An even greater literary appetite -- yet one largely stripped of sentimentality -- belongs to Philip Blocklyn, who owns an antiquarian bookstore, Blocklyn Books, in Oyster Bay. Mr. Blocklyn, who shares a desk in a sunny window with dozens of neatly stacked volumes and a human skull only slightly balder than himself, said he had about 10,000 books in the store, and just as many at home, and was attached to very few.

"I'm not a collector at all," said Mr. Blocklyn. "I'm happy to have them all, but I would sell all but a few of them. I like the coming and going of books."

Mr. Blocklyn's stern words belie the loving attention he gives to his inventory. Unlike many used bookstores, Blocklyn Books is immaculate, its contents tidily categorized, alphabetized and covered in plastic. There is no smell. Mr. Blocklyn hates the mustiness of used bookstores, an odor he acquaints with neglect and abuse.

"It's always shocking what people to do their books," he said. "They always consign them to the worst parts of their houses -- attics and basements -- where extremes of heat and dampness hasten books to an unnecessary death."

"An old book," he said, "will smell nice without having to be mildewed."

One of Mr. Blocklyn's subspecialties is Teddy Roosevelt, a Long Island book lover if ever there was one. Mr. Blocklyn has supplied reference works to National Park Service rangers at Sagamore Hill, Roosevelt's home just outside the village of Oyster Bay, where the only things outnumbering the animal skins, tusks, limbs and heads are the books.