Having been in the process of packing up and moving house again (four times this year!), I have left blogging a little to the wayside. But, since the big W has been officially sold off and faith is gradually being restored in the high street bookshop, I felt a need to express my opinion.
I love bookshops. I think anyone who enjoys reading does. Whether you shop in them or not is, in some ways, irrelevant. Just having them about, walking in and seeing row upon row of bright new paperbacks puts a little smile on my face. I’ve worked in bookshops as well and my days as an Ottakar’s Weekend Girl were immensely enjoyable. And a lot of that was due to the people. The store I worked in was full of brilliant, funny, intelligent, and eccentric characters, and, although the friends I made in that store are still mad (and still working their crazed magic in stores across the country), they seem to be getting fewer and far between.
I’m not saying they’re not there anymore, but many bookstores (and not just the big brands) are becoming identikit models, where even the staff are forced to fit the mould. So much of what made these shops cosy little havens from the big bad high street was in the warmth and obvious enthusiasm for books that their staff possessed. Being encouraged to push uninteresting titles or vaguely relatable product is sure to drive many of the staff screaming from the building.
I haven’t ever visited Daunt Books so I can’t say with any authority that I think James Daunt is going to change anything once he’s set up as Managing Director. To be honest, the stores I’ve passed of his look a little stuffy and, before Friday, I genuinely thought they were Second Hand shops. I hope he does a good job with the W but I’m not throwing myself wholeheartedly behind him. I like the idea of bookshops being more about books but I think he has to be careful not to squash all the joy out of reading.
The main problem stores have now is getting customers in the building. All you need to do is take a look at a good library (which, I’ll grant you, there aren’t many of) to see that they’ve found other ways to draw people in; competitions, cafes, art galleries. The thing to remember is that knowledge isn’t everything. Just because you know all there is to know about Post-Modernist Literature doesn’t mean I want to here you blather on about it for twenty minutes; give me someone with enthusiasm over knowledge any day. One bubbly, passionate bookseller, eager to find you something you will genuinely enjoy (not just something you’re “supposed” to read) will probably have many more satisfied, returning customers, than one who makes you feel guilty or stupid.
Whatever happens, I like the high street bookshop and I’m not keen to see it go anywhere. A sentiment echoed by many a fellow bookworm, I’m sure.
