There was a time when the hunt for a rare book, or even just an out of print book, was a major undertaking - you could either travel the country scouring multiple used bookstores yourself or pay a commission to a book dealer who would put feelers out through his local network and, if necessary, to the wider world of book dealers through a classified ad in a trade magazine. However, with the advent of the internet and search engines such as AddAll, most of us have been able to cut out the middle-man and, with a few clicks of the mouse, track down that old childhood favorite without ever leaving the house.

But there is at least one area of book collecting that still benefits from the hands on touch - where the thrill of the chase is discovering the hidden secret of an apparently run of the mill book - and that is the search for fore-edge paintings.

To create a fore-edge painting, the pages of a book are fanned out and held in a vice. A painting is then applied usually with water color. When the paint is dry the book is released from the clamp so the book is flat again, and the edges of the book are then either gilted or marbled to completely hide any evidence of the painting from casual eyes. I was introduced to fore-edge painting while visiting a friend's father on New York's Upper East Side a few months back where, even though the book's secret was known to me, I still felt a sense of discovery in fanning the pages to find the hidden painting.

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Guest blog by Michelle Richmond
Michelle can be found online at michellerichmond.com

In the past year, I've visited many book clubs for The Year of Fog. One of the things I've learned from this experience is how deeply books live inside the minds of their readers: once a reader opens a book, the story is never exactly what the author intended it to be. It takes on a new life, a life informed by the very unique perspective of each reader. The reader is not simply a separate being in a chair, holding a book in her hands. The reader is always part of the story.

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My book-loving friend Martin and I have a recurring conversation that usually starts with, "I'm going on vacation and can't figure out which book to take."  It's an interesting conundrum, and for us book addicts, a critically important decision that we begin pondering weeks before we actually leave town.

I suppose it partially depends on the type of vacation on which you're taking this treasured companion (and by that I'm referring to your book and not your spouse).  If your intent is a relaxing week at the beach, for example, you might pick something light and fun, perhaps romantic; the latest from Ann Brashares or Jude Devereaux might be your choice.  Those seeking to rekindle that special spark (and this time, I am talking about your spouse) might look for a steamier option, like Anne Rice's Beauty series or something by Jamie Denton (or perhaps no book at all!).   Still others may prefer perusing a longer or more complex book while on vacation, since it's rare for them to have a large block of time in which to read.

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Guest blog by Meg Waite Clayton, author of The Wednesday Sisters
Meg can be found online at megwaiteclayton.com

The history of my writing starts with a brown paper lunch bag. Like Linda does in my novel, The Wednesday Sisters, my first writing teacher dumped a collection of "interesting things" onto a table and told us to write about anything that spilled. She swore we wouldn't have to read. Then she called time after five minutes, and called on me to read first.

Which is the good news: If she hadn't, I'd have ducked out before she could call on me second. It had taken all the nerve I had just to get to that class, to admit that, yes, I dreamed of writing novels. I thought writers leaped tall buildings in single literary bounds, and that's not me.

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I recently finished The Killing Way, a mystery by author Tony Hays.  While the book was relatively well-written, I found that I was still much more drawn to it than its quality would seem to merit.  I kept mentally returning to it, being excited about getting back to it, only to realize I'd already finished the darned thing and would have to wait for the sequel.  In mulling over why I found this book so fascinating, I came to the conclusion that it wasn't the plot or the writing (although both were fine) -- it was the book's hero.

I've had numerous literary crushes over time.  My first occurred when I was in Mrs. Cummins' seventh grade English class.  Every year she had her students read The Adventures of Robin Hood.   While most complained, I enjoyed the experience tremendously.  It was my first encounter with the hero, and I was totally "in love" (whatever that means to a twelve-year-old).   I even resorted to wearing what I thought looked Sherwood-Foresty for awhile (a green shirt that had laces strung across the v-shaped neckline, and leather moccasins that passed for "boots," both readily available in the early 1970s, unfortunately).

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Guest blog by Laila Lalami, author of Secret Son
Laila can be found online at lailalalami.com

For the first two years during which I worked on my novel, I didn't have a title for it.  It was simply labeled The Novel, both in my computer and in my head.  Perhaps this was because I really wasn't sure what the book was going to be about.  It started out as a historical novel, following two generations of two Moroccan families after independence; then I cut out the historical part; and eventually I got rid of one of the families.  As my focus narrowed, my story became clearer to me.  The Novel was about Youssef, a student and movie lover, who lives in a slum outside Casablanca.  He discovers that his entire existence has been a lie--his dead and respectably poor father turns out to be a wealthy businessman who is very much alive.  This discovery sets him on a journey to find his father and the truth. 

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