The order in which they're listed may seem a bit haphazard; it simply reflects the way I have shelved each category (which, in turn, often has more to do with the heights of shelves than with Dewey-decimal logic). Don't expect a better explanation than that. What I will explain, though, is what I mean by various words used in describing a book's condition:
in mint condition means “as it left the publisher's warehouse” – which is not always perfect, but you'll have to look very closely to spot any flaws
in near-mint condition means you have to be holding it at reading distance to see any blemishes
in very fine condition means the blemishes are insignificant – minor bumping at the corners (which can, indeed, be found in brand-new books), slight furling-out of the dust cover or slight scuffing at the top of the spine
in fine condition means the blemishes are a little more marked – small nicks in the dust cover, fading of the colour, and so on
in fair condition means there are small tears in the dust cover or small marks on the binding or that the covers are working tender
in poor condition means there are larger tears in the dust cover or even parts missing, or larger discolorations of the binding, or partial looseness of either cover
in very poor condition means the dust cover (if present) is badly torn, or the binding is loose or even partially missing.
In most cases I have added brief comments to indicate the nature of the blemish, e.g.: “in fine condition, spine slightly faded".
with dust cover, in mint condition; blue cloth means that the whole book is in mint condition; but:
with dust cover in mint condition; blue cloth means that the dust cover is mint but the cloth binding is not.
Usually the blemish is described – e.g.: ... blue cloth with small tear at base of spine
However, when it comes to describing fabric bindings, I confess I still don't know the precise difference between “cloth” and “buckram”. My rule-of- thumb is that if it has a fine, tight weave, it's buckram; if it's coarser, it's “cloth”. Even so, there are some modern plasticized board covers whose surface is indistinguishable from cloth except under a jeweler's eyeglass; they even reproduce the slight variations of pasted, woven cloth – and they may be described here as “cloth”.
You should note that every single book in the list has my own bookplate; and some of the more expensive ones have my personal library roundel embossed on on e of the prelim pages. If this puts you off, you are not (in my humble opinion) a true book collector. I was overjoyed, for instance, to discover that on 31 Oct 1900 [a Holy Year] the Rev. I. (surely Ignatius?) Hood was so overwhelmed by his audience with the Holy Father that he spilled his ecstasy out over the title page and ready-reckoner page of his guidebook to Rome. The year 1900 has that little extra glitter for me now. Too, it delighted me to find my copy of the first English edition of Joyce's Ulysses in an orphanage in Bedford, where an infant had scribbled in pencil on a few early pages. The owner was so abashed at having allowed this dangerous book to have fallen into the hands of little children that (I assume) he cut his name from the flyleaf. Its absence is a homage to the uneasy prurience-cum-prudery of the 1950s. In short, used books are a palimpsest that links us to the vanished generations, helping to enrich what the textbooks call “history”. But if you're the sort of collector who wants mint copies of century-old books, go get a time-machine.
Enough said. There's more at the end about payment and security and delivery systems, and so forth. Meanwhile, browse and enjoy!