Books Books Books

Many people think that owning an independent bookshop involves sipping cappuccinos and making literary small talk to a crowd of less fortunate readers. Surprisingly, that's not true. Mostly it involves shoveling books from one side of the shop to the other. What keeps you going is the idea that if you can just shovel fast enough then you might eventually get paid for it.

I wouldn’t say owning a bookshop is badly paid, as that would assume you actually earn something. I didn’t eat lunch for the first year I opened my shop. The only money I spent was on a Sunday morning when I bought my kids pain au chocolat from the local bakery. I lost 10 kgs while they developed an addiction to calorific pastries.

So why torture yourself?  Part of that answer for me, and I suspect for other booksellers too, lies in the wonder of walking into a bookshop. When I was a young lad my mother used to take me and my brother to Hammick’s bookshop in Farnham. It seemed incredible to me that I could walk into this shop and take any book from the shelf and sit down and read it. I still remember the large ladybird cushion where we would spend hours reading Hal and Roger adventures or the latest in the Fighting Fantasy series.

I loved the smell in that shop. I loved the little cardboard slips with the stock information typed on them. I loved the wooden counter where we reluctantly relinquished our books in order to allow the woman to sell them to us. The shop was constantly busy and I remember being conscious that there were many more shelves outside the children’s' area - shelves that I couldn’t yet reach the top of – full of boring books of the kind adults liked to read.
‘You’ll read them one day,’ my mother assured me.I didn't believe her.

Of course, Farnham Hammick’s is long gone. There is a Waterstones in the Lion and Lamb courtyard, a WH Smith’s on West Street and the out of town supermarkets with their cut-price hardbacks. Not many towns boast a bookshop, particularly a bookshop where the owner, or some quixotic assistant, has hand-picked every title with a certain audience, even a certain customer, in mind. Where the chairs and tables are unique to that establishment and not replicated throughout the country, or even the planet.

Before I opened my shop, I read two excellent publications from the British Bookseller’s Association and its American counterpart. These were quite old editions of their ‘How To Run A Bookshop’ manuals. I remember reading in one of them about this new thing called ‘The Inter Webs’. The author cautiously opined that it might eventually have a small impact on the retail book trade. There was something so tragically wrongheaded about this prediction that I found myself laughing. Yes, the cruise missile did hit the house, but miraculously we picked the best china out of the rubble and were able to enjoy a cup of tea.

But before we get misty-eyed, it is worth saying that this is not a lament, it’s a hurrah. Hurrah for the people who love books so much that they still continue to sell them, despite the competition and the dash for digital. It takes a certain kind of reader, too, who can find the time to visit a shop and browse through the titles on display knowing all the time that it might be possible to buy the same titles cheaper online.

I see the bookseller and the reader as a couple enjoying a last waltz as the band plays on and the ship slips beneath the waves. On the horizon the moon rises and its beams pick out lifeboats being hastily rowed away by discount book purchasers. Forget them. I am interested in knowing what brings the couple here, why they can't let go and what hope the future holds. I am interested in the magic of books and the shops that sell them.

The Joy of Books

You would have to be pretty insane to try this. But if I can find half-a-dozen volunteers I am ready to give it a go.

WRS | Speed Read: Funny reads to chase away post-holiday blues

WRS | Speed Read: Funny reads to chase away post-holiday blues

Here are a few picks from my Speed Read slot on Radio World Switzerland.

Major Pettigrew Gives Me Hope

2011 was a pretty grim year for booksellers. Look at the headlines. 'One million Kindles are sold each week, says Amazon' Hurray for them. I spent Christmas listening to my family extolling the virtues of Kindle, while watching my own retail sales dwindle.

But there are still somethings bookshops do so much better than online retailers. I was reminded of this on Thursday when Helen Simonson, the author of Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, skyped into the bookshop.

Don't be sad if you don't know who Helen is. I'll give you a brief synopsis. She is a New York Times bestselling author and has been reviewed by such luminaries as Alexander McCall Smith and Elizabeth Strout. Her book is my favourite work of fiction I read in 2011, and this is from someone who doesn't read much romantic comedy.

Major Pettigrew is an retired widower who lives in Edgecombe, a conservative town on the south coast of England. He falls in love with Mrs Ali the local shopkeeper of Pakistani origin. The book is the narrative of their growing love and a very funny look at the problems of inheritance and family. What I love about this book is the way Helen is able to peel away the layers of character until the whole person is revealed.

She kindly spent an hour answering questions from one of our bookgroups and I think everyone left the shop buzzing. (Thank you Helen).

It is this kind of book I love to champion. A book which will bring its readers pleasure and, if it's not too strong a word, joy. And it's this kind of event which makes it easier to put up with callers asking, 'Do you sell the Amazon Kindle?'

I urge you to buy this book from your nearest bookshop, and to contact Helen if you have a bookgroup that wants to read the book.

WRS | Speed Read: Jesus and other gurus

Top picks on Radio World Switzerland from the Guru. matt on books:

WRS | Speed Read: Jesus and other gurus

Sleeping man,
On my sofa,
Do I wake him?
Do I leave him?
Do I take a heavy book,
Draw back,
And cleave him?

Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi

Maybe you know what it is like. You are going away for a few days and pack a selection of books that you feel will match your holiday mood. Arriving at your destination, you pick a book almost at random from someone else's bookcase and totally fall for it. Such is my relationship with 'Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi'.

I can't help thinking that in Geoff Dyer I have at last found the authentic voice for people who grew up in England in the late 80's and early 90's. Douglas Coupland got closest with his books, starting with Generation X. However, I am slightly too young to be truly a part of this era and his books are set in North America.

'Jeff in Venice' evokes for me many memories of being young and monied in London. As a result I have, somewhat rashly, ordered all his other books for the shop. I can't wait to get, 'Yoga For People Who Can't Be Bothered To Do It'. I think in my position you'd do the same.