Two Hundred (and ten) Virago’s - and counting

It sometimes seems that my mission in life is to accumulate; books of course, but also shells, little pebbles, shoes, postcards, pictures generally, bits of ribbon, odd socks (though I swear they start out as pairs) theatre programmes, stuff for the kitchen – well you get the idea, and all of it collects dust like nobody’s business, but within the general accumulation there are little hoards which are genuine collections and the one dearest to my heart is my collection of Virago books.

I currently have just over two hundred volumes – which is almost double the number I think I had a year ago – the sudden acceleration is due to (mostly) friendly rivalry with the blonde – last time I checked she was about 2 books behind me – but she’s sneaky so I may be behind now... I should admit that I behaved shamefully in the Astley Book Farm a couple of weeks ago over a Nina Bawden – there wasn’t a tussle but only because I moved with uncharacteristic speed and snatched the book moments before she got her outstretched hand on it. In my defence... hmmm can’t think of a defence, but it did turn out to be an ex library copy and the blonde likes her books pristine so we stayed friends this time. The lovely ladies who run Astley have threatened to hold back Virago’s for the purpose of setting up a bidding war between us; they might be on to something.

My love for this publisher stretches back over 18 years which I realise (though not entirely willingly) is half my lifetime. I first discovered those nice green books when I was fresh at university and beginning to realise there must be more to the canon than men and Virginia Woolf. Those were the heady days of discovering Molly Keane, and Rosamond Lehmann, Dodie Smith and E. M. Delafield’s ‘Diary of a Provincial Lady’. After graduating I worked in a bookshop for a while (the Blonde was my boss) and that’s when I started collecting (though I must admit to not really reading many at the time) and then for a while my reading tastes veered off in other directions.

My rediscovery of Virago was a happy moment (Florence King’s ‘Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady’, Mary Renault’s ‘The Friendly Young Lady’s’ Dorothy Baker’s ‘Cassandra at the Wedding’) and the point where I started looking for apples rather than authors on books – a strategy which has lead me to all sorts of happy discoveries – F. M Mayor, Muriel Spark, Barbara Pym, Alice Thomas Ellis, Elizabeth Von Arnim, and Barbara Comyns are all writers I would probably never have read without Virago’s livery to recommend them. I have a list almost as long of writers waiting to be read on my shelves all there for the same reason.

Virago have become more than just a publisher to me, some of the best days I’ve spent over the last couple of years have been with the blonde scouring the countryside for second hand bookshops and those distinctive spines. For someone as unathletic as me hunting down books is as close to sport as it gets. There are rules, sort of, I won’t buy a book I don’t think I’ll read (one of the reason’s I really admire Verity and her Virago Venture) which is why I don’t have a copy of ‘The Well of Loneliness’ (don’t know why, never fancied it). I don’t (generally) buy duplicates of books I already have but then find a Virago edition of (The exception is ‘Mrs Miniver’ but the duplicate copy I now own is going to a new home soon). Amazon purchases are allowed, but we both agree that they just aren’t the same – it’s the thrill of finding a book that makes this such fun for us – finding F. M. Mayor’s ‘The Squire’s Daughter’ or Barbara Comyns ‘Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead’ were almost euphoric moments because I’d wanted both for a while, as was finding Catherine Carswell, and Christina Stead, both new to me, both yet to be read, but both very promising looking.

I’m not fussy about the colour of the cover, although I’m fond of the old green ones; something I like about my collection is the mix of sun bleached old books, pristine bottle green ones, and the whole rainbow of the current covers. The blonde likes her books as immaculate as possible and will buy on that basis; I’m more likely to be attracted by a title (‘Moonraker’!). I’m not entirely sure how many modern classics there are – but I know its well over 600. I hope there are about another 100 or so old and probably out of print again titles waiting for me to find (obviously I really hope it’s far more), and thankfully they keep publishing more so Virago truly should be a publisher for life and not just for Christmas. Meanwhile my little sister is visiting this weekend, and the blonde and I plan to take her out – should we see a bookshop I’m particularly looking for ‘The Thorn Birds’ (don’t judge me) and Ethel M Dell’s ‘The Way of an Eagle’ (really, don’t judge me). Oh and wish me happy hunting!