The Tale of Finji

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a small but perfectly formed geezer named Finn.

He lived with his mum and dad but at night would travel the world using his secret powers. On one such escapade he flew East and then a bit further East until he arrived in the land of the rising sun. There he studied for years and years developing his Ninja powers. When he returned it was morning and he'd only been away for the night. Weird.

Dad was stumbling around as usual in a state of near undress.

He wrestled our tiny hero into his high chair and began the daily ritual of stuffing the little face with tasty goo.

But this morning was different. Finn had Ninja powers...

When dad tried a spoon of goo Finn responded with THE WAY OF THE IRON LIP.

Dad tried again and again to prise the little gob open but in vain. The lips were closed and tough as a vice.

Then, as dad was on the point of losing his rag, the tiny titan unleashed THE SILENT BUT SUDDEN ATTACK OF THE SPOON CHOP. This was a really complex but very simple technique that had taken years of sitting under trees to perfect. One moment Finn was banging his hand on the table, the next, in the merest blink of an eye, he reached out, took the spoon, and chucked it on the floor. The movement was so fast nobody saw it. But there was dad, goo on his glasses, as evidence that something had happened.

Dad wiped his glass eyes and supressed a sob.

As he bent down to pick up the spoon Finn let rip with THE ANCIENT PLATE DROP. You can probably imagine the scene as the plate of goo landed upside down on dad's head.

Poor old dad had only been awake for a matter of minutes but already it felt like years...

If football teams were art movements

Chelsea - Italian Futurists. Vaguely fascist obsessives about the beauty of the relentlessly driving machine. If Boccioni's sculpture above isn't the wet dream of Mourinho's perfect player then I don't know what is.

Arsenal - Could be a few here. Sometimes Art Nouveau, all style no substance. Sometimes Bauhaus, elegant simplicity. At their best, definitely Surrealist, Breton and Duchamp rather than Dali and Magritte, dreams rearranging themselves as reality.

Reading - Pointillist. The whole is more than the sum of its parts.

Man Utd - Impressionists. The football team supported by people who don't really like football.

Liverpool - Conceptual Art. Sometimes comes together in brilliance. Sometimes not. Work in progress.

Fulham - Arts and Crafts. Folksy, twee. Craven cottage anyone?

Spurs - Fauvism. Colourful, sometimes beautiful but destined to forever remain on the fringes of the major movements.

West Ham - Expressionism. Emotional and full of Angst.

Bolton/Blackburn/Everton/Wigan - Brutalists. Does what it says on the tin.

Newcastle - Abstract expressionist. Think they're more important than they actually are.

Watford - Magic realism. About to wake up from a really nice dream.

Sheffield United - Constructivist. Honest, hard-working idealists.

Man City/Villa/Boro/Charlton - Erm, any ideas?

This is ridiculous...

We just cleaned the fake snow off our window - it has been there since Christmas. People were starting to comment, particularly last week when it was so warm.

Now it is bloody snowing!

Oranges and Lemons

Great news in the inbox again - What Was Lost by Catherine O'Flynn has been longlisted for the Orange Prize.

Now I'm not a fan of longlists, a little pointless really. But it's still good to see the wheat separated from the chaff and a book that I loved is still in there with a chance.

About this time last year we were selling lots of copies of Harbor by Lorraine Adams. That was another great book from a small publisher that we pushed hard. It was also shortlisted for the Orange prize but Lorraine didn't win...Zadie won.

Looking at the rest of the list I think there are a few big guns up for the Orange this year too. Kiran Desai's Booker winning Inheritance of Loss for starters!

Still, a great achievement for Catherine.

Also good for us as it suggests two things:

1: We are worth listening to when we get excited.

2: We are both blokes, but our feminine sides are in good shape!

Thrills v spills

Reading both Matthew's post below on Cap'n Bob's new shop in Bath and the steadfast comments I was interested to come across this post from a well-known marketing guru. Of course it's more complicated than that but I am constantly reminded of the stark difference between those people who came to the shop at the start of our venture muttering things like 'it'll never work here' and those who exclaimed 'fantastic, how cool to have a new bookshop here'.

Speaking personally the difference between thrills and the fear is somewhat mediated by occasional lazyness but I still like to think I'm in the former camp.

I am also reminded of another former bosses favourite joke:

'How many booksellers does it take to change a light bulb?'

'Booksellers don't like change'

Boom, boom.

(And for what it's worth I think Mr B will be fine. They and Robert are doing two different things. The differences are similar to those between us and the Foyle's 5 minutes walk round the corner on the south bank both in outlook and in scale)

Fixed broken link

The link mentioned below works here.

More Dave Chappelle

Following on from the post below I just can't resist this one...

Funnily enough I was having a conversation with a customer last week about Chekhov and one of the things he admired most about him was that he seemed to be a genuinely good person who used his talent and position to highlight injustices as well as the human condition. A few nights before BBC2 had screened Dave Chappelle's Block Party a film of the comics semi-improptu concert in a Brooklyn neighborhood and I was thinking the same thing that he seemed to be a genuinely good person using his talent and position for good. My customer agreed (he knew of the comic too). We were also discussing how Chappelle had walked away from a $50 million contract for his tv show because he felt he was becoming compromised. Stupid maybe but still admirable.

The above clip isn't even remotely Chekhovian but I still nearly wet myself watching it. This link however to an episode of his tv show does I think offer a parallel to Chekhov in it's acute political understanding and incredible articulacy in its chosen genre.

And I still can't believe he didn't make the top 100.

Not in the top 100???

I was watching one of those ludicrous Channel 4 top 100 shows last night on the best stand-ups ever. Normally these things are rubbish but atleast last night had some genuinely hysterical moments.

One of the strangest things about it was the reappearance of all those 70's throwbacks and their sometimes casual, sometimes outright racism. I was hoping to get through life without ever seeing Bernard Manning or Jim Davidson on tv again but oh no the professional ironists at C4 felt the need to surrender valuable telly time to these pigs once more.

But by the end I was genuinely amazed that one of my favourite stand-ups ever didn't even make the 100. If Chris Rock can make it to no.8 then why isn't Dave Chappelle who has brilliant routines about racism in the top 5. I can only put it down to his lack of exposure in this country. Anyway, this is a clip from one of his specials that just shows how utterly redundant the likes of Manning and Davidson truly are.

Blindness

I helped a blind man navigate his way through some ridiculous pavement mayhem this morning. They were digging up the place and had put a makeshift fence around some nasty looking holes. I watched this bloke as he caught his cane in the fence, then hurried over the road to lend an arm.

He was very pleased.

Such small acts of kindness go on every day. But there's never anything about it in the papers.

I was chatting with the bloke in our local fish and chip shop last night. He's been in Camberwell for over 30 years and has owned three different businesses. I discovered this 'cos he was asking how long we had been in Camberwell. When I said 3 years he was like "Oh you must like it."

I went on to say we did and that having lived North, South, East and West I found South London to be the friendliest part of the city. "There's the gun crime" I said, "but if you're not in that scene you are very unlikely to get caught up in it." There was a shooting outside the club opposite his chip shop last year. In fact a stray bullet put a small hole in their window! "Those people came from Hackney" he said. Not local. Turned out he used to own the club but in his day it was a restaurant where they had live jazz in the evening.

So there you go. As the football songs (almost) go:

"Oh South London, is Wonderful, Oh South London is Wonderful"

Write that in yer sensationalist press you jounralistic tossers - the world is a terrible place if you want it to be. For every shooting a thousand blind men are helped by strangers to cross the road. I think it's important to remember that...

Topping and Co - GO! GO! GO!

Our ex-boss Robert Topping is opening a new shop in Bath following the success of his Ely store.

There's a small piece in the Guardian today that refers to "Topping's slightly eccentric style".

Robert is a character who divides opinion. Bean counters loathe him, book lovers erm love him. I have spoken to many booksellers over the years who refer to Topping's time at Waterstone's Deansgate in Manchester as the time of their lives. I am not surprised to see he is taking a few of those ex-colleagues with him to Bath.

I also wonder how the idiots at Big W must feel now that Topping is coming to town. His version of bookselling will now go head to head with theirs. I know who I would back! (Robert recently filled Ely cathedral with people for a talk by Alan Bennett. The man is a bookselling force of nature whereas the HMV group was described by city bean counters as The Walking Dead - a company with absolutely no future)

Some people will just never get it. Bookselling is about loving books and reading them too, then sharing that experience. Money comes into it as it comes into every aspect of our lives, but it is far from the most important element.

So Go for it Robert, take Bath by storm. Good luck to all those you are taking with you on this exciting journey.

Eugene Atget, Walter Benjamin and er, Snow Patrol

Atget was a photographer who from 1898 to 1927 would go out at dawn every day and record Paris. Primarily he used his plates to sell to artist's as reference pieces for their paintings but what he ended up doing was a monument of documentary photography. By the time he stopped around five thousand negatives had been recorded. Most of the images are earily free of people.

Walter Benjamin in his essay the Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction says: '...as man withdraws from the photographic image, the exhibition value for the first time shows its superiority to the ritual value. To have pinpointed this new stage constitutes the incomparable significance of Atget, who, around 1900, took photographs of deserted Paris streets. It has quite justly been said of him that he photographed them like scenes of crime. The scene of a crime, too, is deserted; it is photographed for the purpose of establishing evidence. With Atget, photographs become standard evidence for historical occurrences, and acquire a hidden political significance. They demand a specific kind of approach; free-floating contemplation is not appropriate to them. They stir the viewer; he feels challenged by them in a new way.'

So why am I telling you this? Snow Patrol, Northern Irish stadium rocker types and their video for the song Open Your Eyes. When I saw it I thought it reminded me of a film I'd seen made in the seventies and thanks to the magic of YouTube I discovered that it was EXACTLY the same film. It's called C'Etait un Rendezvous by Claude Lelouch and it's just him in a Ferrari (actually a Mercedes dubbed over) racing, criminally, through the deserted streets of Paris to meet his lover outside the Sacre-Coeur and it's like Atget on speed. Now , I'm almost certain Lelouch would have been familiar with Atget but will Snow Patrol have been I wonder? By the sounds of their pleasant yet dreary song inserted over the top I somehow doubt it.

Anyway, atleast it reminded me of Atget's pictures and brought me once again to the marvelous Benjamin. Below are two posts, firstly the Snow Patrol video and then the Lelouch film. I don't think Blogger allows me to post YouTube stuff from blogger so I'm trying to work backward here but you get the picture.

And here is a link to some of Atget's work of Paris next to the same photo taken recently.

snow patrol - open your eyes

Snowy and chums

C'etait un Rendezvous (1976) - Claude Lelouch - Ferrari 275

Lelouch

Negativity

Ok, so sometimes we can be a little critical, maybe a touch negative, perhaps a tad ranting but always whenever we highlight a book on the blog we are nothing if not fulsome in our praise. Not this time.

Whenever people get to an old age they feel they have earned the right to say pretty much whatever they want because they just don't care any more. And fair enough I say. Unfortunately, what can occasionally happen is that a lifetimes worth of suppressed bile and anger can come forth in a torrent of ugliness and bitterness. Kurt Vonnegut is 82 and has written a book so ugly and unfunny and distasteful that I would love to be able to ignore it but am compelled to share it's petty nastiness. It's a sort of memoir, it's called Man Without a Country and avoid it at all costs. And I loved Slaughterhouse 5 and Cat's Cradle. Neither of which I'll ever be able to read again.

Should I talk about books I loathe on the blog? Probably not but this blogging for me is kind of a 'get it off your chest' thing. And it could also act as a conduit for my own bitterness and bile so that by the time I get to that age (if I get to that age) it won't be unpleasantries coming out of my mouth, just a little bit of dribble.

Can we resist the temptation to comment? No

For a brief moment recently we were worried that Waterstone's was going to return to a more store based, less centrally controlled, range-y kind of bookshop like wot it used to be and a real challenge to our style of independent bookshop.

We needn't have bothered. Seems the future lies in 25 fewer stores, full central control, less range and erm, stationary. Phew.

BBC Radio Five Live Book of the Month March 2007

Great news in the inbox this morning. Go Catherine!

Tindal Street Press is delighted to announce that What Was Lost by Catherine O’Flynn is the Five Live Book of the Month on Simon Mayo’s Book Panel for March 2007. The show will be broadcast on BBC Radio Five Live on Thursday 22nd March at 3pm – and will feature Catherine in conversation with the panel as they review and discuss her novel.

The Five Live Book of the Month focuses on a new writer, whose fiction is exciting, interesting and innovative. What Was Lost has been selected for its wide appeal as an accessible literary novel with a distinctive, unusual charm.

Alan Mahar, Publishing Director of Tindal Street Press says: ‘Such prominence on national radio is a well-deserved accolade for a novelist who has attracted unanimous praise since she first came to our attention. It is a landmark piece of publicity for What Was Lost, a refreshingly original debut destined for considerable success – both for its literary accomplishment and as a popular word-of-mouth hit.’

Catherine O’Flynn has captivated reviewers and interviewers with her insightful take on contemporary life, the wit and warmth of her storytelling and the quirky energy of her offbeat characters. Jonathan Coe was an early admirer. Having read the manuscript, he said: ‘What Was Lost is a fantastic book. It kept me up till 1.30 the other night, and it’s a long time since any new novel had that effect on me.’ Others have been bowled over too. A local woman reader emailed the publishers: ‘I rarely read a book in one sitting but I couldn’t put What Was Lost down. The effect was like a web being woven round me: utterly mesmerising.’

Widespread, positive local and national coverage has continued since What Was Lost was launched with two lively parties in Birmingham and London. Certainly Matthew Crockatt – of Crockatt & Powell, who hosted the London event – captured the upbeat mood around Catherine’s debut when he chose it as his Book of the Month. He says in his 13th February blog: ‘So far today I have hand sold ten copies of this brilliant debut. Why am I so excited about it? I think it’s going to be the word of mouth buzz book that comes out of nowhere to win prizes and adulation ... Let’s make Catherine’s book a bestseller.’

Such commitment from independent booksellers and major chains – What Was Lost is part of Waterstone’s 3 for 2 springtime promotion – has made for strong national sales, with the first two print-runs of 5000 copies close to selling out. Just like Clare Morrall’s Astonishing Splashes of Colour, signed first editions of What Was Lost looks set to become collectors’ items.

I am starting to breathe a sigh of relief. Shifting so many copies of a book in a "trust me - I'm a bookseller" kind of way is always a risky business. But I'm still convinced Catherine's great book is going to be a winner.

Not read it yet?

We have a few copies left...

Where are they now

Why isn't The Aerodrome by Rex Warner in print? Last seen at Harvill press (now sadly deceased - well, swallowed up). I remember reading it at school when I was 8 and thought it a bit of a cracker but don't take my word for it,

'Brilliantly imaginative ... it remains the best, perhaps the only, English Kafka novel.' Anthony Burgess.

And how could you not like a book that describes life as only ‘a brief and dazzling flash of time between two annihilations’

C'mon publishers, we can sell this you know.

Let's hear it for Picador

A customer wants a copy of Cosmicomics by Italo Calvino. No problem I say, confidently. But when I go to order it - Reprint Under consideration. What? How can that be? Oh, another Picador title that's been left to slowly die.

It's a great sadness and I've had this conversation with many people recently at what Macmillan has let happen to the once mighty Picador imprint. When I was a teenager getting into serious reading it was always the Picador and Penguin spines I looked out for. You were guaranteed something interesting. But Macmillan seem more interested in Jeffrey Archer, authors they don't pay advances to and selling 50 million learning English books to the chinese these days. Fair play I suppose, everyone's got to make a living but surely there are a few crumbs left to maintain a cracking backlist. Penguin and Random House seem to do ok. I think the real problem is that a few key people have left in the last few years and a serious interest in fiction is just not being pushed from the top.

Of course, Macmillan will go on about the number of Booker prize winners Picador have had in the last 3 years (2) but they were authors who worked with a publisher at Picador who left a couple of years ago and one of them really shouldn't have won. Anyway, it's the backlist that's disappearing. And while other publishers are keeping the flame alive by constantly re-jacketing and promoting - step forward Penguin - Picador just let old editions fester and fade. When we ordered One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest for the shop it still had the same Jack Nicholson cover that it did when I read it 18 years ago. The people who should be reading that now weren't even born when the film was out but it doesn't matter as it's another of the books Picador have lost. (It's at Penguin now still with Jack's face but with funkier graphics)

Still, luckily for Sue, our customer, none of this stops me from ordering the Calvino from America where it's still, very much, In Print.

(Particularly grating to Matthew, Robert Stone, whose backlist Picador haven't re-published since 1999 has a stonking good biography out called Prime Green in the states. Are Picador publishing it? No sign of it.)

It's in the genes

It all comes down through the mother's side doesn't it? How else to account for my quickness to temper and general chippyness. She's from Belfast and the whole family is solid northern Ireland stock, a people not normally noted for their genial calm and laidback qualities and not usually to be found at home in places like the reform club.

On the other hand a thirteen hour day with no dinner might also explain my inclination towards the tetchy last night.

The Unknown Terrorist by Richard Flanagan

I received a proof of Richard Flanagan's new novel The Unknown Terrorist in the post today. (We asked for two proofs of Marie's book at the same time and they are yet to arrive - any Random folk reading this - sort it out!)

I am a bit of a fan. I read Gould's Book of Fish and reviewed it for the Times. I have a HB First edition. Beautiful book - printed in many colours. Mine is signed in green by the man himself. I am also the only person I know to have read Death of a River Guide all the way through.

Here's the Times review:

WHAT MAKES a great novel? Is it the sustained narrative drive or expertly painted characters that keep the pages turning? Sometimes the pleasure comes from reading itself; the interplay of words and imagination, and it is into this category that Gould’s Book of Fish falls.

In the age of the digestible soundbite, ambitious books are usually dismissed as pretentious nonsense, and there are many who have written off this novel. But there are others who have found it inspired.

Diving into the cruelty, humiliation and collective insanity that drive Flanagan’s Tasmanian penal colony demands brave reading. Confinement, torture and execution are the order of each day and the names that populate its pages (Pobjoy, Capois Death, Musha Pug) hint at the characters’ brutalised lives.

Only Flanagan’s magical ability to excite the imagination and stretch the mind of the reader can save the book from its subject. Sentences of complex syntax glow with hallucinatory intensity, but this is more than just linguistic pyrotechnics. With his maelstrom of letters Flanagan explores the effects of power, both on the tyrant that wields it and on the subjugated, in an attempt to reconcile beauty with brutality.

So take a chance, read the book and decide for yourself. As Gould points out: “At best a picture, a book are only open doors inviting you into an empty house, & once inside you just have to make the rest up as well as you can.”

They messed around with my prose a bit (bloody sub editors!) but the gist is there. The best bit was that I was working at Daunt (can finally speak the name!) on Marylebone High Street at the time. (A truly great bookshop BTW) A bloke came in that Saturday with the review in his hand and said "Do you have a copy of this? It sounds amazing!" (I shi* you not) I placed a copy in his hand and experienced the warm glow of the nobody whose genius is recognised for the next ten minutes or so.

But my fanatical support of Flanagan does not end there. A while later Robert McCrum wrote a piece about ridiculous prize-winning books. Gould's Book of Fish one of the books he picked on. (Won the Commonwealth Writers' Prize 2002) I e-mailed him and begged to differ. McCrum responded with a one liner along the lines of Let's Agree To Disagree. He probably thinks I'm a nutter.

Incidentally Flanagan was once published by Macmillan as part of the Picador list. They decided Gould's Book of Fish would be too expensive to produce - all the pics and coloured text etc. They dropped him and now he's published by Atlantic. Interestingly there are those at Macmillan I have e-mailed in the past who I KNOW FOR A FACT believe I'm a nutter...I've seen the e-mail...But there are plenty of great folk at Macmillan so I don't want to be too bitchy.

Well maybe I am nuts. (Maybe I'm just nuts about books?) Certainly nuts about Flanagan and I can't wait to get my eyes/brain into his latest...

I will report back when I'm through it.

I'd never heard of him either

“Mr. Gracq is one of the more stimulating and original imaginations in contemporary French literature.”—The New York Times Book Review

'We know of hardly any painters who are born to their art already armed head to toe with their own technique, masters of their palette, touch, impasto, glazes. All of them seem to have arrived at their craft, which constitutes their signature, gradually, slowly, sometimes even in the public eye. Because writing and editing are the foundations of the scholarly institution, literature reveals an entirely different picture: a number of writers, beginning with their very first book, already write the way they will write their entire life. It is in their homework and school essays, from grammar school to high school to college, that one must seek the progressive maturation, which has remained private, and that, with their public debut, has placed them in possession of a complete instrument. But there is also a whole category of writers, not necessarily inferior ones, who emerge in public while still immature, and whose formation is completed, sometimes rather laboriously, under the eye of readers, the way the gestation of a marsupial is completed in the open air and in a ventral pouch. Eminent examples of writers of the first sort: Claudel, Valery, Stendhal, Montherlant; of the second: Chateaubriand, Rimbaud (who represents the extreme case of a literary premature baby), Proust, Mauriac.

There is a price to pay for this delay in development, which is to leave a part of one's published works in the state of rough drafts and exercises, even to drag around with oneself for a long time the remnants of an incubating cocoon. There is also a privilege to be had, which is to conserve in one's writing the vibration that is inseparable from the effort toward distinct form, a vibration that writers who have received the gift of an impeccable line of ready-to-wear do not know.'

And that's only the first page. It gets even better. Brought to us in a wonderful edition from the Turtle Point Press and the nice man in the brown jumpsuit from UPS. The trouble is I can't remember the website I read it being recommended.

(The alternative title to this post is 'procrastination'. I really do have a lot of paperwork to get through. But it's so boring. I'd much re-read that rather flawless passage one more time)

Two more things

• Marie's book out in august has pride of place on our homepage.
• I've been reading the bloke who writes the cycling column for the Independent for the last few months and he clearly has no idea about cycling or bikes.

Two things

First, we've added a download on the website. You can hear Marie's dulcet tones and a couple of authors reading. Might not work with all browsers but we're getting there, slowly.

Second, can't we get rid of charity muggers? I hate them. Do charities not realise that for the miniscule amount of people they sign up through these pavement terrorists THOUSANDS more will take an active dislike to their activities?

Jobless in Newcastle-Under-Lyme

We used to have 3 wholesale suppliers, A, B and C. Last year high street giant Woolworths bought B. A few months ago it also bought C. Now it is closing B. 640 people are losing their jobs although some will be given the opportunity to relocate to Norfolk from the North midlands. Lucky them.

Now, Woolies are upping their booksales. They will be putting categories and more range into their high street shops. For small town independent bookshops this could prove tricky.

The problem is that C is one of the biggest suppliers to the independent trade and indeed prides itself on this but it will also be the supplier of books to its new owner Woolworths who will now know exactly what the small independent across the road is ordering in large quantities and exactly what its bestsellers are (which woolies can then order in and undercut - of course they'll deny this but would you believe them?).

There is still A but they are not exactly the easiest company to deal with and negotiating discounts is going to be a real bastard.

Being a sparrow's fart from Big Ben and our nearest woolies a 20 minute walk away means we won't really have these problems although it is still a major pain in the arse losing a supplier for all sorts of cash flow and availability issues. And of course Margaret and her friends at B now have 3 months to find a new job in an area where they're not exactly common place. Although I'm sure some city fucker has made enough to buy a new ferrari which makes it all ok.

On another note, a law has been passed that makes it compulsory for everyone to listen to David Byrne's new playlist.

Carpe bratwurst

Mmmmmm. The smell... Onions..... Ketchup... Sausages......

There's a bavarian bratwurst van outside the shop and it's killing us....

On an unrelated matter, I was hobnobbing in soho last night at a faber launch and saw a woman I used to work with about 6 years ago at Waterstone's Islington. I meant to go over and say hello but never quite got round to it before I realised she'd gone.

So on the miniscule chance she's reading this - Hello Monica, how's it going? Whatya up to these days?

World Book Day, Acting, Fatigue, Nose Tricks etc

I love my job. I love books. Today is World Book Day - Hurrah - I Love the World!

One of the hardest things about being a bookseller is maintaining your enthusiasm for a book day after day, week after week, year after year. When I first read a book I love I am often a total embarrassment to be around. I want everyone else to share the amazing experience I feel I have just had and I am convinced they are going to love the book just as much as I did. Of course this is not always the case as people have their own ideas about books as they do about most things. But in that initial flush of joy I will sell that book to anyone and everyone I can.

Catherine O'Flynn's What Was Lost was the last book to make me go gaga. I put a sign in the window asking "Is this the first Must Read novel of the year? Why not come in and ask why we are so excited about this book..." People came in and asked about it. For a while this is no problem. I natter away, they buy the book - all cool. But after a while my enthusiasm begins to wane. This has absolutely no relation to the quality of the book - I still love What Was Lost, but after explaining why for the umpteenth time I am starting to regret that sign. (Sometimes in the morning I'm wandering about the shop and I'll come across a book. Jim Crace's Being Dead is a recent example. I remember what a brilliant book it is and wonder why I haven't pointed it out to anyone for a while. Next time someone asks for a recommendation I will probably mention it. The point I'm trying to make is I still think that's a great book but I don't bang on about it in the way I did when it first appeared.) Ok, so we have more books coming in all the time and I'll soon be excited by something else, but (there is a sort of point coming) - this is one of the reasons I really admire actors.

How do they do it? Night after night the same performance, each time just as much emotion, just as much conviction.

I also admire the way they can remember their lines. I am forever misquoting books, song lyrics etc. Yesterday I even changed the words to a nursery rhyme! Usually my version has a sort of bizarre, poetic, lateral thinking slant on the original - but that wouldn't work for a stage actor.

"To be or not to be? Er. What was the question?"

I also admire the way actors drink. Hollow legs or what?

And how do they get up in front of all those people without wanting to run away and hide?

Actors, I salute you.

In other news, the young son Finn - twice crowned ruler of the Kingdom of Small - has a new trick. It involves the nose. He blows through it hard and fast repeatedly. Any snot or food he has recently consumed are then blasted out in my general direction.

If you come in the shop and I have food down my jumper please don't think I'm senile or "one of those" booksellers. Nope, it's just food/snot that has sprayed over me...

Another boring cycling post

I've noticed over the last year and particularly this winter the increased deterioration in the roads. Potholes, cracks, surfaces washed away, lumps and bumps. This deterioration has taken place mainly along bus routes and seems to have coincided with the increased number of buses on the roads including the very heavy bendy ones.

Sharing bus lanes is now more and more hazardous. There are some potholes on my way home that are atleast 6 inches deep. Yet when they are repaired they are done so cursorily and the problem soon arises again.

The roads are maintained by local boroughs financed through council tax. Buses are run by Transport for London via the Mayors office and financed through tickets and fares.

Increased damage caused by TfL is only going to create difficulties between them and the boroughs and I can only see the problem getting worse.

Or is this only me?

Damascus Gate

After tearing through Robert Stone's memoir Remembering the Sixties I was moved to pick up Damascus Gate once again, some eight years after I last tried it...

At my first attempt I was put off by the setting (Jerusalem) and the subject matter (religious manias of one sort or another). This was back in the days when I thought people were finally growing out of the need to believe in men with white beards sitting on clouds and all that hocus pocus. But I was wrong wasn't I? There are plenty of people for whom Jerusalem matters and plenty who seem quite willing to kill their fellow men for the sake of their religion.

The anti-hero of Damascus Gate is a lapsed Catholic with a Jewish father and the book follows his attempt to find something to write about in a place where everyone else seems to be searching for some sort of Truth. It is pleasingly complex. Amid the confusion of NGOS, nationalities, religious groups, political sects and hippie nutters our man makes the large error of falling in love...She happens to be an ex-communist Sufi jazz singer named Sonia.

I am a straight to Hell do not pass go do not collect £200 kind of guy. Ask me what I believe in and I'll probably tell you about my prophetic dream that claimed Fulham would be the first side to win the FA Cup at the new Wembly. So why do I find this book so engrossing? Because other people believe similarly ridiculous things - but take themselves a little more seriously. You can't escape religious nuttery, so you might as well try to understand it. As usual I find fiction the best way to approach such a subject...

Fish and Chips

I have two chippies equidistant from my front door. One is served by a rather attractive and very smiley Polish woman. The other chipmonger is morbidly obese and no good example of his wares.

Both have similar quality food but inexplicably I prefer to go to the walking heart attack. Something to do with truth in advertising maybe.

Every Fulham has an Oscar lining

I was supposed to be off tomorrow and watching Ireland beat the crap out of England at Croke Park (I'm half Irish, not a turncoat). A truly historic event.

But then Matthew comes along and grumbles something about Man Utd playing at Craven Cottage tomorrow.

Well I can't really stand between a season ticket holder and his team getting whupped by northern boys, can I?

But now I find out that the oscars are on sky movies on sunday night, through the night and as I now don't have to work on monday I can stay up all night and watch it because I'm a grown up and can do that sort of thing.

Ah, everything really is for the best in really the best of all possible worlds...

The Most Famous Imogen in the World...

...just came into the shop.



Put Imogen into Google (task bar) and the first name to come up is Imogen Heap.



I think this means she is the most famous Imogen in the world.



Anyway she's off to Japan and was reading The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. I gave her a proof of Michel Onfray's book In Defense of Atheism. Adam read it on holiday recently and it was so good it was abducted by monkeys. (I related this story to Imogen as an explanation for the mud spattered state of the cover.)



She seemed really chuffed and said she would bring us a CD when she's next in the country.



I had a feeling she might be famous. After several miserable failures to recognise famous folk I have perfected a sort of famousvibeometer that works to a degree.



"Adam, I think there was just someone famous in the shop."



"Who was it?"



"Er, she was called Imogen. It won't help if I just put Imogen into Google will it?"



Oh yes it will...

And the future is... exactly like the past

'Some Second Life early-adopters, angry at the site's commercial development, have started a virtual terrorist group and bombed an American Apparel store.'

(From Popbitch)

Another True Story...

E-mail from Susan Hill this morning:

Dear Susan,

I think I should thank you for the memorable Saturday morning you unwittingly gave my wife and me a couple of weeks ago.

I'd never heard of it before, but having read your praise of Crockatt & Powell on your blog we decided to explore the shop for ourselves. Everything about the day conspired to make the experience a memorable one. We came on one of those brisk, cloudless mornings where one can't help but feel happy, and at an hour when it felt as if we had the street practically to ourselves.

We then discovered, a few doors up from the bookshop, one of those wonderfully idiosyncratic cafes that are something of a dying breed in England's increasingly homogeneous cities. You may know it - it's Portuguese, I think, with an atmosphere that somehow just instantly strikes you as being unusually welcoming. I was, I admit, somewhat bewildered to find that the very friendly man who served us was wearing a pair of greasy work overalls - but then I subsequently discovered a fully operational workshop downstairs!

And as for the bookshop, not only did we love it for its atmosphere, the books themselves and the leather chair in which we took turns to browse through them, but we even had an unexpected "star spot" when Sarah Waters (apparently a local resident) suddenly entered and randomly signed a few of her books for the proprietor!

Not bad eh? The cafe is obviously Scooterworks - fifi is Italian and so is the fantastic coffee.

Comedy Night - Our Man In Waterloo Reports

Crockatt & Powell was a scene of devastation this morning after Daniel Kitson and Ivor Dembina tore the place to pieces leaving many dead and forever wounded in their wake. Laughter is a good thing but in such side-splitting quantities it can be dangerous as was proved in Waterloo last night.



After a short intro from Kitson who dealt with an 8 year old heckler and then his dad, Dembina took the stage. The Crockatt & Powell bog made an (inevitable) appearance in his set. A certain tipsy Scotsman was later to allege that he "nearly fell into it".



Then there was a break during which more free booze was splashed about the place by owners Adam and Matthew. They seemed to lurk in a dark corner all night while drinking the bar and roaring with laughter, displaying a casual attitude towards business that a year's successful bookselling has enabled them to affect.



Then Kitson took the stage and things got out of hand. Smiles expanded until heads exploded. People literally laughed their guts out. Several people had to be helped away by men in white coats. The scene was one of uproar. Fireworks were going off all over the shop and at one point Kitson was seen to spit his chewing gum into a £10 note - an allegation that was later hotly denied. "I was just holding a pound in the air and yelling I've got a pound, everybody, gather round, for we can do ANYTHING NOW!" said Kitson.



Who are these men of mystery - Crockatt & Powell? Can they carry on entertaining the public in such outrageous style or will the burning sun of their combined creative energies destroy them? Only time will tell...But one thing is certain - a good time was had by all and the reputation of bookshops being dull places was dashed to pieces.

TeeVee I'd like to see

A new series of How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria only this time for the lead role in a revival of West Side Story. Even with Andrew Lloyd Webber. And that's saying a lot.

The film was on again last night. If I had a top 10 list it would definitely be in it. (But don't even think about the other 9)

£50 notes

What is the point of £50 notes. They're fine if a customer is purchasing £48.93 worth of books but invariably it's only £6.99 and you end up cleared out of fivers.

Who uses £50 notes?

Tourists who have no idea about the currency. I have seen and recognised that look of pained resignation as I hand over my 100 euro note in the small shop. Sorry mate.

Men of a Certain Age who go into the bank on thursday and take out a wad of 500 quid for the weekend. 'I'll have it in 50's'. (On discussing this earlier with Christine the rep she asked me if I knew why men of a Certain Age had chunks of cash in large denomination notes. 'Erm, no' I said rather innocently. 'Prostitutes, of course' she said. 'Oh' I said.)

CityBoys. I have nothing to say about cityboys.

Les Grandes Dames d'un Certain Age. 'Would you be a dear and change this. I've nothing smaller. So sorry'. This group are still living in a time whan paper money was the size of a tablecloth and had to be folded.

Romani Gypsies. This morning a woman and her elderly mother came in in full-on Romani regalia and rather handsome they looked too. They spent 30 seconds choosing a book and came to the till. '£6.99 please'. They hand me a fresh-off-the-press £50 note. 'Sorry, I'm afraid I can't change that' I say in extreme middle-class prejudicial fashion. She gave me a knowing grin and said 'Ok, I get change and be back'. She didn't. Fairplay.

And, scumbags. The ones who actually make some effort to steal from you. Like the scumbag in the flash coat on the mobile who was in a hurry and took us for £42.01 last january. Rot in hell.

So, five groups and two of those using fake 50's.

Time to dump the £50 note.

Let's start a petition.

Superstitious? Moi?

Football fans are notoriously superstitious. I am no exception.

Sunday morning I'm off down the road with the nipper under my arm to fetch a paper. Now I don't know about you but I'm heartily fed up with the Sunday papers. What a load of balls. The only bit worth reading any more is the sports section and I think the Sunday Times has the best sports section around. I counted my change before we left and I had £184. The Times is £2 (!) on a Sunday. Hmmm. But we know the people in the paper shop pretty well by now, they've let me off the odd 20p in the past and I pay them next day, so I was sure it would be fine. But Lo! When we arrived in the shop and I reached for the change in my pocket there was another 20p coin.

"Wow Finn, a magic coin!" I said, handing it over and receiving a vast pile of "news" in return. But in my mind the cogs were racing. I now had four pennies left in my hand. Four magic pennies. Obviously we were going to beat Spurs four nil in the cup that afternoon. I left the shop smiling, knowing we were going to win four nil. (Yeah I Know!)

Met up with Mary's brother in the pub beforehand. He was very down about Spurs and convinced they were going to lose. I sat there smugly, knowing we were going to win four nil.

BUT THOSE WERE SPURS PENNNIES WEREN'T THEY

We LOST four nil. I gave the pennies to Will who eyed them then refused to take them as they are obviously cursed...

Mcsweeney's

Matthew has taken a large and unfathomable dislike to anything Dave Egger's, editor of McSweeney's and author of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius has ever been involved with. Not unlike my irrational hatred for anything Cormac Mccarthy. The big difference is, of course, that I am right and he is wrong.

The Mcsweeney's output can be a little arch, a little too smart, a little too vacuous on occasion but on the whole and with the quantity of output I can only wholeheartedly recommend the exercise. And so many many of the pieces are just plain very funny.

Issue 22 (above) of the quarterly has just arrived from America (UK edition out 31 may). It's 3 books held together by magnets. If that doesn't sound that interesting then you just have to see it. Who says the paper book is doomed? With interesting design, printing and binding like this it's got quite a lot of life in the old dog yet.

So well done McSweeney's. Keep up the good work. (Except the next time you think about inserting a comb in the inside cover. I didn't like that one)

What Was Lost by Catherine O'Flynn

Our bestselling book this week by a mile, even when you take out books sold at the launch event we had, is What Was Lost by Catherine O'Flynn.

It's a truly great read and deserves to do well all around the country.

There's a very positive review in the Guardian today and the Mail and Observer have already raved about it so it's not just us!

Come on people - let's make Catherine's book a bestseller - she's great, and so is her book.

Grauniad review below:

What Was Lost, by Catherine O'Flynn (Tindal Street Press, £8.99)

Green Oaks shopping centre, built on the site of a former factory in Birmingham, is a huge commercial success - and a monster of soulless homogeneity, reducing the lives of those who shop, work or simply loiter there to the same level of blandness. One of these is night security guard Kurt, on whose CCTV screens the image of a little girl with a toy monkey appears. She bears a striking resemblance to Kate Meaney, who vanished some 20 years earlier in 1984.

Lisa, the disillusioned deputy manager of a music shop, whose missing older brother was the main suspect in Kate's disappearance, joins Kurt in an increasingly disturbing quest to discover her fate. What Was Lost is an exceptional, polyphonic novel of urban disaffection, written with humour and pathos. Kate's deceptively jaunty diary entries reveal a consumer-driven society choking on its own loneliness; a ghost story; and an examination of unspeakable loss.

A Comment on Comments...

This blog is fun.

From time to time it is more than that, in that it manages to attract attention to C & P, a tiny dot in the bookselling Universe. One of our first ever posts was a challenge to Scott Pack, then chief buyer at Waterstones, to an "actual" fight. We were surprised when he responded, then pleased to have our preconceived (though as we soon discovered ignorant) ideas destroyed by the fact he was a good bloke...

We also use the blog to let people know about events or books we are into. The example of Caroline O'Flynn below shows how we try to use the blog to generate interest in books that we feel are brilliant and deserve lots of attention but are not in all the papers etc.

Comments are always welcome.

But there are times when they are not so welcome! The internet is an amazing phenomena in that it enables us to have great, personal, bookselling relationships with folk all over the world. (We regularly send books to readers abroad who know us only through the blog!) But the internet also allows idiots and downright nutters the opportunity to make a nuisance of themselves. You may have seen a few "anonnymous" comments on the blog recently. We are pretty sure we know who is responsible and have done everything in our power to stop him from making his annoying views known. But we can't stop him from commenting as anon without vetting all the comments we receive 99% of which are fine.

In a way this is both an appeal to anon to leave us alone. Just go away.

It is also an apology to anyone who has found his posts annoying/offensive in any way.

Now, back to the records...

Our website is shit

Apparently.

Some whizz-bang web design company phoned us up touting for business. A figure of £2000 was mentioned. We laughed in their general direction. But they persisted...

Some trendily jacketed, floppy-haired posh boy came to visit us...

First question. 'Do you have a website?'

Don't know about you but if I'm asking someone for 2 grand of their money I'll do a bit of research first...

'Um, yes' and I proceed to show him our DIY efforts. A customer wants to buy a book...

Poshboy looks at his blackberry...

'I think we can do you a really good site for two k'

Weren't you listening...

When I tell him that we have web 'presence' for zip he throws on his riduculous jacket and flounces off like we've wasted his precious time.

'Well, it's all about the impression you're trying to make' he says...

Implying that our current web thing is shit..

If indeed he's actually ever seen it...

Fuck and Off.

The Definition of Irony

Me (a cyclist) was cut up and nearly run over by a Toyota PRIUS (alleged eco-chariot)

Publishers sort it out - good stuff John Wiley!

Adam posted lower down about some useless small publisher that shall remain nameless (and forever small judging by their total lack of get up and go!) that could not deliver books in a hurry.

I had the opposite experience just now.

We had a call from a customer who works locally for a large institution. She wanted to order some books for said institution - a lot of books - a lot of the same book. It was published by John Wiley.

I not only negotiated a small extra discount for our customer - thanks Lesley - but there was some urgency to the matter. The books were paid for up front and needed for Wednesday next week. I decided it would be best to have them for Tuesday, just to be sure. After a call to Wiley I was told they would see what they could do and...

...9am this morning they ring. The books were out of the warehouse yesterday and are out for delivery TODAY.

All together now THAT'S THE WAY TO DO IT

Thanks Wiley and all your brilliant customer service team. There is always a way.

Product Recall

Sainsbury's King Prawn Makhani and cans of Old Speckled Hen ale.

When combined can produce extremely adverse side effects in the bowel. Return to the supplier immediately.

shadenfrood or, just plain mean

Cycling in this morning down the main road I see a fella in a shiny sports car trying to pull out of a side street. One of those situations where two cars are trying to turn into the street and two cars trying to get out. One quickly turns, fella in sports car decides to just pull out. The little Hyundai going about their business driving normally down the main road has no option but to drive into the side of the shiny sports car.

I could see it all happening as if in slow motion.

And before I knew it, how I laughed. I even slowed down past the sports car to lob some abuse at the bloke. 'You f**king idiot!'

I am a bad person and I'm going to hell.

On the other hand... I've been nearly killed so many times by idiots in shiny cars just pulling out of side streets that this one felt like a kind of retribution. But why do I still feel guilty?

Bloke in anorak with rucksack buys book!

I went to see The Seagull last night at the Royal Court and it was totally brilliant. A fantastic play, fantastically acted in a fantastic theatre space.

I can only think of my generally improved demeanour today following this great night out radiating through the shop that accounts for the bloke in the anorak with a rucksack actually buying something. Granted it was a cut-price old edition of a reference book but still...

Once again, A bloke in an anorak with a rucksack bought a book.

Blokes in anoraks with rucksacks NEVER buy books!

Sucker for Love

Inspired by this post from our fellow indie Johnathan I thought I'd better pay homage to the Romance ting.

So off I pop to local posh cake shop Konditor & Cook to purchase something yummy for my beloved. Strode in and spotted just the thing right away - a little box of three mini luvvy cakes, all pink and stuff. (Three - that's two for her and maybe one for me?) Small sign said £2.75 - fine I thought. Held out a tenner. £8.25 appeared on the till...

...when you're holding out a tenner like that you can't take it back really. They were £2.75 for one! 3 for £8.25. So there you go, mugged for love.

Once again it crosses my mind - we're in the wrong business!

Standards...

Rumour has it we're in the London Evening Standard today.

Have we been shooting our mouths off again?

Whaddayouthink!

It's all about local artist/hero Banksy...not seen it yet...

If you look very very very closely you can see adam talking about "corporate vandalism" though he claims not to have said that exactly. Good free publicity though - thanks Standard folk.

Lost Again...

So far today I have hand sold ten copies of Catherine O'Flynn's brilliant debut What Was Lost.

Why am I so excited about this book? Let's just say I have a feeling about this one. I think it's going to be the word of mouth buzz book that comes out of nowhere to win prizes and adulation...

The last book I felt like this about was Stuart, A Life Backwards. Before that it was We Need To Talk About Kevin.

Small publisher plus unknown author from Birmingham = ?

It's up to you lot.

Let's make Catherine's book a bestseller.

A good start would be coming in to C & P and buying a copy. (In fact anyone setting foot in C & P over the next few weeks may well find they have bought a copy without meaning to!)

Of course you don't need to move from your computer screen. info@crockattpowell.com

Send us an e-mail and we'll take it from there.

Customer Service

We have a big order from an educational institution. Most of the stock has to be sourced from America. I e-mailed a list of around 50 isbn's to Baker & Taylor, our American wholesaler and the next morning a spreadsheet arrived in the inbox with availability and prices and the order fulfilled.

I can't think of a single supplier in this country that would be that damned efficient.

Yesterday I phoned a small publisher about getting some of their stock down for an event we're hosting - for free.

'Now, that would mean me parceling them up, getting my coat on and going down to the post office thingy and that's going to cost you money I'm afraid.'

Shove your books up your arse.

This one's for free

Do you ever have those drunken conversations where you pitch tv shows you'd like to see?

'StarDates'

12 boys. 12 girls. All signs of the Zodiac, natch. Audience chooses one of each after some kind of talent show. One of them gets paired off with their ideal star sign partner, the other with the worst possible astrological match. They come back next week and much enjoyment is had.

How would this not work?

Last night we were pitching great websites we'd like to see. I think we've come up with a banker. But I'm not telling you lot. This time next year, we'll be millionaires.

It's like the opposite of MySpace.

What fresh hell is this?

Do they really know what they're letting themselves in for?

I was only 23 minutes late

It would appear my alarm clock only tries to wake me up for an hour before the snooze button goes back to, um, snoozing.

Good reason though.

Great launch party for Catherine O'Flynn's What Was Lost. Lots of lovely people from somewhere outside the M25 and, we think, a good time had by all.

But I'll leave Matthew to post. I think he may have more things to say as I have to go and clear away a few wine bottles.

Only the second time in 14 months I've opened up late. That has to be good, doesn't it?

Populations

Matthew and I's old boss is opening a new bookshop in Bath, a town of 160,000 that already carries 2 independents and a big Waterstone's.

The London borough of Lambeth numbers some 260,000 souls and has, erm... us, a book warehouse and an indie on Clapham High Street.

There must be some untapped market potential there somewhere. Don't ya thunk?

Coffee + Great Book = Bookselling Mania

Ok, if you only buy one book today it has to be What Was Lost...

You want a travel guide to Prague? Why? Are you out of your mind? Going to Prague? Cancel the trip. It means nothing.

Read this book!

Hello mate, you need to read this book!

You are the police?

So what - read the fuc*ing...

adam - I have been arres

What Was Lost by Catherine O'Flynn

We have an event on Monday night, the London launch of Catherine O'Flynn's debut novel What Was Lost.

There's been plenty of review coverage already, all glowing, and the publisher Tindal Street Press have a good track record. (Remember Astonishing Splashes of Colour by Clare Morrall - Booker shortlisted a few years back? That was Tindal Street)

I started reading the book yesterday afternoon and I can't bloody put the thing down.

How many times do you read about "astonishing debuts"? Yeah, you don't have to tell me I know. Jaded is my middle name when it comes to publisher blurbs. But...

THIS IS AN ASTONISHING DEBUT.

It's brilliant.

If I were you I'd get down to Crockatt & Powell for 7pm on Monday. Not only will you get to hear Catherine read you can also get her to sign a copy for your collection (after she wins a few prizes these babies will be like gold dust) you can also buy one for yourself and if you have any friends buy copies for them too - it's one of those books.

An exciting book.

An astonishing debut...

Not. Getting. Any. Work. Done

I've been switching it on and off for 45 minutes and I just cannot stop...

A True Story...

We have a lovely little book/pamphlet in at the minute called One Eye Grey. It's an homage to the Penny Dreadful and is just perfect for the nether regions of Waterloo.

A bloke walked in the other day and asked for a copy. We sold him one and had a brief chat.

"You're up against it I suppose. I mean look at that" he said, pointing to a copy of Sarah Water's The Night Watch. "You can get that for half price in Waterstone's at the minute."

What can you say to that? Nada.

"Those are signed though, Sarah's great...lives locally..." he was out the door.

Oh well.

Next day he's back.

"Can I get one of those signed copies of the Night Watch now?"

Of course we only have one copy left. It's in the window and it's not signed.

"We do sell books from time to time you know" I say.

"Yeah, I suppose you do" he says. "I'll take it anyway, even though it's not signed."

I raise my eyebrows.

"Well I went back to Waterstone's. I asked if they had it and they said "Yeah it's upstairs" I just thought to myself, you know what? I don't want to buy it from you lot, I'm going to go back to that little shop where I got the penny dreadful - so here I am."

I smiled the gormless smile that I save for joyous occasions. And then we had a great chat about hidden London, Iain Sinclair, Psychogeography, dispatch riding...

Why shop at an independent when you could save money shopping at Waterstone's or on Amazon?

Why indeed...

BTW plenty of signed copies of the Night Watch in stock now. Thanks Sarah!

A very boring cycling post

I bought myself a cycle computer for my birthday. The information I gleaned this morning is:

• I reached 34.4mph going down Latchmere Rd.
• Battersea Park is 0.6 miles long.
• The 'long' route I take in to work is 9 miles exactly.
• The 'short' route home is 3.8 miles.
• I got to 24.7mph on the flat along Millbank.
• I have traveled 25 miles since fixing the thing to my bike.
• At 6.3 miles, the constituent parts of my left knee felt like they were about to disassemble in an excrutiating rupture of bone and cartilage.
• At 6.6 miles those same parts miraculously and thankfully, painlessly reassembled themselves into something approximating working order.

ps Matthew has insisted I work the morning shift tomorrow which means, if the weather man is to be believed, cycling through a driving 4" of snow on my skinny, slick tyres. I think he wants to collect on the insurance...

Marie's Book is Very Good Looking

Our one and only ampersand called in today to show us the cover of her book.

We put it on display with a whole bunch of other new titles and it stood out from the crowd.

Brilliantly written, sexy, funny - and good looking too! That book is going to make other books jealous. I'm sure I could see Suite Francaise and Mother's Milk edging towards Gods Behaving Badly with eye-scratching and hair pulling on their minds...

New newness.

I been fiddlin' with the old website again. Try http://www.crockattpowell.com/homepage.htm, click on 'Blog' on the left and the blog will reappear in the window of our webpage!

Hopefully, as we add to the site it will all cohese into a seamless and magnificent whole... or not.

Days out.

Armed with a road map and the Good Pub Guide my mate Olly and I head out to towns and villages within a days reach round London that neither of us have either been to or know anything about. Yesterday it was Arundel's turn.

As we were hurtling down the B2139 we prepared our visit with Ol reading this poem:

An Arundel Tomb

Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd -
The little dogs under their feet.

Such plainness of the pre-baroque
Hardly involves the eye, until
It meets his left-hand gauntlet, still
Clasped empty in the other; and
One sees, with a sharp tender shock,
His hand withdrawn, holding her hand.

They would not think to lie so long.
Such faithfulness in effigy
Was just a detail friends would see:
A sculptor's sweet commissioned grace
Thrown off in helping to prolong
The Latin names around the base.

They would not guess how early in
Their supine stationary voyage
The air would change to soundless damage,
Turn the old tenantry away;
How soon succeeding eyes begin
To look, not read. Rigidly, they

Persisted, linked, through lengths and breadths
Of time. Snow fell, undated. Light
Each summer thronged the glass. A bright
Litter of birdcalls strewed the same
Bone-riddled ground. And up the paths
The endless altered people came,

Washing at their identity.
Now, helpless in the hollow of
An unarmorial age, a trough
Of smoke in slow suspended skeins
Above their scrap of history,
Only an attitude remains:

Time has transfigured them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love.

Philip Larkin

O f course the tomb Larkin's describing is in nearby Chichester Cathedral but that didn't stop us visiting the cathedral in Arundel and the churches and trying to scale the ramparts of the castle in vain search of the eponymous resting place.

We liked Arundel. Above all, it's victorian gothic fraudulence. The cathedral was built in the 1870's in the style of the 1370's and the castle was largely reconstructed around the same time lending to it's particularly storybook look - very like the castle from the Shrek movies.

It was a perfectly agreeable town, not too affluent as to be snotty and repellent and not too poor as to be run-down and depressed. A half of Harvey's in a pub filled to the brim with 30 somethings listening to the Blues and everyone heroically smoking for England left us pleasant and relaxed much like the soft, winter sun outside.

We thought that because it wasn't one of those 'authentic' english medieval towns and it was a constructed pastiche it sort of took the pressure off everybody living there. It didn't feel like a barely-living museum as those other places can, stultified by their conservative, conserving inhabitants.

Anyway, a stop at the Skimmington Castle just outside Reigate for more Harvey's Sussex Ale and a view over the South Downs more than made up for the hour and a half it took to then get from Croydon to Peckham.

What more could you want - country lanes, beautiful light, rolling downs, real ale by a real fire, a castle - with a moat, and wonderful poetry. Ahh.

I turned 36 a few days ago. I have officially become middle-aged.

It must be the sun...

After yesterday's fantastic sale of Beautiful Evidence, we've just sold this today.

Oh, joys. What wonderfully discerning customers we have.

Language is the process that lashes experience to the intellect. Discuss...

I'm reading Prime Green by Robert Stone at the minute.

Here's a small extract:

"I have come to believe that language, a line of print, say, is capable of inhabiting the imagination far more intensely than any picture, however doctored. The same principle applies to the novel, if it works. No Hollywood flick, no movie of any provenance, can ever provide an experience of the battle of Borodino as intense as that provided in Tolstoy's pages. Descriptive language provides deeper penetration , attaches itself to the rods and cones of interior perception, to a greater degree than a recovered or remembered image. Language is the process that lashes experience to the intellect."

That last sentence caught me, I stopped reading, I read it again...Somewhere in that sentence he has captured a little grain of Truth. That's how I know I'm onto a writer I love. Here, at last, is someone that can express in words something I have always felt. I've tried to express a similar sense of the power of words in the past but always failed. Stone nails it.

BTW Prime Green is not yet available in the UK.

Except at C & P of course - just £15.99...

Bookselling Joy

My day has just been made. I'm off home now.

A nice customer just bought this.

If you stock it, they will come.

Atlast!

I knew I'd warm to Cormac Mcarthy eventually...

A Force of Destruction

I'm pretty dangerous at the moment...

So far this month I have:

Broken our metal shutters.

Torn a padlock apart with my bear hands.

Broken our heater by sitting on it.

Broken a light fitting by twisting a bulb anticlockwise rather than clockwise.

Bruised both my shins beneath the knee somehow. (Possibly jumping around at football?)

What's next?

The LEAST important day of the year

Saturday 21st July. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. £17.99!!!

Already on sale at Amazon for £9.99.

The one sure-fire, cash-cow, golden-goosed money tree for all of us and those lousy bastards at Tescos and Asda are going to ruin it for everybody because they want to put the REST OF THE WORLD out of business so they can finally be proved the WINNERS.

HP7 could keep us booksellers going all year. The only winners are Bloomsbury who inflate the cover price to accommodate the discounts and Rowling and the punters, of course.

But they could sensibly price it at 12.99 and nobody loses. That's a good price for the punters, us, everybody. Nobody suffers, everybody wins. Is that TOO MUCH TO ASK or am I just a hopeless old communist throwback.

When We Were Bad

Last night I was wined and dined by the lovely folks at Macmillan at a posh French joint in Soho. (so posh there were only two things on the menu I could face eating! Everything else seemed to be in squid ink sauce!)

The dinner was to celebrate Charlotte Mendelson's new book When We Were Bad, published in May. I have started reading it and it's great stuff so far, but Picador are very excited and think they could have a big literary seller on their hands. Sounds like I'm being paid to say all this eh?

Nope, not a penny. The fact is I usually hate publishing dinners/drinks but this was a good one. Charlotte was a real laugh, friendly, intelligent and very down to earth. Not only that she has read our blog. And been into the shop. Top marks Charlotte...My old mate Glenn Collins was there as well and that helped the night to fly by. He was a great supporter of Love in Idleness back in our Pan Bookshop days. Charlotte rememberd coming in to sign copies on the same day as Joanne Harris (author of Chocolat). At that point Harris was huge and selling books effortlessly. Charlotte was a debutant. It was the Time of Topping at Pan and two authors at once meant the cakes were on hand in vast quantities. Charlotte admitted to having eaten cakes from Maison Blanc before only to be slapped down by Harris in a kind of "I'm a Northern lass - we didn't have cake in them days where I grew up - only rock cake made from real rocks". Poor Charlotte left rather upset only to find Glenn chasing her down the street in heroic fashion. He gave her a book (I forget which - bloody wine) and the day was saved.

I managed not to say anything too stupid. (Though I have to confess that while discussing the Macmillan offices in Kings Cross with their sales director I said the only time I'd been there I was propositioned by a "lady of the night" despite it being ten in the morning. The sales director then proceeded to tell me that was peak time...At this point conversation around the table paused and I began to blush!)

But really the main reason I had such a good time was the brilliant wine. Er no, well it was good but - I say again -

Charlotte Mendelson ROCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What we are currently listening too...

After working in a shop for several years with no music it's such a relief to have some quality tunes playing in the store to help us through the day. The best thing is being able to choose. In Waterstoney days it tended to be the same management-approved easy-listening over and over again which slowly drove us all mad. Here, luckily, Matthew and I have similarly eclectic tastes which has seen us swing from Glenn Gould playing Mozart piano sonatas, the ever-present Late Junction, Steve Reich, Scarlatti, Phil Spector, Amadou and Mariam, Joanna Newsom and some Argentine Tango.

This week though we will be mostly listening to David Byrne's new playlist called appropriately enough, Icicles - Northern European contemporary music. Mr Byrne, you have excelled yourself, as usual.

31st Jan - Nightmare on Lower Marsh

Aaaaaaarrrrggghhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's January 31st...

I've been putting it off for such a long time. But everywhere I go there are reminders. On telly. Even at the cash machine yesterday.

Today is the day when self assessment forms have to be handed in.

I finally managed to fill mine in, though only with a great deal of help from Adam and my wife Mary. I know it's pathetic but I have been dreaming of wage slavery. Oh, those happy days when someone else had to worry about all that tax and NI crap. I HATE filling in forms.

Earlier at home I was searching for some old pay slips in the hope that they might have my unique tax code on them. In the file marked Matthew Tax there were loads of pay slips etc from Waterstone's and Macmillan and even Dillons...but nothing more recent. Where could they be?

"Try the pile of papers underneath the London Porter beer mats" said Mary at one point - words that should give you an insight into the state of my filing! No pay slips. But I did find the receipt for a computer I bought at PC world some months back that has broken down in spectacular style.

I am going to be fined at least £100 as I didn't register as Self Employed. I thought I didn't have to. Because I am a company director. That's the level of idiocy we're dealing with here.

I'm a bookseller. Please please please can I just sell some books? I'm pretty good at that...

Postie delights

Two items in the post this morning from large companies trying to help our business with fantastic new services. Great!

1) From the Post Office:

'If you hate spending time in queues, then you'll love Business Point

'The Post Office has recognised the needs of our highly valued mail customers by setting up and trialling a brand new, dedicated, fast-track business mailing and service point at your local branch for three months'

Greater!

'We're happy to tell you that you have been specially selected as one of our very first customers to benefit from Business Point at the Post Office.'

Ooh, we're so special...

'In business, it's well known that time equals money'

How true it is, how true.

So, 'simply turn up your Business Point card (attached) at your local Post Office and enjoy a priority service.'

'Your nearest Business Point is located here'

The map indicates a branch somewhere near Victoria station. About 25 minutes walk from the shop. Our 'local' branch is on Westminster Bridge Road, about 2 minutes walk from the shop. I don't think I've ever spent 46 minutes in a queue at this branch which I suppose somewhat negates the net loss in travelling by going to our local Business Point branch.

The Post Office has just wasted my time with this gimmick which, as we all know, in business, equals money.

2) From EDF the energy company:

A lovely cardboard box arrives with the words

'A SMALL SOLUTION to one of the world's biggest problems' in a pleasant shade of Lincoln Green.

Inside, an Acorn! and a leaflet. On the front of the leaflet:

'PLANT THIS ACORN

'When it grows it will begin taking carbon dioxide (CO2) from the atmosphere - helping to tackle one of the main sources of global warming. By the time it reaches maturity it could remove more than 0.75 tonnes of CO2 - that's enough to offset up to 13% of an average small business' annual emissions

'Our Climate Balance Tariff enables your business to do the same - help offset CO2 emissions - through tree planting and energy efficiency projects around the world.

'So if you want to do your bit to tackle global warming, switch to our Climate Balance Tariff today.'

Inside...

'How It Works

• A small premium of 0.40 p (excl. VAT) per unit of electricity is added to our standard unit prices.
• This premium is used to help fund energy efficiency and reforestation projects locally and around the world.
• Together these projects help balance your business' impact on CO2 levels in the atmosphere'

I won't even begin to start my tirade on cynical, bandwagon-jumping, business behemoths sending out ridiculous marketing ploys to rid us of our money. Suffice to say I'm very tempted to go home, turn the car on and leave it running all day.

Do both of these companies really think we're complete fucking idiots.

Markets...

Anyone who works in a shop and has responsability for looking after the cash knows the feeling.

It's Saturday.

And you forgot to get change on Friday afternoon.

You have a few quid in the till but as the morning wears on (and someone paid with a fifty this am - never helps) the change situation worsens...

...luckily we have a market right outside the door with small change weighing down most of the traders.

At around the same time I'm running out of pound coins they are wishing they didn't have quite so many.

A brief chat and the problem is solved.

Thanks again Manny!

Book Tokens v Cold Hard Cash

We didn't renew our subscription to the Booksellers Association this year which meant we couldn't accept or sell National Book Tokens. This was the only part of the subscription we were nervous about turning down as the rest of what's on offer from the BA just doesn't really justify a small business like ours forking over our hard-earned. Besides how can a booksellers association really look after the interests of us, other indies, waterstoner'ssmithsborderstescosasda with any real effectiveness. Our interests are just not the same. And as Groucho said I don't want to be a member of a club that would have me as a member. However,

Would our customers stay away?

Would they be annoyed?

Would they think we weren't a 'proper' bookshop?

What about all those 'lost'sales?

Well, so far we have a 100% record. Here's how the exchange goes:

'Do you accept book tokens?'

'No'

'Ok. Here's cash'

'That'll do nicely, thank you'

However!!!!!!!We do sell and accept our very own Crockatt & Powell tokens in denominations of £5, £10, £25. They look prettier than national book tokens too.

(Amazon don't take book tokens either)

A new use for buses

When cycling to work just tuck in behind a bus about 2-3 yards from its bumper. It's nice and warm, keeps those icy winds from numbing your face and you don't have to cycle so hard (the Peloton principle). It's improbably dangerous but we all need to be kept on our toes now and again. Just keep a sharp eye on those brake lights.

Persons from Porlock

I'm reading some website which is about some whizz-bang fandoogly software which will change our lives for the better and I'm concentrating and trying to work it out when the phone rings and someone asks if I can spare 2 minutes of my time to talk about how he can save us 30% on our bills and no I can't spare the time and now I return to the screen and I can't work out where I left off and now I have to start all over aaaarghain and if anyone is reading this who recognises our name on their to phone list can you please not because you won't be saving us money and you're only wasting our time so leave us alone...

Help! Calling all book detectives...

Here are the clues:

Set in France.

Was Radio 4 book at bedtime about four years ago.

The story concerns a painter who has to travel a great deal to collect materials for a particular dye/colour that he uses for his paintings.

The title of the novel is the name of this colour/dye.

The painter has an affair with someone while he is on his travels.

Those are the clues.

If anyone can work out what the book is then they will win a special prize...

Booksellers Fight Terror

I have a new hero. Arthur Burton-Garbett - described in the paper as an "antiquarian bookseller" gave chase to one of the failed 21st July tube bombers.

"Mr Burton-Garbett, an antiquarian bookseller on his way to Spitalfields market in east London, got off the train and gave chase. He said he had heard what he thought was a pistol going off and recognised the smell of cordite. He had done national service at the Ministry of Defence weapons establishment at Shoeburyness. "I thought, that's a detonator," he said.

"When he [Mr Mohammed] shot out of the door, I shot out too. I turned right and hugged the wall and chased him.

"He went up [the escalator] like an express train. I was running out of steam so I shouted to people, 'Stop that man, get the police'. When I got to the top of the stairs, he was nowhere to be seen."

Ok so the CCTV pics are a bit blurry but I'd say the gentleman concerned is on the old side. Is he the antique or are the books?

Anyway it's further proof that old stuff is great!

And that booksellers are at the forefront of the "war on terror".

The Future? Ahh Sod It...

Yesterday afternoon I spotted a box of records outside Gramex (brilliant second-hand music shop on Lower Marsh). There was a sign saying "Free - Please Take to a Good Home". I had a rumage and walked off with a recording of a Dvorak violin concerto. I'm afraid I don't remember the exact name or who is playing on it or anything useful like that.

What I do remember is listening to it last night on my Technics and being blown away by how brilliant classical music sounds on vinyl as opposed to CD or MP3.

I particulary loved the slight scratchyness of the sound. I felt I was transported away somewhere else - to a time and place where things were slightly more beautiful and whaddayouknow?

I woke up this morning and it had snowed...

(Took Finn off to the park straight away!)

We have gone on a bit recently about new stuff, but old stuff is really great too.

"Edited Classics"

This weekend I read about Weidenfeld & Nicholson's plans to produce a series titled Compact Editions.

These are classics that are to be "sympathetically edited" down to under 400 pages to make them appear less "elitist" and daunting reads.

I find this a bizarre idea. In the first place is it not the height of arrogance to believe that Moby Dick or Anna Karenina can be edited without radically changing the reading experience? Or am I just being fuc*ing elitist? When I was at college I was the only person in my class to read Moby Dick all the way through. (Yes - I was one of the wan*kers that was interested in literature and not just doing a degree in English Lit because it was an easy degree) I remember the long sections where, page after page, Melville describes the kit involed in whaling or the anatomical structure of the whale. Are these the sort of sections that will be chopped away? Ok, they go on a bit but it all helps to build the picture of the depths of obsession that lie at the heart of Captain Ahab's search for Moby Dick. It was also important to Melville as he was keen to write a novel that was true to the reality of whaling at that point in time. I just don't think it is possible to edit the classics without destroying what is interesting and important about them.

Over the weekend I read another of the fantastic Melville House series of novellas. This time it was Tolstoy's The Devil. It's just one hundred pages long, perfect for a Sunday afternoon single sitting read.

If anyone wants a quick intro to the classics then here is a perfect entry point. Don't rush straight into War and Peace, try The Devil first or some of the short stories. At least that way you are reading something that the author intended to be short. If you find it heavy going then fine, you know that writer isn't for you. But I defy anyone to get nothing from Chekhov's short stories or from the Melville House novellas. I haven't read War and Peace yet but I will one day. At the minute I still feel I'm just starting to understand Tolstoy. I look forward to re-reading Anna Karenina soon (last read it when I was 18) and then, maybe in a year or two, going for War and Peace. (My mum read it recently and said it's kind of like East Enders goes to Russia!) The classics are there for the long term. They will provide a lifetime of great reading for anyone prepared to make the effort required to enjoy them. To make that effort you don't have to be royalty or have a literature degree - so stuff the elitist crap!

After finishing The Devil I was moved to do a little research on Tolstoy. I didn't realise at the end of his life he corresponded with Ghandi and had a great influence on his thinking on non-violence and passive resistance. These books are classics for a reason! They are stores of human wisdom and thought - the vehicle for ideas that have changed the world.

Editing the classics is a bit like watching football highlights. It might be more entertaining in a "goals per second" way but to think it is in any way close to the real experience is pure delusion. Those who read the edited classics are missing the point.

Call me elitist - I don't care.

The classics matter and should not be messed with...