John Collis Snaith 1876-1936

We include a cricket book by JC Snaith in our next list.

Willow, The King: The Story of a Cricket Match (London: Ward, Lock and Co. Limited: no date) [1899] Illustrated by Lucien Davis , R.I., comprising a frontispiece and three plates.

I was curious to find out something about the author. The most interesting source of information is Kevin Telfer’s book on JM Barrie’s cricket team, the Allahakbarries, Peter Pan’s First XI: The extraordinary story of J. M. Barrie’s cricket team. I’m waiting for a copy I bought to arrive in the mail, but meanwhile, I quote from it:

…the real cricketer of note who made his debut this year against the Artists was JC Snaith. Born in 1876…the left-handed John Collis Snaith played his one and only first-class game for Nottinghamshire in 1900. He made a reasonably promising twenty-one in his own innings in that game, but never got the opportunity to follow it up. He certainly excelled in club cricket and for the Allahakbarries proved to be a dangerous and greatly feared bowler who could skittle sides out – something which he accomplished the following month in the next match against the Artists. Charles Tennyson, who later played for the Alaahakbarries described him as ‘a medium or slow-medium left hand bowler, and on certain types of wicket he had the power of bringing the ball in very quickly off the pitch time after time, just bail high, with a ‘naturally unnatural’ break from the off, which was fatal to second class batsmen.’

The essay in which this description appears is called ‘The Too-Serious Snaith’, for Tennyson writes that he was an intense and introverted man who found it difficult to socialise and generally led a very private life. He was pale, gaunt and wore scholarly glasses, had straight black hair and slightly stopping shoulders. He enjoyed playing chess with a select group of companions and loved more than anything else to play cricket. And of course he was a writer, though not a writer with the fame of many of the other members of the Allahakbarries team. Tennyson, however, writes that Snaith’s story Willow the King, which was published in 1899, ‘has often been referred to as the best cricket story ever written’.

Snaith was so ardent about his cricket that one member of the Allahakbarries recalled that on the south lawn of Black Lake Cottage, ‘when the traditional match of Gentlemen (left-handed) against Ladies was being played wit customary hilarity, Snaith smote Mrs Barrie on the ankle with a fast Yorker and was with difficulty restrained from claiming lbw.’

He was sometimes called ‘the gloomy scribe’, such was his generally overcast disposition, and it seems that the rest of the team aimed some gentle jokes in his direction. He had first been introduced to Barrie in 1898 and, quite typically, Barrie saw him as an interesting character study. And when Prichard published the book about his travels to South America, Adventures through the Heart of Patagonia, in 1902, which described his hunt for the giant sloth, Barrie ‘immediately invented a shy and formidable and even more mysterious animal , The Giant Snaith, about which he delighted to weave grotesquely appropriate fantasies in his slow rich Scottish drawl.’

He does not, however, seem to have found his way into Barrie’s written fiction, but his exploits on the cricket pitch must have delighted the little Scot. In this first match of the season he took an unspectacular but useful four wickets and scored sixteen, but they still lost the match by twenty-two runs. Far better performances were just around the corner, and he proved to be one of the team’s strongest players.

To this one can add a piece of ephemera:

Snaith letter
JC Snaith’s letter on cricket auctioned in 2015.

John Collis Snaith. Nottinghamshire (one match) 1900. Two page handwritten letter from Snaith, dated 31st December 1932 to A.W. Shelton, Secretary (and later President) of Nottinghamshire C.C.C. enclosing a small donation for John Dixon’s Widow, Dixon died in June 1931, and played 235 matches for the county 1882-1905, he captained the side between 1889-99. ‘There was only one John Dixon’. Snaith adapts the famous lines on Alfred Mynn (William Jeffrey Prowse) after his death to lament Dixon’s passing ‘My friend [E.V.] Lucas may have kept them in mind. I rather hope so’. Signed in ink by Snaith. VG – cricket The Sale Room

Snaith picture

According to Wormwoodiana’s piece The Genius of JC Snaith, he is an unjustly neglected writer.

Several critics agreed, I later found, that J.C. Snaith was the author of a masterpiece. Unfortunately for him, none of them could agree which book of his that was, while all of them did agree that the others were not worth much attention. That must be a uniquely frustrating position. Essayist S.P.B. Mais acclaimed his novel The Sailor (1916): others lauded his humorous and Pickwickian cricketing novel Willow, the King (1899). There are champions for others of his books too.

Snaith’s reputation has suffered, I think, from his work being too various. Comedy, sport, historical romance, criminous thrillers, psychological meditations, visionary works, it was all too much for the reader and reviewer to get a grasp upon. Nevertheless, with the advantage of retrospect, we can winnow out those that stand distinctive. Whichever work one chooses, though, it is sure that Snaith was an original, as eccentric in his outlook and his style as, say, M.P. Shiel or Baron Corvo.

He was not always so neglected and, indeed, I think that Telfer may not have appreciated that in his day, Snaith was a notable and popular writer. Enter R. (Reginald) Brimley Johnson was a biographer, critic, and editor specializing in nineteenth century English literature and literary figures. In particular he was a noted authority on Austen and he edited Shelley-Leigh Hunt: how friendship made history and extended the bounds of human freedom and thought. 

Johnson, Reginald Brimley.

Adm. pens. at CORPUS CHRISTI, Oct. 1, 1886.
[Youngest] s. of William Henry Farthing (1843), schoolmaster, of Llandaff House, Cambridge [ Cambridgeshire ]. B. Dec. 6, 1867, at Cambridge [ Cambridgeshire ].
School, Llandaff House, Cambridge [ Cambridgeshire ], and Crawford College, Maidenhead [ Berkshire ].
Matric. Michs. 1886.
Established a small publishing business in London and Edinburgh [ Scotland ] in 1900, for the purpose of issuing early books by G. K. Chesterton, G. Lowes Dickinson, and others.
Founded, in October, 1909, The Gownsman and edited it, 1912-13.
Author, Jane Austen, a critical study; Jane Austen, her Life, her Work, her Family and her Critics; The Women Novelists ( Fanny Burney to George Eliot ); Fanny Burney and the Burneys, etc.
Also edited numerous collections of the novels, poems, plays, letters, etc. of many other well-known writers.
Died May 18, 1932, in London .
Brother of George W. (1876) and Augustine H. (1884), etc.
(Scott, MSS.; Who was Who, 1929-40; The Times, May 20, 1932; English Cat. of Books; Cambridge Review, May 27, 1932.)

In 1922 Johnson published his Some Contemporary Novelists (men), in the introduction of which he segues from DH Lawrence to JC Snaith. Indeed, where Lawrence, Buchan and EM Forster each receive 10 pages, Snaith has eighteen. One might add that Johnson does not even seem aware of Willow King, which is neither discussed nor mentioned in the works by Snaith that he lists, evidently under the impression that Snaith’s first novel was some years after this was published. Perhaps he was aware of it and in the scheme of the literary critic, a cricket book just isn’t cricket.

Snaith married Madeline Ruth Armstrong in 1913. She died in 1931. There do not seem to have been any children. He is listed in the Nottinghamshire County Cricket Club’s wiki page just above Garfield Sobers.

His quotes to be found online include:

Cricket is quite a gentle, harmless game, but he is a lucky man who has not to sweat some blood before he’s done with it .

and

Beside a perfectly-timed boundary hit on a hard ground from fast bowling, all other delights of this life are a nothingness.

He is credited by the Oxford dictionary with the earliest use of the expression ‘street person’ and also, in the fine tradition of turning nouns into adjectives, the first use of the expression ‘pince-nezed’ to mean, wearing a pince-nez.

Another contemporary appraisal reveals the high regard in which he was held.

The Bookseller, Newsdealer and Stationer, Volume 45
Excelsior Publishing House, 1916 p. 187 The steady development of the literary genius of John Collis Snaith over a period of some twenty years is one of the remarkable incidents of contemporary English literature. Mr Snaith is a young Englishman who makes his home now in London. At the age of eighteen he wrote a remarkable novel full of the faults of youth full of the inspiration of a really imaginative mind. It had a marked success and still stands in a distinguished place amongst English modern fiction. He then produced in regular order half a dozen novels of different types, some historical, some contemporary, some with a political flavour, some with a strong romantic character development tone. Each book is very different from the last. The author very gradually finding himself, was way too original, too independent to stick to his last. The craftsman in him instinctively rebelled against any set mold for his work. Meanwhile the author himself, who is a quiet, reserved Englishman, a member of certain established literary and artistic clubs in London, lived his own life partly retired from the busy whirl of the great city, working out his own problems and the development of his art. Many times reviewers have noted as one book after another has appeared that some day Snaith would come into his own when he found the proper mediums for what was unquestionably real genius. After Broke from Covenden in 1909 came Ariminta, Anne Feversham and now his latest book The Sailor.  Both the America (sic) and British reviewers of this long novel have been quite unstinted in  their praise and in their acknowledgement that the author has at last reached the high place he was bound to occupy eventually. Mr Snaith is still a young man, hardly forty years old, and his great work is still ahead of him. The promise of another great British writer of the Thomas Hardy type is here.

Elsewhere in the issue, The Sailor is described as ‘one of the season’s big novels’.

His death on December 10, 1936, received a small notice in the Melbourne Argus, where it was listed above that of Pirandello.

 

 

 

Where should I buy my book?

I was asked today where a friend should buy books, secondhand and otherwise. It goes without saying that if you have a local secondhand shop, that is the place to go for a browse, but supposing you don’t, or you are looking for something specific that  you know you have to go further afield to find.

Secondhand

Booksandcollectibles is the best site online to find a collective of Australian sellers – not only Australian, but certainly forming the core of their database. It was set up in the late nineties to serve the Australian bookselling community and although it has grown past that, it keeps its homegrown feeling. It is a simple, not flashy interface sitting between the seller and the customer.

Biblio is the best of the international collectives. It isn’t the biggest, but it is big enough for most purposes and it’s certainly the one I go to first. It has a clean interface, it is an independent organisation run by people who really care about books and those who love them. So if you care about that sort of thing, who is running the business you are buying from and what are their values etc etc, this is absolutely a first port of call. I don’t understand why it is that they don’t have a bigger share of the pie.

ABE  is not a site I recommend anymore as it is owned by Amazon.

New

As far as new books go, if you are in Melbourne you have some nice choices of shops, but if you must buy online I have no good options for you. We – living in Switzerland without English shops – do shop online from time to time and did use The Book Depository. I was one of their early supporters as they offered a choice to shopping at Amazon, including free shipping, which is so attractive to Australians, of course. But like ABE, the predatorial Amazon has bought The Book Depository too.

For anybody trying not to support Amazon, a good option for online purchase of new books at the moment is Wordery. It is independent, at least for now.

If anybody has other suggestions for new and old book shopping, please leave a comment!

 

 

 

Books as investment

Long ago as a teenager, I decided to sell my collection of first edition Mary Grant Bruces and Ethel Turners. I sold them to Reg O’Connell for $50. They’d cost me almost nothing, having been picked up at opshops. One could argue I’d made an nice profit.

But that wasn’t the point. You really should buy books because you like them, not because you think they are going to make you money. The Rare Book Monthly has a really interesting article about books as investment which I thoroughly recommend. It comes, of course, to the same conclusion.

My apartment in Geneva is covered in bookshelves, we have thousands of books here. Almost none of them are worth more than a dollar or two, but we love being surrounded by them. In fact when I tried, on one occasion, to suggest replacing a much loved series in the most tatty paperbacks with a nice hardcover set, I faced rebellion. ‘But these are the ones I first read, they are the ones I value.’ The value, in other words, has nothing to do with money.

So when we talk of books as investment, whilst the financial adviser is looking at whether it is better to buy a book or a share, a human being should be looking at emotional investment and emotional gains. I’d say that matters at the highest and lowest ends of the market. Buy the first edition 1945 in dust-jacket for thousands of dollars because of how it will make you feel, not because you hope it will perform better than mining shares. Buy the tatty everyman edition in the opshop for $2 because it reminds you of your first time with the book. Books should be about feelings. Should you happen to end up with a book that turns out to be a financial windfall, that’s not even the icing on the cake.

 

 

 

Crimean War: a medico’s view

We are listing next week a group of military books which includes:

An Edinburgh Boy
A Story of Active Service in Foreign Lands.
Extracts from Letters sent home from the Crimea 1854-1856 

(Edinburgh and London: William Blackwood and Sons: 1886) First Edition.
Half leather (that is, hard covers) pp. viii, 262.

We observe this notice of its publication in The Spectator 1 JANUARY 1887, Page 34

A Story of Active Service in Foreign Lands :

Extracts from Letters sent Home from the Crimea, 1854-1856. By “An Edinburgh Boy.” (William Blackwood and Sons.)—All who are old enough to remember the Crimean War, and all who care to know what war is when stripped of its tinsel and its glamour, will find profit, and possibly take pleasure, in the reading of this book. The author was an Army surgeon who went out to the Crimea towards the close of 1854, and remained there until the end of the campaign. Daring this time he wrote regularly to his friends, and his lettere, now first published, give a plain and unvarnished, yet vivid and realistic account of his experiences during the war. Not being a newspaper correspondent, he was under no temptation to write for effect ; and his position as an actor in the drama makes his testimony both more valuable and more truthful than that of a mere observer, however quicksighted and painstaking. One of the sensations of the war was Russell’s letters to the Times, describing the condition of the Army after the battle of Balaclava, the blenders of the Com. missariat, the lack of comforts, and the misery of the men. The excitement these letters caused in England was intense. They overthrew a Government, and ruined the reputation of a Minister. Yet, judging from the testimony of “An Edinburgh Boy,” and of other participators in the strife, it does not appear that the sufferings of our troops were either so terrible or so extraordinary as was represented at the time ; nothing to be compared, for instance, with the sufferings endured by the Russian and French armies during the retreat from Moscow, of the Russian Army which forced the passage of the Balkans in the last Turkish War, or of Bourbaki’s army when it was forced to retreat through the passes of the Jam into the neutral territory of Switzerland. But in 1854 there had been no European war for forty years; the English of that age had forgotten that wars are not made with rose-water ; Russell’s letters thrilled them with horror and compassion, and they allowed indignation to get the better a their judgment. War spells suffering ; and the most fortunate soldiers are probably those who meet with instant death on the field of battle ; its minor as well as its greater miseries can be known only to those who, like oar author, have seen active service, and survived the perils of a cam- paign. But all who would form some idea of them at second-hand, may do so very effectually by reading his truthful and interesting book.

Of Books and Auction Sales part 2 by Paul Depasquale

Of Books and Auction Sales part 2

Prices and Value

Is the best value in collectable books to be found in book shops or at auctions?

The answer must necessarily depend upon how well you know your chosen area and how determined you are to buy as soon as possible. When books are offered in box or shelf lots, the dealer has the advantage because his interests will be wider than those of any collector—large lots at mart auctions are rarely if ever sorted by category, meaning that the books represent many fields. In this context the collector must be distinguished from the accumulator, though it is not uncommon for accumulators to call themselves collectors. The collector is given his chance through the increasing tendency of the auction houses to offer books singly, a trend most noticeable at present at Small & Whitfieldʼs and at Megaw & Hoggʼs: for a desirable single item the collector always has the opportunity of beating the trade. Not everyone, however, is comfortable about buying at auction, and there is something about finding a desired book in a shop which is entirely sui generis. There is also the advantage that, in a shop, you may change your mind while you browse—how often have we not all picked up the first ʻmust buyʼ only to put it back when something even more ʻmust buyableʼ comes to hand?—whereas at an auction you cannot change your mind. A bought lot is yours and at your risk from the fall of the hammer: there are no second chances.

Another problem at auctions is that nothing has a fixed price, so that you cannot foretell how much particular items will make: it is therefore difficult to budget. Again, this must favour the trade. One is often left in the position of having to think sharply on oneʼs feet after having clinched a few lots at or above oneʼs pre-set maxima: how far to go for the next lot or lots? Compare this jungle atmosphere with the civilized, the gentle joys of browsing. However, if you are of the temperament which the sports commentators term ʻcompetitiveʼ, and you derive pleasure from beating others, then auctions are for you, for every time an item is sold by auction someone ʻwinsʼ and someone else ʻlosesʼ.

Of course, the ʻwinnerʼ may not necessarily be the person who makes the purchase, for, of all the fallacies which surround collecting, one of the more pernicious is to the effect that if you buy at auction you cannot be paying too much. Indeed, for every ʻbargainʼ buy at a lively mart auction (there are days when most lots are bargains) there will be a buy made at or above shop price. Again, the first principle of buying at auction must be restated: know your area and keep to it.

It takes all types to make an auction, from the over-cautious bidder who all too often is left lamenting that he did not ʻgo one more jumpʼ to the swaggering bravo who bids with the almost mad enthusiasm of Errol Flynn playing a pirate king. The sale room is to a large extent a theatre wherein we all play our parts, including the freewheeling swordsman who likes to cut his way to the treasure whatever the cost. This sort of thing cannot last, unless perhaps if the hero has an independent income of great proportions—in which case, why would he do his own buying at auction if it were not for the theatrical impact of his triumphs? It is not unknown for audiences (I mean audiences, which may include buyers) at auctions to burst into applause at the end of a spectacular bidding duel.

To buy advantageously at auction needs much preparation: books have to be examined as to condition, edition and completeness. At our own (Pioneer Books) auctions this is done by us to the best of our ability, and the results are in the catalogue. We have had some errors, but happily not too often: the fact is that no auctioneer can give absolute surety, but especially is this so at mart auctions. Here you bid for what the auctioneer displays and you buy, in the end, according to your judgement. No auctioneer would last long if the house did not act in good faith—deliberate false representation is unthinkable—but there is no way in which any mart auctioneer could collate and fully describe the books he offers—that is up to the would-be purchaser. The auctioneer is bound to do his best for the vendor and for the purchaser, which is a unique position to be in, for he must get the best price he can for the vendor while the purchaserʼs aim is to buy as cheaply as possible. Nevertheless, the house will answer your questions to the best of its ability, for it is the competition between two or more would-be buyers that makes an auction, not some amazing sleight of hand on the auctioneerʼs part.

I have found the staffs of all five houses discussed here to be both friendly and helpful: if they ever seem less than that to you, pause to consider the pressure on them not only on sale days but during the preparation of sales. There is no auction unless buyers attend, and I cannot imagine a house which would do anything to upset visitors. They know that the casual visitor of today is the vendor or the buyer of tomorrow: it is just a matter of letting them hook themselves. For those of us who are already addicted, life would be much more dull without the mart sales by auction.

Of Books and Auction Sales by Paul Depasquale

Paul’s many sorties into publishing and writing included ʻIn-Houseʼ (1981-1993), which was modest enough in its beginnings, but developed into a quality production; we felt as if no expense was spared. I thought I’d lost the soft copy of these long ago, but I’ve just discovered them and so I thought I’d reprint some of the articles.

Another love of Paul’s was auctions. He loved buying at them. He loved holding them – we were pioneers of book auctions in Adelaide – and so we have here a record of things as they were mid-1990s. This article was the lead in The Pioneer Books Magazine Volume one, Spring 1994. I reprint the Contents Page to give a flavour of a typical issue:

CONTENTS

Of Books and Auction Sales 5
by Paul Depasquale

Sunburying: A Tale of Ephemera 13
by Judith Crabb

The Playing of Cards: 21
A Consideration of the Literature.
Part 1—The Elizabethan Period
by Cathy Chua

The Fourteenth Trump. A Trick 41

Violet Needham: An Afterword 45

Mortal Games. A Review 47
by Chris Depasquale

An Incomplete Essay on Guy 53
Boothby and the London Theatre
by Paul Depasquale

 

Of Auctions and Book Sales part 1

If you were to look into a volume of Australian Book Auction Records (compiled and published these days by Jill Burdon of Canberra) you would find only Pioneer Books representing book auctions in Adelaide. We have in fact conducted twenty two book auctions, the list reading like this:

1 – September 1986 Pioneer Books/Academy Enterprises
2 – December 1986
3 – March 1987
4 – September 1987
5 – March 1988
6 – November 1988
7 – March 1990 Under the style of Academy Enterprises Pty Ltd.
8 – June 1990
9 – September 1990
10 – November 1990
11 – February 1991
12 – March 1991
13 – June 1991
14 – August 1991
15 – September 1991
16 – June 1992 Under the style of Pioneer Books
17 – September 1992
18 – February 1993
19 – September 1993
20 – February 1994
21 – May 1994
22 – September 1994

The first fifteen book auctions were held at the Dom Polski Centre, 230 Angas Street, Adelaide; latterly, they have been held at Enterprise House, Greenhill Road, Unley.

Our results for Australian books above a certain value are recorded because we prepare comprehensive and detailed Catalogues, with full bibliographical details, careful descriptions and estimated prices (prices realised are also published after each auction sale). It is fair even for me to say that we prepare our catalogues well and conduct our auctions well, but a further glance into a volume of the Australian Book Auction Records will show that we are very much lightweights in the overall scene—the records are dominated by the results of heavyweights with international clout in Sothebyʼs and Christieʼs, as well as by such Australian specialists as Lawsonʼs in Sydney and Joelʼs in Melbourne. Our aim is to cater for the more modest areas of book collecting ($5 upwards, with not much above $100) which hardly come within the purview of those great rivals.

Our book auctions are but a small segment of our overall business. Pioneer Books conducts book auctions because I am myself fascinated by auctions, by their excitement, by their unpredictability, by the unending variety of styles displayed by the auctioneers and by the rich diversity of ʻfeelʼ in auction houses great and humble. I made sure to attend Sothebyʼs great book auctions in Melbourne at the height of the boom in the 1980s and I was not so much merely impressed as bowled over but that is another story. It is to help sate my own thirst for auction excitement that our firm plays out its modest role in the vast drama of sale by auction in Australia.

Unless you study the Advertiserʼs ʻAuctions Generalʼ columns from day to day but most importantly on Saturdays you could scarcely credit how many goods ranging from heavy earth moving equipment to thimbles are cleared through sale by auction in Adelaide each week—and this infinite range of goods naturally includes books and plenty of them. We are concerned presently with mart auctions i.e. auctions held in the markets or permanent premises of auctioneers who sell goods brought to these places in order to be offered for sale.

It would probably be impossible and certainly would be deleterious to health to attempt to attend most, let alone all, of the mart auctions held in Adelaide each week. I shall confine my remarks to the five auction houses whose sales it happens that I attend most frequently in the endless quest for books—there is no suggestion intended that there are no other houses worth following, for there are, but I can neither follow them all nor write about them all here.

Moss Marchant & Co., of 52 North Terrace, Kent Town, is a long established house which conducts a mart auction each Monday. From a bookmanʼs point of view, these auctions are entirely unpredictable and that is a large part of their charm. One visit to Mossʼs (we all call the house ʻMossʼsʼ, never ʻMarchantʼsʼ) may leave the bookman cold, but a series of visits will not. Mossʼs is distinguished by the eclecticism of its offerings: everything comes within the charmed circle of offerings here, meaning that much that is odd and curious in the line of printed matter (not necessarily books) surfaces here from time to time—general books old and new, old bibles large and small, childrenʼs books, old newspapers, old magazines, sheet music, comics, calendars, ephemera, just about anything printed on paper may be found at Mossʼs over a period of time. While the purist might lament the houseʼs lack of censorship of these offerings—the theme song might well be ʻAnything Goesʼ—the fact is that the all-embracing breadth of the offerings has meant that, over the years, Moss Marchant & Co. has been responsible for the preservation of thousands of old items which are a significant part of our sociological heritage.

The atmosphere at Mossʼs is unique: Moss himself has seen it all over the last quarter of a century and he banters with his ʻregularsʼ in the confident knowledge that they are free to give as good as they get. The importance of ʻregularsʼ to an auction house cannot be over-stated; in the field of books, for example, whether at a televised sale at Sothebyʼs or at a mart sale at Moss Marchant & Co.ʼs, it is extraordinary how few the buyers of any substance are. Only an observer ʻin the knowʼ would realise this; it has struck me at large auction sales in Sydney and Melbourne as well as at the humbler marts in Adelaide.

It is important to get to know the characteristics of the auctioneer if you wish to enjoy his auctions (the main auctioneers in all these houses are men). Moss is a patient auctioneer of the old school: once he knows that you are ʻin the marketʼ he will always come back to you before ʻknocking downʼ an item, giving you that one last chance to exceed the dictates of common sense. Perhaps at this point I should say that it is foolish at mart auctions not to let the auctioneer know that you are ʻin the marketʼ; mart auctions are always running against time (as it is, some do not finish until late afternoon), and the auctioneer has his deadlines to meet. If Moss has ever conducted an auction at which he has not grumbled about the reluctance of buyers to bid up or complained that the auction is moving too slowly, then I have not seen it.

Also on Mondays these days (formerly on Tuesdays) are the mart auctions of Adelaide Antique Auctions, 75 King William St., Kent Town. The principal auctioneer, and the one who sells whatever books are in, is Stephen Sinclair, who is younger in years and in auction experience than Moss Marchant. I will not say that he is aloof but he is polished and goes very fast, sometimes at what seems an almost hectic pace. The ʻregularsʼ, of course, find this no problem, for they are used to it and have normally ʻdone their homeworkʼ. Mr Sinclair does not have (yet) Mossʼs bedside manner or his casual banter, though occasionally there bursts out from him a wicked humour which I presume that he generally keeps in check.

Adelaide Antique Auctions, unlike Moss Marchant & Co., also conducts specialist auctions, often held in the evening, of art, fine furniture and other collectables. Thus it has a leg in the two worlds of mart auctions and fine art auctions—and what different worlds these are: you do not see many women in furs at a mart auction. As to its book offerings at its mart auctions, they are more or less comparable with those at Moss Marchant & Co.: anything and everything will be given a chance to find a buyer. Again it is a house whose mart sales, from the bookmanʼs point of view, must be gauged over an extensive period, for any one given sale may be disappointing in this area, and no wonder, given the diversity of the offerings. I still recall the shock with which I learnt that some people collect tins with the same passion that I have for books. Amazing…

Small & Whitfield, of 1 Unley Road, Parkside, hold their mart auctions weekly on Tuesdays, though the mart sale will be dropped when one of their important Monday evening auctions of select old furniture etc. is conducted. Graham Small and David Whitfield are the dynamic duo of Adelaide auctions: they work together in their highly raised seats overlooking the crowd—and their auctions usually are crowded—and responding with startling rapidity to every bid so that, when a bidding duel develops, the progress is excitingly swift. At none other of the houses under review do two auctioneers work together, one actually conducting the auction, the other spotting bids and generally being helpful (they swap roles about half way through the auction), but the results are so impressive that I am surprised that they have this technique to themselves. Partly because of the overall excellence of their offerings, and partly, I am convinced, because of their method of going to work, this house is the most electrifying of any in Adelaide. Bidding here is always brisk and for the better items usually vehement: it is no place for the faint-hearted. When things are ʻgoingʼ the place fairly buzzes.

Of particular interest to us is the fact that Small & Whitfield is a house that has always been prepared to feature books, and the stream of interesting books on offer here seems to be neverending, whether as single items or as shelf lots. The difference from both Moss Marchant & Co. and Adelaide Antique Auctions (I am speaking here of mart sales) is that estate (i.e. privately owned) books surface here from time to time in quality and quantity rarely if ever seen at the other houses. But I emphasize again that many items appear at the other two houses which would not normally fit into the ambience of a sale at Small & Whitfieldʼs whose interests and standards are very much their own. Nobody interested in books of quality can afford to miss Small & Whitfieldʼs.

At another extreme is Henley Auctions, of 103 Henley Beach Road, Mile End, where Ziggy Badrice and Bob Lambourne reign supreme, giving this mart also a style and a life of its own. Many deceased estates pass through this house whose ample proportions are always crowded with goods and people. Both Bob and Ziggy are no-nonsense auctioneers conscious, I should think, of the thousand and more lots before them, who when wound up progress at such astonishing speed that one wonders how the clerk and the office keep up with them. Both Adelaide Antique Auctions and Small & Whitfield use the number system for bidding: each buyer has to register and show the number when clinching a purchase. Some buyers will have permanent numbers and the auctioneer will knock items down to their number from memory. But at Moss Marchant and Co. and at Henley Auctions the auctioneers call the buyerʼs name, initials or pseudonym as the case may be—a remarkable feat of memory and of mental gymnastics separating ʻXʼ from ʻYʼ and ʻXYʼ from ʻYXʼ (so to speak) while selling at a frantic pace. One dips oneʼs lid. It will be a pity if increasing sophistication means that this time-honoured method is lost. (I should note that the buyers still have to register at the office before being able to use a name under which to buy).

I sometimes get the feeling that there is a crowd of people who live at Henley Auctions, for they are so much part of the place; at no other auction house within my experience do so many people settle in for the day, staying for so many hours apparently out of mere interest. People seem to attend this houseʼs auctions as they used to attend the weekly dance—and Ziggy and Bob and their aides put on quite a show for them. There is no place quite like Henley Auctions, but it is an acquired taste—its appeal grows on one with experience, until you would miss the crowded rows of goods and the restless crowd of people if they were not there. Books are usually sold in box or shelf lots here, a method which naturally favours the dealers—but it is amazing how often the presence of a collectable book or comic or two in a lot will bring about a duel between the trade and a private buyer. This shows that Henley Auctions, for all its down-market appearance and sheer comprehensivity of offerings, also comes within the rounds of that peripatetic person, the keen collector.

Every second Thursday sees us at Megaw & Hogg Auctions, of 107 Sturt St., Adelaide. This house also uses the number method and is otherwise nearer to Small & Whitfield than to the others in their method of featuring books as either single items or as shelf lots, with the emphasis on quality—though, as in any auction house, nothing is left out from the cheaper offerings in the later part of their sales. Certainly, as in the case of Small & Whitfield, the appeal of collectable books is acknowledged here. Every house has its own style, its own themes, its own ʻstuffʼ, too, if you like. Megaw & Hoggʼs chief auctioneer is Joseph (Joe) Tabaszewski whose manner is mild and whose banter is friendly, though his eye is (necessarily) sharp: the contrast with the heightened atmosphere of Small & Whitfield could not be more emphatic. If there is drama here, it is usually the drama of competition on the floor with the auctioneer acting as a friendly referee.

Like Small & Whitfield, however, Megaw & Hogg features from time to time books of real quality and importance from private estates, and their auctions play an important part in our own activities. As to the difference in styles between these two houses and between them and the others who have been mentioned: it is one of the chief fascinations of the study of auctioneering that there is no one ʻbestʼ method—there are as many styles and methods as there are auction houses, and vive la différence.