Read what’s in front of you.
It’s a hell of a lot easier. Easier than what? It’s far easier than climbing
into the loft and moving crates of comic books around to get at the stories you
hunted for. This is a problem with comic books…
By the time you discover a story, take
interest in a tale, you see the saga in question was released over twelve
issues…no problem…back in the Early Jurassic. Ah. Some problem. If this is a
cult comic book and not a popular mainstream one, good luck finding issue #blah
of Too Much Tea Man™.
He’s never appeared in a collected edition.
The notorious issue #blah, coming between #5 and #8 in the series was a
double-length comic with a fucked-up printing of dozens instead of more than
dozens: a sad state of affairs, given the death of a major character in
that issue.
The company sent me 23 copies by mistake, if
anyone is interested.
I found it easier reading those rival
superhero stories about Too Much Coffee Man™.
By coincidence, it’s quite hard to get hold of issues #6 and #7 in that series.
Time passed. The Jurassic is no more. We are
floundering in the Digital Age, now. And yet, we’ve discovered a way to farm
trees more responsibly. Physical products are still a thing. So there are more
collected editions out there than you can shake a NO-PRIZE at.
Archival
copies. Reprints. Restorations. Anthologies. Super collections. Omnibus
editions are omnibus editions for a reason: you need a horse-drawn double-decker
bus to cart them around in.
I decided I had enough spare shelving to
store chunky versions of classic stories on. Stories that, for the most part,
I’ve already read. Some of the omnibus editions on my hit-list contain comic
book works I haven’t read. There’ll be a story segment before the tale I’ve
tackled and another leading away…
This is the episodic nature of comics. What
does my spree of purchases lead to? Two things spring to mind. In several cases
I am buying stories reprinted in a much larger format. Also, with
duplication…what plans do I have for the material already on my shelves?
The larger format means I don’t take smaller
faded stories away from my bookcases and slide massive restored tales into
position in place of the same old material. I can’t. There’s a fear that a few
of these books are going to be too deep to fit even the deepest bookcase.
I can, and do, restructure bookshelves when
reorganising after a buying-spree. All the shorter books cram in there under a
low ceiling. And I make a new roof for the taller books that land on my
doorstep. This is the boon of adjustable shelves.
But books that jut way out off the bookshelf
are a problem whether down next to the floor or up nearer my passing face. I
will now briefly pause this blog in aid of a rapid study of the premises. Books
as hazards. Let me see…
*
Cracking an ankle on a
low-flying hardback book or accidentally brushing your teeth off the spine of a
novel at high altitude…these whimsical pursuits are not for me. Or you. My
immediate problem was the hallway leading to the books.
One day, I’ll clear that hall. And, on that
day, I’ll fill it up with more stuff that must be moved around, made ready for
recycling, or just plain dumped. It’s classed as moderately difficult terrain
today. Passable with a low-level dose of mountaineering prowess. Grade two on
the Alpine Indoor Exercise Evaluation chart. Let’s leave it at that.
A check of the shelves spread across the
upper level of the house tells me…I have a lot of shelves…tells me that I own
hardly any tomes, volumes, grimoires, codices, palimpsests, folios, or plain
old books that jut out far enough to cause hazard to life and limb.
Hardly any.
These books do exist. But they exist around
the corner, out of sight if not out of mind, and I must advance forward to
access the mighty tomes. I can’t physically walk past from left to right or
right to left. Yes, I double-checked.
So. I can’t trip up or take an unseen swipe
to the head from the side. But this may all change with the arrival of massive
archival volumes of comic books. Massive? Bigger than the usual collections.
*
I leaned to my right to inspect a bookcase
already frothing with comic book BRICKS. Call it research. These omnibus
editions. What to say of those?
They are tall, some, and wide of shoulder,
others, but no comic omnibus there threatens to trip me up as I head to bed.
Luckily, if I did trip…I’d land on soft covers. Unless returning from that
direction…which is always a risk as I need to head yon way if I want to access
the door.
Pesky considerations of visits to the
bathroom and kitchen and the outside world aside, I think I am doing quite well
on the book front. Or…I’ll do quite well until the volumes of mass collection
arrive.
Then, I think I’ve had it. The only thing
that’ll save me is an empty bookshelf that I can’t walk past, left to right and
back again. Luckily, I have a spare waiting in just the right place. But now I
must face another consideration.
Not the old material. The duplicate stuff.
If I can’t give the old stuff to friends, I can hand the comic books to
charity. That is easy enough to take care of. No. There’s the impractical
aspect to the practical business of consuming large tomes.
Yes. The other problem arises. Where to read
mighty books? There’s just enough lack of space here, at the computer, to rule
out the so-called space here at the computer. So it’ll have to be the bed.
Never read books on the stairs. That’s a top tip.
And never read books at the top of the
stairs. That’s an even topper tip.
Will the new arrivals fit in? It’s not the
size of them, but the sheer bulk. When I think of the books in my library, I
tend to think of them in terms of tonnage.
How high is the tonnage? To that, we must add the weight of the shelves.
Yes, I could buy the comic books digitally. Stan
Lee was very positive about digital comic books.
The experience of reading a printed comic book will never change, but now, thanks to the digital age, there are many different ways to enjoy the same story.
Okay, loads of dangerous things are more
dangerous than books are. What are you doing with asbestos in your house? Get
that fixed.
Dangerous pursuits? Not checking the
position of a switch when changing a bulb. Never get dressed in a hurry at the
top of the stairs. That’s the place the irate husband is heading for, after
all.
I’ve learned the hard way that books, like
guns, are heavier than they look. The worst culprits have glossy covers. They
slip and slide and wriggle, trying to escape from the tidy stack in your hands.
Art books are often built for reading on large tables. Those are the awkward
books, designed for the size of a hand humanity has yet to evolve. Dust jackets
don’t help out.
He somehow garrotted himself with the
topmost book in the stack being transferred from library one to library two,
officer…yes, we think the ultra-glossy cover contributed to the disaster…
Naturally.
Being ambushed at the ankles by an oversized tome starring the prints of
Hokusai...was also a factor. Strange to think the only book he held firm in his
grasp was YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE. Irony.
I’ll borrow from Krivitsky.
Any fool can commit a murder, but it takes an artist
to commit a good natural death.
And then, I’ll most likely cop it as I try
to fill the available shelving. I say I have a spare shelf available, yet I
could use the whole bookcase at a pinch. I’m buying books I’ve (mostly) read.
Purchasing outsized duplicates and handing smaller volumes to charity.
I’m in a recycling mood. And I just want one
convenient volume to read, instead of thumbing through dusty comic book issues
or battered trade paperbacks. No, I don’t collect comics. I just happen to read
them. Once I’ve read them, they are still around to read again. I don’t treat
them as disposable and I don’t leave them sealed, unread, and yet strangely
revered.
If you collect comics and don’t read them,
that is up to you. It’s not something I understand. But it is difficult to
condemn you. We both have book collections measured in terms of tonnage. The
big question is…will the old books that leave the house weigh more than the
fresh duplicates coming in?
I try not to think about this. Instead, I
listen for the creaking of overburdened floorboards.
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