THE BOOK HAUL THAT WASN’T (JOSEPH CONRAD, JACK KEROUAC, MALCOLM LOWRY)

It became a popular thing for a while for people to talk about their book hauls. They would go somewhere and get their would be prized treasures, then display them and talk about which ones were really prized or not. This is a great form of criticism in that it lets a common person give their point of few on a said book. That way,- there is more information- and more information is usually not bad. People can take it or leave it. But my own book haul was not meant to be. I wanted to try for Joseph Conrad’s Nostromo, which I used to have, did not get around to reading, and somehow do not have any longer. I read somewhere,- a few times I think- that some regard it as his best work. I would like to check it out. They didn’t have it. They had a cool copy of Lord Jim, which I snapped a photo of,- but it was not the work I was looking for. As for Nostromo, it will have to wait I suppose. If it is meant to fall into my hands and before my eyes at some point,- I guess it shall.

 

The other book I was looking for, and have not read, is Big Sur. Now, having read lots of

work by Kerouac, I find it incredible and a bit inexcusable that I didn’t get to that book in all this time. But I didn’t. The game is not over though. I am trying. I will have to find it somewhere. You can order these things easily, or go to libraries,- but that takes the adventure out of it. I would rather find them on a shelf- hold them, see if I like the way the publisher has put it together,- what I call the physicality of a book- the pages, typesetting, especially cover. I TOTALLY JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER,- about 95 percent. Perhaps that is the most shallow thing ever. Yet- there is a method or inner cadence if you will to the madness. I find under some unclassifiable and as of yet undiscovered secret law of the universe,- that classic works, good works, interesting works,- seem to have covers I like, - whereas taudry, salacious, post-post modern (a term I made up for works that are too avante guarde), kitchy, bric-a brac-books,…well- I don’t like their covers. So my shallowness is somewhat shallow, but not completely bereft of all depth, lol. In any event,- Big Sur will have to wait, or I shall, or both I suppose. I want to make a find on the move and feel the energetical-moxy-verve of the moment!- which brings me to the last no haul writer…

While going downtown to a skate-shop, a few winters ago,- far out of the way- I by chance stumbed upon one of the best and most exciting used bookstores I had ever seen. And in it,- as literary Providence would have it,- sat the exact book I was looking for. It was called October Ferry to Gabriola, by the third genius writer of this group, Malcolm Lowry. 

I purchased it within seconds and read it within the week. I wrote a piece, I think (maybe not, as there are so many pieces I could be imagining that I should have written a piece), about the winter day outside, the snow, the store and the joy at finding the book. Well- I was thinking about the book this time called Dark as the Grave Wherein My Friend is Laid. I think I got the title correct. Now,- I forget what the book is supposed to be about, to be honest. But,- anyone that could write Under the Volcano, and name a book  Dark as the Grave Wherein My Friend is Laid has my vote. But they did not have this book.

Conrad, Kerouac, and Lowry. They will have to wait. Reading the beginning words and atmosphere of Lord Jim was extraordinary. Discovering Kerouac, like thousands of others who did, was also a great graceful gift. And Lowry with his Under the Volcano, plus the Canadian documentary called Volcano (An Inquiry into the Life and Death of Malcolm Lowry), was monumental in its influence to my psyche and soul. 

But their other works are all for another day, as today was the day of the book haul that was not.

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