The feelgood factor has returned to the high-street chain, but is stocking the Kindle like inviting a fox into the henhouse?
James Daunt, MD of Waterstones. 'I’ve always respected Amazon for what they do. But I think they do something different.' Photograph: Martin Godwin for the Guardian
In just a few years, Waterstones has gone from being the villain of the book world to the plucky underdog. "When I first worked in publishing everyone hated them, whereas now everyone supports them," says one industry executive.
As hundreds of independent booksellers have shut up shop, publishers are desperate to see a specialised high-street bookseller survive and thrive. But a lot of the goodwill also has to do with James Daunt, Waterstones' managing director, who gave up running his small chain of independent bookshops to turn around the retail giant.
When Daunt arrived two years ago – hired by Alexander Mamut, the Russian billionaire who bought the chain from HMV – Waterstones was in trouble. Sales were dropping through the floor, bookselling staff were disillusioned, while the literati despaired that Waterstones stocked more copies of Jordan's autobiography than Tolstoy or Dickens.
For Daunt, Waterstones had simply lost sight of the old-fashioned art of bookselling: finding out what the customer wants. He tore up Waterstones' rigid centralised directives that meant every shop from Aberdeen to Exeter stocked the same books, as well as the "awful" planograms – photographs of a display table that had to be faithfully recreated in every store.
"That makes sense if you are selling shampoo in Boots, as it makes sense to have all the dandruff shampoos next to each other. It doesn't make sense in a bookshop, if you want interesting bookshops." He also ended the cosy promotional deals that saw publishers handing over £27m a year to get their books in prime locations – putting the latest celebrity memoir smack-bang in the window or including a title in the "cynical" three-for-two offers.
"That was Waterstones' business model," he says. "Now we don't get paid a penny for doing anything; we just do it because we like the books."
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As hundreds of independent booksellers have shut up shop, publishers are desperate to see a specialised high-street bookseller survive and thrive. But a lot of the goodwill also has to do with James Daunt, Waterstones' managing director, who gave up running his small chain of independent bookshops to turn around the retail giant.
When Daunt arrived two years ago – hired by Alexander Mamut, the Russian billionaire who bought the chain from HMV – Waterstones was in trouble. Sales were dropping through the floor, bookselling staff were disillusioned, while the literati despaired that Waterstones stocked more copies of Jordan's autobiography than Tolstoy or Dickens.
For Daunt, Waterstones had simply lost sight of the old-fashioned art of bookselling: finding out what the customer wants. He tore up Waterstones' rigid centralised directives that meant every shop from Aberdeen to Exeter stocked the same books, as well as the "awful" planograms – photographs of a display table that had to be faithfully recreated in every store.
"That makes sense if you are selling shampoo in Boots, as it makes sense to have all the dandruff shampoos next to each other. It doesn't make sense in a bookshop, if you want interesting bookshops." He also ended the cosy promotional deals that saw publishers handing over £27m a year to get their books in prime locations – putting the latest celebrity memoir smack-bang in the window or including a title in the "cynical" three-for-two offers.
"That was Waterstones' business model," he says. "Now we don't get paid a penny for doing anything; we just do it because we like the books."
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