Allison Hoover Bartlett Guest Blogs: On Reading Criminals

2009 at 3pm     Posted by Rebecca Joines Schinsky

Last month, I read a fantastic true story about a rare book thief and the bookseller who made it his life’s work to catch him. Allison Hoover Bartlett’s The Man Who Loved Books Too Much was so great that I just had to share it, so I ran a review and giveaway during BBAW. Allison is here today to share this guest post about reading criminals. Please give her a warm Book Lady’s Blog welcome!

 

allisonhooverbartlett  manwholovedbooks 

No one knows what to expect at the start of a book tour. Before I began mine, I had heard enough horror stories to make me a little apprehensive, like the time my friend had a total of two people show up for her reading, one homeless, drunk and delighted to have found someone to talk to (my friend), and the other in desperate need of some shuteye, which he got. But instead of worrying how to handle drunks and nappers, I focused on practical issues. Which passages would people most enjoy listening to? How could I keep them engaged enough that they could resist texting and tweeting (other frequent pastimes of less-than-ideal attendees)? And what kind of people might show up? While researching my book, I had spent a lot of time roaming the aisles of antiquarian book fairs, so I knew who populated the book collecting world (mostly older, white males), but who were my readers going to be?
 
I can tell you one type of reader I wasn’t expecting: book thieves. Yes, I’d written in depth about one and had detailed the stealthy crimes of many others from the last few centuries, but I hadn’t considered that I’d written for them, until one showed up.
 
There were about a dozen people in the audience on this cool, fall evening. As I read from my book and told them how I had discovered the story, I looked into faces that seemed, to my immense relief, entranced, curious, even surprised. Except for one: a tall, thin man in the corner who scowled at me during my entire presentation. Although his countenance was disconcerting, I noticed that when I described a few book collectors I’d met, he nodded, so I asked if he was a collector. He nodded again.
 
After I signed everyone’s books—everyone’s, that is, except the scowler’s (he had left the store immediately after the reading, without buying the book)—I mentioned him to one of the bookstore’s owners.
 
“That one guy, wasn’t he kind of creepy?” I said.
 
“Oh yeah,” said the owner. “He had book thief written all over him.” Then she called over to the other owner, who stood behind the counter, “Hey, out of everyone here tonight, who do you suppose was the book thief?”
 
He answered without hesitation: “The tall thin guy in the corner.”
 
These two had been in business for ages, so I figured they knew a book thief when they saw one.
 
The next evening, I drove about an hour away to another bookstore for another reading. There were the usual enthusiastic book lovers, but there was also someone shady looking, sitting alone in the back row. He had arrived a bit late, wearing a khaki canvas hat, still tied under his chin, with a wide brim. It was wide enough, in fact, that he could tip it down and hide his face. Occasionally, though, he lifted it to peek at me, and when he did, I could see that he was smirking. He looked right at me with the smug, satisfied expression of someone holding onto a secret. 
 
Right after I began signing books, he slipped out without buying mine, just like the tall thin man had done the night before. I didn’t ask the bookseller what she thought of him, but his smirk and hasty exit made me think my reading had again attracted a book thief.
 
On my drive home, I wondered if I was becoming paranoid, but having spent years working on a book about criminals who pass as book collectors, who adroitly con even the most cautious and experienced of rare book sellers, I had become more suspicious. Since that night, I’ve done a few more readings, and no crooked looking characters have shown up. But that won’t stop me from reading future audiences, looking for clues.

 

 

 

Visit Allison’s website and follow her on Twitter to learn more about The Man Who Loved Books Too Much.

  

 

 

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