There is something about the English language that is so delightful, yet infuriating.

In particular, I mean the sometimes opposite definitions we Americans place on a British word. (One example, which I won’t detail completely, involved me complimenting a TV producer’s fanny pack. Well, she and the executive producer were fresh off the plane from England. They enjoyed a fine giggle at my stunned expense.)

Here’s another example: Scheme.

Scheme is a perfectly fine word in England, and presumably the entire United Kingdom. It is often used in the phrase “marketing scheme” in a complementary (or at least non-opinionated) way.

But in America, a “scheme” is a devious plan to achieve a nefarious end.

And so, despite this understanding, I chuckled when I read about the Folio Society “scheme.”

If you’ve read these blog stories (this is #365) for long, you know Gary and I love to collect – and read – books.

Our collection was greatly enhanced when Dad offered to re-home their Folio book collection with us a few years back, months after Mom’s passing. He left us a year later, and as he was nearing the end, it was other Folio Society fans who, quite honestly, helped me through some tough hours.

Three years later, we’ve added to the collection, which has grown from 550 to 788. Mostly classics, just like my parents’ choices. I try to read at least two or three each month and write up a little something here.

Why Folio Society?

I asked Dad and he told me it was his retirement project. He wanted to collect and read the classics. After some research on different publishers, he chose Folio Society. Back then, it was a membership book club, with participants committing to purchasing at least four volumes per year.

I can just imagine Mom and Dad paging through the catalog every two months, choosing beautifully illustrated books to fill their library shelves. I’ve since acquired an appreciation for the feel of the paper and binding.

The Folio Society is headquartered in London. Dad told me a few years back how excited they were to drop by during their trip to the U.K. in the 1990s – but it must have been a bank holiday, as the offices were closed. Mom, nearly silenced by Parkinson’s when Dad recalled this lost opportunity, let out a bluster of a sigh that said it all.

And so, when my latest purchase arrived today, memories stirred.

Not because of the cover, though, which is gorgeous. (Farmer Gary cringed however at the thought of reading for hours and then trying to stand up unaided from that chair.)

No, it was the handwritten note just inside the cover:

1948 – only the fifth title published by The Folio Society

Holy cow! This book was published during The Folio Society’s second year of existence, just as my parents started college. Thankfully, the earlier owner(s) took really good care of it.

Here’s where the word “scheme” comes in:

This is the back cover of Candide. It lists the first four books the budding Folio Society published and the next three to come.

Below that:

See back flap for details of subscription scheme

And here is that subscription scheme all lined out for early members:

The membership-based plan faded away over the past decade. It was a good scheme while it lasted.

It’s impossible to fully describe what book fiends my parents were. But maybe this love letter to books Mom wrote in 1971 will help. It resonates still today.

Threshold

Do any of you know this book – it’s beautiful.
I feel its warmth just holding it, like
winter hands about a cup of tea.
I open it and walk into a holiday of friends:
smiling, hands extended, hugs from childhood
welcoming me back. I warn you not to read it
when you’re rushing, wait; it must be honored,
like old wine. But read it if you’re sad or mad
or happy; it will bring you peace if you will step
entire into it – the bumbling, shredded, secondary
selves we settle for. A coming home it is,
in from the storm that blows about us all.

~ Joan Vayo 11/16/1971

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“Threshold” © 1971  Joan Vayo. All rights reserved.

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