I’ll try to buy a book at auction once or twice a year, just to keep my hand in it, so I don’t forget how to buy online. And it helps, in this new digital environment, to have online book scouts who will send me links to tempting items. Just like in the old days, when they’d show up at my shop with a box of wonderful or not-so-wonderful stuff, except now it’s all online, and the option is no longer whether or not to buy the items from the scout, but simply to arrange the terms by which the scout might be repaid for tipping me off to his find.
Of course, all this depends on my ability to actually come into possession of the item at hand, which means I have to execute a successful bid, which means there are entire categories of items that are out of my reach, because rich people have decided that such collectibles are a good place to stash their dough and, to them, the difference between, say, $10,000 and $25,000 is negligible. So that $10,000 whaling log, that I used to be able to snag for $7,000 or $8,000 if I was lucky, now goes for $25,000… over and over, with such regularity that I don’t even bid on whaling logs – or similarly glitzy items – anymore.
No, the goods now must be obscure, difficult to understand or put in context, or so impossibly niche as to be uninteresting to rich people.
Thus it was that I guy with whom I’ve done a good deal of business over the years, and with whom I frequently swap information, sent me a link to a stash of half a dozen 18th century books pertaining to naval and military medicine. In this case, he wasn’t expecting a finder’s fee or a piece of the action. In fact, after I’d won the lot, when I emailed to thank him, he told me he’d forgotten all about it.
Point is, I did win the lot – and at a price that would allow me a modest profit.
It wasn’t until I got the box home and took a look at the final invoice that I hit upon the title for this week’s blog, because those were the exact words I uttered when I examined the details. Are You F*cking Sh*tting Me?
The buyer’s premium was 30%.
The internet might be our friend, but auction houses never were. And, in combination with the internet, they have destroyed traditional book selling.
They’ve managed to convince the buying public, particularly the highest end of it, that they, the auction houses are the only fair, honest, and transparent market. This, by unspoken contrast, suggests that we, the book selling community, are slippery dealers at best, outright crooks at worst.
I’ll spare you the “I hate auction houses” rant, and simply point out that their annoying high-toned bullshit, coupled with their refusal to back the integrity of what they sell, has been immeasurably worsened by their predatory greed.
30% Buyer’s Premium.
Are You F*cking Sh*tting Me?
As Chris Verbeke used to phrase it, at least when he was trying to buy, “It seems a bit high.”
And they do call it a “premium” for a reason.
Amen to that. And it is worse than it seems. The auction house also charges the seller a premium so the seller and the buyer both have to pay the house for the dubious honor of putting the book on a shelf, taking a picture of it, and mailing it to the buyer. I’m with you, Greg, on this one.
For all the reasons you outline I have refrained from buying from auctions for 40 years. Tempted, maybe, but refrained nevertheless. The few times I dipped my toe in it I think I said much the same thing as your title! Once burned, twice shy. There is more that could be said about auctions but we would have to pay them a “premium” to do so.
there are some mega shady dealers out there that pillage. pba galleries, schlib rare books, they are awful.
Not to mention, the auction houses that treat their shipping departments as profit centers, charging ridiculous amounts for material we all ship everyday as reasonably as we can. Then you have the auction houses that don’t provide shipping, but “provide the courtesy of supplying you with the contact information of local UPS stores.” When these shippers have a captive market (how else are you going to collect the books or prints that are 2,000 miles away?) they regard it as a license to steal: $132.56 for “expert packing” (I love the 56 cent add-on to prove this is a detailed calculation rather than one they just made up) and three times the regular cost of shipping. Ack! You’d think I’d learn, but, unlike some of my colleagues above, I fall in this trap over and over again. Okay, I’ve lost your sympathy with my stupidity but at least you know where I have gotten all of my gray hair.