Remembering My Mentor Michael Prior, Book Dealer Extraordinaire 

Written in March 2023.

It’s been over ten years now that Michael Prior passed. He owned the charming Collectable Books bookshop in Parkview. It was a small, bespoke venue on the second floor in the fashionable Tyrone avenue. Michael was a prominent figure in the South African book dealing community. His most active life was focused on his premises in London, Johannesburg and Hermanus.  

He and his wife, Vanessa, owned and ran Collectable Books, which was their flagship shop, while their hobby shops were the two Tutamens – one in London and the other in Hermanus. ‘Tutamen’ certainly is an unusual name for a bookshop, but that was the point. Michael loved to talk and convey the story and image arising out of his beloved books and collectables.

The name ‘Tutamen’ apparently means ‘defensive or protective structure’. Michael was a guardian of books, as well as knowledge.

As to what the inspiration is, is irrelevant. It’s the tale that is important. And it was the mystery of a book’s provenance that Michael always meticulously researched, and then, in turn, relished telling like-minded bibliophiles.

Michael and Vanessa started the Sandton Antiques Fair in the 1980s. In those days, he still smoked his cigars, which contributed to his mystique. In a halo of smoke, Michael would greet his friends and customers will zeal. Even in their Platinum years, the couple continued to exhibit at all the major antique fairs around the country.

‘Where’s Michael Prior’s stand?’ someone might ask.

‘Just follow the cigar smoke and look for the gentleman in the tweed jacket and tie.’

I was a schoolboy when I first drummed up the courage to speak to the all-knowing book man, who seemed to have read all the books in his shop. He must have spoken to me for about half an hour. That was the generosity of his nature. I was clearly not a big spender, but he loved sharing his vast knowledge with anybody who cared to ask. That, for me, was one of his virtues.

Michael could always masterfully detect the customer’s point of view and tastes in narrative. After a few initial questions of what the customer collected, Michael would, with his wide knowledge, locate a likely book and then proceed to weave the plot around that commonality. I loved to watch him sell. That in itself was entertaining, and I’d walk away having learnt something every time.

‘It’s the provenance of a book that takes it from the ordinary to the extraordinary,’ he’d say. ‘That’s the story.’ Michael would convey this to me with his characteristic smile and purr, his pronounced left eyebrow twitching like a lynx’s ear.  

‘That is what these wonderful books are about – making the connection,’ he would continue, his face animated with expression. ‘The customer has to identify with the map – see themselves in the story somehow; the social link, a bridge, if you like, between then and now.’

Michael was a showman. Always immaculately dressed – for a book dealer that is. Armani suits and the like were not the sort of grace that Michael possessed. He was more like a conserved and slightly scuffed leather-bound book, which has been a little over zealously loved. His spine was a little rubbed and the corners of his shoulders were a trifle bumped, but all this gave him pathos and charm.

In spite of his years, Michael would stride, not walk. When he spoke, it was deliberate and eloquent. He would pace back and forth and emphasise his points with enthusiasm and animated hand gestures. Every word he uttered had energy and intention – intention to shock, to humour, to console. Michael had the ability to draw people in and converse with them about a vast array of subjects.

One could be forgiven for misreading the theatrics. Imagine being ten metres away at the bustle of the Sandton Antiques Fair and seeing Michael communicating with a prospective collector. Seeing his arms flailing about, one could be forgiven for thinking that he was discussing the most effective technique for wielding an axe. Or maybe he was some fanatical preacher with a venerated book clutched above his shoulder.

Once I approached, within earshot, and heard the tone of Michael’s speech dropping and rising. He was in the middle of one of his trademark stories. That time it was about the Jameson Raid and the cutting of the telegraph lines. And the book? Well, that, of course, was the link between Michael and the collector.

Michael was commissioned to build many great book collections around the country. He had been dealing actively for more than 30 years and was respected as a bibliophile and a gentleman.

I will always remember him as the eccentric latter-day Dervish, with his philosophies and positive outlook on life. There were many of us in the book-dealing family who were blessed to know Michael and he will remain with us in our book dealing folklore.

Now, he is in the great teahouse of the mystics, sipping chai and smoking cigars with other sagacious bards and Sufis.

I wish goodbye to an influential and eccentric spirit. Michael, thank you for being a mentor and a friend.

*James Findlay initially wrote this piece at the time of Michael’s passing in 2011.

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In Memoriam Meredith Kempthorne