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The Solitary Hunter

To me find a book is like all other hunting I have done. You go in-search of your prey with the hope of getting the big one. In other hunting, company is a great thing, but in book hunting I find it is not. So what am I? Well I guess I am the solitary hunter.

This behaviour is strange for me. I like being around people. I find all people to be fun and amusing to interact with (well honestly some are a pain in the butt). Being alone doing something I find very tedious, having others around makes it fun. Even the most boring jobs can be fun when shared with others. A day with out people in it to me is a waste of a day. But, when it comes to book hunting I would rather be alone.

Over the years I have tried to analyze this strange trait in me but with no success. I have gone book hunting while out with other people but it doesn’t hold the same joy or excitement. The rushing though looking because I don’t want to hold them up usually means I end up with a book I really don’t want. When alone I can spend my time my way. Holding on to one book and continuing my search till I find just the right book. It feels great when you hit that right book that makes you want to rush home and start reading. The trophy book just like the trophy buck in deer hunting.

As I have gotten older I have found that solitary time more and more rewarding for me. For a few years I didn’t do any book hunting because my arms had gotten to short—and I wouldn’t give into getting reading glasses. Now I don’t care that I have to use my glasses to read a menu they have become part of me.

So I shall remain loving to have people to interacting with—except when book hunting. Then I become the solitary hunter.

10 Comments

  1. Posted March 29, 2008 at 11:51 am | Permalink

    I completely agree. The experience is usually much more satisfying when hunting alone. Even when you go with someone that wants to browse forever with you, you still end up in conversation and forgot what you were looking for/at and lose your concentration.

  2. Posted March 29, 2008 at 5:21 pm | Permalink

    Graham, I think the most significant factor for me is ‘distraction’ vs. ‘interaction’. Hunting books I find I concentrate, recall what I remember of this author, that title, try to remember favored authors that *Really Ought To* have another volume out by now. Anyone I can’t ignore is a distraction - disrupts my thought chain.

    Buying apples is easy. I am standing at the bin, don’t need to recall any history. Find ‘apples’ on the list, pick however many I need for whatever reason. Someone talking, other thought disruptions? Fine! Recapturing all the attention needed to get the right apples is easy.

    Remembering whether that ‘Kris Longknife: Audacious’ is the last one I read, or the next one I am waiting for? Conversation, etc. is irritating.

    Books are about escaping, or engaging the reader in the author’s world. Like talking in a movie (or during TV), the disruption *violates* the altered way of thinking I have established to interact with *this* author. Leave me to myself until I finish, thank you very much.

    I find parents are especially prone to expecting obedience and attention to their every (blessed!) word, rather than having respect for their kid paying attention to something else. Arrogance or discipline (on the part of the parent)? Rebellion or concentrating (on the part of the reader or book hunter)?

    Restoring the concentration, the immersion into a different frame or reference takes effort. Distractions that make extra effort for me, without having a benefit that I consider valid - is wasteful of my time, and disrespectful of my values. I think this has to do with homework as well as book hunting and movies. And probably is the reason for the anger of people in the hospital, “You mean you woke me up to take a sleeping pill!?”

  3. Ian Stuart
    Posted April 1, 2008 at 11:54 am | Permalink

    The booklover hunts alone- at least this one does.I’m lucky because I live in a city with lots of second hand book shops.And I know the owners- so you drop a hint ..” Have you got a copy of..?” and if he hasn’t, then he’s heard of someone who has..so you set off on the trail again. From time to time I look after a second hand bookshop for a friend.It is the best thing in the world. I sit there and read; I chat to people who come in and then, at the end of the day..I get paid..in books.Could anything be better ?

  4. Richard
    Posted April 12, 2008 at 4:36 pm | Permalink

    Hi Ian - Sorry for posting this here, but I couldn’t find your email address anywhere. I was wondering whether there’s a 3 column version of your excellent Essay Sandbox theme available by any chance please. I think I’ve seen one on the web somewhere but a search for a 3 column version is yielding nothing. Do you know whether there is a 3 column version around (with 2 sidebar columns to the right)?

    Many thanks
    Best regards

    Richard

  5. Posted April 13, 2008 at 8:05 pm | Permalink

    There’s no public version of Essay with 3 columns, although I plan on releasing something similar sometime on ThemeShaper.com.

  6. Richard
    Posted April 15, 2008 at 2:20 am | Permalink

    Great, thanks. I look forward to it.

    Best regards

  7. Posted May 5, 2008 at 11:47 pm | Permalink

    that was a good read. reminds me of going shopping/hunting for drawing pens; years ago when i actually had money to buy art supplies. *ha* hope all is well with you my friend!? say hey to your better half for me; it’s been too long! peace bro ~go

  8. Posted May 6, 2008 at 8:36 am | Permalink

    Hey, Greg! My dad actually wrote that. I’ve got to update this place to make that more clear…

  9. Posted May 22, 2008 at 7:23 pm | Permalink

    That was very entertaining. When you talked about hunting, it brought images to my mind due to my misinterpretation. I imagined herds of books.

  10. Ian Stuart
    Posted June 17, 2008 at 11:55 am | Permalink

    But books do run in herds. In second hand bookshops, the classic paperbacks huddle in one corner, mangey and thumbed, their coats torn and their pages thumbed. The newish hardbacks have pushed their way into the window, preening their coloured dustjackets and proud of their price tags. The ones I feel sorry for are the old stagers from the fifties and sixties, battered and faded, bumped and dusty. They lurk in corners, ashamed.

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