Some time ago I found myself in London, which as usual put me inside one of my favorite used book shops called Any Amount of Books. On this particular occasion, I happened to be standing in front of the glass case which is behind the cash register and one title hopped out at me. For the record, I don’t get into spending $300 for 100-year-tomes that will barely survive another reading. I love to collect books, but I want to read them, not be afraid to touch them. Anyway, fun to inspect the case. It’s where the expensive stuff is kept. I lucked out and found a mint-condition hardback copy of The Turn of the Screw by Henry James for £60.

Now. One might ask why in the world would I pay so much for this book? It’s not at all rare, can be had on Amazon Kindle for .99 or even hardback for under $20. This was the exact same question that blossomed into my noggin on the flight back. I mean, the book is beautifully bound, the paper makes my fingers tingle, the spread of the pages is luxuriant. My mouth gets dry. Its sexy. A sexy book. A book sexy AF. Is £60 really too much to pay for a book you want to sleep with?

I’ve always been a reader, but acquiring physical books has become a pastime for me ever since my brother gave me a 125 year old illustrated copy of Don Quixote. Talk about a book you want to fondle… The thing of it is, you can have thousands of books in your Kindle or Audible or that thing Barnes and Noble sells, but you’ve got to use some form of judgement if you are wanting to build a library on physical books. There is a fine line separating curation and hording. For me, Cervantes was my gateway drug into that labyrinthine playground of the used book shop. I seek them out whenever we’re traveling. It’s delightful.

I’ve learned, however, from experience, that pricing can be total guesswork. Sometimes what you are holding is a first edition science fiction that no one gives a shit about, and you pay $10. I call that a win. Or sometimes you happen across a clean copy of Bulfinche’s Mythology, and you pay $100. There are lots of factors that go into pricing a used book. Of which, I have two rules of thumb: Rule #1: Popularity+Scarcity+Condition=Price. Rule #2: caveat emptor. You feel me.

So here we are back at home and SCREW is staring me in the face. Lording itself over me from the top of my bookshelf. Did I get…screwed buying it? Never mind that I’ve not actually been able to finish it. I know, troglodyte that I am. The language is just so obtuse, overwrought. Try reading it, I dare you. (Frankly it’s just as impenetrable as Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy by John le Carré — there’s is just so much lingo, language disparity for me.)

Anywhoo… I digress. Let’s go back to being screwed.

Earlier this year, I had stumbled across a used hardback copy of Michael Herr’s Dispatches which was only $15 but bound and published by Everyman’s Library. Now, if you’re not familiar with Everyman’s, you should know them like you know Folio. Beautiful books. It hit me. Dispatches was nice! Maybe that could help explain why a bookseller had gotten me to part with 60 quid for a used Screw.

I took the book and its slip cover off my shelf, opened it and thumbed through some pages. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would say I’m pretty clean of fetishism, you know, just the normal hobgoblins of an active imagination, but the silky smoothness of the paper. The color. The smell. The crackle of the spine. What’s more, the illustrations are delicious. This thing has been bound fit for a king.

That’s when I flipped to the book’s front matter and discovered a name that changed my book buying habits forever: The Folio Society of London.

The Folio Society is a book publisher that creates “Editions of Lasting Beauty”. Folio has been in operation since 1947. In short, these guys make books for book addicts of all ages. Ok, fine, maybe SOME of their customers aren’t exactly addicts. How about we call them aficionados, or book junkies? Who else would be willing to plunk down say, $400 for the Complete Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, or $95 for Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince (worth it!! especially if you have a young reader in your orbit), or even $95 For Herr’s Dispatches. (I paid $15 for my copy but it’s not Folio and dammit if I don’t want to grab Folio’s too.) Anyway, addicted bibliophile junkie aficionados there is help for you. You know who you are. You are the ones that love the feel, the texture, and weight of a book that makes you ache to take it to bed. Rejoice. There is help. Call or click The Folio Society of London today for immediate counseling. Put them on your speed dial.

One thing to keep in mind about their books: They only produce them in limited quantities. I learned this the hard way when I was going in to finally pull the trigger on William Gibson’s Neuromancer, which is now gone! Sold out! Sacre bleu!!