1. At the very summit, often dreamt of but rarely attained, is the book found by chance, on the sidewalk, in someone's trash, or on the floor of a church basement. In my household, if you return home with a used book, no matter what the title is, its value skyrockets if you just happened upon it, by accident. Since you acquired the book without the slightest effort, you have demonstrated the attainment of a bibliomaniac state of grace.

2. Near the top--but not quite as high as the moral purity of found items--are books found in dingy junk shops, typically, for ten cents each or one to two dollars a bag. Finding books this way requires unusual stamina in crouching or kneeling on damp, cold, dusty concrete floors, often in the presence of a booze stench emanating from the proprietor. The books acquire their value as a result of your tireless efforts in the pursuit of ancient but inexpensive oddities. If you succeed at this, your dedication to the cause is proven beyond a reasonable doubt.

3. Determination and stamina are also required when buying books by the bagful at colossal used book sales. My first experience of these biblio-orgies took place at the annual Brandeis Book Sale in Chicago where, as a youth, I was apprenticed to the art of cheap book buying. More recently, I had the pleasure of attending monthly warehouse book sales here in Portland, until the owner realized that he was losing money on them. The crowds which these sales attract can be suffocating and irritating to the single-minded book fiend. But because of the sheer volume, it's worth it. Again, if you return home from such a sale, having spent only six dollars on three grocery bags full of oddities, you become King, or Queen, for a Day. A couple of years ago, at such a sale, I found, inscribed by the author, a copy of Criswell Predicts. (Criswell was a Hollywood character during the '60s, whose goofy predictions included "paste-on bikinis for girls and clamp-on bikinis for you men," and "A revival of the old fashioned Dance Marathon of the 1920's for contestants over 85 . . . sponsored by a vitamin company testing their new product!") Since I paid a dollar for each bag of books, the cost of this slim treasure was no more than five cents - a veritable bibliomaniac triumph that I display with pride. Needless to say, if I'd bought the same book at Powell's for five dollars, I'd have returned home in shame.

4. Attending the biblio-orgy is a rare treat, while trips to the inexpensive (non-Goodwill) thrift store or yard sale in search of the 25˘ treasure are an everyday occurrence, requiring only moderate dedication, and much less time. For this reason, not just any book found at a yard sale or thrift store, no matter how little you paid for it, will win my admiration. It must be intrinsically strange, as well as cheap.

5. Goodwill deserves its own category, because its prices are almost in the used bookstore range. And, at our local Goodwill "Superstore," complete with café and restrooms, the books are organized by category--a far cry from the haphazard arrangement at most thrifts. If you find a treasure at Goodwill, it's very likely you will have to pay for it. This doesn't nullify its value completely, but it does detract from the total experience. If you return home with a nice three dollar oddity from Goodwill, pat yourself on the back, but try harder in the future.

We now descend to the category of the used book store. Because they specialize in the very items I seek, it's hard to keep me away from such places. However, my presence there means I'm too lazy to go bushwhacking in the thrifts; instead, I'm cruising comfortably through the smoothly paved, and accurately labeled aisles bursting with possibilities.

6. First, the cheaper used bookstore (such as Portland's Book City Paradise and Cameron's): because its proprietors know less about books, and take less care in organizing them, they contain a high quotient of inexpensive, uncategorizable old tomes. And check out the four-for-a-dollar racks, outside. Even though it's relatively easy to find something interesting here, your moral character is proved by the fact that you paid two dollars for it, rather than ten dollars at Powell's.

7. We booklovers in Portland all labor in the shadow of Powell's City of Books, a moral category unto itself. Here, as at the colossal booksale, the dedicated book fiend must combat crowds in order to view the hundreds and thousands of volumes on display. If you're desperate enough for a specific title, this is where you turn. Because of your need, and because I know that you paid dearly for your heart's desire, I forgive you.

8. At the very bottom of our pyramid of cheapskate value we find the very costly book search service. I myself have never stooped so low as to employ a hired gun to find my books for me. In my tightwad's inverted scale of value, it's tantamount to cheating. Those who are busy, rich, and in great need of a specific book, however, would probably benefit from such a service. Some day I might even be forced to use one. But on that day, I will cease to be a cheap book fiend.