Review: The Bookshop

Cover image of "The Bookshop" by Evan Friss

The Bookshop, Evan Friss. Viking (ISBN: 9780593299920) 2024.

Summary: A history of bookstores in America through the lens of fourteen bookstores or bookselling venues.

As a bibliophile, I love books on books, reading, and bookstores. In The Bookshop, Evan Friss offers a history of bookshops in America through the lens of fourteen bookshops or bookselling venues. Friss tells us he prefers the term “shop” at the outset. “Stores” sound too commercial. While there is a necessity to make enough to keep bookshops afloat (always a challenge throughout their history), a theme here is the unique bond booksellers build (or don’t build, in one case) with their customers.

Friss establishes that ethos in his Introduction, profiling the small Three Lives & Company shop in New York’s West Village. From Toby the owner to “the regulars” to Miriam, who listens well to customers, one has the sense that, like “Cheers,” this is a place where everyone knows, or wants to know, your name. After this, and each following chapter, there is a vignette on bookshop life–the UPS driver, the smell of books, the store buyer, and the ubiquitous bookstore cat among them.

From the Introduction, Friss takes us on a journey in time and geography from Ben Franklin’s shop in Philadelphia to Ann Patchett’s Parnassus books in Nashville. Along the way we learn Franklin didn’t call it a bookstore. He was a printer, and that led to printing and selling a number of books, including his own Almanac. His first big hit was the preacher, George Whitefield, selling his journals and sermons. Meanwhile, in another cradle of the Revolution, also a cradle of bookselling, we are introduced to the Old Corner bookshop. It was the hangout for the likes of Emerson, Holmes, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Longfellow. Behind it was the partnership of William D. Ticknor and a clerk, James D. Fields, who rose to become a partner.

Friss introduces us to some legendary stores. Having worked in a department store, I was fascinated by the sheer magnificence of the Marshall Field book department in Chicago, especially under Marcella Hahner. Another woman-run store was the Gotham Book Mart. Frances Steloff maintained an office in this rambling store with books piled everywhere until she was over one hundred. She found a way to sell the books that were banned. And then there was the Strand, once on Booksellers Row before it moved a few blocks. A Bass family member still manages it.

By contrast, there are the niche stores. One of those was the Aryan Book Store, selling, you guessed it, Nazi literature. Friss notes similar shops around the country for workers and the Communist Party. Then there is the Oscar Wilde, a pathbreaker in the sale of LGBTQ+ literature. Finally, the Drum & Spear represents Black bookseller, on the rise with Black Lives Matter.

Friss also chronicles the booksellers who don’t sell from brick and mortar shops. Parnassus on Wheels from the early 1900’s represents the booksellers who sold books from wagons and later bookmobiles. Then there are the sidewalk booksellers in New York City and other places, following the precedent of the bouquinistes selling books along the West Bank of the Seine in Paris. In New York, we learn of the hassles they face from the city, even while building their own community of clientele. Finally, there is the story of online bookselling typified by Amazon, the behemoth. Friss also covers their misbegotten venture into brick and mortar stores, and their failure to embrace a bookselling ethos.

The book concludes with the two major players in the bookshop world of today. There are the big box chains, represented by Barnes and Noble. And there are the thousands of indies, represented by Ann Patchett’s Parnassus Books. The chapters devoted to each trace their birth and growth. For Barnes and Noble, it is a longer story, from a single New York store, to Leonard Riggio’s pivotal role in building the chain, to James Daunt’s role as rescuer, teaching booksellers to think like indies. On the other hand, the story of Parnassus is one where an accomplished author and a publisher’s sales rep team up when Nashville’s beloved Davis-Kidd store closed. and we learn how Barnes and Noble and the indies, once rivals, have learned to see each other as allies in the effort to keep bookselling personal and a presence in every community.

Of course, there are thousands of stories that go untold. Places like Austin’s BookPeople and Powell’s only have cameo appearances. Not one of the many great bookshops in my home state were mentioned. But no matter. The various expressions of bookselling were there and the stores featured are kin. Friss captures both the hard work behind bookselling and the wonder of these special “third places.” Whether the street stand, a corner shop, the indies I know of that create events and comfortable spaces in small towns, or my local Barnes and Noble, all are celebrated in Friss’ account. And because of that, I appreciate even more the gift all of these are to the common good.

Review: The Bookseller at the End of the World

The Bookseller at the End of the World, Ruth Shaw. Auckland, NZ: Allen & Unwin, 2022.

Summary: The story of two small bookshops and their customers in the southernmost part of New Zealand, and the long journey of the bookseller running from trauma, broken dreams, and adventures until re-united with her first love and her work as a bookseller.

Ruth Shaw and her husband Lance run “two wee bookshops” in the southernmost part of New Zealand, a rural town named Manapouri, a scenic destination of vacationers and eco-tourists. This is both about her experiences of bookselling, and the long journey from a working class upbringing across much of the south Pacific until she married her “first and last love,” and after sharing duties of sailing a charter boat, settled down and started the bookshops, at first one, and then a second nearby for children.

Ruth had a pretty normal upbringing, living in Naseby, until it was shattered by a rape at a school dance that left her pregnant. As was the case then, she went away to stay with relatives in Wellington until she had the child, which she gave up for adoption. She tried the Navy but couldn’t handle the discipline. She returned to Stewart Island to assist her parents in running a hotel. It was there that she met Lance Shaw, fell in love, only to have their engagement broken off because Lance couldn’t agree to raise their children Catholic. From helping to run a hotel, she took off to Wellington, running for the next twenty years of her life from trauma and heartbreak

She had various jobs including cook and housekeeper for a house of priests, then went sailing around the Pacific with another man she met and married. But tragedy stalked with her husband dying in a car accident, leaving her with child, who died from an Rh incompatibility, a consequence of her first pregnancy. Later, she returns to the cemetery where he is buried and snatches the cross to remember him by.

She spends twenty years in a wild assortment of jobs, surviving a tsunami, encountering pirates, having run-ins with the law in several countries, returning home long enough to care for her dying mother, attempting suicide and spending time in a mental facility. There were more marriages, from which she ran. For a time she works with a social agency, drawing on her own life to help others. Then a phone call comes from a familiar voice from twenty years ago, asking if she was still Catholic, a reunion with the son she’d given up for adoption, and the move to Manapouri after selling the charter business and the decision to open the bookshops. Always a reader, she began with her own library as the core of her stock.

Interspersed with her memoir are delightful little vignettes called “Tales From the Bookshops.” She tells of giving as many books as she sells, including one to Hamish the hiker. We learn of a couple with a bizarre practice of reading books, of finding the right book for the man who loved tractors, and of how she handles the sale of family books–heirlooms. We are entertained by the story of Lex, the six year-old, who became her “bookshop assistant,” Cove, the bookshop dog, and many more vignettes from her bookselling life.

Ruth Shaw offers us a memoir combining resilience amid trauma and tragedy, a wonderful love story with a happy ending, and plenty of stories any bibliophile will love and identify with. Shaw exemplifies the wonderful quality of all the great booksellers–the ability to connect the hungry reader with just the right book, even from her small shops. You don’t have to go to the Strand, Shakespeare’s or Powell’s. There are dedicated booksellers, even at the end of the world in southern New Zealand who find ways to bring just the right book together with the hungry reader.

Fallen Golden Arches: Lessons for Booksellers

Harlem Micky Dz” by Sam SmithOwn work. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

McDonald’s is facing hard times. They’ve closed 350 stores and are closing 350 more. In articles I’ve read, it appears that they are trying to stanch declining sales by experimenting with serving breakfast all day long and adding premium burgers (even after they pulled their pricy Angus burgers) and maybe throwing in kale on the menu? Kale at McDonald’s? Seriously?

Certainly some of the issues are that McDonald’s menu has not been known, with some exceptions, for its’ healthy food options. Yet other competitors with similar menus are not having the same problem–I suspect that the success of Five Guys is part of what is driving the interest in premium burgers.

I am not an insider either in the restaurant industry or in bookselling. I am simply a customer–one of those people that McDonald’s as well as booksellers depend on to survive. And here are some things I’ve observed that I think McDonald’s has to address that are far more fundamental than menu:

1. Consistency. At one time, you could go to any McDonald’s in the country and get a consistent product–one that tasted like your McDonald’s up the street. That is no longer the case–sometimes we’ve had burgers that taste like cardboard, and other times, what we remembered. And it makes you wonder about other aspects of the back operation.

2. Service. A while back we were in line at one restaurant waiting to order…and waiting, while a manager, who was standing between us and the counter, belly-ached to his line people about how he didn’t like his job and couldn’t wait to go home. By contrast, I was in a Panera recently where I overheard a manager interviewing a new hire who effused enthusiasm for his work, his team, and the quality of product and service they sought to bring to the customer. Can you guess where I prefer to eat these days?

3. Atmosphere. A number of McDonalds remodeled with this futuristic Jetsons look. Instead of making it a comfortable place to enjoy a meal, it sent my wife and me the message that “we’d like you to eat your food and scram as quickly as possible.”

The truth is that I look for the same kinds of things in the bookstores I enjoy visiting. One of my favorite places has a consistently good selection of the kinds of books I enjoy reading (and seems to provide this for a broad range of tastes). I’ve always enjoyed stores where the people working there know and love books. Recently, I learned about BookPeople, one of the best indie stores in the country, based in Austin, TX. It’s just fun to follow their blog and see their enthusiasm for books and bookselling. Same goes for my good friend, Byron Borger, at Hearts and Minds Books. The other thing the best stores create is an atmosphere. It doesn’t have to be the same–some are musty and dusty places with books everywhere. Others are well-organized. Others provide comfy chairs to browse, perhaps with a beverage in hand. What all of them say is “we’re glad you came by.”

All this seems like a no-brainer, whether it comes to selling burgers or books. But what do I know? I’m just a customer.