A small rebellion against glass cabinets

This little shop has introduced me to some very interesting readers.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been chatting with a few of you about the kinds of books you’re collecting.

One reader told me she’s slowly working her way through the Top 100 Afrikaans books of all time.

Another is quietly assembling a shelf of Louis L’Amour novels. Apparently this began with “just one western” and then continued for quite some time after that.

Someone else has decided that whenever they see a Booker Prize winner, it’s coming home with them.

And then there are the wonderfully specific collections:
Books with famous artworks on the cover.
Novels that play clever meta-literary games.
Stories set in cities the reader has visited.
Debut novels by famous writers.

I love these conversations. It reminded me that reading books and collecting books in some cases are actually two slightly different hobbies.

Most people imagine book collectors as serious people with rare editions sitting behind glass somewhere. But the collections I see forming through this shop look very different. They live on ordinary shelves. They are opened again years later, lent to friends, rediscovered on quiet evenings, and occasionally expanded when the right book finally appears. They are living libraries.

Here in South Africa there is perhaps an even better reason to think about collecting books.

Many important works quietly slip out of print once their first life in bookshops has passed. After that, they tend to survive mainly on the shelves of readers who decided they were worth keeping.

Which means every time someone adds another Afrikaans classic or South African novel to their shelves, they are doing something quietly important. They’re helping to keep that literature alive.

Secondhand bookshops play a curious role in this process. The books that arrive here don’t come in neat or predictable supply. Instead they surface unexpectedly: the title you’ve been meaning to read for years, the missing book in a series, the author you’ve quietly decided to follow.

Which is why I often find myself helping readers track down the next book in a collection.

A small tip if you ever decide to start one: have a list. Collectors almost always do.

Sometimes it’s a carefully compiled list of the Top 100 Afrikaans books. Sometimes it’s every Louis L’Amour novel ever written.
Sometimes it’s something wonderfully niche.

But once you have a list, something interesting happens. You start recognising the books when they appear. And that’s usually how the collection begins.

Which brings me to you.

If you’re going to start collecting something, make it something that matters to you.

Perhaps a shelf of South African literature worth preserving. Perhaps Afrikaans classics. Perhaps the complete works of a writer you admire.

Or something delightfully specific:
Books with maps inside them.
Books that became films you love.
Novels about writers and writing.
Or the extremely respectable ambition of owning every Booker Prize winner ever printed.

Start small. Go slowly. One book at a time.

If you're building something, or thinking about starting, you might find the first piece waiting here:

www.thestorystation.co.za

And if you're hunting for something specific, tell me. Helping readers find the next book in a collection might be my favourite part of running this shop.

PS: I am now emotionally invested in several of your collections. Please keep me updated.

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