Every year, Chicago is home to several large book fairs, most notably in Printers Row and the Newberry Library. For the consumer, these fairs are usually great for finding inexpensive deals on paperbacks and occasionally a good deal on a rare or collectable book. When I attended the Midwest Antiquarian Booksellers Association 22nd Annual Book Fair this past Sunday, I discovered an entirely different species of book fair.

The first difference I noticed was the entrance fee, which was $6 for adults and $4 for students (or those who could reasonably pass themselves off as students). This is not all that uncommon. I know that many fairs, like the Brandies Book Fair in Skokie, charge a fee to get in a day early.

The second thing I noticed was the selection, which was much narrower than I expected but was, of course, of a much higher general quality. It was immediately clear that this is a place for mint-condition, first edition, signed-by-the-author, sealed-in-air-tight-plastic type books. In this way it was not unlike a museum experience. In fact, several booksellers kept their most prized items in shallow wood cases covered in glass.

The last thing I noticed was the price of these books which I found to be, at times, jaw-dropping. Now to be fair, some of this stuff was extremely rare. Any guess how much a first American edition (1 of 504 printed) of James Joyce’s The Dubliners costs? For me, five months rent. For all I know, $2500 is a steal for something like this but for the average joe, it’s just out of the question. Obviously, this was an extreme case. Most of the books, or at least the books that I am interested in, were good quality, first edition hardcovers. I didn’t really check out any of the leather-bound military history behemoths that were around. Maybe I should have.

At this point in my book collecting career I am only interested in books that I will actually read or books that I have read and I liked so much that I wouldn’t mind owning a nice copy. So as I walked around, I would find an occasional Paul Auster, or Don Delillo, and I would flip open the beautifully preserved cover and find a price, either penciled on the first page or on a small sticker, that was usually between $75 and $85 but could be $125 or and if signed easily over $200. The only thing that I found that was near my price range was a copy of William T. Vollman’s Whores for Gloria for $40 but even that I decided against.

One book that really tempted me was a first edition of Ishmael Reed’s Mumbo-Jumbo, a book that I really love. The cover art on this edition is that sort of early-seventies, dada-esque design that I am just a huge sucker for. I was disappointed to see that it was $75. I remember thinking, can I actually spend this much on a book? I was tempted. I decided to mull it over while I roamed through the rest of the booths. The big questions being: What would I do with such a book? Would I dare read it? Would it just sit on my bookshelf until I die and my grandkids sell it to buy their new fangled jet-packs? However, the real question, and perhaps more philosophical question, is ‘What is the value of a book beyond its words?’

In general, I am a proponent of the books as object theory, which is to say that I enjoy books as physical entities in addition to their contents. For some reason, this becomes harder to justify when the price of a book rises to a certain level. Part of this crisis stems from a feeling that the prices of some of these books feels suspiciously arbitrary. This is similar to the feeling I have about the stock market. What something is worth seems to be based on rumors and gossip and shadowy algorithms I don’t understand. I was slightly concerned that I would go home and find the same book for much less on Alibris or Abebooks.

Anyway, before I left the fair I circled back to take another look the book. Yes, it was a great book in nearly mint condition but I just couldn’t do it. I would say a majority of the buyers and sellers were white men nearing or surpassing retirement age. Perhaps these people have the extra dough to shell out for pricey books but I would say most of us don’t. That said, visiting the fair was a good time and four bucks well spent.

[Note: When I did check the price of similar books online, it turned out that $75 was relatively fair.]

[Hypocritical afterthought: all of this makes less sense when I consider that I probably will have no problem spending $75 on Alan Moore’s new book.]

Partially because I was inspired by Gina Frangello’s post about Literary Communities and partially because I thought I should start writing about them for the site, I have decided to make a serious effort to attend more readings. With that in mind, I headed over to No Exit Cafe on Tuesday night to attend the LitPAC Progressive Reading Series.

I got there a just before the event was scheduled to start and there were just a few people there, including author Stephen Elliott, who would be the host for the evening and is the founder and Executive Director of LitPAC. For those who don’t know about this organization I strongly urge you to go to the website and check it out. Basically, LitPAC is a political action committee that raises money for progressive candidates through literary events.

Tonight’s reading was to raise funds for Tammy Duckworth who is running for Congress in Illinois 6th District. Ms. Duckworth is a veteran of the Iraq War where she was severely injured while co-piloting a Black Hawk helicopter. For more on Tammy please visit her website.

When the room had filled with about 20 or 30 people, Stephen stepped up onstage and made a few introductory remarks about Tammy and about the 2006 election in general. LitPAC is focusing on the Congressional races in order to “win back the congress,” as Stephen put it. He explained that in the many races around the country where Democrats are facing Republican incumbents with big war chests, even the seemingly small amount LitPAC is able to donate can make a huge difference to their campaigns.

The reading kicked off with two poets, first Dan Beachy-Quick who teaches at the Art Institute of Chicago and then Simone Muench who is poetry editor at Another Chicago Magazine. After Stephen read some excerpts from Looking Forward to It, his book about the 2004 election, he introduced Peter Orner who read from his novel The Second Coming of Mavala Shikongo. Instead of reading from her bestselling novel, Time Traveler’s Wife, Audrey Niffenegger read an unpublished and quite humorous essay about the exhumation and burial of her pet cats. The last author to read, Alexander Hemon, also chose to read from an unpublished work-in-progress instead of his novel Nowhere Man.

In his closing remarks Stephen thanked everybody for coming and reminded us that there was a table filled with books donated by the authors and that for an additional donation (besides the admission charge) we could take one. Inspired by the cause and the great reading, I decided to empty my wallet and I was fortunate to end up with Niffenegger’s beautifully-crafted novel-in-pictures, The Three Inscestuous Sisters. (I walked off feeling like I had not given enough for such a nice book so when I got home I went to the LitPAC site and donated another $20.)

Before Peter Orner read, he praised Stephen for all the work he had done with LitPAC and for “putting his money where his mouth is.” That about sums it up. LitPAC is a very cool organization and I encourage all of you to visit their site and donate ridiculously generous amounts of money immediately.