Ex Libris: The Leitchs

Another fine example of the New Canadian Library's incredibly ugly second series design. Thirty-two years ago, this book belonged to neighbours of the Cohen family on Westmount's Belmont Avenue. I bought it in 1991, just as prices for things LC were on the runway about to take off.

Ex Libris: Gérald Godin

Bought for $2.99 in 1990, when Gérald Godin and Pierre Vallières were still with us. How this ended up in such an inelegant place, a warehouse-like bookstore across from Montreal's Central Bus Station, I do not know.

A chance meeting – I noticed it only because the cover reminded me of a Cindy Sherman photo.

All these years later, I'm still not sure what to make of Vallières' inscription.

Ex Libris: Hugh MacLennan

In 1991, six or so months after his death, Hugh MacLennan's personal library was put up for sale through Montreal's Word bookstore. It wasn't exactly a pretty sight. MacLennan treated his books badly, and it was clear that he cared not one whit about fine editions. Looking through the battered volumes made me respect the man all the more. Here was someone who cared for the word, not the vessel. He'd read and reread with great appetite, while I'd worried over sunlight and fragile spines.

I bought a dozen of these worn volumes, including a presentation copy of Alistair MacLeod's As Birds Bring Forth the Sun and Other Stories and an old 95¢ Signet Classics edition of Robinson Crusoe (my cost: $1.95). All were books I'd been wanting to read for some time, with the exception of The Conscience of the Rich. C.P. Snow's name meant little to me then, but I was amused and intrigued by MacLennan's critique.

Still haven't got around to reading it.

Related post:

Acknowledging Hugh Maclennan

Ex Libris: John Glassco

Though most of John Glassco's library – some 526 books – was sold to Queen's University a couple of years after his death, items do show up from time to time. Of those I've managed to pick up, Telling Lives (New Republic, 1979), a collection of essays on modern biography, is an obvious favourite. It's made all the more interesting by Leon Edel's inscription to old university pal Glassco and his wife Marion McCormick.