If it’s taken us this long to publicly take a side in the Amazon-Hachette feud, it’s only because we’re so obviously Team Hachette that it goes without saying! Also, no one asked.

BC Library Quarterly back-issues, a certain kind of person’s version of escapist literature: where the articles are gloriously faithful to the periodical’s mandate (“The Story of a Struggle: Public Library Service in Nanaimo”; “Books in Captivity” - on librarianship at Haney Correctional Institution), where desktop publishing has yet to rear its ugly head, where the ads are all designed by the great Robert Reid.

Surreptitious, extra-textual battles are fought for hearts and minds in bookstores all the time - ask anyone who has ever been tasked with removing Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn propaganda secretly slipped between pages in the New Age section. The fringe religious sects have been pretty quiet on the Hound front, so it is with a frisson of excitement that we discovered this gem of a sticker on the inside front cover of Sex and Satanism. The Divine Comedy writ small and pulpy!

Welcome to the new nostalgia.

Half of The Paper Hound is away on holiday this week, inspired by this trove of sunny, sandy, soviet 1960s Black Sea advertisements.

Ivory towers and university-capped Burnaby mountaintops: we’re getting higher education here at The ‘Hound, with newly acquired Oxfordiana and an upcoming event with author Michael Hingston reading from his campus newspaper novel The Dilettantes, set at SFU (the Oxford of the North Pacific?). Come one, come all! Sunday, August 10th at 6pm.


Endpapers revisited - can’t stop with the swirling colours: Happy Pride!

Vancouver, if you liked the high drama of yesterday’s fiery sunset, you’ll LOVE the swirling intensity of these 200-year old marbled endpapers!

Something for the handwriting enthusiasts and marginalia lovers: vellum manuscript fragments interleaved between endpapers by a sixteenth-century bookbinder; the ex libris penmanship of its eighteenth-century custodian, a Joseph Arnoult; and the minute pencil annotations, mid-twentieth century, of the university professor, its most recent owner.
The dwarfing sensation of seeing personal, human traces marking time on material history.

New display exploring pronominal shorthand conventions pre-1965: the anticipation of texting.
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