Posted by Stuart Evers, Tuesday 1 March 2011, The Guardian
In the space of a few days, two news stories – one pumped out through the usual literary sources - the other through a rather more personal channel – cast the differing fortunes of the independent book trade into stark relief.
On the one hand, Foyles was announcing its latest expansion, to improved premises adjacent to its iconic shop on Charing Cross Road; on the other was a small shop sending out a very real SOS to its friends on Facebook and Twitter.
However heartwarming the story from Foyles, the one from the Big Green Bookshop in London's far-from-fashionable Wood Green was equally heart-breaking.
Formed as a reaction to the closure of the local Ottakar's store, the Big Green Bookshop set itself up as a shamelessly community-focused resource: a kind of literary Cheers, where everyone knows your name. The local television news covered their start-up; their blog attracted well-wishers far away from their natural base in the capital's north-east hinterlands; the two owners, Simon and Tim, became well-known in the area. Yet three years after their opening, the Big Green Bookshop was forced to send an email out to their virtual followers that echoed the signs I used to see at the local corner shop: use us or lose us.
The Big Green Bookshop is emblematic of the struggles of so many independents that don't have Foyles's tradition or kudos. Squeezed by so many economic and technological factors, it is – at least on the face of it – hardly surprising that the Big Green Bookshop is having a hard time of it. But the reaction to the Big Green Bookshop's appeal has been incredible: customers are coming back through the doors, passing on their best for the future as well as their credit cards and book tokens. So why has it taken an emergency appeal to go some way to revitalise the fortunes of this important local resource?
Personally, I think it's down to familiarity. You get used to having something around; you take it for granted, and then it's just so easy to bemoan its fate when the seemingly inevitable happens. But it doesn't have to be that way. Instead we, as readers, just need to face some very real commercial realities. Books have always been considered expensive – Orwell made this point in his essay Books vs Cigarettes 65 years ago – yet compared to a night at the cinema, a bottle of pub wine or a few take-way coffees they remain astonishing value for money, even without deep discounting.
The few quid you save by shopping elsewhere is more than mitigated, I would say, by the sheer pleasure of browsing in a good bookshop. Surely being able to spend a half-hour of calming time by the shelves, the knowledge and enthusiasm of experienced staff and a place that a community can really call its own is worth saving. Which is why I think all book lovers should get behind Nicola Morgan's excellent idea regarding World Book Night.
Opinion over the giving away of thousands of books on World Book Night seems to be divided – but whatever side you fall on Morgan's proposition is too good to resist. Her suggestion is that you buy one book you love, from a bookshop you love, and give it to someone you think might love it. Bookshops get the much-needed sales, and we as readers get to choose something that we have sponsored rather than the publishers. It is the ideal time for those who love popping into a good book shop to get back into the buying habit.
For Nicola Morgan's World Book Night, I will be buying Tristan Garcia's brilliant and troubling Hate: A Romance from the Big Green Bookshop, and giving it to a friend. But let's not make this just a yearly pilgrimage. Let's make a more concerted effort.
If you love your local shop and you wish to see it thrive, don't wait for emails or "to let" signs, go out and buy a book a month, every two months, or every fifth book you buy, from them. Let's use their knowledge and enthusiasm. Let's use them before we lose them for good.
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