Booksellers

Review: The Secret Lives of Booksellers and Librarians

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Cover image of "The Secret Lives of Booksellers and Librarians by James Patterson and Matt Evers

The Secret Lives of Booksellers and Librarians, James Patterson and Matt Eversmann. Little, Brown, and Company (ISBN: 9780316567534), 2024.

Summary: A collection of first-person accounts from booksellers and librarians about why they love doing what they do.

“I want to make sure people keep getting books they want, books they like. I call it Book Joy, matching people with books that will bring them the most happiness.” –Kelly Moore

Kelly Moore is just one of the many booksellers and librarians who contributed first-person accounts of their love of working with books to this delightful book compiled by James Patterson and Matt Eversmann. In case you didn’t know, Patterson is not only a hugely successful and prolific writer of thrillers, he is a huge fan of booksellers and librarians–those who get books into the hands of readers. He’s given generous support to literacy efforts and grants to independent booksellers.

Here he lets them tell the story of why they love what they do. Kelly’s statement captures a common theme–connecting people with books they love. Some of their greatest joy comes when they help reluctant readers find books they love, turning them, degree by degree into readers. Part of the work is careful listening, picking up the cues that signal what a person may like. And sometimes it involves being a detective, using the few clues a patron or customer can offer to help them find that book they are looking for.

The other big theme is that these people love books and reading. It is so much more than checking out books or ringing up sales. They enjoy talking books, sharing something they’ve read that someone else may like. A friend of mine who is a bookseller is mystified by people who think they can be booksellers without loving books.

Perhaps this needs to be so because it is a challenging life. Both librarians and booksellers have a variety of administrative tasks that allow them to do what they love, from reading publications on new releases to select what they think their patrons will like, to unpacking and shelving, tracking sales and inventory and scheduling events. It’s awesome to meet authors at booksignings but there is a lot of setup to make it work for everyone.

Some started young, working as a page or a clerk and eventually managing a department of a library or owning a store. Others describe mid-career changes, often when a job was lost. Many had always been readers and even dreamed of pursuing working in a library or bookselling and realized they could no longer wait.

There was one serious note, which was the growing number of efforts to remove books from libraries that a small group deemed objectionable. It meant a job loss for one writer and courageous stands for others. One thing was clear, when communities heard and protested, this was often decisive.

Have you ever wondered what it is like to work in a library or a bookstore? This book will give you a good picture of both the joy and the work. If nothing else, it should give you an appreciation for what a special breed any dedicated bookseller or librarian is. If you haven’t noticed, this book is a good education. And if you have, this book will serve as a good reminder to find ways to support and appreciate their work. There are book deserts. if you are not in one, thank the people who make that possible and support their efforts to sustain their presence!

Bookselling Heroes

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Jeff Garrett, who helped his wife Nina Barrett launch Bookends & Beginnings in Evanston, Illinois. Photo by Robert C. Trube, all rights reserved.

They don’t look like our idea of heroes. They are not frontline healthcare workers. The aren’t military service men and women or public safety officers who put their lives at risk for a higher cause. But they also contribute to preserving the fabric of society, the richness of our communities, and the intellectual and emotional health of our citizens. They are booksellers.

If they are independent booksellers, this means they are small business owners who have assumed both the risks and benefits of owning a business, having to pay rent, vendors, and employees. It means long hours and lots of unglamorous work. Everything from cleaning the sidewalks and toilets, lifting and unpacking boxes of books and getting them onto shelves.

One bookseller I know has not been able to open his business during COVID, nor sell books at conferences where he makes a good deal of his profit. He works hard to publicize good books through his online reviews and special offers. His books are meticulously packed, and often order acknowledgements are accompanied by personal notes. In other seasons, I’ve seen pictures of him unloading a truckload of books and then arranging them all meticulously by topics on tables, spending hours over several days interacting with buyers to help them find the right book, and then re-packing and unloading them back at his store. I first met him at a conference and it was a joy to watch him in action, recommending books I’d never heard of, or some which I couldn’t call to mind. It was like watching a virtuoso musician performing. My bookselling friend didn’t just sell books–he knew and loved books and cared deeply about connecting the right book and each of his customers.

And he and his wife work very hard at this, day after day.

While booksellers are all unique individuals, I would say they all have this in common–the work and the love. So, is it right to be considered a hero for doing work one loves? I think so. Having models of people who work hard with excellence to serve others, usually at minimal financial benefit, are worth noting. Beyond this, many of these people see their work as part of the civic fabric of their “main street” or whatever other street on which they work. They participate in community events. They host events from author appearances to readings for children. They highlight the voices of distinctive parts of their communities, whether of women, of people of color, of LGBTQ persons, or those of different religions.

Living in a bigger city, I love visiting small towns. I especially love the ones with a rich mix of shops and restaurants that my wife can spend an afternoon browsing–antique shops, boutiques, hardware stores, and bookstores. It’s the mix that makes it fun. What we don’t often appreciate his how hard all these business owners work to create this magic. But when we visit one of the forgettable small towns that are little more than civic buildings, a convenience store and a gas station, we begin to appreciate the value booksellers and others offer.

Sometimes these heroes have to give up their businesses. Maybe the finances just don’t work out, despite pouring time, energy, and in many instances, personal resources into the venture. More often, the challenge is just time, and the lack of another hero to pick up the mantle. I’ve seen more than one bookseller whose stores I really enjoyed visiting and who did great work for many years come to the realization that they no longer had the energy for that work, or that they wanted to use what remained to see and do things they had denied themselves for many years.

Sometimes, the community is blessed when someone younger comes along who shares the passion of the bookseller and takes over the business, often breathing new life into that business while preserving what brought a reliable clientele through the door. I’ve watched that happen with a store in a small town about 30 miles from us, and how that store is a community gathering place.

I hope these heroes survive the challenges of the pandemic. The books they’ve sent me have tided me and many of my friends through this time. I don’t think these heroes are looking for any acclaim. What would mean the most, particularly if you live in their town is that you would give them your trade, come to a few of their events and buy books, and tell your friends what a grand place their store is.

My Ideal Bookstore

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img_2365

The religion and theology alcove at Blue Jacket Books, Xenia, Ohio, now closed. © Bob Trube, 2015.

There is a graphic of a tweet doing the rounds as I write that says:

“Escape room idea:

Just a well-stocked bookstore with clearly marked exits. You have one hour to get out. Good luck.”

For most of us who are bibliophiles, the outcome would be no escape. And we’d be perfectly happy with that.

But it got me thinking. What is my idea of the ideal bookstore? I came to an interesting conclusion, thinking of the various bookstores I’ve visited. There is no single ideal. I’ve visited “hole in the wall” bookstores that I have really loved, bookstores in houses, bookstores in converted storage buildings, indie stores, and chain stores and liked them all. I think of a tiny paperback store in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan that had a stash of great vintage science fiction. I’ve visited great new book stores, used book stores, and some that sell both. Probably my best answer would be: they have books!

But if you pressed me, here are a some things that make a store one to which I want to return:

  • It is distinctive, even if part of a chain.
  • It has engaging booksellers who actually seem interested in helping you find the next great book. I still remember the booksellers at Acorn Books, now closed, as some of the best. By the same token, I’ve interacted with a number of Barnes & Noble booksellers who went to great lengths to track down books their online site says are available but I could not find–in one case locating a book in a stockroom that had not yet been placed on the sales floor.
  • They have a selection that goes beyond the popular books that I either have or don’t want.
  • In my case they have strong sections in science, history and biography, crime fiction, science fiction and literary fiction, and religion and philosophy. I always remember my first visit to a Borders that had all of these. I thought I was in book heaven.
  • Sometimes, it is the unique vibe of the bookstore. I think of one small store in a college town that is incredibly well curated, both in terms of new titles, and “consigned” titles, many from college professors. My kind of place!
  • A bookstore cat adds to the ambiance of any store. This might be something for Barnes and Noble to consider as they try to reinvent themselves!
  • I love used bookstores of any time, but the ones where the books are actually organized in some semblance of order, and where stock has been dusted some time in living memory is a plus.
  • I think of stores that are great family places, where you, your spouse, and your children of different ages can all find interesting books.
  • While cafés are nice, some are pricy and make me choose between that frappuccino and that book. Just give me comfortable seating scattered around the store where I can browse books I’m considering purchasing.
  • I enjoy stores where the booksellers have made recommendations, either in sections or on notecards by the books. I’ve bought books for on the basis of that.
  • Of course, because I read a lot, I always like finding books at a discount. I have found how much they depreciate when I try to sell them. I’ve also come to appreciate that only sales of new books provide royalties to the author.

I could go on but I suspect you have come up with some other qualities of great stores. I hope you will add them to this post in the comments

“Showrooming” at Bookstores

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Showrooming

This tweet went viral recently.

Fountain Bookstore is an independent bookstore in Richmond, Virginia. I’ve never visited the store, but from their web page, it looks like a place I would love: author appearances, staff picks, a robust children’s section, indie published books, even a way to buy audiobooks through the store, where the store gets a piece of the action. It looks to me like the booksellers have worked hard to create a great customer experience in a well-curated store.

Apparently they have fallen victim to a common practice in brick and mortar businesses. People find a book they are interested in, pull out their phone, and price shop on Amazon. Sometimes, they even buy on Amazon while standing in the store. Sometimes they even use the store’s free wi-fi to make their purchases. According to a WTVR story some people were bragging in front of booksellers: “They were looking up things and saying, ‘Amazon wins again, Amazon wins again, Amazon wins again’ ”

In addition to being incredibly insulting and rude (where is Miss Manners when we need her), it strikes me as being utterly oblivious to the wonder of indie booksellers that might be easily lost:

  • A bookstore in your community. A place to spend an afternoon or part of an evening.
  • Personalized service by knowledgeable booksellers, who over time get to know their customers.
  • A place shaped around your community–from local issues to local history and local authors.
  • A host for book groups and a resource for their discussions.
  • A local employer that spends money in your community and pays local taxes.
  • Part of that magic mix of shops and stores that turn places where we live into great places.

If you like the store’s vibe, do you want them to be around in five years? Ten years? The only way it happens is if you buy from them. And, when you buy local, you walk out with the book in your hands! No waiting for deliveries or risking them being stolen.

I get the impulse to save a few bucks. What I would suggest is that paying a bit more for the intangibles that enrich our lives in the real places we live might be the real bargain. Maybe buying less stuff but buying it local helps us both live with better economic boundaries, and live in a real network of economic relationships rather than one mediated by screens.

Here’s a thought. If you are going to pull out a phone in the store because you want to make a good purchase, don’t use it to find the cheapest price for the book, but rather to check out the reviews on the book, at Amazon, at Goodreads (now owned by Amazon), as well as other published reviews. (I kind of like using the online booksellers’ internet infrastructure to support local booksellers!). That can help you figure out whether the book is worth shelling out whatever price is being asked. At most, it will be a few dollars more, and many indie booksellers have some kind of discount program for regular customers.

Or better yet, just ask the bookseller about the book. Talk with them about your reading interests and whether they think you’d like the book. Or could they recommend something better? Their business is built on you finding books you like and trusting their recommendations. By talking with them, they get to know you. I’ve known some booksellers who call their customers when something new comes in they think they’d like. Sure, Amazon has algorithms and emails that do something similar. Personally, I like the human touch…

Why I Don’t Use Amazon Links in Reviews

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Edit Post ‹ Bob on Books — WordPress com

Screenshot of editing page for my most recent review, showing weblink to publisher.

If you’ve clicked on a book title in one of my reviews, you will discover that in nearly all cases, it will take you to a publisher’s web page for the book. Some may wonder, why don’t I use an Amazon link?

I did at one time until a bookseller friend whose work I value greatly challenged me that I was helping to dig the grave of his business. Since I want to see him, and other brick and mortar booksellers stay in business, I paid attention. He pointed out that I was essentially endorsing Amazon as “my bookseller of choice” by directing traffic to their website.

I hadn’t thought about that. Amazon links to books almost always come up at the top of a search for a book, even when you enter a publisher name. I was using those links as a matter of convenience. It is more challenging to find publisher links to a book, particularly for backlist books. And there are books I review sometimes that are out of print. In this case, I use a link to ABE Books, which provides connections to a number of booksellers who have the book.

So here are the reasons I don’t link to Amazon:

  • Do you want one bookseller “to rule them all and in the darkness bind them?”
  • I want to leave the choice of where you buy your books, and the format in which you buy them, to you.
  • I want to support publishers, who often sell the books online, adding to their revenues at a time where they face great pressure.
  • Publishers often have helpful marketing information about their books–video trailers, readers guides, author information, and more.
  • I want to support local booksellers whose presence enriches our community. Most also have an online presence, allowing you to order books and have them shipped to you, or available to pick up at the store.
  • Some of you may want to get it at your local library. I don’t want Amazon to replace libraries, which provide so many services, particularly for those who are financially strapped.

Finally, because I write about books and bookselling, I do not want to have a financial relationship with Amazon as an Amazon Associate. Yes, I actually could make some pocket change if someone uses a link on my page to buy a book from Amazon. But I don’t want to for all the reasons above.

I’ve concluded that for all the convenience Amazon offers, we are sacrificing a rich, local culture, as well as the subtler delights of relationships with librarians, publishers, and booksellers, as well as the serendipitous delight of finding what you weren’t, as well as were, looking for on the shelves of a local book store. That is not something I want to lose.

 

Review: The Bookman’s Tale

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The Bookman's Tale

The Bookman’s Tale, Charlie Lovett. New York: Viking, 2013.

Summary: Peter Byerly, a recently bereaved bookseller living in a small English village, comes across a hundred year old watercolor that is a striking image of his deceased wife, a find that sets him on a trail leading to what could be a major literary discovery,  but also to danger and murder.

It seems of late that I have discovered that there is a whole genre of mysteries set around the book trade. Most, including this work, on not destined to be literary classics. What this book does is combine descriptions of the world of antiquarian bookselling and restoration, with a riveting crime mystery, and with a tragic love story thrown in.

Peter Byerly has recently lost is wife at a young age and moved to the village of Kingham, England, living in the cottage he and Amanda renovated just before her death. In an effort to resume his bookselling career he peruses the shelves of a local bookseller. Inside a volume on literary forgeries, he discovers a watercolor that must be a hundred years old that could have been a painting of his wife. The only indication of the painter’s identity is an inscription that says “BB/EH.”

He teams up with an art expert who can shed no further light on the mystery. Meanwhile, the Aldersons of Everlode Manor invite him to help them sell some of their books. Julia, the sister reveals a box of documents in a box labeled “never to be sold.” They all appear of value, but none more than what Peter finds at the bottom–a slim volume that appears to be a first edition of Robert Greene’s Pandosto, on which Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale was based. Valuable as the edition may be, the real find are the marginal notes that appear to be written in Shakespeare’s hand–the Holy Grail of literary finds. There was something else: a list of owners where once again the initials BB/EH appear. This launches a quest to determine the book’s genuineness, provenance, and particularly the identity of BB/EH and how the book and painting are connected.

There is much more at stake than simply a great literary find. An art scholar who is working on a book that may shed light on the identity winds up dead with Peter framed for the murder. He and Liz are faced with the challenge of finding the true murderer before Peter is arrested, which brings them into greater danger yet.

This narrative is broken up with two others. One is the narrative of the Pandosto’s history, passing from one owner or bookseller to the next. The other is the growth of Peter’s two loves: for antiquarian bookselling and restoration under Francis Leland, the curator of Ridgefield Library’s Amanda Devereaux rare book collection, and for another Amanda, Amanda Ridgefield, the granddaughter of Amanda Devereaux, and whose family gave the school its name.

The three narratives alternate, tracing the book to BB/EH, Peter and Amanda’s relationship until her death, and the exciting denouement of the story. Apart from the many late night lovemaking episodes on the carpet under the portrait of Amanda Devereaux in the library, which seemed a bit creepy, the alternating narratives worked, both sustaining and relieving the plot tension. As I noted earlier, the reader gains a glimpse into the meticulous cared of book preservation, restoration, and binding, and something of the world of antiquarian bookselling and the authentication of rare and valuable works. Combine this with a murder mystery, and you have a delightful diversion for  bibliophile.