it back to me for $2. I paid, wide-eyed, thanking him profusely, then got out of there as quickly as I could before he changed his mind.
I didn’t get around to reading Little Women until the winter of 2019, in anticipation of the new film adaptation. I had to borrow another copy to read because my antique was falling apart. Disappointingly, I found the story a bit of a bore, too sweet, too preachy about being a “good girl.” I read Part 1 and called it a day (the second part is technically a separate book, Good Wives, but most US editions publish both books together as one book in two parts). Thus disappeared any temptation I had of collecting a second edition, specifically the Puffin in Bloom edition—my favourite modern edition.
I won the Puffin in Bloom edition the summer of 2020 via an Instagram giveaway.
Later that summer I finally watched the new film adaptation of Little Women, and to my surprise, I absolutely loved it and shed more than a few tears. I think I’ll have to reread Little Women with new eyes and give Good Wives a chance as well. Good thing I have my Puffin in Bloom edition on hand to flip through since the spine of the other is literally hanging by a thread.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote
I don’t want to own anything until I know I’ve found the place where me and things belong together.
Okay, this one I have a problem with. At four-almost-five copies, it’s a proper collection.
The one that started it all was the 10th anniversary Vintage edition. At $7, it was expensive for a common secondhand contemporary edition, but it was the spring of 2019 and I had just joined bookstagram and had just started thrifting regularly (bad habit). It was the first time I had come across the book in the wild and it was hard not to get excited. I had watched the film ages ago and had meant to read the novella for awhile. At $7, it was cheaper than from Amazon, so I bought it.
A month later I found the same edition for $3 at a different secondhand bookstore. I did not buy it. We can all breathe a sigh of relief.
In the winter of 2019, I stumbled upon a pristine Book Club Edition—the red dust jacket a facsimile of the true First Edition, but with black boards underneath instead of the original yellow cloth binding. I knew I couldn’t afford a true First Edition (a few ask for $800+ but most ask for thousands), and even if I could, I don’t know that I should, so I snatched up the BCE for $14.
A month after the second acquisition for my collection, I finally read the novella. I was nervous about not liking it as much as I had the film adaptation, rendering me a fake fan, but the two turned out to be very different, incomparable, and I was able to love each in their own way. Whilst the film adaptation told a glamorous Hollywood romance between a beautiful woman and a beautiful man, the novella showed a flawed woman who didn’t need or want to be saved. I loved that the Holly Golightly in the novella wasn’t your typical literary heroine. She was truly a wild thing, tethered to nothing, to no place and certainly to no man.
With my genuine love for the story consolidated, I acquired two unique Signet paperback editions in one fell swoop whilst browsing online bookstores for the first time in my life, as one does whilst housebound essentially all of 2020: a first paperback printing with an illustrated cover for $10, and an eighth paperback printing with a movie tie-in cover for $8. I liked how differently Holly Golightly was pictured on the two editions and couldn’t pick between them. The first paperback printing portrays a more Marilyn Monroe type more true to the novella, and the eighth paperback printing has Audrey Hepburn herself.
And now it’s time to get meta. Whilst drafting this post, I found a fourth printing of a First Edition on Etsy for $75—yellow cloth binding, red dust jacket and all that jazz. I did not seriously consider buying it until I started typing out for this post how they often sell for at least $800.
I bought it.
In case you’ve lost count, that’s five. I have never spent so much on a single book and hopefully never again will. But silver lining!! I sold my BCE for $24—which, if you recall, I bought for $14—so we’re back down to four copies!
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the over-compensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn’t nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand.
One copy was $1, the other was $0.25, and I couldn’t make up my mind about which edition I liked more, so naturally, I bought both. This sort of casual consumption is exactly what I’m trying to combat with my not-buying-multiple-copies-of-the-same-book rule, but I think I need to refocus myself from labouring over these $1 purchases to resisting those, ahem, $75 purchases. And also those $12+ purchases (12 seems like a good number).
I bought and read Brave New World in the summer of 2019. It was the first classic I read since the winter of 2017, so I found the language difficult and it was not a fun reading experience per say, but this quote alone left a deep impression on me, and for that I consider my experience with this story worthwhile.
In a world that seems to get more extreme and more oppositional by the day, I’ve been thinking about the idea of dull happiness a lot. At this point in my life, I think I’d rather have dull happiness over the grand struggle for it, though that’s very World State of me. This lifestyle I think I prefer is at odds with the dystopian society Brave New World illustrates, which I obviously don’t prefer: a society where citizens are assigned predetermined roles to guarantee this optimised lifestyle of dull happiness.
Lots to think about there. I’m sure that my opinion on this will change in varying degrees throughout my life. What better reason to revisit a story? What better reason to keep a book?
Know My Name by Chanel Miller
Victims exist in a society that tells us our purpose is to be an inspiring story. But sometimes the best we can do is tell you we’re still here, and that should be enough. Denying darkness does not bring anyone closer to the light.
I had vaguely heard of Know My Name around its publication date in the autumn of 2019, but didn’t feel any urgency to read it until everyone was still talking about it for weeks on after. Once I looked into what the book was about, my curiosity was piqued. By the winter of 2019, the library wait list for the book was way too long, so I read the ebook.
With her memoir, Chanel Miller relinquished her anonymity under “Emily Doe” of the Stanford Rape Case. I was captivated by Chanel’s eloquence, her articulation of every emotion, her honesty and bravery in contending with them, the light and the dark, her quiet power and grace.
Knowing how much I loved the book, my friend gifted me the hardback that same winter. I’m grateful to have this book on hand to turn to when I need it.
In the summer of 2020, I Zoomed into the book tour for the paperback release, for which the event tickets included the paperback with a signed bookplate. I’m telling myself that I paid for the event ($24) and not the book, so technically the book was “free.” Ya know, whatever lets me sleep at night.
Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino
I was learning that in the twenty-first century it would sometimes be impossible to differentiate between the pretext for an experience, the record of that experience, and the experience itself.
I read the ebook in the winter of 2019. I didn’t quite know what to make of it at first, but it had my head spinning and I needed to hold the book in my hands to give my thoughts a place to find anchor, a framework to arrange themselves, an alternative to throwing my hands up in the air yelling, “Fuck this, I’m deactivating Facebook!” (I mean, imma stay deactivated on Facebook tho… I proudly say as I spend hours on Instagram.)
My friend was determined to gift it to me for the holidays but I couldn’t wait. I headed straight to Barnes & Noble to buy it at full price. I couldn’t even wait for Amazon’s two-day shipping!
I skimmed through each essay again, making for a second read, scattering sticky notes in my wake, then created a whole ass outline for each essay by splicing together selected excerpts. Any time I think about internet culture and life in the digital age in general, I always come back to this book and refer to my outline to quickly navigate through the pages.
See my Trick Mirror review + outline here.
My friend gifted me a copy anyway.
I’ve debated over whether I should give away the extra copy on bookstagram (with my friend’s blessing. Her suggestion actually) or keep it. I kind of like the idea of having a second copy on hand, ready to lend out to a curious friend, and chatting about it when they return it. And if they never return it (which is always a risk when lending out a book. I lost my only copy of Michelle Obama’s Becoming this way), I’ll still have my own marked up copy.
I’m still mulling over whether I want to cull my collection (by selling or giving away via bookstagram), but here’s where it stands for now.
December 2020 update: I’ve sold my spare copies of Know My Name and Trick Mirror, and I’ve resolved to donate my spare copy of Brave New World as soon as my local bookstore is accepting donations again!
Are there any books you collect in multiples or do you have more willpower than I do?
PS: my favourite secondhand bookstores in philly, 2020 mid-year reading check-in, 2019 reading recap