On Thursday, June 10th, Booking through Thursday asked:
Do signed copies excite you? Tempt you? Delight you? Or does it not matter to you?
While there are a few authors of whom I am truly a fan, and not just a mere reader, I’m not the type to wait in line all night, so I can appear before them with bad breath and dark circles under my eyes, in order to get one of a limited number of signed copies.
However, while I don’t generally collect autographs, I will, if presented with the opportunity, opt for a signed copy of a book whenever possible. I don’t own a lot of signed copies, though my collection is growing lately. My copy of Robert Englund’s memoir is signed (and has a doodle), as does my copy of Michael Perry’s latest, Coop, but some of my favorite books, by some of my favorite authors (my entire Laurie R. King collection, for example) are not signed and it doesn’t mean I love them any less. (The lack of a Laurie R. King signature is somewhat mitigated by the signed photo of Jeremy Brett that I’ve had since I was thirteen or fourteen. Fans of a certain fictional detective will understand why. )
One of my favorite signed copies is the galley I have of Cleo Coyle’s coffeehouse mystery from last year – I love her work, and her recipes, and I enjoyed getting to read that before it was released.
In truth, I’d rather have the book than the signature on it.