This week I decided to discuss my copy of “Mastering the Tarot: Lessons in An Ancient, Mystic Art” by Eden Gray.
Originally published in 1971, this copy was purchased by my mother in the late 90s at a used bookstore outside of Washington, DC, where I grew up. The neon green price tag reading “McKay Books” remains on the front cover; I spent many afternoons at this bookstore as a kid and have fond memories of purchasing some of my favorite books from there, so I have yet to peel off the price tag after all this time.
There’s no way of knowing who the previous owner of this book was, though I’ve often wondered who may have “mastered the tarot” before donating it to McKay’s. I think that’s the beauty of used bookstores; you always carry a bit of someone else’s history–and the mystery that accompanies this–in the pages of your newly purchased book.
My mom has dabbled in Tarot since she was a teenager. She picked up the hobby from my late grandmother, who always had a great passion for mysticism and spirituality. My mom purchased this book to accompany a new set of cards my dad had given her as a gift. She used the book on and off for years until it ultimately began collecting dust on the bookshelf in our living room. Coincidentally, I took up an interest in tarot in my teenage years (runs in the family I guess) which prompted my mom to give the book to me. Like most things my mom has given me, I feel a special connection to the book–especially because it represents something we have in common and an activity we often do together. We’ve spent countless summer nights sitting at the dining room table reading each other’s cards while my dad teases us for taking it so seriously–these moments have become significant parts of my late teens and early adulthood years.
The book is certainly well-worn (or well-loved, as I like to see it). When my mom first gave it to me about 4 years ago it was in decent condition, save for some creasing on the front cover and some tears on the edges of the pages. I’ve since gotten quite a bit of use out of it, eventually resulting in deeper creasing, some paint stains (not quite sure how those got there) on the upper right corner and broken binding. I tried somewhat successfully to patch it back together with duct tape (you can see that not all the pages are reattached to the binding) but it gets the job done.
Inside the middle of the book you’ll find a folded up sheet of paper; a few years ago I drew up a key for myself to remind me of the basics of the Celtic Divination layout (a standard card reading method). I’ve kept this sheet of paper in the book for so long now that I consider it a part of the book itself. It’s sort of my way of making the book my own.
The Keltic (spelled with a K in Tarot lure) Divination method with my personal notes about certain card meanings.
Writing this blog post made me realize how much of a constant this book has been in my life. It reminds me of the invisibility of objects; I’ve always known the book to simply be, whether it sat on my mom’s night stand at our old house in Virginia, on the bookshelf in our living room in upstate New York, or now on my own night stand at my house here in New Paltz. I’ve turned to it many times when I needed a sense of guidance about my future; I can’t count how many times my roommates and I have sat on the floor and read our cards in hopes of receiving some “divine” advice from the universe about how the heck to get through college. I’m grateful to have had this tradition passed down along family lines, especially since I never got to meet my grandmother on my mom’s side. Assuming I can keep the book in one piece over the years (we’ll see), I’d like to pass it down to my kids one day and keep my family’s fascination with the weird and mystical going for a few more generations.
The Materials of History, Thought, and Art 
You can really tell how much this book means to you through your careful examination of it, the memories you discuss that are attached to it, and how it is now something you still use. I can connect on a somewhat similar level—I get a lot of my books used and I always wonder who the previous owners were, and why they would be giving this book away. I love the way you describe the beauty of used books—that we can carry a bit of history and mystery, I feel the same way. I also relate to the relationship you have with your mom—much of my passions and interests were inspired by my mom and the way she raised me. It’s nice when you can connect over a book like that together. I wrote about a book as well that I got secondhand at the town library fair here during my freshman year, and it’s a book that helps guide me as well, and reminds me of my passions. It’s amazing how some objects, like books, can carry so much meaning to us, both in the content, and the story or memories behind it, and how they can help get us through.
It’s amazing that both you and your mom share this same interest, and turned to the same book to learn about it. There’s something special about learning an art like this from a book, a sort of connection between you and the author that doesn’t always happen online. I have a similar connection with my astrology books. I had an old roommate read my cards last year, and I don’t know too much about Tarot but her reading was so powerful it made me cry. It’s also cool how this book has followed you throughout the several places you’ve lived. That shows how important it is to you.
Something I love so much about this is that you have yet to peel off the price tag; it’s as if even the seemingly insignificant/unnecessary aspects of certain objects still contribute to the significance they hold for us. I also love how well-worn (or as you said, well-loved) the book has become; it is obvious that you have read and studied it a lot, and even made your own additions with your key for Celtic Divination. Not only have you found meaning in this object that was passed down to you by your mom, you have contributed your own meaning to the object by keeping this paper inside of it, which I think is really cool!