What Were They Thinking?

There are people out here, and I happily count myself among their number, who collect. And there are people out there, and I unhappily count myself among their number, who are fastidious about what they collect, and wish that their collection could be perfect in every way. And then there are those who produce what is collected. This is the tale of both sides, where one is clearly in the right, and the other does not seem to be thinking too clearly – putting it in the most pleasant manner possible.

There are two things that I collect, both of which have been really available on the open market, but only one of which is still produced. To the other, perhaps another day. My concern today is books, my love for books, my desire to collect new books, my passion for reading, and those who poke a stick at all this.

I had, of late, been reorganizing my collection of books, working my way through packing boxes as I moved from one place to another, and was faced with the need to downsize – as the modern saying goes – and utilize the limited space available for my needs. My needs are, of course, far greater than what is available as far as space goes. This has given me a chance not so much to catalogue my collection, but at least to get them into some semblance of order on new shelves so that, when visitors come, when I walk into the room, there is a feeling of organized calm, a relaxed atmosphere where anyone who is of a certain mind will feel at home, comfortable.

I began buying the German-language editions of Nicola Upson’s works – featuring the real life Josephine Tey and the imaginary Scotland Yard detective Archie Penrose – as soon as they were published. It was not clear, then, how many volumes would come out, but those that were published felt and looked good, were a pleasure to read, and found their place on my shelves. There is a good story-line which runs from the first volume through to the end, the relationship between Tey, Penrose and several other characters, that develops as the books are read. But only if you read them in the right order, of course.

The publishing company, Kein & Aber, decided to throw a very large spanner in the works. I’m not sure whether the decision-maker has any real involvement with the reading of books, perhaps they are not a bibliophile but more of an accountant, only interested in the bottom line, but whoever it was made a decision. Having published the first volumes in the series, they then published what might be the last three; volumes nine, ten and eleven. The story-line running through, the relationships, are either ruptured by this crass decision, or the avid reader of this series of books must wait, impatiently, for several years before they can enjoy the sequence in its right order. The new volumes are published, singularly or in pairs, semi-annually. Then, having stuck the knife in that avid reader’s back, they twisted it to get the collector where it hurts most.

Volumes three and four, published in October 2024, were offered as a paperback edition, in a larger size to the other previously published volumes. The symmetry is gone. The good feeling when holding these works, as the paperback has a completely different feel to the original, is gone. On the shelves, as you, gentle reader, can see, chaos reigns. It is no longer a good collection of the first German-language editions, but a thrown-together row of books written by the same author and translated into German. An embarrassment, to my way of thinking, for both publisher and author, even if the author should only be called to judgement for the contents rather than the appearance.

There are some out there, I suspect, who will not understand this, my reaction: “You have (or will have, eventually)”, they will say, “the whole collection. What more could a person want?” But it is a collection which does not look like one. It’s as if the whole series had come out in a wonderful covered version, and I had jumped on the bandwagon at the last moment, just as the new paperback edition hit the market and, being a cheapskate, mixed versions.

I wonder whether someone at the publishing company sat there, on their lunch break with a strict deadline perhaps, and thought: “they’ll never know.” I know. I see you. And it does not make for a good impression, whoever you are. You, you, you Philistine you.

Image © Urban Camera.