seedy exactitude

Philip Larkin in his capacity as librarian at Hull University came into Bertram Rota [London bookseller], looking for copies of his own early books for the university collections. This struck me as a self-flagellatory exercise….If sometimes I label him “The Bard of Impotence” this is not to say he was not a good poet, a paragon of seedy exactitude, but that his oeuvre exudes impotence, whether it be his own, this country’s, or both together. Despair becomes its own comfort zone, which may explain his immense appeal to the happily depressed masses. When I offered him a copy of his first book, The North Ship (1945), for £200 he balked at the price, saying, ‘What, for that piece of rubbish!’ The librarian left with his satchel empty. The poet, on the other hand, would have thought the book less rubbishy had it been a tenth the price?

—Marius Kociejowski, A Factotum in the Book Trade: a memoir (Biblioasis, 2022) (87)

market in action

If you want to gauge the current esteem (and value) of poets, those dead and some older living ones, then peruse the pages of a rare book dealer’s sales catalog. Is the name even there, and what kind of prices are listed for the books and other collectible literary material?