The Bookshop Blogger #12

Thursday, 13 May 2010, 1:10 PM

The Sunday papers used to be such a joy. The News, obviously, and then a Review section and some Culture. Oh, and Sport. Nowadays you need to be a world class athlete or at least a weight trainer just to lift the thing up. Every week, one or other of our more venerable customers will mention - and by mention I mean complain - how heavy the Sundays are. “Try lifting an enormous bundle of them!” I want to tell them... but don’t. I just smile and agree.

I really don’t understand why customers blame booksellers for things that are beyond our control. I have a female customer who I am quite sure only comes into town to buy The Lady and complain at me about how silly all the changes are. Once more, I nod and agree.

But I don’t agree. And in fact, I don’t even care. I’m going to come right out and say it: when someone harangues me for having sold out of the last copy of Heat or The Economist it makes me want to SCREAM. When did bookshops become newsagents?

We all have our literary likes and dislikes. For instance, I like Sam Savage and think that Firmin: Adventures of a Metropolitan Lowlife was one of the most innovative novels of 2006, but I dislike Madeleine Wickham and think that she proves that however hard you polish, it is still a Sophie Kinsella.

I didn’t start working in a bookshop so that I could have an opinion on whether Cosmo or Elle has its finger on the pulse of what a modern girl needs. I have nothing against magazines - I read them myself - but, if I am not enjoying a magazine, I don’t go back to the newsagent where I bought it and blame them for the quality of the journalism; I just stop buying the bloody thing.

Next time, I shall tell you about my anthropological investigations into the 3 for 2 buying habits of my beloved customers.