Issue No. 6 · October 5, 2026
Old Book Hunter #6
As a tribute to the massive construction projects taking place around Brooklyn's Gowanus canal, this issue is about toxicity. Paracelsus put it best: the dose makes the poison. Everything is toxic in the right amount, and for most of history no one could say what that amount was, or prove after a death that it had been crossed. This issue follows the century in which that began to change. It opens in 1702 with a young London physician studying viper venom under a microscope and trying to explain it like Newton. It visits a royal rat-catcher who poisoned for a living, and an East India Company naturalist sorting the deadly snakes of India from the harmless ones. It closes with two men who dragged poison into public view: Orfila, who taught the courts how to find arsenic in a body, and Accum, who found poisons in London's bread, beer and cheese, and named the merchants who put them there. Five books, 1702 to 1820, from the laboratory to the courtroom to the kitchen table.
Hunter's lesson
Cultural Property
This issue's most beautiful book, Patrick Russell's Indian Serpents, comes with a line most buyers never see: "Exportable: No." Under India's Antiquities and Art Treasures Act, objects over 100 years old, and manuscripts of historical or literary value over 75, generally can't leave the country without government permission, which is rarely given. The copy is real and for sale. It just has to stay in India.
At the high end this is routine. Britain can put a temporary export bar on a book of national importance to give a domestic institution time to match the price. Italy requires an export certificate for older cultural goods and can refuse one. France can declare an object a trésor national. These rules mostly affect five- and six-figure books, and reputable dealers handle the paperwork.
Lower down, it gets murkier. Search eBay for "Ethiopian Coptic Bible" and you'll find parchment manuscripts, usually in Ge'ez (the "Coptic" label is a trade misnomer), in wooden boards, often at tempting prices. Some are recent devotional or tourist work. Others may have left a church or monastery that never meant to part with them, and Ethiopian law restricts the export of such heritage objects. Similar caution applies to manuscripts from Iraq, Syria, Yemen, and Tibet.
Our rule is simple: the older and more culturally specific the object, the more the paperwork matters. Ask where it came from, when it left, and whether it left legally. A seller who can't answer those questions is telling you something.