Lewis Jaffe is the “junkie” in question. When you browse his blog, you’ll discover a fascinating, virtual collection of bookplates—including those of Greta Garbo, Sigmund Freud, and Czar Nicolas II. Then there’s Walt Disney’s bookplate, and Noel Coward’s … and seemingly hundreds more belonging to the famous, the infamous, and the unknown. Take a look. But do so when you have some time to spare, because it’s easy to be drawn into this intriguing, unique book blog.

Our rare books gallery is easy to use. Browse the page for collectible-book ideas, or use the big search box in the middle of the page. Simply type the name of an author or title; click the check boxes to pinpoint first editions, signed copies, or volumes including dust jackets; and then click the Search button. I did this and discovered a $750 first edition of A Wrinkle in Time—one of my favorite childhood books—that had been signed by Madeleine L’Engle. Since that’s a little steep for this blogger’s budget, I tried again and ended up with a $90 first edition of Bus Station Mystery—one of those Boxcar Children books that captivated me as I was discovering the pleasures and intrigues of fiction as a young reader.

Give it a try and see what treasures (and holiday gifts) you can find!

As my reading habits have changed over the years, so has my collection. At first, it was mainly stocked with science fiction and fantasy titles. Slan, by A. E. Van Vogt, and Have Space Suit, Will Travel, by Robert Heinlein, were among my first acquisitions. But like anything else, times and interests change. I’m currently going through a mystery phase, with fairly recent additions like Flood, Strega, and Blue Bell, by Andrew Vachss; The Black Echo, by Michael Connelly; and A Thief Of Time and The Blessing Way, by Tony Hillerman. I’ve also been nurturing a nonfiction phase, with titles like The Executioners Song, by Norman Mailer, and Chuck Amuck, by Chuck Jones, making the cut.

My collection really took off during the mid 1990s, as modern firsts were all the rage and I had developed a good eye towards purchasing the right titles for my customers. As that part of the business grew, so did my purchasing, both for the store and for my own shelves.

One of the more pleasant aspects about owning a bookstore is that customers are always letting you know about the great book they just read. When I noticed a trend (either from brisk sales or if many customers were recommending it), I’d make the effort to read that title to see what all the fuss was about. Most often, the book was OK, but every once in a while, a real treasure was identified in this fashion and then added to my collection. For instance, The Red Dragon, by Thomas Harris, was a huge customer favorite, and after reading it, I worked hard to locate and purchase every first edition copy that could be found. The book was a huge success (as were both versions of the film), plus, because it took the author ten years to release a sequel, he really helped it to keep its collectible status intact. I’ve yet to meet Mr. Harris in person, so I do not own a signed copy, but I still have one put away, just in case he comes around. Other customer favorites that also made the collection include Aztec, by Gary Jennings, Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card, and The Stand, by Stephen King. All four are great reads and are on my personal top-ten best books list*.

I also do not limit the collection to first editions or signed books, as I have many odd editions and/or later printings that are treasured additions, usually because of a personal reason or connection to the work. Most of these will have little to no value to anyone but me, which is just fine. An example would be the Dr. Seuss books I have collected over the years, as none of them are true first editions, nor are any signed by the author. Titles like Horton Hears a Who and Green Eggs and Ham are not only considered classics but are great fun to have around—plus they also make excellent gifts. Another title that I’ve come across and have purchased multiple copies of is Walter the Farting Dog, by William Kotzwinkle, Glenn Murray, and Elizabeth Gundy. This wonderfully illustrated book takes a slightly off-color topic and makes it into an exciting and heartwarming story for children. I’ve gifted around seven or eight copies so far and will continue to do so, whenever the opportunity presents itself.

If you are looking to start your own collection, make sure to have the right mindset going in. If you want to collect for strictly monetary reasons, you should be very careful about what you buy. Try to make sure that whatever you do purchase will still be a sought-after title in five, ten, or even 20 years. This is an extremely tough thing to do, and I know this from my own experiences. Chances are that if you really like something, there will be hundreds, if not thousands, of other people who will also feel the same way. The problem is that there are many circumstances that need to all come into alignment before a book can become considered collectible, and really enjoying it is usually only the first step. I could attempt to divulge all of my own theories and practices about collecting for profit here, but would need far more time and space, as it is a topic all unto itself.

If, on the other hand, you collect what you love, you will have none of these problems, speculations, or worries. You will be free to add, cull, give away, and/or replace any item inside of your collection at any time.

As a bookseller, I have seen some amazing collections over the years. One woman took me to her house to see her collection of blue books. Every book she collected had a blue cover. She loved to read, but more importantly, she loved to read and collect blue books. Another customer had the most incredible collection of reference books I had ever seen (more than 7,000 titles in all). Included in this collection was the world’s smallest printed edition of Webster’s Dictionary (which measured one square-inch and was impossible to read without a magnifying glass).

My all-time favorite, though, was a finicky little man who had amassed the largest collection of cookbooks I have ever seen. When I first saw this collection back in 1999, I estimated that it was close to 20,000 titles and growing. The funniest part about it was that he absolutely refused to do any cooking; he ate all his meals out. The collection had originally belonged to his mother (and to her mother before that), so he was doing his part to keep the tradition alive. He managed to purchase at least one new cookbook a week (sometimes more), plus he was already involving his niece in any decisions made concerning the collection, as she would be the next member of their family to take it over. In my humble opinion, this is what collecting should be about: passing the love of books and of reading from one generation to the next.

No matter how big or small your collection might be, I encourage you to continue adding to it whenever possible. It’s tough to explain to anyone (even to myself) the reasoning behind the madness, but in the end, I know it brings some serenity to my life that I really enjoy. It’s kind of like having comfort food for your brain. Just make sure to keep feeding your brain and you will be a happy collector!

*Just for the heck of it, I’ve included my personal top-ten list (in no particular order), if only to see whether I can stir up any debates!

• The Red Dragon and The Silence of the Lambs, by Thomas Harris: I actually consider these two books to be one big story. Try to forget that he wrote a third and is under contract to submit a fourth book to the series.
• Stranger in a Strange Land, by Robert Heinlein: It is a little dated but still a great read. Give it a try and then let me know if you grokked it. [Editor’s note: Jay’s post just helped me to learn that Heinlein coined the term “grok.” Maybe this is a revelation to you too?]
• Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk: It’s at least 60 times better than the movie. Ok, maybe 100 times better.
• Aztec, by Gary Jennings: I’ve read this book three times over the last 20 years and will do so again soon. It’s a long one, so make sure to set aside some time. I’m glad that no one has tried to make a movie of it yet.
• The Stand, by Stephen King: This is King’s best piece of long fiction. He is also a fabulous short-story writer, so feel free to give Night Shift a try as well.
• Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card: This is heavy science fiction but a great read because the author has created a unique story, which includes a surprise ending for both the reader and the main character!
• The Stranger beside Me, by Ann Rule: This is one of the best (and creepiest) true-crime stories ever written. Turns out that the author and Ted Bundy had worked together around the time he went off on his killing spree.
• Me Talk Pretty One Day, by David Sedaris: This may be one of the funniest books I’ve ever read, although I had to read it in stages as I kept losing my place while laughing.
• The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody, by Will Cuppy: History buffs will love this book, as it sends up some of the greatest people who ever lived. The chapter on Cleopatra alone makes it a true treasure.
• Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot, by John Callahan: This is the autobiography of the quadriplegic cartoonist. It will make you both laugh and cry—but mostly laugh, as his sense of humor is unique and quite sick.

In his preface, Robert H. Jackson describes this book in the following manner:

… [Book Talk] addresses the sharing of information, and takes the reader on a tour of some major ideas and controversies now current in the rare book world such as the future of the book in a printed format and special collections, the book trade and the Internet, and collecting trends. While all kinds of sources of information for collectors are available, this volume provides a unique compilation of the field today by prominent writers. The contributors have an active personal involvement in their topics, which range from fifteenth-century Italian methods of textual illustration to book dealers’ strategies to scholarship to how book dealers stoke the passion for collecting.

In one such essay, Bruce Whiteman opens with the oft-asked and sometimes wearing question, “Just what exactly is a rare book?” He proceeds to provide a thoughtful response, starting with an historical exposition that carefully explains the difficulties in researching volumes without today’s modern technology. Moving to the present, he highlights the ease with which, through the use of modern tools, books can now be located anywhere in the world. As he sagely makes the point, books once considered to be rare are revealed—with improved search capabilities—to be much more common. It is a warning, I think, not to use the word rare lightly when describing a book, but to spend some time in research determining whether the book truly deserves that sobriquet.

Another essay discusses the excitement of gradually building a collection over a period of many years, based on specialist interests. As Arthur L. Schwarz explains, “I love reading history, but in truth, if it happened after 1688 I really do not care. Unless it is royal. Or London. Or just plain interesting.” Fine books and an all-consuming interest in history eventually cascaded in multiple ways across his life. He soon found himself writing about rare books, going so far as to provide instruction while simultaneously teaching courses in British history using unusual books as additional resources. It is clear from the reading of this commentary that he obviously enjoys his books and the discovery of history. His joy is contagious. Books are not static: They breathe, they have lives of their own, and they draw the collector into their lives.

If you’ve ever wondered about books as books, then reading this particular text will provide an intelligent overview of a marvelously fascinating, endlessly enticing world—one that is passionately pursued by many people for many reasons. I recommend Book Talk for the perspective, depth, and insight contained within its covers. It is a panorama.

Fast-forward to that summer. I was 22. Every weekend, I started riding my bike to local yard sales—the perfect place to stumble upon all manner of interesting, and sometimes collectible, books. At the very first sale, I peeked into a box to find a dozen pristine copies of Saul Bellow’s Herzog (weird, I know), which all turned out to be book club editions. This fact only came to light because the owner kindly told me so. He’d mistakenly bought them while thinking they were first editions. He also happened to be a rare book dealer whose house was sinking under the weight of books—some of which needed jettisoning. He suggested that I obtain a copy of Collected Books, an encyclopedic price-guide/how-to tome about book collecting by Patricia Ahearn and Allen Ahearn. He also said to request book catalogs from booksellers who carried my collecting interests. (This was all pre-Internet, of course.)

I quickly began to read tons of books about books (a collecting genre in its own right). I discovered points of issues, proofs, off-prints, limited editions, and foreign editions. There was so much more to learn—too much—but I kept at it. Questions arose, though. How would I collect my favorite authors in their entirety? Should I go global and include British editions?

Weekend book foraging extended to library-step book sales, to local bookstores, and to book fairs at the South End Church. I also went to the Brattle Bookstore after school to see what new stuff had come in for sale. There was an endless array of resources for filling in the gaps in my collection. As a result, I managed to hone my collection over time to cover a few select areas, which were Irish poetry, Pulitzer Prize–winning novels, and favorite fiction writers (Milan Kundera, Thomas Mann, and Philip Roth).

In Collected Books, the Ahearns advised collectors-to-be that having a book signed by its author increased its value. For me, having an autographed copy somehow brought the author closer to their book—the volume that I happened to be holding. Thus, I discovered signed books. Boston, with its deep literary roots, had hoards of famous authors coming through to either lecture at local universities or to read from their latest books. These events were all listed in the Sunday edition of The Boston Globe, so I would eagerly tear out the book section and plan my strategy to attend as many as possible. I must have gone to hundreds of readings over the years.

Today, the Internet somewhat obviates the need to search all over creation for a hard-to-locate item, but you still need to know what to look for in terms of condition, edition, pricing, and seller reliability. Much of this information can only be learned from careful study, but that is so worth the effort. Doing so will not only cultivate the collector in you but will also enhance the wonder of books and the thrill of finding what you never knew existed, until you had it in your hands. Good luck in your collecting endeavors.

Years later, a friend recommended Naked, the collection of autobiographical shorts by David Sedaris that details his life growing up as a young gay man in a dysfunctional Greek-American family in the American South. I was hooked by Sedaris’s hilariously irreverent and insightful humor. After attending many of Sedaris’s speaking engagements, I found myself with signed first editions of Barrel Fever, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, and—the perfect holiday gift for the cynic on your list—Holidays on Ice. (Experience Sedaris on NPR, where you can click a link and listen to him reading “SantaLand Diaries” from Holidays on Ice.)

I discovered Sarah Vowell, radio personality and fairly nascent star of Pixar’s The Incredibles, when I heard her read aloud from Take the Cannoli at an L.A. book fair. Intrigued by Vowell’s quick wit and acumen for democracy, American history, and all things pop culture, I grabbed a signed copy of Take the Cannoli. Since then, I’ve had Vowell sign copies of The Partly Cloudy Patriot and Assassination Vacation at additional readings. (If you’d like a good laugh, listen to Sarah on NPR, where she reads the preface from the hilarious and wry Assassination Vacation.)

Rounding out my NPR-related collection are two works by self-deprecating humorist, David Rakoff (listen to him here). I’ve managed to obtain copies of Fraud and Don’t Get Too Comfortable: The Indignities of Coach Class, the Torments of Low Thread Count, the Never-Ending Quest for Artisanal Olive Oil, and Other First World Problems. Now when I glance at my book collection, I see an entire shelf devoted to stories that migrated from the airwaves to print.