I picked and packed my last book on Saturday. Wholesale orders are still very welcome, but I’ve decided to stop selling individual print copies directly from the web site. While the Americans have “media mail” and the British have “printed matter” rates, Canada Post offers booksellers nothing but misery — the cost of shipping anything heavier than a sheet of toilet paper is prohibitive.
That is one reason why I have moved the Obolus Press print bookstore to Aerio, where all orders to the United States and Canada will now be fulfilled on the next business day by Ingram (one of the world’s largest book distributors). Their typical shipping cost for a paperback is just $2.99 when sent to a US address via USPS.
The other reason I am directing business to Aerio is that, unlike Amazon, they will always have my titles in stock at the correct price. I recently caught the Bezos Bandits selling the paperback edition of Le Sidaner’s biography for $43.24 — 50% higher than my price of $28.95:
For orders to the UK and the rest of the world, I am referring customers to Blackwell’s and the Book Depository respectively. They seem to keep titles well stocked and reasonably priced.
An even bigger change is that you can now download a PDF edition (DRM-free) of each title for $9.99 or less. I’ll have more to say about this in another blog post next week.
Hans Ostwald, Sittengeschichte der Inflation (Berlin: Neufeld & Henius, 1931), p. 275 (my translation):
Lining up for food was not the worst thing. Even sadder were the other lines, the gold and silver lines. These were lines of sellers, not buyers, made up entirely of women who waited patiently in front of the places where precious metal was purchased. When they were asked for their identity cards, they pulled them out of their old, shabby purses in a shy and embarrassed way. They gave away their gold wedding rings and their silver — often very thin spoons and some pathetic-looking jewellery from better days — in exchange for the bits of rag paper they needed so urgently to buy the bread and fat that would prevent them from starving.
I recently learned that photographs taken before 1948 are in the public domain in Canada, regardless of when the author died. This means I’ll be able to include almost all of the original illustrations from Ostwald’s book in the English edition, including the one above (which was probably taken by Willy Römer).
Hans Ostwald, Sittengeschichte der Inflation (Berlin: Neufeld & Henius, 1931), p. 218 (my translation):
It is extraordinarily amusing to see how the mood of an age is always reflected in its dance songs, especially in the refrains. Nothing can give a better picture of the nature and condition of the dancers, and thus of the population as a whole, than the songs the jazz bands play in the dance halls, bars, and coffee houses — and which maids sing as they wash dishes in the kitchen, and boys whistle in the street. Most of the lyrics suit the music and melodies perfectly, and they characterize the people who dance and twirl to them. Here one can truly say, “Tell me what music you like to dance to, and I will tell you who you are.”
I am nearly finished translating this history of the Weimar inflation. Last week I spent some time (Wasted you say? Surely not!) looking up some of the songs Ostwald mentions as being emblematic of the period and find that Marlene Dietrich sang one of them as part of her screen test for The Blue Angel (see this video at the 2:41 mark):
Wer wird denn weinen, wenn man auseinander geht, Wenn an der nächsten Ecke schon ein andrer steht? Man sagt auf Wiedersehn! und denkt sich heimlich bloß: Nun bin ich endlich wieder mein Verhältnis los!
I’ve translated it as:
Who would weep, if we should part? Just around the corner waits another sweetheart. You bid goodbye, and to yourself quietly say: There’s another one who is out of the way!
I see that the back issues of the German magazine Uhu(1924 to 1934) have been digitized and are available at arthistoricum.net. Some good reading for those interested in the era.
The image above is the cover of the October 1930 issue, which includes a piece by Heinrich Hauser about his early life, the first in a series of articles about how young people lived during the Weimar Republic.