Category Archives: folklore and ethnography

ERICA SUSAN JONES: SEARCHING OUT BOOKSHOPS

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So my Twitter friend Erica Susan Jones – she loves books and cats, so it was pretty much friendship at first tweet – has started a blog. About bookshops. ‘Nuff said.

Here it is, copied from her site, which is http://thebookshoparoundthecorner.blogspot.co.uk/

Books are my addiction.

If I see a bookshop I have to go inside, and walking inside means I inevitably leave with at least one book, generally two or three. From fiction to cookery, classics to sci fi, crime to chick lit, I love them all.

But it’s not just about the subject, a book is a true sensory experience. Reading the story, savouring the words, hearing the pages turn, the scent of the paper and ink and feeling its weight in my hands. Each one is unique, with its creases and imperfections, markings in the margin or name inside the cover – recording the journey the book has taken with each individual reader, a memory that no e-reader can mimic.

And the bookshop it comes from is just as important a part of the reading process. Row upon row of books lining the shelves, with central tables drawing our attention to key themes or authors as we browse, looking for inspiration, or perhaps moving with purpose on the quest for something specific.

Then there are the booksellers. Readers themselves, they can be a great source to tap when looking for your next big read – or struggling to find a gift for your Dad/friend/boss. These people help bring the personal touch that very few websites are able to claim.

But all is not well, the bookshop is in decline.

I’m not about to go into facts and figures about how many have closed and when, as I’d probably find it too depressing and that’s not what this blog is about. Instead I’m going to – mostly – ignore the e-reader and internet shopping and focus on the positives.

Just a brief search of the internet reveals a wealth of bookshops to be enjoyed by the discerning reader, all with their own character and charm, all crying out to me to visit. And so we come to the purpose of my writing.

This blog is to be a celebration of the bookshop.

Every entry will be about a bookshop of some kind or another. Generally I plan to visit the bookshops (independent or part of a chain, so long as they’re real I’ll visit) to tell you what’s special about them, or why I want to visit them, but given that time, money and geography will limit me somewhat I’m sure the odd (real) fictional bookshop will sneak in to ensure regular writing.

I hope you enjoy exploring the bookshops with me and maybe feel inspired to visit a few more yourself. Also, if anyone has a bookshop they want to recommend (preferably in the UK unless you want to pay for my travel) I’d love to hear about it with a view to hopefully visiting sometime.

Thanks for reading,
Erica

You can leave a comment for Erica here, or go directly to her blog!

The People Ark

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One of the nice-but-odd things about running a bookstore is the diversity of those who visit. Saturday, the place was slammed until about 3. As the crowd thinned, I noticed a couple still browsing along the shelves. Every time I’d looked up over the last hour, there they’d been, gliding across history, travel, comparative religions, a small pile of paperbacks growing by their legs.

Ah. Good.

The door opened and a father-son team, heavyset and wearing Walmart shirts, headed for Christian Fiction. I asked did they need help, but their ducked heads, averted eyes, and mumbled responses made clear they were either painfully shy or not expecting people to be nice to them, so I left them alone, too.

Grace, as her name was, began asking about local shops, and it became clear that two new tree-hugging, planet-saving localvores had moved to town. Her partner was from Bulgaria; his name sounds like someone clearing his throat. He laughed at my facial expression and said, “Call me Z. Everyone does.” We chatted, connecting, so I invited them to pick the apples falling off our heirloom tree because we didn’t have time to harvest. Into our back yard they went, tall and liberal, rubbing our dogs’ ears in greeting.

Meanwhile, father and son, short hair in regulation Bible school cuts, had gravitated to horror, where I heard the young’un say, “Shew. You can buy these on Amazon for 99 cents.” They looked up as I approached, wary.

“Need any help?” I tried to make my smile disarming. They shook their heads, but the son held a Left Behind novel. “That’s on clearance,” I said, pointing. “It’s $1 but in the wrong section. Would you like to see where the others are?”

Their flip-flops slapped along behind me to Clearance Christian; they literally squealed with delight when I showed them the (neverending) supply of LaHayes and Jenkins. Inhibitions gone, they launched into a play-by-play about the series, confident I’d not read it. I had, more’s the pity. But they weren’t listening when I tried to say so, and left after purchasing two and offering up repeated exhortations that I “really needed to read these.”

The back door opened and the golden children walked in, bags of apples in each hand. She carefully selected four of the best ones and put them on the counter “for you and your husband. Thanks! We look forward to coming back, and to attending your events. So nice to meet you!” Out they went in their Banana Republic clothing and Teva sandals, her legs and his face unshaven.

Two sets of two. Had Noah loading his ark, they would have been different species on it. And that makes Jack and me happy. All shapes, sizes, beliefs and haircuts  welcome.

Go by, mad world. Or come in here. We’ll give you a cuppa.