Confession Time
Tomeopathy has a confession to make, I abuse high street bookshops. I’m not talking about independent shops but the large chains, in fact let’s be honest Waterstones, WH Smiths and The Works entirely fail to create the correct ambiance for this particular indulgence. How do I do it? I abuse their facilities, I spend time soaking up the atmosphere, quietly perusing the shelves, reading a few pages here and there, and asking for recommendations. I do all of this without ever making a purchase, in fact I never have any intention of doing so. I’m in no doubt though that the worst sin I commit in these circumstances is perpetrated with my phone, I take pictures of books I want to buy, then I buy them from somewhere else. Does anyone else do this? I’ve never seen anyone do it, but then maybe like me they’re casting a furtive glance around the shop first, to ensure staff and other customers are oblivious. There’s always a frisson of nervous excitement (sad, huh) whenever I do this, I constantly expect to be asked to explain myself, to cease and desist, or perhaps even to leave the store and take my non-existent business elsewhere, it hasn’t happened yet though.
Please don’t take my actions above as an indication that I see Waterstones as an evil faceless conglomerate, undeserving of my hard earned coin, and responsible for the closure of far more worthy independent book stores. No, my actions are far more cynical than an altruistic desire to protect a dying breed of independent shops, in short the same stories are cheaper elsewhere, but I prefer to browse in real life rather than virtually.
In the distant, pre-internet, past I would while away hours in the somewhat cluttered confines of an independent book shop in my home town, I loved it, the owners were both helpful and indulgent to younger readers, considering the size of the premises, they stocked an incredible array of books. Many a time, after Christmas or a Birthday, I’d enter with a fistful of book tokens and leave clutching a ticket to faraway lands wrapped in a brown paper bag (albeit that sometimes, I left with the book a week or so after I went in with the tokens).
Then one day the owners retired, and that was it, no more book shop in town. A five minute bike ride became a forty minute bus journey and ten minute walk to the nearest book shop, a Waterstones. And do you know what, it was fantastic, it was HUGE compared to my old book shop, there were chairs to sit in, escalators to ride, and more books than you could shake a stick at. I felt like Charlie Bucket with my very own golden ticket, rare indeed was the day I left without a book, on the odd occasion they didn’t have the specific one I’d intended to buy they always had a suitable alternative. A few years later WH Smith opened a branch in my town, but I kept on riding that bus to Waterstones, I wanted a book shop not a newsagents that also sold books. So my younger self will be eternally grateful to Waterstones for existing, without them I’d have missed out on so many books I’d never have picked up otherwise.
I don’t therefore feel that I owe anything to Waterstones, I’ve spent a small fortune within their walls over the years. If they sold kindle versions of the books they stock, I’d still be spending my money with them.
My fear, for it is a fear rather than a feeling of guilt which motivates these musings, stems from this horrible thought, where might I take my non-existent business if Waterstones ceased to exist? Today I live in a city, it has a couple of independent book shops, one of which does an excellent job of cultivating a community feel and arranging special events to draw in business. What it isn’t, is as good a bookshop as the local Waterstones. So in order to preserve my book choosing haven, I’m going to change my ways and actually start making purchases in Waterstones. Not for me you understand, but if they’re gifts or for my children, this is where they’ll come from.