Meet the New Jersey Man Championing Rare Books in the Age of AI

Books have often been big news. Famed author Ray Bradbury, who once offered a keynote at Trenton State College (now the College of New Jersey), wrote about a futuristic nation burning its books in his dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451. Book banning—getting a spotlight in October’s Banned Books Week, sponsored by the American Library Association—remains a political hot potato.

Now add AI book scanning—and a legally required death by guillotine—to the vanishing shelf life of these cultural icons.

So when Wenonah’s Tom Congalton—who filled a 15,000-square-foot brick former grammar school with the world’s rarest books to create his business, Between the Covers Rare Books in Gloucester Heights—was acknowledged with wife Heidi in John Grisham’s credits of his 2017 rare-manuscript-themed Camino Island as the pre-eminent dealers he consulted, it was appropriate. It’s also worth noting Congalton’s take on the industry’s recently-revealed trend: Tech giants and artificial intelligence developers are buying (and by law destroying) books in bulk to train large language models (LLMs).

In July, a federal court finalized a massive class-action settlement involving AI developer Anthropic, allowing such companies to purchase books and digitally scan them as fair use under the long-standing first-sale doctrine, provided they then destroy—industrially slicing their spines—and recycle the physical copies. Though those with Congalton’s inventory may be more protected, the news highlights a divide between the haves and have-nots in bookselling.

“I doubt any AI harvester’s coming to guillotine my first edition of Ulysses ($85,000), or the first edition of The Hobbit that I sold last year for a quarter of a million dollars, or the signed Phillis Wheatley I sold for a similar sum,” he says. “To mis-paraphrase Mark Twain, the demise of the book has been greatly exaggerated.”

The Antiquarian Booksellers’ Association of America (ABAA), the national professional booksellers’ trade organization, hasn’t declared a position on AI and its reach, though it’s expanded a pre-existing focus group that remains in fact-find mode. “One thing’s certain,” says Susan Benne, its executive director of 22 years, “AI has exploded and is here to stay. There are good uses, but we all have concerns with relation to books.”

Never, she says, has a bookseller had the prerogative to ask a buyer, “What are you going to do with the book? It’s kind of rude. Typically, they’ve been read, collected, gifted or donated, so why would anything bad happen to the book?”

Yet the membership’s business decisions are individual, and the ABAA cannot monitor what’s being sold or to whom (and many large purchases go to “shell” or nondescript coded DBA—“Doing Business As”—entities rather than the Anthropics and Amazons). Her sense, too, is that tech companies aren’t buying rare books, but rather used or out-of-print books. AI’s interest—the words—are the same in any edition.

“Maybe there are 20 million copies of The Catcher in the Rye out there,” Congalton explains. “With fine first editions going for $20,000 and up, it would seem a poor choice to guillotine and scan a $20K copy rather than a $4 paperback.”

With some 250,000-plus books cataloged and for sale online, the Congaltons specialize in rare literature, Americana, African American literature and history, plays and drama, women’s history, art and photography, and more. Privately, they collect books, art, broadsides, documents and maps related to Cape May; they also own a house at Cape May Point. Heidi maintains a large collection of wine books.

Tom began collecting old and initially “not-always-so rare” books in 1968. He was 16 and inspired by rare booksellers’ memoirs more so than by common books he shelved at the Monmouth County Library in Freehold, where he once “feigned work.” Perhaps he was best schooled by other “equally unsuited” careers, such as cooking in restaurants and operating a woodworking shop. “There’s usually some curious and circuitous path from having a ‘real job’ to becoming a bookseller,” he admits.

A decade into splitting time, he began building his reputation and business. He met Heidi in 1984 in his native Colts Neck. She encouraged him to close his cabinet shop to sell books full-time.

Between the Covers began in their apartment in Old Bridge. Then the couple moved to Collingswood and began issuing distinctive catalogs, with nationally regarded cartoonist Tom Bloom illustrating some 150 covers since 1989, the year Heidi joined the business full-time. She established their first formal offices in Haddonfield, then in a Victorian in Merchantville. She was also cofounder of the New Jersey Antiquarian Book Fair, once the longest running such event in the Garden State. Tom, a lifelong New Jerseyan—he graduated from Christian Brothers Academy in Lincroft and Monmouth College (now University)—was a founding member of the Antiquarian Booksellers of New Jersey (ABNJ).

Now 74, he joined the ABAA in 1990, eventually serving as president (2000-2002), and later was president of the International League of Antiquarian Booksellers (ILAB).

Benne, who often hikes in New Jersey, has known Congalton for years. “People who work for him have worked for him for decades,” she says. “He’s diplomatic, erudite, generous and knowledgeable.”

He’s also given back, serving on the committee for the New York Antiquarian Book Fair, the nation’s oldest, for over 20 years. From 2000 to 2010, he lectured at the Colorado (College) Antiquarian Book Seminar and served on the foundation board that oversees the heralded program for beginning and mid-level book professionals. Southern rare bookseller Cliff Graubart calls Tom “a beacon for young dealers.” For over a decade, he also taught at the Rare Book School at the University of Virginia, the foremost program for rare-book pros. No matter the trends, he remains a protector and preserver of the “cultural and social cachet” that buying, selling and collecting books represents.

Visiting Between the Covers is by appointment only, but be advised: Such a rendezvous might strike suspicion. Once, at a book fair, Tom was introduced to a famous actress. Over two days, she left with parcels totaling $20,000 or more. Months later, her accountant called, needing clarification on his invoice. Timidly, she asked, “What kind of business is Between the Covers?” He said, “We sell old books.” “Oh, thank God!” she replied.

“I guess she feared Between the Covers was something else entirely,” Congalton concludes.