New Lamps for Old

Every bookshop is a microcosm of a world. Every section a continent, every shelf a country. As a bookseller, long have I dwelled in this pocket world, tending to its meadows and scaling its glaciers. I have encountered many travellers and pilgrims to this world, and have seen how they cherish it, jealous of the privilege of being in its orbit. Many find inspiration and insight, while many more find relief and solace. This is a world just for those of us who love the company of books. We love the bookshop's singularity of purpose — its dedication to books as containers of thought, transcending space and time. Time itself ticks by softly in this world.

Some have decried bookshops as anachronistic, that the march of technology has replaced not only the bookshop, but the book itself. But perhaps, like Aladdin's servant, they are too quick to trade new lamps for old.

Spend an unhurried afternoon browsing in a well-stocked bookshop and you'll see what I mean. Admittedly, it is not as efficient as a search on Amazon or as quick as its recommendation algorithm. And e-book downloads are faster still. But reading has never been about speed. Every link in the book industry is about deliberation and consideration — from author manuscript to editorial proof to bookseller review. The reader's browse should be no different. The reader must slow down to encounter books, and slow down even more to read them. It is not what convention would term 'efficient', but everything worthwhile takes time. Perhaps this is the lesson of the bookshop.

And perhaps what is anachronistic is that books and bookshops are about presence and participation, rather than productivity and performance.