For many years there has been a fun/frustrating/mindless/useless game people play. It’s called the “five foot bookshelf” and the concept is simple: create a list of books pertaining to a special interest to fit in a five foot shelf space, to the exclusion of all others.

Theoretically, this should cause the player to contemplate which books meant the most to him and why. (I say “him” because, as with other intellectual pursuits, chicks aren’t allowed to play. Oh, stop rolling your eyes; I was only kidding. Mostly.)

You may not be aware that the five foot bookshelf has its roots in remarks made by a former Harvard University president, which ended up being responsible for putting millions and millions of books in the homes and offices of normal people across the country.

Sometime before 1909 or so, Charles W. Eliot suggested in a speech that “a five-foot shelf would hold books enough to give in the course of years a good substitute for a liberal education in youth to anyone who would read them with devotion, even if he could spare but fifteen minutes a day for reading.”

Having read that speech and sniffing a good idea that could sell quite a few books, Norman Hapgood and William Patten, two editors from the publishing house of P.F. Collier & Son, told Eliot that if he would select fifty books to make up that shelf, they’d publish them. With the help of English professor William A. Neilson, Eliot whittled down the list and the Harvard Classics were born March 10, 1910.

Originally fifty volumes (now numbering fifty-one or fifty-two, depending upon which edition you find), it remains even today a remarkable set of books. The concept was so well received over 350,000 sets were sold in the first twenty years. Ladies and gentlemen, that’s a lot of books.

Starting early — and continuing through the years — the list of volumes has been criticized not so much for what was contained as for what was excluded. But Eliot didn’t intend for his choices to represent every discipline, nor even wholly represent any discipline included. It was what it was and, considering the audience to whom that speech was given — an audience of working men — and to whom the final canon was aimed, Eliot did a remarkable job in his selections. Besides, it was largely Eliot’s list.

But there’s no doubt that original list of books would have some substitutions if compiled today. The same goes for my list of magic books; there are some selections I’d have made ten years ago that can be replaced today by a more up to date book (or set of books.)

And therein lies the fun of coming up with a five foot bookshelf. You are free to make up your own list based on your own needs and criteria.

And that brings up to the world of magic and mentalism.

A little over a year ago, I posted Five Feet of Literary Love, based on a list Annemann created, of which he stated:

Down through the years have come many books on the art of magic and allied subjects. Of late the production of such literature has increased until hardly a week goes by without the appearance of a book, brochure or manuscript. Many are good and many are not. The titles given here is an impartial and unbiased opinion of my own as to what books constitute a working library on the art of mystifying.

Every included work has its value and I take my stand now that the shelf of magic as herein listed covers every phase and known principle necessary to a modern performer. There are hundreds of other books, magazines and pamphlets which contain excellent and practical effects but I’m not listing trick books alone. I’m listing what I think are textbooks and if an absolute stranger to magic asked me tomorrow what books he should buy I’d give him this list. Check it over carefully and see if you can think of a subject connected with mystifying that isn’t covered with the best book (my opinion) obtainable.

That’s close to the concept of the Harvard Classics for magic. And the list is hard to argue, even today.

Suppose someone were to ask you to put together your five foot bookshelf of books representing your own interests in magic and mentalism — not a general course for everyone, but something representing who you are in magic today. How would you start? What would be your criteria for what could and could not be included? Hey, it’s your list, it’s your set of rules.

For me, the only hard and fast rules would have to be: only books published publicly; no private editions; and no booklets or lecture notes. Beyond that, I can’t think of a good reason to limit things.

It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve worked on my list and, even if I could find previous iterations, my contemporary list would certainly be different today than it would have been even a year ago.

Surveying the shelves of books in my magic library as it stands today, I know I’d have to include the following in my first cut at creating a list (in no particular order):

The Jinx three-volume reprint
Stanyon’s Magic three-volume set plus Serial Lessons (Kaufman edition)
Stuart James — The First Fifty Years
Stuart James — The James File (with index)
The Secret Ways of Al Baker
Card College, Roberto Giobbi five-volume set
13 Steps to Mentalism, Corinda
The Compleat Magick four-volume set
The Compleat Invocation three-volume set
Mind, Myth & Magick TA Waters
The Books of Wonder, Tommy Wonder
The Magic Menu two-volume set
Stars of Magic
Mastering the Art of Magic, Eugene Burger
Expert Coin Magic, David Roth

Most of that is pretty simple to understand if you know my professional interests in close-up magic, mentalism and bizarre magick. Someone without an interest in performing for hire would trade the 3-1/2″ of The Magic Menu for something else.

Hate mentalism? Well, I’m not going to add it up, so let’s just say you’d have room for the Paul Harris Trilogy, Tarbell, and some electives on top of that.

Stuart James and Al Baker come in at almost eleven inches of books, and worth every bit of space given the width and breadth of what is taught within the covers.

What about what I left out?

Redundancy, and certainly not a lack of veneration, causes Bobo to be replaced by Roth. Same for “The Art of Magic” and “Greater Magic” — certainly two of my cherished volumes — when I consider the contents of Stanyon’s.

As many fine books on mentalism I own, I believe The Jinx, The Compleat Magick, and 13 Steps will satisfy that pallet. Becker’s Stunners! Plus! is a wonderful book, but I’d venture to say any of the concepts found in there can also be learned in the previously mentioned volumes. Same for another of my personal favorites, “The Mental Mysteries” by William Larson. And then there’s all of Max Maven’s work in mentalism I rationalize not including by virtue of his contributions to Magick.

Most obvious, naturally, is that Tarbell is not on the list. My criteria for this list is based on personal interest as it stands today, not in creating a magic version of the Harvard Classics. (This lets me cheat.) While certainly one of the finest sets for laying a well-grounded foundation in magic, Tarbell contains too much of what I’m no longer interested in. I believe what it does include is covered in the volumes I did choose.

The Fitzkee Trilogy is also absent from that list. My dearly departed pal Mike Rogers and I had plenty in common, and an opinion on this set of books is one of them.

I was very tempted to include Brad Henderson’s “The Dance” to that list, given my interest in readings, but that’s a topic best learned by doing. The book is certainly my favorite on the subject, though. So, naturally, there was no need to consider other titles on my shelf which are often cited as bibles: “King of the Cold Readers” by Herb Dewey and Bascom Jones, and the three Herb Dewey/Thomas Saville volumes, “Red Hot Cold Reading”, “PsychoBabble”, and “Mindblowing Psychic Readings”.

Then there are the ebooks. In the psychology department, Richard Osterlind’s “Principles of Magic” should sit right next to “Mastering the Art of Magic” and the volume I didn’t include, “Magic & Meaning” by Burger and Neale. There is the ebook version of Stanyon’s, but I have a fondness for my set of books.

By my estimation and the use of a tape measure, that leaves thirteen inches to be filled. And, for me, that’s where the blood is spilled because even the list above is just a first cut, not the final list.

The next excercise would be the bloodiest of them all: actually creating the magic version of the Harvard Classics shelf — a college course in magic, soup to nuts. I’ve been working on that list almost since I became seriously interested in magic, and it is no small thing to do.

So. What would be your choices?

UPDATE: Talk about your senior moments. I added TA Waters’ “Mind, Myth & Magick” which means the remaining space is even tighter.