Canvassing Book Collection

“The funny thing about selling books,” admitted an experienced agent to the New York Times, “is that you never strike anybody … who really wants to buy … If a man really wanted a book he would go to a store and buy it. There would be no need of a book agent to hunt him down and harass him for an hour or so, would there?” Even the most attractive and informative titles needed all the salesmanship an agent could muster. “No matter how valuable or attractive a book might be,” advised a small pamphlet written exclusively for book agents,” the strong features must be shown and the customer convinced that it is valuable … before an order can be taken.”

The sales prospectus (or canvassing book or salesman’s dummy, as they are now some­times called) was the agent’s perfect weapon in this fight to grab a potential reader’s attention. Carefully assembled by the publisher to show the original title to its best advantage, the typical prospectus included a title-page, a table of contents, the most eye-catching illustrations, and examples of some of the writing. Sometimes optional bindings were glued to the inside back cover, as were advertisements, handbills, and pamphlets offering agents hints for selling the title. For modern-day researchers, the prospectus offers a complex array of information on the publishing industry that can be found nowhere else. It reveals much about the publishers who put the title together, the consumers who responded to it, and the cultural milieu that fostered it.

But do not look for these early vestiges of our publishing history in local libraries. For the most part, librarians have universally shunned the books, passing them off as ephemeral and non-consequential to the larger works they represent. Even our great national libraries—which pride themselves as collectors of all published media—have been reluctant to add canvassing books to their holdings. This is an unfortunate oversight, given that many of the titles could easily be considered first editions.

The greatest collections of canvassing books are in the hands of private collectors, such as the 2,500 titles assembled by Michael Zinman and Robert Seymour. When the collection was donated to the Van Pelt Library at the University of Pennsylvania in the late 1990s, it was estimated to be seven times larger than anything previously held by an institution.

In their quest to accumulate the ephemera of the book trade, collectors have created a small market for these remnants; their purchases give them value and ensure that the titles will be offered for sale by dealers rather than relegated to the refuse heap. Perhaps it is the collectors who are the real heroes of this story. Their persistence has helped to preserve an aspect of the book trade which otherwise would lack physical evidence.