Dealers of South American Books,
Librería De Antaño, Argentina

By Abby Tallmer

It was at the April 2003 New York Antiquarian Book Fair (NYABF for short from hereon in) that this author had the opportunity to meet Alfredo & Gustavo Brietfeld, the father and son proprietors of the Librería De Antaño. They live and work in Argentina and manage a rare book business, that with their catalogues and the internet, reaches to every part of the globe. Their most recent catalogue, “Fine Books and Manuscripts,” was reviewed in our April issue. For the New York Book Fair they crossed the equator, leaving the beginning of autumn in the southern hemisphere for the first days of spring in New York. We met them at their booth at show for a two hour discussion that was punctuated by a steady flow of customers, old friends and the simply curious stopping to ask about one book or another.

We began our talk with the copious and overly chivalrous introductions so typical of the more traditional South American gentleman, and of the historic great early twentieth century booksellers of days past that one only hears or reads about today like A.S.W. Rosenbach and Lathrop Harper. And I can’t say that I minded that overt charm and display of manners a bit. After doing loads of interviews with North American bookdealers in which a grunt barely passes for “hello,” I found these polite affectations particularly refreshing. And not only were they charming: Gustavo & Antonio Breitfeld, father and son proprietors, also were equally dashing, and more importantly they also each displayed the vibrant intelligence and bibliographic knowledge combined with wit of these legendary booksellers gone by. They were (like most men exhibiting at the fair) dressed in suits, ties, and jackets, but you could tell that they took just a bit more time to pick out their clothes than some others present did, and what with the combination of their costumes and their rich and all-consuming characters I could certainly see why they made excellent book salesmen.

Throughout our interview, dealing with the Breitfelds kept giving me a taste of what bookdealing must have been like in the early part of the twentieth century, when dealers had to know inside and out their books and their clients. They had to be not just master salesmen but masters of the bibliography, and they needed to convey a sense of credibility was uncommon but paramount amongst the best dealers whose legends and scholarly work lives on. When you bought a book from these dealers, you were forming in a sense a covenant: by accepting what they had to say, you had placed not just your money but your trust in them. This genuine and truthful mutual relationship of dependence and trust between dealers and clients is still present amongst the best dealers in our business, but one hundred and twenty five years ago it was the standard against a “good” dealer was judged by his or her client. Talking with the Brietfelds was like walking a bridge into that past, while (in terms of theme and context) staying very well put in the present. Often throughout the interview I reflected on the now astounding fact that this was what all excellent book dealers used to be like. Now, sadly, fewer and fewer of them are. But at least it’s comforting to know that this is the standard to which some still aspire. And now, on to the Brietfelds.