Near where I live now, there's a small bookshop, called 'Prospero's Books'. It's been a long time, really, since I had access to that kind of small, local bookshop, rather than your usual Waterstones and Borders. And oh but I truly do hate Borders with a passion that borders – ha! – upon the unreasonable.
So I'd forgotten how pleasant it could be to amble round a smallish shop so chock-full of books that you can barely move. It's comfortingly like my living room (and bedroom back in Somerset). There are genuine reasons, though, why sometimes Small Is Best; at least where the bookshop in question is a good one.
In large bookshops, while there can be much glee, and I can spend many a happy hour in there, sometimes it's actually overwhelming, and not always for the good reasons, e.g. overwhelmingly awesome. Large bookshops are, naturally, catering to a market that is wider than just me. I am, and I know this, a book snob. Most people are not. These bookshops are partly for me, and they do have sections which cater to my interests, but I have to wade through an awful lot of things that I'm not interested in first. So a lot of the time I spend in these larger shops is spent trawling for the gems.
Here lies the beauty of a small bookshop, where the stock is chosen with exquisite care, knowledge, and taste. Often when I go to a bookshop, I'm not necessarily looking for something specific, I just like being among the books, seeing what looks interesting, or looking broadly for something I might care to read and not really minding whether it be philosophy, history, classical literature or contemporary fiction. When I go into Prospero's, that search is entirely satisfying. It's a bookshop built by book lovers, and while the sections are small – a bookcase of philosophy, for example – what has gone into them has been chosen well. A lot of the chaff has already been weeded out; I'm interested in a lot more of what they do have.
Naturally, they need to cater for popular fiction and chart stuff which isn't always – or perhaps even often (book snob, remember?) – up my street, and that's fine. The real quality is there in spades.
I went in there a couple of days ago, had a bit of a browse, and the first book I put my hand on was by Amin Maalouf. A writer I actually had not heard of, but the book looked incredibly interesting, as did the writer. So I got two of his books, which really appealed to me. The same thing happened the last time I was in the shop (when I got a copy of Early Greek Philosophy and Herta Muller's Land of Green Plums).
I expect those books are in the larger bookshops, too.* I'd be a lot less likely to find them, though.
Of course there's a place for both, and sometimes I want to be in a wholeroom full of political theory, rather than a shelf of well-chosen examples of it, but it's nice to be reminded of how different the experiences are, and how valuable a little time spent in a small, good, bookshop can be.
Books are awesome.
[* Although they had some philosophy books there that I had gone into a large Waterstones specifically looking for, only for them not to be found. As I said: these guys have taste. Shame on you, Waterstones!]
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