Customer Reviews

Sixpence House

5 star:		(26)
4 star:		(19)
3 star:		(5)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

I fell in love with "Sixpence House" from the opening pages. It's not a travelogue, yet it gives the reader a wonderful sense of the place called Hay-on-Wye; it's not a guidebook for those publishing their first book, although we do share some of the labor pangs as Collins' first tome, the also wonderful "Banvard's Folly" advances to press; and it's not a compendium of unusual finds in forgotten books, though you'll find plenty of these here. If you demand a straightforward, linear sort of narrative, you might not love this. But if you enjoy sharing the keen intellect, thrill of discovery and gentle, wry wit of another bibliophile, you most certainly will. No lover of the printed word should pass it by.

Paul Collins has written something like the perfect book for bibliomaniacal Anglophiles. *Sixpence House* is the story of his migration--with wife and infant son--from San Francisco to Hay-on-Wye, a village in the Welsh countryside with some 1500 inhabitants--and, remarkably, 40 bookstores. Hay is a picturesque town, with cobblestone streets and thatch-roofed houses and its own castle, a half-ruined edifice occupied by Hay's self-proclaimed king, who happens to be, as are so many of Hay's inhabitants, a bookseller. Collins and his family rent an apartment in town (his mailing address becomes, simply, The Apartment: it's that small a village) and live out of their suitcases and stroller while house hunting and book buying. The author also works part-time for the king in his bookstore, a place crammed with more musty volumes than the royal's workers can ever organize.

Collins' attempt to buy an old house in Hay--he toys with purchasing the eponymous Sixpence House, a lopsided former pub that threatens to be a money pit--merely provides the skeleton for the author's delightful, meandering narrative. It is at times hilarious, as when, for example, Collins describes his first book-reading, or rather, his pre-reading sojourn in the bathroom:

"There's nowhere dry for me to put my papers down, so I have to tuck my papers under my chin while I pee, which works till--chiff--into the toilet, and I grab, and recoil, then grab again--and I have saved my manuscript, the thing I am still hoping to read from this evening, except for the first page, which is not just soaked, it is soaked with urine. I stand alone in the bathroom, horrified. I do not have another copy with me. But, what they do have here is--a hand dryer. And so there I stand, drying off my masterpiece over the ineffectual vent. It takes a long time. Someone finally walks in on my performance art, and there I am, drying my pee-soaked words--Hello, top of the evening to you. Finally I give up and throw the whole thing out."

In addition to urine-soaked manuscripts, there are recycled gravestones to read about, and near poisonous glasses of cider, and lyrical vomiting, and scheming Lords, and, everywhere, a bibliophile's revelry in old books. Collins, moreover, can write. Each page offers some beautifully or wittily phrased nugget for the reader to savor. (On the idea "that a character can develop a will of his own and 'take over a book,'" Collins writes: "A character can no more take over your novel than an eggplant and a jar of cumin can take over your kitchen.") One can lament only that the book is not twice as long.

(Actually, one can lament something else, but *read no further* if you have not either read or written the book: I was convinced that the author would end up buying Sixpence House and living out an idyllic, writerly life among the eccentrics of Hay. Indeed, though all indications suggested otherwise, I was sure the last chapter would end with either Paul or his wife coming to his or her senses and announcing that, money be damned, they wanted that house! But, it didn't happen. The book ended well, tidily, that nice bit with the problematic passport and the affirmation of Paul's status, but I was unaccountably heartsick about it.)

Reviewed by Debra Hamel, author of Trying Neaira: The True Story of a Courtesan's Scandalous Life in Ancient Greece

Sixpence House is a wonderful, strange, unclassifiable classic. The basic story is a travelogue, from San Francisco to London to a medieval town on the Welsh border. But the pastoral scenery and odd locals are really just Collins' jumping-off point, into the mysterious hidden worlds within long-forgotten books. The result is the literary equivalent of the kind of dinner party guest everyone wants to sit next to.

Paul Collins takes us with him as he relocates his family from San Francisco to the Welsh town of Hay-on-Wye, the little burg known for a bazillion used book stores. When he buys a 500-year-old house, he of course suspected he might encounter a problem or two, buy yikes! He faces problems, however, not just with his home but also with his editors, his publishers, family adjustments to village mentality, etc. but the whole is more than the sum of its parts in Collins' book. It can be read and enjoyed as memoir, travelogue, history, and adventure.
Altogether, a good read.

This book is a pure delight. Yes, for all the reasons that many other reviewers have put forth, but also for this one: It shows that the true value of reading books is how it makes one observant, well-rounded and introspective. Paul peppers his story with asides and very funny digressions that highlight what one might ordinarily miss while tramping through life and that actually serve to connect things more than any straight forward story could. His sense of humor is self-effacing as much as it is directed at anyone or any culture so even when biting, it is never less than beguiling. Like Abe Lincoln, he cannot but see the ludicrous in life and distills his observations into quips and anecdotes that enlighten and entertain.

As opposed to A Year in Provence (to which it is sometimes compared), this book doesn't inspire you to pull up stakes and transfer to the South of France or anywhere else, except maybe to the nearest musty, possibly treasure-laden bookstore, and deepen your appreciation of books. A visit to the California Antiquarian Book Fair a few years back taught me that there are basically two kinds of people -- those who love books for what they are and those that love books for what they do. Collins seems to be that rare bird -- a dweller in both camps. Every booklover knows the joy in finding something they didn't know they'd wanted in the first place. But he includes historical bits, usually hilarious, he's gleaned from his lifelong pursuit of the obscure and quirky. His sidetrips are also wonderfully funny and informative. For instance, while giving an account of what it's like to be in the publishing his own first effort, he segues into a description of, say, dust covers, giving a brief history of their development and what they may tell a prospective buyer, proving you CAN judge a book by its cover. The avid reader will recognize, also, Collins' predilection for making a beeline for bookcases when visiting someone's home. This practice is a shortcut to getting to know a person. Along the same lines, I try to see books on shelves behind people who are being interviewed on camera.

The writing is full of humor, the biographical episodes lively enough to convey a sense of place. But the real joy is in finding there is still much to learn about books as objects rather than books as providers of knowledge and enjoyment.

What an interesting little memoir! Paul Collins is a humorous writer who knows how to keep the laughs understated. Odd bits of trivia pop up every page or two as Collins and family move to the Welsh town of Hay-on-Wye--the town of books. With 1,500 people, Hay-on-Wye has 40 bookstores and seems like just the place for Collins and his also-an-author wife to raise their new son. So they leave San Francisco and its high rents and fast-paced life behind, and soon they're trying to buy a house in Hay-on-Wye, only to find that every house for sale is either a new-built cookie-cutter or requires complete gutting because it's over 400 years old.

All of this sounds banal, but it isn't--in the hands of Collins it's a happy little tale that you can't help but enjoy. The author's struggles to conjure up a title for his first book, about notable failures, coincide with working in a burned-out castle where ancient books arrive in cargo containers and are sorted and re-sorted for no apparent purpose, and this dovetails with Collins' ill-formed notion that he can become a member of the House of Lords. (The book, by the way, ends up being called "Banvard's Folly: Thirteen Tales of People Who Didn't Change the World," and it is also well worth reading.)

None of this description does this book justice. It's the kind of book that you can read before bed; you won't kill yourself trying to finish it, because it breaks up nicely, and you'll fall asleep content and at peace.

Collins works with Dave Eggers, he of "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" fame, and his most recent book, "Not Even Wrong: Adventures in Autism," carries the story started in this memoir further, so I'm sure we'll hear more from him in the future. For now, pick up "Sixpence House." You won't regret it.

After reading "Sixpence House"by Paul Collins,I have made plans to visit Hay-on-Wye.I want to see Booth's Castle and maybe have a ham sandwich with him in his kitchen at the Castle.I want to see the water in the basement of Sixpence House and the "Beverly Hills"area of Hay.I want to go to Pemberton's Book shop and meet Diana and know that she is ok after her mandatory visit to Cardiff.I want to spend much time in Booth's Bookstore and look for a copy of "Hunting Indians in a Taxicab" and a copy of "I was Hitler's Maid".After reading "Sixpence House"by Paul Collins,you will want to do these things also.

I expected to be disappointed by Sixpence House. Yes, I love to read books and I've wanted to visit Hay-on-Wye ever since I first heard of it over twenty years ago. But books about how wonderful books are usually leave me cold. I'm not interested in collecting books, so the charm of the Nicholas Basbanes and Lawrence Goldstone genres eludes me.

Paul Collins is more concerned with what's inside the books and he writes so well that it doesn't matter that his taste in books is entirely different from mine or from any other reader's. He seems to be interested in everything. He gleans curious tidbits from any book he happens to pick up and relates them in an entertaining way.

In Sixpence House, Collins and his wife and toddler son are trying to find a house to buy in Hay, the Town of Books, and his first book is about to be published. This gives him a chance to talk about the characters of Hay and about the publishing business from an author's point of view. I love his thumbnail explanation of how to decipher bookcovers and the importance of a book's title (the question remains, why did his publisher go with the deadly title of Banvard's Folly over his intriguing choices, The Man With N-Ray Eyes, or simply Losers?). Another unforgettable episode is Collins's return to the U.S having lost his passport. Not exactly a warm welcome home.

Sixpence House was so enjoyable, I may have to read Banvard's Folly in spite of the dreadful title. Sure, Collins and his wife were crazy to think they could move to Hay, but he got a book out of it at least, and what a great story.

SIXPENCE HOUSE is a book I stumbled upon accidentally. I suppose this is an appropriate way to find a book such as this, since much of the book takes place in Hay-on Wye, a Welch town known for its used and antique bookstores. When the book takes place, the author Paul Collins, his wife and their child have moved to this small town so that Paul can concentrate on his writing, become re-acclimated with his heritage, be totally imbibed in a literary atmosphere, and raise the child in a different atmosphere than San Francisco, where the couple lived prior to the move. In the book we get to know Paul's immediate family, his new neighbors, the trails of purchasing a home in a different country, and titles of fascinating books none of us will probably ever read since the titles are long out of print. We also see Paul complete the finishing touches on his first book BANVARD'S FOLLY.

This is not a book I sat down and read cover to cover. I usually read it at times when I was a bit tired and needed to be transported to a different place. Collins' descriptions are vivid and I imagined vicariously being in his situation-a situation any book lover would envy. For booklovers and writers, SIXPENCE HOUSE is a must, but anyone who enjoys reading the work of an author who can take something routine and make it interesting will find the book a true gem. Personally I cannot wait to visit Hay-on-Wye and find some of the treasures of Collins' book myself.