Loneliness of a Long Distance Book Runner, The

If you’re taking the time to look at reviews on Gwales, it’s safe to presume you’re a fan of reading. Sadly these days it’s no longer safe to presume that being a fan of reading is synonymous with being a fan of books. As this is being written, there are over 12 million people in the UK who do their reading on e-readers and many more people will be set to change their habits when they unwrap new e-readers on Christmas Day. With this in mind, there’s no better time to read Bill Rees’s The Loneliness of the Long Distance Book Runner. With over 25 years as a second-hand book-seller under his belt, this collection contains Rees’s memories, anecdotes and thoughts on a trade that has been his livelihood and sadly now shows signs of becoming outdated. Starting with a recollection of buying boxes of books and papers from Alan Sillitoe, from whom Rees steals inspiration for this collection’s title, Rees goes on to paint an amazing portrait of a trade and a life that for any bibliophile is as romantic as any book can be. Technology, Rees reminds us, is not all bad for the second-hand book-seller. The internet means that geography is no obstacle to the collector desperate for that first edition lying under the bookseller’s desk. Rees’s experiences in the earlier parts of the book predate the internet and depict a lifestyle no longer necessary for a living to be made. Content aside, reading this book is an aesthetic pleasure in itself: gorgeous block-printed cover on mottled matte paperback. As the old cliché goes, you should never judge a book by its cover, but in this case it seems only fair to do so. Rees writes beautifully about books as objects and reminds the reader of the many pleasures of the page and the skills and arts that are already archaic in the book trade: leather bindings, marbled paper, watermarks and gilt page edgings to name but a few. What’s most enjoyable in this book, however, is how Rees’s own life is interspersed with books. His occasional lack of direction and an almost reliance on fate are mirrored by the finger of fate directing the shopper to second-hand books along dusty shelves and crammed boxes. He introduces us to friends met by chance, just as he similarly stumbles across books. As I finished this book I considered the modern world and couldn’t help but feel sad that the purpose and focus required to buy an e-book removes the romance and excitement of buying and reading the second-hand printed page. As Charles Lamb is quoted as writing about old books, “How they speak of the thousand thumbs that have turned over their pages with delight! Who would have them a whit less soiled?” Lamb, like Rees, hits the nail on the head; this should become the bibliophile’s bible. -- Liam Nolan @ www.gwales.com