Ephemera.

The door swung inward and she led him into the smell of dust. They stood in a clearing, dense tangles of junk rising on either side to walls lined with shelves of crumbling paperbacks. The junk looked like something that had grown there, a fungus of twisted metal and plastic. He could pick out individual objects, but then they seemed to blur back into the mass: the guts of a television so old it was studded with the glass stumps of vacuum tubes, a crumpled dish antenna, a brown fiber canister stuffed with corroded lengths of alloy tubing. An enormous pile of old magazines had cascaded into the open area, flesh of lost summers staring blindly up as he followed her back through a narrow canyon of impacted scrap. He heard the door close behind them. He didn’t look back.

William Gibson, Neuromancer

My lovely wife is away in Victoria this weekend with her sister, and I'm taking advantage of her absence to do a low pass reconnaissance of the Vancouver Flea Market, located on the evocatively named Terminal Avenue at the south edge of the city's infamous Downtown East Side.  I'm hoping that it will prove to be a suitable venue for used book sales, giving me a starting place for liquidating most* of my book collection in preparation for retirement downsizing. 

The web site for the Flea Market claims that it offers almost 40,000 square feet of shopping with 360 tables for your shopping pleasure.  Frankly, it doesn't seem that large - although, to be honest, it never occurs to me to count the tables once I'm there.

For the most part, the sales stock is the standard flea-market selection of worn clothing, mismatched antique china cups, obsolete media - battered vinyl record albums, VHS tapes, and so on - musical instruments, porcelain figurines, wooden carvings, and one table with a corner featuring an attractive selection of reasonably-priced rocks: it's exactly the kind of place you visit if you're desperate for an affordable copy of Kenny Rogers' Greatest Hits. A surprising number of tables feature tools of varying vintage - there must be a substantial community of budget-minded tradespeople in the lower mainland to create this kind of demand.

Some of the tables are almost artistic in their disarray, giving parts of the market a surprising sort of Gibsonesque feel, like visiting Akihabara Electric Town in Tokyo, or paying a call to Metro Holographix from the Sprawl Trilogy, but without quite the same degree of otaku sophistication. (There's certainly no suggestion that there might be a sophisticated criminal cyber-fencing operation going on behind the scenes, although, really, it would be more than a little amateur of them if that was evident to the casual shopper.)

It's not all tools and emphemera, I do manage to discover a couple of sellers with objects of interest to the geek shopper. If I had wanted to start a vintage robot collection, I would have had an opportunity to jump start the process from one table, and another booth contains an astonishing jumble of unboxed toys and action figures, but they're solitary glimmers of light in the darkness, at least as far as my shopping interests are concerned. The booth with the toys is almost frustrating in its lack of organization - there might well be some incredible bargains hidden in there, but I can't help but feel that it would require a lot of sifting through the dross to find any gold.

Ultimately, as far as research for a location to sell my books collection goes, the Flea Market didn't ring the bell at all.  It just didn't seem to be the sort of location that would bring in book buyers, I think I need something with more of a collectors vibe - once again, it's a shame that Canada doesn't have a tradition of outdoor book vendors à la Paris.

- Sid 

* Obviously I'll keep a few things, although it will be challenging to triage my little library.