Read Books of a Feather for Free Online

only restore the book’s health, but also make sure it would last another century or two. It would be a nice bonus if I could make it pretty, too.
    Collectors were willing to pay a lot of money for Pretty.
    I checked my decorative paper drawer to make sure I had enough Japanese rice paper to repair the tear and also plug up some of the small nicks along the edge of the jacket. For this job I would have to whip up a small batch of wheat paste, the type of glue that worked best with the fragile Japanese tissue paper. Wheat paste was persnickety and had to be mixed, then cooked, then diluted. And it only lasted a few days when stored in the refrigerator.
    I told you I could be a real dork when it came to homing in on the finer points of glue.
    I found several sheets of rice paper in three different thicknesses, so I pulled out one of each and tucked them under the
Cuckoo’s Nest
to work on later. For now I wanted to concentrate on the easier jobs and take advantage of my fresh batch of PVA and methyl cellulose.
    I picked up the copy of
Dracula
and inspected it closely. Genevieve’s description was right on: it had been printed in 1897, the pages were roughly cut, or deckled; the boards were soiled, but the hinges were indeed still intact; the gilding and lettering on the spine were faded. She’d mentioned slight foxing, but she’d underestimated the problem. Those nasty little brown smudges thrived on a number of pages throughout the book.
    I could try to clean the worst of the foxing with brushes and a dry bleaching technique I’d tried before, but I didn’t feel comfortable taking the book apart and actually washing the pages in an aqueous solution unless Gen approved it. And frankly, I wasn’t sure it would matter. With a book this old and wonderful, the foxing wouldn’t detract all that much from its value.
    This was another book that would have to wait until later in the week to be fixed. For now, I made notes and took photographsof all the books for my own reference. I always liked to take “before and after” photos to show my client and to post on my Web site.
    I checked on my methyl cellulose and found it had reached a perfect consistency. I poured some PVA into a small beaker and added enough of the methyl cellulose to reach my sixty/forty blend and whisked the two together. After a few minutes, I was satisfied that the final mix was smooth and lump free.
    I assembled everything I would need to fix
The Maltese Falcon
’s drooping hinges on the table in front of me and began to work my tried-and-true bamboo-skewer fix. Basically, my glue, several sheets of wax paper, and two bamboo skewers. And the book, of course.
    I stood
The Maltese Falcon
upright. Taking hold of the first skewer, I dipped the long, thin spike into the glue until it was completely coated. Careful to avoid the spine itself, I guided the glue-covered skewer into the small breach that was the inner hinge of the front cover. I twirled the skewer a few times to evenly distribute the glue, then removed the stick. I did the same thing to the back hinge.
    I slid a piece of wax paper between each of the covers and their flyleaf pages, then closed the book. Grabbing my bone folder, I pressed the edge of it along the front hinge to emphasize the crease. I repeated the action along the back cover hinge, then placed a weight on top of the book. Ten minutes later, both covers were firmly affixed and
The Maltese Falcon
’s droopy text block was history.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    That night, I walked through the doors of the magnificent Covington Library and felt almost giddy with joy. I couldn’t helpit. I loved this place. It was because of the books, of course, but also because the building itself was so striking, a glorious sanctuary and a loving monument to the written word. It was home to some of the most beautiful books ever created, and I’d fallen in love with every inch of the