Art Joke

Did you hear that sculptor Anthony Gormley has decided to move into film? Same old Gormless though, he's cast himself in the lead role.

(Courtesy of Philip 'Campag' Greenwood)

What Freud said about the Irish is: They're the only people who are impervious to psychoanalysis

I'm half Irish. I wonder which half. The good one or the bad one?

(Para. Matt Damon in The Departed. Currently showing on Sky Movies)

ps It's true.

Live streaming from China

I'd assumed I could watch the England game on the BBC website. Wrong. So a google search later and a quick bit of downloading and I'm watching some Chinese broadcaster through my laptop. Unfortunately the commentary is in Chinese (naturally) and although I can play the 5live coverage alongside the video the footage is a minute and a half behind. Oh well.

Yes **** ******, we do stock your books

Reasonably well known author in the shop first thing heads straight for the fiction section to see if his books are there and very quickly slopes off looking a bit dejected because they aren't.

They're in the crime section instead. But he didn't see them. Oops.

Who needs sleep anyway

For one reason or another I have found myself staying up into the small hours watching tv. Wednesday in particular was quite a late one but I had the company of two films until my eventual turning in time of 04.25. The first was an acclaimed British film that I had intended to see when it came out. London to Brighton is a about a prostitute and a young girl on the run from a psychopathic gangster and a nasty pimp. It started promisingly but finished as just another grubby exploitation flic. To be avoided.

Straight after was Blue Collar one of the best films of the 70's and consequently one of the best film's ever. A mighty, angry and funny look at working class life in America with Richard Pryor turning in a stand out performance. They really don't make films like that any more.

My thoughts turn to movies as we've agreed to start a Crockatt & Powell Film Night once a month from next february. One of our regulars teaches film locally and has a huge library of movies so we're going to have a programme of adaptations of books or book related films with a small introduction by him followed by a viewing. Cool, huh? Gives me an excuse to buy a video projector... (Absolutely NOT to play games on or anything)

Jimmy Hill

Plunged into depression on Sunday after losing to Portsmouth. Only started to pull out when I received a call, followed by an e-mail with this photo attached...

Yes, that is Fulham and Match of the Day legend Jimmy Hill dancing on the pitch at half time with a copy of The Fulham Review - as published by Crockatt & Powell - under his arm. At the end of MOTD 2 they have a funny section called Two Good Two Bad. So there he was on national telly, dancing around with our book!

We got this spectacular still shot from a bloke called Jon Hall. More excellent football related photos can be found here.

We were selling copies outside the ground when Richard spotted Jimmy and gave him a complimentary copy. He obviously liked it as he has a good firm grip on it.

How about that then eh? First book published and the cover is shown on national TV to an audience of millions.

The Fulham Review was written by Richard Allen and Martin Kane. Support our cottage industry and buy a copy here today...

jokes

My dad keeps sending me stupid jokes by e-mail. Most of the time this is annoying but occasionally some gems come through. This is a collection of Tommy Cooper's but I can equally imagine the drawl of Steven Wright saying the same lines.

Two aerials meet on a roof, fall in love, get married. The ceremony was rubbish but the reception was brilliant.

Man goes to the doctors with a Strawberry growing out of his head. Doctor says "I'll give you some cream to put on it"

A man takes his rottweiler to the vet. "My dog's cross-eyed, is there anything you can do for him?" "Well" says the vet, "let's have a look at him".
So he picks the dog up and examines his eyes, then checks his teeth. Finally he says "I'm going to have to put him down."
"What? because he's cross-eyed?" "No, because he's really heavy"

"Doctor, I can't pronounce my F's, T's and H's." "Well, you can't say fairer than that then"

So I went to the dentist. He said "Say Aaaah." I said "Why". He said "Because my dog's died"

I got home and the phone was ringing. I picked it up and said "Who's speaking please?" and a voice answered "you are"

I rang up my local swimming baths and said "is that the local swimming baths?" He said "it depends where you're calling from"

I rang up a local building firm "I want a skip outside my house", he said "I'm not stopping you"

Apparently 1 in 5 people in the world are Chinese. There are five people in my family, so it must be one of them. It's either my mum or dad, or my older brother Colin, or my younger brother Ho-Cha-Chu, but I think it's Colin.

I was in my car driving along and my boss rang up and said "You've been promoted" and I swerved. He rang a second time "You've been promoted again" and I swerved again. He rang up a third time and said "You're managing director" and I went into a tree. A policeman came up and said "what happened to you?" and I replied "I careered off the road"

So I was getting into my car and this bloke says to me "Can you give me a lift?" I said "Sure, you look great, the world's your oyster, go for it"

Two cannibals eating a clown. One says to the other "Does this taste funny to you?"

A man walked into the doctors. The doctor said "I haven't seen you in a long time" The man replied "I know, I've been ill"

A man walked into the doctors and said "I've hurt my arm in several places" The doctor said "Well don't go to those places"

I had a ploughman's lunch the other day. He wasn't very happy.

I bought some HP sauce the other day. It's costing me 6p a month for the next two years.

A man came round in hospital after a serious accident. He shouted "Doctor, doctor, I can't feel my legs" The doctor replied "I know you can't, I've cut your arms off"

I went to a seafood disco last week and pulled a mussel.

Our ice cream man was found lying on the floor of his van covered with hundreds and thousands. Police say he topped himself.

Two fat blokes in a pub, one says to the other "Your round". The other one says "so are you, you fat b*****d"

(Who remembers watching Tommy Cooper die on stage. I can)

Sooooo comfortable...

You know when the duvet is exactly the right weight and temperature and the pillow is exactly the right fluffiness and every part of the bed is exactly the right shape for your body and you're just so damn comfortable that it feels like your floating on a warm cloud and that you could quite happily stay like that forever...

Well, Manny the veg guy must have been feeling the same way this morning 'cos he ain't here. I don't like it when he's not here. It's too quiet, even though he does have a terrible radio station blaring all morning.

I Need Help (Oh Gawd) I Want To Read A Book That's Funny, That's Going To Make Me Laugh Out Loud...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAArgh....

Funny?

What is funny?

I thought We Need To Talk About Kevin was funny.

Thomas Bernhard's The Gargoyle made me laugh out loud.

Jimmy Carr's The Naked Jape saved the day. Thanks Jimmy. It's a tough job (being funny not bookselling) but someone's got to do it...

A burning question

Matthew and I were having a disagreement about whether they burn the coffin as well as the body in a crematorium. I thought not as did Charlie from Scooterworks. Matthew thought they did. However, he was basing his opinion on the scene in a James Bond film when Sean Connery is in a coffin and jets of flame start appearing so probably not too reliable as info.

But the ever reliable Wikipedia has the answer - yes, they do. Burn the coffin too, I mean. It's the law apparently.

One Bloody Thing After Another

The end of the week is fast approaching. A good thing for many reasons. It's been the kind of week that leaves you feeling as though life is just what it says for the title of this post and we play Portsmouth on Sunday - with luck we will sell a bundle more of the Fulham Review dahn the public 'ouses 'side the banks of Old Father...

I was thinking of ways to describe living in London next door to a couple of squatters who think it's a good idea to have band practice at 4am thus waking you, yr wife and small child up after their dogs growled at yer wife in the garden last night when she was trying to take the washing in AND Radio 4 want to record you for a discussion program about POD AND I have a bookshop to run - a seething cauldron of conflicting desires was the phrase that popped into my head as I FINALLY drifted off to sleep...But seething cauldron is SO cliched...

Then I wake up and it's a beautiful day, the kind of crisp and sunny autumn morning that makes you LOVE being alive.

And then there's a flash of colour as a blue tit seems to fall out of a tree, swerve to a perfect landing on the pavement in front of you as yr walking super-fast through the wilderness of back streets behind Elephant & Castle. Everything stops for a heartbeat. We look each other in the eye. Then the tiny reminder of all things bright and beautiful is off into the bushes.

And then there was Wednesday and Dr Rick's Amazing Map for Tree Of Smoke.

This work of art needs to be seen to be believed. It made my day on Wednesday and was a vivid illustration of the joys to be found in a shared love/obsession with books...

Late and Dark

Dusk.

This is the first time this year I will have closed up in the dark.

What shall I read now? After Denis every novel I try seems weak and rubbish.

Any suggestions for a jaded bookseller fighting off a SAD attack or shall I just read essays and non-fiction for a while?

The only way is up

'Foyles. That's by the London eye, innit'

'Yeah, about 1oo yards to the east.'

'East? Depends which way your facin dunnit?'

Mr Cheng - Crockatt & Powell Booksellers

It is an offence to open mail belonging to other people. As a result I waited about six hours before opening the A4 letter addressed to Mr Cheng - Crockatt & Powell Booksellers.

It was a letter from Lambeth council informing Mr Cheng (who he?) that as of October 1st it will be "illegal for you to sell tobacco to a person who is under 18".

Lambeth Trading Standards will be ensuring compliance by carrying out random test purchases.

I look forward to the day some spotty kid comes in and tries to buy fags in what is quite obviously a bookshop.

"You're in the employ of Lambeth Council" I will cry.

"How did you know?" They will respond.

"Because only Lambeth Council are able to reach such heights of idiocy!" I will yell as I fling the poor kid across the street...

Was Montaigne the First Blogger?

Dipping into the delightful world of Michel De Montaigne at the minute. What a great bloke he was.

I love the way the essays meander about and veer way off the point into bizarre, often pointless, digressive alleys. I love the way the entire project revolves around Michel and his impressions - it's all me me me. Was he the first blogger?

Nicholas Lezard chose How To Read Montaigne a few weeks ago as his paperback choice. I am allergic to instructions (Adam could tell you about the time I broke the light fitting next door and there is a massive list Mary could entertain you with of occasions I have found myself in trouble by refusing to read or follow instructions) and so there was never any chance I would read How To Read Montaigne. In fact my extreme aversion to instructions even meant I didn't read his review of How To Read Montaigne just bought myself a copy of the Everyman's Library Complete Works and leaped in.

Now I go to link to Lezard's review of How To Read Montaigne and look - the first thing he says is:

"Not that hard, I would have thought: you get MA Screech's excellent, 1,280-page translation of the Essays, open it up pretty much anywhere you like and let Montaigne's urbane, friendly, sceptical and inquisitive mind do its thing with you. You don't have a copy? Then you must rush out now and get one."

(Seems I bought the wrong translation - but it appears a fine one to me. The real reason I bought the Everyman's Library edition is that it is a large hardback. I hate Penguin Classics when they are fat books. Just SO ugly. If you're going to own Montaigne why not have a real good solid chunk of a book?)

Then:

"I have even heard someone develop the conceit that he was the first blogger, although don't let that put you off."

Bastard. What's the point of my existence if Lezard has already thought of everything?

Rumour Has It...

...bits of our blog have been published in a book.

And I may have turned into Marie.

These rumours have yet to be confirmed.

Oh, and WATERSTONES PICADILLY IS CLOSING NEXT TUESDAY!

(That may not be true suckers!)

Slug Lord Slimes Again...

Once upon a time in a land far far away down the back end of Kings Cross there lived a large slug known as the Slug Lord. He was the biggest and slimiest slug in the whole of the veg patch. Over the years he had great success in convincing all the other slugs on his patch that he was the slimiest. Mostly his method involved covering anyone that disagreed with him in slime and sitting on them until they surrendered. But smothering others in slime, though fun for many years, eventually became boring.

So the Slug Lord decided the time had come to slither off to pastures new. Everyone in the slug world was amazed! What a shock. As the Slug Lord made his slimy way towards another veg patch, a veg patch with the tallest runner bean plants you EVER saw (some people even thought they might be the kind of beans Jack found all those years ago! They were certainly magic - phenomenal even) the smaller slugs he left behind cried and cried. But do you know what? Just minutes after his vast bulk slid off they felt a new feeling. Secretly they were relieved. Maybe being smothered and covered in slime wasn't so great after all?

But the Slug Lord new exactly what had to be done. As soon as he arrived on his new patch he set to work, sliming and smothering everyone in his path. This is a great new challenge he said to himself as the slimed away, doing pretty much what he had always done. Smother and slime until everyone thought like he did and were almost as slimy...

The critics

Over on the Guardian's CiF there was a recent post by Nicholas Lezard on Jordan outselling the whole Booker list. C'est la vie. But the bit that caught my eye was from one of the rabid commenters - that army of mudpeople who crawl around the CiF abusing anyone who dares write anything. The appropriately named Trilobite had this to say about criticism: 'there is no such thing as literary quality. There are books that you like and there are books that you dislike.'

I've always thought that the least interesting thing you can say about any book or indeed work of art is whether you like it or not. I mean really, who cares. But there is such a thing as literary quality because great books open up worlds and ideas and insights that other books don't and it is through criticism that we can discuss and articulate them. This is a great CiF piece here on the need for good, creative criticism with a quote from Oscar Wilde that answers Trilobite's vapid comment:

"Surely, criticism is itself an art ... Criticism is, in fact both creative and independent ... The antithesis between them is entirely arbitrary. Without the critical faculty, there is no artistic creation at all, worthy of the name."

Oh thank ya kindly mista for yer generous benevolence

Bloke outside front talking to companion,

'I try to buy books here because I really don't think they do all that well'

And I shall not disabuse him of such a notion should the well of his charity suddenly, dry up.

The obligatory holiday reading post

• Rubicon - Tom Holland. Loads of fun but made all the better after having caught the Rome repeats on UKTVGoldHistory the week before.
• The Talented Mr Ripley - Patricia Highsmith. Brilliant. One of the all-time great literary characters. Gets a bit bogged down in plot but Ripley's too enjoyable to begrudge it that.
• Guns, Germs and Steel - Jared Diamond. 400-odd pages of stating the ever-so-slightly obvious. Not nearly as good as the blurbs suggest but moderately interesting in snatches. But if I have to hear one more time about the lack of domesticable plants in New Guinea, violence will take place.
• The Night Gardener - George Pelecanos. A revelation. Outstanding genre fiction that transcends genre with brilliantly rounded characters. No such thing as good guy/bad guy, everybody has their reasons, everybody is treated with empathy and the book is at times genuinely moving. I'll be seeking his other work.
• Money - Martin Amis. Dazzling language and very, very funny. Still alarmingly relevant (despite the Princess Di stuff) and alarmingly close to home in places. Self has a theory on page 278 that I myself had not just a few weeks ago that may be a blog post at some point never.
• Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky - Patrick Hamilton. Why am I reading about grimy 20's London when under the Cretan sun? Because I can never get away from the place, that's why. I particularly liked the chapter in Ella's tale when Hamilton uses the term 'wage slave' approximately 28 times. Despite that, it's funny through it's depression, it's brilliantly perceptive and has an ending more quietly devastating than almost any book I've read.
• Eroticism - George Bataille. Cheating here because I only started it on the plane back but is pleasingly bonkers enough in it's first 50 pages to carry on.

So, 5 out of 6. Not bloody bad I reckon.

Even though...

...even though yesterday morning I was sitting on a cafe terrace eating yoghurt and honey with the Mediterranean lapping at the shore, the sun shining through the trees and the Cretan mountains in the background...
...even though I've been swimming everyday in crystal clear bathwater...
...even though I've done nothing but sit, eat, read and swim for two weeks...
...even though I found blissful silence in one of the most beautiful places I've ever been...
...even though I've driven on perilous and exciting mountain roads and down gorges...
...even though I had to don full wet-weather gear to cycle to work this morning...
...even though I've listened to the raging argument between Manny and a German customer...
...even though I'm working all by myself clearing up the mess Matthew's left behind (only kidding)...
...even though I've got to go and clean the flat tonight...
...even through all this, it's still good to be back.

Cobnuts - What Are They? Whaddayou Do With 'Em?

Every day for the past couple of weeks I've heard the same patter coming from Manny's veg stall outside.

"'Scuse me mate - what are these?"

"Cobnuts"

"What are they? Whaddayou do with 'em?"

"Fresh nuts, like Hazlenuts. Bang 'em with an 'ammer then eat them. I use one of me weights here. Keep me own supply."

Last week my mum bought me some. We know what they are. We used to pick them from the hedgerows in Wales. They taste delicious, really milky and sweet.

I bought a bag yesterday from Manny.

"Every day someone asks me what these are and what ya do with them."

I know Manny. I've heard the patter.

Later that day I gave a pocketful to my man Toe B.

"Do you want some of these?"

"What are they? Whaddayou do with 'em"

I'm exhausted...but the nuts are keeping me going.

Stamford Bridge Is Falling Down

It would be crass to express my delight at the events of the last few days in such a public way - so I won't...

Scooterworks

Dr Rick was in this morning. He's been reading the blog. I did the usual and changed the subject asap - why do I hate talking about blogging? I like to think no-one reads this crap - that they do is a worry and something I try not to think about...

I love Scooterworks. Adam and I stumbled in there the first time we ever went to look at the shop. Every time we came back we visited Scooterworks and much of the shop was planned in there (as well as the Hermit's Cave pub in Camberwell). Scooterworks even appeared in the latest Matt Damon Bourne film, though they changed the name to E-Net Cafe.

Dr Rick suggested I try to describe Scooterworks. So here goes...

Scooterworks is a refuge and an inspiration. The relentless London drive; the wild-eyed, quick-heeled life that makes our city at once the most exhilarating and exhausting place to be, melts away on entering Scooterworks. The shouts of the market traders on Lower Marsh fade to be replaced with the gentle crooning of a French chanteuse or maybe some jaunty plastic euro-pop cover of a Beetles song, or a beautiful Bach violin concerto, or some reggae or a little jazz - the music at Scooterworks is always good, never predictable.

Before selling coffee and Scooters the premises sold records. Indeed there are two framed spaces on the wall where you can see layers of posters showing the top 10 from the 1930s and 40s. These were uncovered when the present owners started to decorate. I spoke with a customer who remembered buying punk and new wave records there in his youth and I have spoken to several people who claim to have visited illegal raves on the premises in the early 1990's - Scooterworks are certainly known to host floor-bouncing parties periodically. (My sister ended up at one by chance after wandering home to Kennington Lane in the middle of the night. Her description of this great place on Lower Marsh where an Italian guy was DJing in a pair of old WW1 flying goggles was instantly recognisable.)

On an early visit I remember being struck by the bloke behind the counter. He had straggly hair and wore an old fashioned shirt and trousers with braces. Had he just stepped out of the 1930's. Was this some sort of time warp? I tried to pay and he waved his hand at me - "Later". I thought he was a bit rude - a bit full of himself. But now I know he's Charlie and a super-cool-wonder-boy who now haunts our cellar. (Don't ask)

Indeed the staff are a constant source of wonder. There's Craig in his overalls, Fifi and her Italian charm, always mid-project Charlie, Natalie and her kookie dress sense, Claire the ceramicist who lives in the same block as Finn's child-minder. All unconventional, all miraculously surviving in one of the fiercest cities in the world doing - what? Exactly...

Scooterworks subtly subverts and refuses classification. Is it a coffee shop? Then why are there folk who come in asking for number plates or to sort out an MOT? Is it a place that fixes Scooters? Then why the tables and coffee?

Scooterworks asks to be taken as it is found.

It is the perfect antidote to the world made mass. Starbucks would never do it this way.

Scooterworks is to coffee shops what I hope C & P might become for bookshops.

Unique. Individual. Interesting. Stimulating. Fun.

There, Dr Rick, I've had a go...

Christopher Wormell Signs at C & P

We had huge success with signed copies of Christopher Wormell's beautifully illustrated books last Christmas.

He has kindly returned and signed copies of his new book Wings, Horns & Claws.

It's all about Dinosaurs this time.

Today Is Quiet...

...and I could have managed a little reading. If only I hadn't left my book in the bottom of Finn's buggy...Will have to do boring account stuff instead.

The wheels fell of Finn's buggy. This is the second buggy that has failed to withstand the levels of walking required of a Crockatt buggy.

They are clearly designed for people who walk to the shops or park - not through miles of South London every day!

Weirdos

Some proper nutters in the shop today (don't you love these transference posts?)

First off a lady asking about books on breakdancing. For some reason(maybe to do with her not-young-ness or the fact she was not skinny/gangly like a breakdancer at all if you know what I mean) I assumed the book would be for a son or nephew or something.

"No, it's for me. I've always wanted to learn how to do it. That head-spinning - just wonderful."

I kid you not. My head was certainly spinning by the time she left.

Then there was the bloke who wanted me to order an out of print book off the Internet for him. I quoted a price.

"Hmmm. I've seen it cheaper on the net."

"Well why don't you buy it yourself then?"

"Well I don't have regular access. I could tell you the site where I saw it and you could order it from there?"

HELLO! ARE YOU REALLY REALLY DUMB! DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN THAT?

"Er, that's not how it works really. We have to add something on top to make it worth our while."

"Oh."

Indeed.

(I didn't tell him about the special wooden knitting needles I ordered off the net for one of our bestest but computerless customers. That's the way it works in the non-corporate world though. She's a good customer so I'll do almost anything for her.)

And finally there was the man who wanted me to search for books on some boxer I'd never heard of. There weren't any books. He got angry.

"Why don't you got any books on 'im?"

"Er, nobody's written any...maybe you could do some research and write one?"

"Me, I can't even read! That's a joke man."

Amazingly he left without smashing my face in...I just hope none of his mates can read either. If they come across this I'm dead!

(PS There is no shame in not being able to read. But boxing is a stupid activity and makes you more and more stupid as time goes by.)

Denis Won't Let Me Sleep...

I was late opening today 'cos I was up half the night reading Tree Of Smoke.

This novel should cause the equivalent of the Northern-Rock-engulfing financial crisis in literary circles when it hits these shores.

90% of people writing novels should hang up their pens, throw the Word Processor out the window and take up shovelling poo after reading this - it just blows most of contemporary literature out of the way, like so much fluff...

(Those of you that know me will be able to take that last sentence with the required pinches of salt - don't want to be responsible for mass author death! Just excited...)

Take this:

"We're on the cutting edge of reality itself. Right where it turns into a dream." (This from a CIA man - sound familiar?)

Then this:

One might hypothesize a step beyond the final one. Consider the possibility that a coterie or insulated group might elect to create fictions independent of the leadership's intuition of its own needs. And might serve these fictions to the enemy in order to influence choices. (During a CIA discussion of the problems of intelligence being polluted by political influence)

Then this:

Above them paddies terraced the hillside. They moved along the dikes and trudged generally upward.
From nowhere came the racket of gunfire, bullets jerking the small shoots and chirping in the water.
They raced without speaking over the dikes and flopped on the dry side and crawled along until they found a gully and dropped into it and scrambled away from whoever was trying to kill them.
"You don't understand," Nash said. "I'm not ready for this at all. I only been here three days!"
"I just took a second tour," James said. "I don't know which one of us is the stupider shit."
They passed burning hooches and empty hamlets and never saw any people. By their complete absence they seemed to suggest themselves vividly. But there was activity ahead. They heard shooting. At one point they heard a voice crying in a foreign language. They came on a hamlet whose dwellers had just cleared out minutes ago. They'd even left an animal picketed in a garden, a goat with his neck stuck out as if offering it to the axe, but he was only shitting. Right in the middle of a war.
The three soldiers climbed on toward the peak.

Delusional Behaviour, Psy Ops, Great Literature etc

Ok, you gotta help me out here. I'm in the shop alone, day after day. There's no Adam to bounce things off...

On the way in this morning I think I observed two examples of delusional behaviour. See what you think.

EG 1:

A woman walking a scrawny piece of mongrel junk is hailed by a friend from across the road.

"Is that your dog?"

The woman with the dog crosses over the road.

"Yeah, I got him from Battersea Dogs Home."

"Oh, he's lovely."

"Stop that Bernie!" (The dog is trying to shag her friend's leg)

How is that lovely? Was the woman not clearly deluded? Since when has shagging the legs of total strangers been lovely?

EG 2:

Crocs.

Am I missing something? Are they not simply a crime against humanity? A fashion error even the most illiterate fashionistas (I look like a crumpled mess of corduroy and babysicksplattered shirts mostly - I also like wearing my football shirt in the garden) can spot.

I saw someone wearing them on my way in and asked myself the question I always ask when I see these awful shoes - what the F8ck do you think you're doing!

So whaddayareckon? Is it me or is reading the new Denis Johnson pushing me close to the edge?

I find great literature pushes me close to the edge of sanity. Dostoevsky does it to me every time. Denis too. Tree of Smoke is a masterpiece. A great novel. (I think these books unbalance me because I see what writing is all about, how good it can be. Simultaneously I understand that I will never achieve such literary heights and somethng in me gets mad!) Yes, it's official, Dr Rick and I agree - Denis Johnson's Tree of Smoke is the novel he was born to write. From the paranoia and mayhem of the Vietnam jungle, where CIA Psy Ops are trying to turn the VC tunnel system into "a region of hell" Johnson extracts truths about the American psyche that are surely also relevant to our own view of the world?

Awesome stuff. What every novel should be. I think...or is Dr Rick (he's not my shrink - he's into skin diseases) right and DJ is destined to remain a niche man, a writer's writer (yuk) for all time?

Crockatt & Powell - Booksellers & Publishers

Everything has a reason (to us paranoid nuts anyway) I knew when our sign fell to bits there would be something behind it (other than a sign for Maynards wine gums) and there was...

When we put a new sign up it will say Crockatt & Powell Booksellers & Publishers.

You all know I follow by far the greatest team the world has ever seen - Fulham FC in other words. (Stop it you down the back!) But you didn't know that I knew Richard Allen (who runs the excellent blog Craven Cottage Newsround and is often the man they speak to in the Observer about match day experiences)

He produced a match by match analysis of the 2006/2007 season with a bloke called Martin Kane. It's excellent stuff - a real fans eye view of all things Fulham for real Fulham fans to argue about in the pub. Between the match reports there are sections from Martin about football in general. At first the Fulham Review was just available on the net but we liked it so much we thought it should appear as a "real" book. So we decided to publish it. And we have. (Get off your arses and Do stuff people)

You can buy it here.

Or in the shop of course.

Or outside the ground on match days.

The 2006/07 season: it wasn't pretty, it wasn't effective, but it was Fulham.

Finland etc...

When Finn (my 14 month son) was first born I wrote a series of pieces on this blog centred around his adventures in the new world he found himself in. I have not written anything about him for a while. Why? Because now I feel he is telling his own stories. In the early days he was just a sort of inscrutable blob thing - all poo and cry and smile. Now he is far more sophisticated.

He's at nursery two days a week, where he wanders about singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to himself. He also has a habit of waving (like the Queen) to random people. Bus drivers and women with long blond hair are particular favourites. He is still wary of men with beards. He loves cats and dogs but they don't like him.

I have just bought a book called The Animal Boogie for him. It comes with a "sing along" cd. Soon I'll know a whole bunch more kiddy songs off by heart...

Thanks Shirley...

Someone just drew my attention to this...

Gordon Bennett (Well,Alan Really)

Who should stroll in this lunchtime but Alan Bennett himself...Signed a few copies, chatted about Robert Topping and Co.

What a great bloke! Just as you might expect from reading his books I suppose. He seemed to like the shop and bought a book (A Hesperus Henry James)

I have his phone number now. Next time he's visiting the National Theatre he's going to sign some more copies of The Uncommon Reader for us.

As I said, top man.

A Word On Prizes...

McYawn...nah...bored already.

And the winner is...Mister Pip.

Told you so.

Bleargh...

Left the shop at 7ish then next door to the pub then out to somewhere near Slough for more drinks and a battle with a mad hornet followed by bed in the same room as a restless baby who seemed to be awake whenever I was asleep and asleep while I lay awake only to finally insist on getting up at 6:30 though it was my darling wife who actually left the bed and attended to him but I had to take over at about 7:30 didn't manage to have breakfast or find any coffee (who doesn't have coffee and if you did have it where were you hiding it?) then onto a train without washing or brushing my teeth into London and the shop where I just about managed to put myself together only to have people banging on the shutters forcing me to open half an hour early in severe need of more coffee and a bite to eat.

You wouldn't want to kiss me, not now...

There's a beer chilling in the fridge at Scooterworks with my name on it...

...but still I have work to do.

I've started on Tree of Smoke by Denis Johnson. So far a monkey has met an untimely and pointless end; everyone is paranoid and confused; an assassin's grenade has failed to explode; there is a mysterious German with a blow pipe and a dude has put out a cigarette by peeing on it - so far so Denis!

In other news Picador continue to defy their Demonic Toad-Lord and keep sending great books for me to read. Latest is called The Rebels by Sandor Marai (author of Embers). Out in October non-book-trade folks...

Soon it will be 6pm and my man Toby should drop by with those chilled beers from the Scooterworks fridge...(Still drinking that crappy Starbucks/Costa/Nero coffee? Still not visited Waterloo for all your cultural/culinary needs? Damn...)

(Adam went on holiday today so the less reputable side of the business takes over for a couple of weeks)

What a shame

Leeds Utd have been kicked out of the FA. Boo Hoo.

Gurus

We're not normally into business guru advice thingies but as we've mentioned him before we'll mention him again.

Here's a couple of posts from Seth Godin that ring all the right bells.

WE WORK HARD (We really do you know)

and QUIT WHINING (You know who you are, just shut up and get on with it)

Beautiful Children by Charles Bock

I finished Beautiful Children last night. I have to say I was left feeling slightly deflated, that the book was not quite as brilliant as I thought it was going to be...but then I have these ridiculously high standards.

James Meek's The People's Act of Love had the same trajectory. After 1/3 I was way too enthusiastic - It's as good as the great Russians I'd yell as I thrust a copy into the hand of whoever had mistakenly asked for a recommendation that day.

By the end I had calmed down a bit. It's a great novel, just not quite up there with Fyodor and Co.

Beautiful Children starts very hard and fast; plunging the reader into the emotional vacuum left by a missing child, then speeds into the Vegas night, thrusting nightmare visions of money, neon and paid for sex into your face. Bock (a name you should avoid typing into a Nokia phone with predictive text if slang words relating to sensitive anatomical parts are likely to upset you) is clearly a great talent.

It is hard to write about youth, sex, drugs etc without things disintegrating into boredom. Beautiful Children retains a great humanity and depth of feeling at all times, even when things get really degraded. There are moments when it feels like this is the voice of doomed youth, a voice that could explain the mysteries of teen trouble in lingo our "grownup" minds can grasp - but there are other moments when I felt things just didn't quite work...

What do I mean by that? I'm not clever enough to articulate it I'm afraid. Think of it this way. Remember the first time you heard a song by that band that ended up being your total teen favourite? Then the album came out and was just life changingly awesome? Then the second album came out and it was not as good? You couldn't say why and there were a few great singles...but there was that track with the bongos? Or the bad cover version that was later used in an advert?

I wouldn't be surprised if Bock ends up selling large. But will he be a name remembered for all time?

Beautiful Children is a visceral, thrilling, dangerous book - but it didn't quite rock my world. (But then I am middle aged nowadays!)

USA USA USA USA

They don't fu*k about do they?

It's not all about the military-industrial complex is it...

Cross your fingers, do your Voodoo dances, knock on wood, pray even - we're gonna start a revolution!

Surprise, surprise

Fancy that, the Competition Commission has allowed the takeover of wholesaler Bertrams by wholesaler EUK. This now means that instead of 3 wholesalers to choose from we now have 2 as THE/books is being swallowed up by an engorged Bertrams.

We're completely ambivalent. There are pluses, there are minuses. Hey ho.

But after a very productive business breakfast Matthew had this morning who knows, maybe the nature of the whole darn thing will change...

Thanks Camilla!

I am now the proud owner of a Proof copy of Tree of Smoke by Denis Johnson.

Expect excited blogging to follow shortly...

Peace man...

Things I have learned this lunchtime.

1: Raw fish is better than cooked fish. I LOVE sushi. Why cook fish? Cooking fish is wrong.

2: It's very hard to get people to drink beer at lunchtime. Adam and I indulged (even though adam is on a pre-hols no beer diet) but only one other person had a beer and he was an author...

3: David Peace is GQ author of the year.

Things I have had confirmed this lunchtime.

1: David Peace is a great bloke.

2: Drinking at lunchtime means productivity plumits.

Free Stuff

Thanks to Em at Snowbooks for this newish book on cyclin' in the city. Lots of top and commense sense tips, lavishly illustrated, for enjoying the freedom of the bike and how to avoid the ever present threat of mangling by a bus.

Of course being a total know-all this book confirms my own long thought and hard fought knowledge of two-wheeled madness so I will gladly sell this copy on to a deserving customer at a very agreeable discount of 100%. Thanks again. (Good bit of free publicity though, eh?)

(Emma, good thing you did send it as I was convinced I'd already ordered it...)

Fuuueeeuurrrrruuuuuucccccckk orff

Customer a) 'Can you get this for me?'

'I think we'll have to get that from the States'

Customer b) 'Do you know about amazon.com? it's so simple to use'

(a low, barely audible grumble of displeasure)

'Please remove me from your mailing list'

Was it something we said? What have we done? No need to be so cruel, so heartless, so efficient in your rejection.

We're going to have to go home light some candles and crack open the red wine and the haagen das.

We're feeling very vulnerable right now...

When Psychic Powers Fail - Try The Telephone...

Psychic powers are a curse. You've all seen the films and read the books that explain exactly why this is the case and why I just can't tell you who is going to win the Booker this year...

My powers were becoming so awesome that even Adam was starting to believe in them. (Imagine the last person on Earth to be convinced of the reality of the psychic realm - that's Adam) Just yesterday I saw a certain regular customer of ours who just happens to be pretty bloody famous walk past the shop. That prompted me to mention a story the certain person told me about himself and his meeting with a certain author. Moments later the certain famous person came in and asked about a book. After he left Adam turned around:

"Wow - did you know he was going to come in!"

Of course I said I'd seen him walk by moments before but the point is Adam thought it was a psychic moment...

But the nature of such phenomena is that they are unreliable. I mean poor old Uri has been trying to prove his powers exist for a long while but whaddayouknow - soon as you try to test them under scientific conditions the powers let you down.

What I'm trying to say is that my psychic plea for a Denis Johnson proof failed. No book in the post. Damn. So I tried a more traditional method and phoned Camilla at Picador who said she was sure she could find a copy, despite the fact a lesser minion had claimed there were none left. Hah!

As soon as I finish the very excellent Beautiful Children by Charles Bock (out next year) I can start on Denis (out sooner!). Oh! If only you could feel the rushes of pleasurable anticipation now coursing through my veins...

Danger Level: Extreme

I found cycling in London wasn't quite scary enough so I bought myself a fixed gear bike with no brakes. However, after a short ride I decided to fit a front brake because a) My knees would be shot to hell (try braking using only the pedals some time) and b) I'd be dead within the week.

But even with a semblance of stopping capability it is still a perilously dangerous thing to ride in heavy traffic - I love it. Heartily recommended.

Tony Adams is the best football pundit ever

HE IS! HE JUST IS. Anyone who was watching ITV4 tonight must agree that Tone is a total and utter telly natural. Move over Lineker, Hansen, Lawrenson, Shearer, Dixon blah blah. Tony Adams ROCKS. Give that man a job, only he's already got one. Harry Redknapp's a great tv person too, you know.

Too good to ignore

More Elvis...



If anyone is so inclined you may find one of the best gigs ever filmed if you paste this - "Live '68 Elvis Presley Comeback Special Unedited" into youtube and watch all 12 episodes back to back. AAAAhh the genius of the internet.

Scousers

A musical tribute to Liverpool Football Club making it to the group stages of the Champions league.

Part a) Back to the roots.



Part b) Enter Hollywood



Part c) El-Eye-Vee Ee-Ar-Pee double-0-El Liverpool FC



Parts d-g) The Murderers









Part j) Redemption (My mothers favourite and one of mine - All hail the King)



Walk on, walk on. With hope in our heart...

A chronic case of Dailymailitis

A bloke in the shop in his 40's looking at the kids section,

'ooh, you have a wonderful choice'

'Thank you'

'Anthing beautifully illustrated you would recommend for a 4 year old'

'Yes, how about this, or this'

He has a bit of a browse, I happen to notice he's using plastic supermarket bags to carry his un-supermarket-like items, hmm... And wearing some nylon trousers with white trainers... hmmm... And no wedding ring... Most dads at this time of the evening buying stuff for their kids are in their suits on the way to the station to take the train back to Godalming... hmmmm... And a really ugly 80's polo shirt... hmmmmmmmmmm... Why's he buying lovely books for a 4 year old??? He's to old to have a 4 year old... And not old enough to be a grandad... hmmmmmmmmmmmm... OH MY GOD HE'S A PAEDO!

God I hate the Daily Mail and it's pernicious, curtain-twitching, paranoid, bigotry. It gets every bloody where. I'm a liberal, imagine what this kind of paranoid junk does to people of a more inherently nervous and suspicious nature.

Is there a cure for dailymailitis?

Probably a strong dose of Newyorkreviewofbooksozac

Annie Hall was on tv last night

'...but it was great seeing Annie again. I... I realized what a terrific person she was, and... and how much fun it was just knowing her; and I... I, I thought of that old joke, y'know, the, this... this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy; he thinks he's a chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?" The guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y'know, they're totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd, and... but, uh, I guess we keep goin' through it because, uh, most of us... need the eggs.'

Yup.

More quotes here.

Daddy Cool...

If you did in fact read all the below and the comments and were really paying attention (what's wrong with you!) then you might remember my dilemma over what to read next - Wizard of the Crow by Ngugi Wa Thiong'o or Charles Bock's Beutiful Children.

I went for Bock.

All of you, yes, even you, will be reading this book when it comes out in Feb next year. With luck they will be signed copies that you bought at C & P after I persuaded Mr Bock to come down to Lambeth and sign a few. Suffice to say I have a feeling about this one. Half way through and it has all the marks of a Great American Novel - will let you if I still think that at the end...

There are a large number of angry teens in it and they do a good bit of parent-bashing too. But if I could I'd tell them - wait until you have kids. Then you'll feel bad. Very bad. And spoilt. And very full of regret - 'cos I'm sure they weren't that bad. In fact, they loved you and now you've grown up a bit and realise that isn't the case for the majority of people in the world, that's worth hanging on to.

But dads are never cool are they? No. Boney M, you were wrong. On Hols in France my dad told us tales of his youth, how he used to go on United Nations work camps to "build a spirit of international relations and solidarity". Hmmm. Dad, all that hard work was thrown away when you tried to demonstrate "the Penguin" (a "disco" dance he invented) to those French girls at that 50th birthday party. The French will hate us a while longer methinks.

Then they go and surprise you. His mobile phone is ancient. He lent it to my brother who dropped it (probably on purpose) and the aerial broke off. Most paid up members of our glorious consumer society would have hurled it in the nearest bin and bought another - with a camera and internet access and TV and a kitchen sink - but not my dad, no. He found a rusty screw, screwed it into the phone at the rough place the aerial used to protrude - and it worked. The rusty screw was rusty so he replaced it with a shiny black screw and now it's just perfect.

Dads, hmmm, maybe cool after all?

A Psychic Plea to Denis Johnson's Publishing Crew

Crockatt calling publishing folk! Crockatt calling publishing folk!

(Picador or Farrar, Straus and Giroux)

If I had a proof or manuscript or whatever of Denis Johnson's Tree of Smoke I would read it and blog it to the MAX.

It's worth a go...

And more...(God, now I'm even boring myself!)

The Divine Comedy by Dante (in a terza rima translated by Peter Dale)

I read the Inferno a long time ago in an awful 1960's translation that put me off the Italian super-bard for ten years. I would never have returned to The Divine Comedy if I hadn't met Peter Dale in the shop one evening. This charming man was so passionate about the art of translation, so funny and also generous and kind (he gave me a slim volume of his own poetry because he liked the shop) that I felt I had to read his version of Dante.

Faithful to Dante's own rhyme scheme he has also managed to make the Italian epic flow and make sense to the modern reader in English.

Re-reading Milton's Paradise Lost last year I found my imagination burning with intense images and this version of Dante has the same effect. I even dreamed of being chased by Devils the other night! (I would put myself in the same ring as Virgil - with the virtuous pagans. Although several of the other, more nasty rings, contain sinners guilty of crimes I'm sure I have committed at one time or another - hence the guity dream?)

£14.95 - The Divine Comedy £16.95 - The Divine Comedy + UK P & P

And there's more...

Why Is There Something Rather Than Nothing by Leszek Kolakowski

In the last two years I have turned 30, had a son and opened a bookshop. In other words I've had quite a lot on my mind! Or rather my mind has been turned upside down and inside out...

I felt I needed to re-orient my brain and this book was a great way to do just that.

This is not a book of the Very Short Introduction or Beginner's Guide type. Kolakowski takes a few central ideas from 23 "Great Philosophers", many of which are in the form of questions. He then explains these central ideas clearly and asks further questions at the end of each section. In other words if you are looking for answers then this is NOT the book for you...(There's bound to be a knock at the door bringing a Jehovah's Witness soon though - they have all the answers, or so they say...)

But if you want confirmation that you do actually believe something in this mixed up world and enjoy mental gymnastics then you, like me, will probably love it.

£12.99 - Why Is There Something Rather Than Nothing? £14.99 - Why Is There Something Rather Than Nothing + UK P & P

More holiday reading...

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe

I am increasingly of the opinion that Africa is leading the way in world literature.

Not only is there the recent explosive success of Chimananda Ngozi Adichie (Orange Prize winner with Half of a Yellow Sun - also huge success with Richard and Judy) there are other youngsters such as Segun Afolabi (read at C & P last year) Ahmadou Kourouma (Allah is not Obliged), Dinaw Mengestu (Children of the Revolution - Guardian first book shortlisted) and C & P favourite Sade Adeniran (Imagine This).

Then how about Ngugi Wa Thiong'o whose recent Wizard of the Crow is by all accounts excellent and extremely funny?

I should now confess to feeling almost completely ignorant when it comes to Sub-Saharan Africa in general and the literature of the region in particular. I read The Shadow of the Sun by Ryszard Kapuscinski and found it an excellent introduction though also (he was Polish) the view of an outsider.

Achebe's Things Fall Apart seemed like a good fictional starting point and it was...

In many ways it tells a story that is probably not unique to Africa. Okonowo is the best wrestler of his generation. He looks set to become a great leader and one of the key members of his clan. But gradually foreign influences arrive and begin to disrupt the ancient ways of his people. As things fall apart Okonowo's world disappears.

I found many of my (ignorant) ideas about Africa were torn to pieces by Achebe's brilliant story. Excellent stuff! I'm going to read the Wizard of the Crow next...

£7.99 - Things Fall Apart £9.50 - Things Fall Apart + UK P & P

My Holiday Reading...

Mister Pip by Lloyd Jones

I forget which party it was...but it was a good one and the shop was packed with people. I was selling books to someone and they were telling me what a great bookshop we have created when they thrust a card in my general direction and announced they worked for a certain publisher. This is the kind of thing that happens on a regular basis and my immediate response is always to ask what's HOT from the publisher concerned at the minute. (You would be amazed how many times I'm met with a blank face in response to this question. But obviously publishers are always a step ahead of booksellers and while we might be thinking about Christmas now they are probably already planning way into the next year. Working out what books are new in the shops right now usually requires a bit of brain work...)

Anyway the person worked for John Murray and one of the books she suggested was Mister Pip (now Booker Longlisted)

I sped through Mister Pip as I sped through France on a TGV.

What can I say? It is close to the perfect Summer Read. Lloyd, pretty much unknown in this country, is well regarded in his native New Zealand and it's easy to see why. The novel is set on an isolated but resource-rich island in the South Pacific. War has recently broken out as various shadowy factions struggle to gain control of the lucrative mining industry. Details of the conflict are left to the imagination of the reader. All you really need to know is that there are foreign soldiers fighting indigenous guerrillas. As both sides become increasingly brutalised the civilian population are drawn into the violence.

There is only one white man living on the island. He has always been a figure of fun and ridicule but now steps forward to take centre stage. He offers to re-open the school and teach the local children. His method primarily involves reading Great Expectations by Dickens out loud. This has a huge effect on the children and their internal lives. In fact some of the parents are so disturbed by the entry of Mister Pip into the lives of their children that they begin to contribute to the classes as well, telling traditional tales that pass on the wisdom of their ancestors. As the book progresses contemporary reality on the island and the fictional world of 19th century England interact in a variety of unpredictable ways.

This book achieves that rare blend of being thought provoking and yet also impossible to put down. It must be a strong contender for the Booker...

£12.99 - Mister Pip £15.49 - Mister Pip + UK P & P

We're all going on a summer holiday

We've been waiting for the summer downturn when people are on holiday and not around to buy books. I was hoping it was going to be around the time I was in the shop by myself when Matthew was on holiday - a bit of peace and quiet. (Un)Fortunately last week was as good as many of our best and I was running round like a blue-arsed fly. This week, monday, wednesday, yesterday not so good... Today wasn't looking too hot either until at 5.27pm Mr Moneybags comes in and drops 120 quid. Never seen him before, not likely to again but thanks anyway whoever you are for sending me into a bank holiday weekend with a big ol' shit-eating grin plastered all over my face.

(Mr Crow in Crystal Palace has recently had similar, blessed relief)

The Inevitable Football Post...

Our mates at Scooterworks (Charlie & Nat) asked if I'd write about a crap experience I had while on holiday for a new magazine 'ting they are putting together. I said yes and this is it...

The first game of the new Premiership season was always going to be a crap experience. I support Fulham FC (as I never tire of telling all and sundry) and our first game was away at Arsenal's space-age Emirates stadium. I visited the new stadium last season and we lost 3 - 1 after briefly taking the lead. There's nothing quite so gutting as singing your heart out at the Emirates while North London's prawn sarnie brigade text their mates, yawn and gaze at all the lovely advertising while waiting for the team they "support" with such a total lack of passion to wake up, assert their superior talent and put your own band of gritty battlers to the sword.

Well, I suppose it's a little bit like what happened to us on the first day of last season when we played Man Utd (the original prawn sarnie bunch) away. We found ourselves 3 - 0 down just fifteen minutes into the season and eventually lost 5 -1 following a truly awful display.

So all in all I was pretty sure to have a crap time. To make matters worse I was on holiday in France with no guarantee of being able to watch the match at all. The great day arrived and we went to the nearest small town in search of a bar with Canal + Sport. The previous day we had attempted to watch Sunderland VS Spurs with my Tottenham supporting brother-in-law. We found a bar, it had a telly, it had Canal + but not Canal + Sport. Poor old Will had to make do with hanging out on the beach with his Spurs gear on waiting for text updates. I was diving off a bunch of oil drums that served as a diving platform when I noticed Will collapse onto the sand. Spurs had lost 1 - 0 with the last kick of the game...

I think you'll agree that the omens were all pointing in one direction.

The first bar we tried was full of French bikers (middle-aged, office managers clad in pristine leather jackets) who noted our arrival, bad French and the mention of the word football with a comical array of sneers and thinly veiled insults. Luckily they were all French insults so they kind of lost their power. But the answer from the bar man was clear enough - "Non - Pas de Canal +" He went on to say that we would be lucky to find anywhere in town showing the football on a Sunday.

We strolled over the road to another bar. They had a telly. They had Canal +. They turned it on and we sat down. Kick off time came and went. Adverts. No footie. A round of "No, you go. No, you go." ensued over who should use their dodgy French to find out if they had Canal + Sport. By the time we worked out that they did have the correct channel Fulham had done the impossible and scored. Naturally we had missed the goal and it later turned out to have been a bizarre Jens Lehmann error that led to an easy first Fulham goal for David Healy. But we were in front...

The beers were in and the nail-biting began.

A series of brilliant saves from our second-choice keeper Tony Warner followed. They should have had a penalty, we should have had a penalty and both sides had further chances. At half-time we were still a goad up. Canal + showed a top ten Premiership goals sequence. At number 2, above superb goals from Wayne Rooney and Ruud Van Nistelroy, was a strike from Collins John (a bit-part player at Fulham for the last few seasons)

The omens were looking a lot better!

I went to find the bog. This turned out to be no easy matter. Eventually I opened the door to what I was sure was a cupboard and found a urinal inside. I relieved myself and wondered what I could write about now if, as I now allowed myself the folly of believing, this was not set to be a crap experience after all but a really rather good one. I should have known better.

Having wasted two clear chances to go 2 - 0 up and survived a series of Van Persie free kicks from the edge of the area we conceded a penalty on 85 mins that the Dutch brat scored with some style.

Our players immediately got involved in some schoolboy antics over who could run back to the centre circle with the ball that led to a lot of pushing and shoving and several yellow cards. On 89 mins some truly awful defending from the now clearly knackered Fulham lads let Hleb through to score a cool winner.

There - it was crap after all.

A text from my mate Toby who was at the match put it very well.

Hmmm...gutted

As he trudged along the Holloway Road with a crowd of Arsenal fans loudly congratulating themselves on how great they are for supporting such a great club I found myself drinking home made cider of superb strength and quality at a Breton country fair. As men and women dressed in bizarre outfits danced and sang and played bagpipes I drifted into a sunshine/moonshine induced haze and began to think of how I now had the perfect crap holiday experience to write about again...

I'm Back...don't know where to start...

I could tell you about the books I read...

Or the lovely countryside...

Or the football (Healy!)...

Finn...

The Jazz club I "discovered" under a church in Camberwell...

But I'm still too relaxed. Maybe later...

Customer service

We received an invoice for a small sum this morning from one of the big wholesalers. I wasn't too sure what it was for so I phoned accounts.

'There's a charge for paying by credit card, 1.5%, which we pass on to the customer'

'My customers pay by credit card, there's a percentage charge but WE don't pass it on. Nobody does'

'Well, Gardners have always done it'

'Well, Gardners have just lost a customer'

They must have been charging us the whole time we've had the account and I've only just noticed. To say I'm a bit angry would probably understate the situation - un petit peu. Gardners have just gone from the potential for 6 figure business from us to 3 figures. Nice work. Well done.

When will they ever learn. It's the customers, stupid.

Inbox (763)

Of course, it was obvious that when we paid the bill the old email address would still work. Why then did we not think to check it for 6 weeks?

Message number 342 had an invitation to view a new book trailer. I may have mentioned in the past my dislike for these forms of viral marketing so I viewed this new one with interest.

Someone, please, MAKE IT STOP.

D'oh

We've had 2 websites. BT went and put up our old site without telling us. Arse. Thanks to Pierre for pointing it out. I've fixed it. It's ONLY www.crockattandpowell.com but if you do find you're way to the old one it will point you in the right direction anyway.

The Tortoise and the Hare

Ok, so we're a little slow sometimes but we get there in the end.

We've signed up to Google checkout and added a little button on the website so you can buy superstar author and ex-C&P girl Marie Phillips' best-selling debut novel Gods Behaving Badly. Go here to splash the cash.

(And before the comments come, yes I know I put an apostrophe in 'Gods' but I'm tired and it's friday and I don't know how to change it)

Dilemma

The new Naomi Klein book The Shock Doctrine is out at the end of september at a whopping 25 quid. It's published in hardback in the states 12 days earlier for $27.50 which these days is basically free. Which one do I get for the nice customer?

(Don't you think that's quite a discrepancy? At today's exchange rate you'll pay £11.13 more for the UK edition. Something not quite right there).

Football, sorry

Just saw the back page of the newspaper and chuckled to myself at poor old Man Utd scraping a measly 2 points out of six. YES! Poor old Spurs too - nil points - a lesson in what happens when you start believing your own press. And look at boring old Chelsea. Not any more it would appear. Do you think Abramovitch has spent some of his billions on killing off the old one and building a replica Mourinho - one who believes in attacking football? And Fulham, Matthew, on his hols, will be over the moon that the Sanchez revolution is in full sway. C'mon you cottagers. Who's going down? 'Boro, Wigan and Derby. Derby, not for want of application but just lack of talent. This years Watford. Who's going to win? I think Chelsea but you might not be able to slide a fag paper between them and Liverpool in april. Arsenal could still be the surprise package.

I need Matthew back, not because there's too much work for one but I need someone to talk football with. We heart football.

Zoiks

A new title from Yale University Press has just landed in store - a £45, 1600 page, new english translation of 'The most comprehensive account of Mozart's life and works in any language' first published in german over 80 years ago.

Do you know what? I'm tempted. Reminds me of that enormous biography of Lyndon Johnson by Robert Caro the first 200 pages of which are among the finest descriptive writing I've ever read. I'm quite attracted to enormous amounts of exhaustive research that's well written. Off on holiday in september for 2 weeks. Hmm. Trouble is the book on it's own would exceed my baggage allowance but I mean, really, who needs a change of clothes?

The bean counters give up Smoke-ing

London readers may well be familiar with Smoke magazine. This London peculiar is 10 issues strong now and Matt the publisher distributes the mag all round London - well, to those shops that agree to stock it. Waterstone's has never taken it and some surprising indies don't bother either. Why is beyond me as it is always interesting and genuinely entertaining and we sell dozens and dozens of copies.

Oddly, for a chain, Borders were one of Smoke's best customers. He'd go into a branch, do a quick stock check and replace what had sold. Virtually no work for Borders whatsoever and considering they would sell hundreds of copies probably about 600 quids worth of business (after discount) for every issue - easy money, n'est ce pas?

Well that didn't stop the bean counters who wrote to Matt a few months ago saying they were not dealing with small, individual suppliers any more and if he wanted to carry on supplying to Borders he'd have to get a distributor to whom they would do business.

Because Borders can't be bothered to process maybe a dozen invoices a year it's costing Matt 15% of his income from the magazine - about £300 a year just from them. Is Borders saving that much - I doubt it. A dozen invoices a year can't possibly add up to more than a couple of hours work - £30, tops. But because he's signed up with the new supplier he's also losing 15% from people like us who are happy to deal direct.

The other lunacy is he only lives half a mile away from us. Now he has to deliver to a warehouse in Hackney who then parcel up and send out a box back across town - about a 12 mile round trip.

The only upside to this idiocy is that maybe, and that's a big maybe, he'll get Smoke into the London Waterstone's and double his sales. Fingers crossed but they should have been dealing with him direct already. It is as they say a no-friggin'-brainer.

I should say as well that no one has asked me to write this and I am probably breaking a confidence by doing so but it's just too infuriating for it to go unknown just how these big companies are squeezing the life out of people who are really producing work as a labour of love. It makes me very, very cross.

BRILLIANT!

WoW. Just what I've been waiting for. COOL BEANS!

I've always DREAMED of reading snippets of books on 2 INCH SQUARE screens!!!!!!!!!!!

Life is now COMPLETE!

Teenage Kicks

Rumble Fish is on Film4 tonight, a film that made quite an impact on me as a teenager. I could go on about Coppola, Waits, Mickey Rourke, the enigmatic black and white photography. I could talk about the brilliant S E Hinton. But I'd be lying. There's only one reason to watch that film.

Diane Lane, wherever you are, I still love you.

Shh, it's the quiet time.

We've been waiting all summer for the quiet weeks to kick in. I think it's just started. Or maybe it's just that I'm in the shop by myself scaring customers away. Or maybe it's because it's raining and cold. Are they all away on holiday? Will be lucky to break 3 figures today. Oh for god's sake it's only half ten!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

Saturday morning, 11am. I open up. No internet. Unplug, plug, unplug, plug, fiddle, click, nothing. Phone BT, sorry account suspended. Why? Haven't we just paid you a very large sum? Sorry you'll have to talk to accounts. Accounts department opening hours 8-6 (ish) monday to friday. Fat lot of use on saturday.

Monday morning, 10am. Hello, How can I help. Oh, I'm sorry one of our systems just suspended the account for no reason.

(That was the precis version. Both phone calls took upwards of 20 minutes each)

Saturday Afternoon, 3.30pm. I phone one of our wholesalers. Hello, I'm expecting a delivery, was it despatched yesterday when I phoned the order through. No, that one will go out monday. To get saturday delivery you need to order £150 worth. Oh, it would have been nice if someone told me that when I PHONED THROUGH THE ORDER ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON. Sorry.

I swear, how do these companies get so big? If we were as shit as them we'd be out of business by year's end

India at 60

India isn't 60 years old it's thousands of years old.

Go, the Kids! - more videos

This lot look like they're having fun.



But it does sound slightly familiar. Hmmm. I reckon they're probably this lots grandkids.



Or, this sanitised but better quality version.

Random videos

Had one of my occasional YouTube marathons last night. Here are the music video highlights that I watched slightly more than once. First up was just a totally compelling bit of film coupled with a sort of 'how did they do that' wonder. It helps that I like Interpol anyway of course.



And this is just brilliant country and western women-done-wrong-by-cheatin'-men genius. Reba McEntire and Kelly Clarkson, what a pair of pair of lungs!



You don't think I'd leave you with just one Kelly and Reba outing do ya?



I really must get out more.

This time next year I'll be a millionaire.

Todays sales figure has an '8' in it. In the right place too. Not bad for the middle of the holidays. Might take the day off tomorrow. I'm my own boss don't you know. In fact I AM THE BOSS NOW! Matthew's gone orf for 2 weeks, first to deepest, darkest Brittany avec famille and then all by his lonesome in sunny Camberwell. So it's just me. No one else. Nada. Me me me. So I don't want any trouble, right. And if we keep hitting the heady heights of super sales figures like today then who knows, when he gets back he might just find himself out on his ear. Sorry mate, the business just doesn't need you any more.

'Powell's - Quality Bookselling for Quality Clientele'.

Has a nice ring to it.

Maybe I should put that order in for the Bentley. I hear there's a waiting list.

Okay, so I watch big brother occasionally.

These days when you hear or read the words 'The victim was/The suspect is' on TV or in the Newspapers it is usually followed by 'a black male in his 20's/teens'. In fact outside of victims/criminals/rappers/sportsman when do you ever see a 'normal' happy go lucky black kid just being a decent, friendly guy in any form of mainstream media.

Well, every night on channel 4 there is such a kid. Slightly geeky and awkward, under-educated rather than un-intelligent (he does actually have a keen intelligence) and apparently without malice or side, Brian seems to me a completely unique appearance in British media - a black male in his 20's who isn't some sort of victim or outcast and who is probably going to win the show because he's a lovely bloke. I would say 'well done C4' but you can't help thinking it's more luck than judgement on their part that it's turned out so well. But well done anyway.

And as for the BB detractors, yes I know they are attention seekers but surprise surprise there are people around who like being the centre of attention, in fact they're everywhere. Yet when they do start to forget there are cameras there they just hang about like the rest of us and really, who isn't interested in watching people. Just watching and watching. People, no matter who they are, are endlessly fascinating - not necessarily to talk too but just to watch - and in real life you'd get arrested for just watching and watching (stalking?). So again, well done channel 4. I only tune in for 30 minutes or so every other day but I really like it. It's like sitting in a cafe watching the day go by only with the same people walking past. But also, to all those who dismiss it without watching are they not making the same kind of dismissive assumptions that condemn young black men to a rigid set of personality ghettos?

I don't think it's only the Met that have to take a close look at their casual yet institutional bigotry and racism.

Ok, soapbox down now.

Closing down

Not Us!

Residents of Haringey have started a petition to try and persuade Waterstone's not to close down the Wood Green branch. Sign here if you're so inclined.

However, the key point in the petition for me is that the Waterstone's is apparently re-opening as an H&M. How much do you think they offered the golden W for the lease in a bit of prime retail real estate? What of the odds of them changing their minds? Not one to bet the house on...

Marie "Bestselling" Phillips

Our one and only ampersand Marie has made it onto the bestseller lists.

Not content with being number one at C & P she went on to becomes Foyles hardback bestseller and after one week of sales is 29 in the official Nielson charts.

At the time of writing she's 149 on Amazon but has been seen as high as 78.

Go Go Go Go Girl!

We have signed first editions in stock now and you know there's only one place you want to be buying those from...

What Was Lost on Booker Longlist

What Was Lost? Well I lost my mind and any sense of proportion when Catherine O'Flynn's brilliant debut passed through my eyes and into my brain earlier this year.

What a book. We sold hundreds with a "trust me - this is excellent" drive and put it in the window not once but twice. So far I have not heard a bad word from anyone. It is rare for a book to have such wide appeal and What Was Lost is a rare book indeed.

We even had a letter from someone who had visited us by chance on a trip up from the Isle Of Wight:

"I'm just dropping a line to say how very much I enjoyed your recommended book What Was Lost...What Was Lost was a great joy: well-written, with enough plot to keep one's interest and, equally, enough good writing to keep one engaged. I loved the delineation of the characters - realistic but not stereotypes - and the way the various elements of the plot were carefully brought out one by one until the whole thing became satisfyingly complete without unnecessary coincidence or obvious plot twists."

So come on Booker judges - stuff McYawn and go for a book that a large section of the reading public are going to LOVE if you choose it for your prize.

Fever...and I told you not te MESS with the SUSHI

Just a few days to go before the sordid and gaudy carousel that is the Premiership kicks off for another season of unbeatable entertainment.

I know, I can hear you groaning but there's more...

As I never tire of telling people I support by far the greatest team the world has ever seen - Fulham FC. As usual the pundits have marked us for the drop. It happens every year. They look at the club and think to themselves something that goes a little bit like this:

There's an actual cottage in the corner of the ground.

This is a team with hardly any fans.

The fans that there are are all posh twits that only started watching football because they were conned into it during a massive shopping spree in Harrods.

They can't be a Premiership team can they?

Premiership teams are all hard and their fans break stuff and kill each other if they aren't divided by police on horses.

Needless to say they are wrong. (I could go off on one about all the reasons why FFC are so great but then you would see that life is too short)

Let's just say I am confident we'll be in the Premiership next season. I'll also point out that after beating Chelsea for the first time in a very very long time there was a pitch invasion. Posh twits don't invade pitches. And the Thames - we're by the Thames...I'm drifting aren't I...

But football is important and literary and linked to the occult.

It goes a little something like this:

David Peace publishes a book about Brian Clough's disasterous reign at Leeds Utd titled The Damned Utd.

Leeds Utd are relegated from the Championship to league 1.

David Peace releases an awesome new book Tokyo Year Zero and on the same day Leeds Utd are penalised with a 15 point deduction meaning they start this season at the bottom of the table on minus 15 points.

Now do you understand why it's so important to come and eat Sushi with David Peace on Wed 5th September at 1pm.

Shhhhhhh............

I'm not supposed to blog on this site any more, but I was just sneaking on to say how cool it is that 'What Was Lost', the second favourite book sold by C&P this year (favourite being mine, naturally), is on the Booker longlist. The C&P boys don't hold with literary prizes on the whole, but I am always curious about them as they are often a good opportunity to have my attention drawn to good novels which might otherwise have passed me by. The inclusion of What Was Lost this year shows that the judges have their heads screwed on, and inspires confidence that the rest of the list, most of which is entirely new to me, might be worth checking out. And don't forget What Was Lost was launched at C&P - all the best novels are, don't you know...

Pure, visceral loathing

It happens very rarely but when it does it's palpable. There are people that we (or maybe it's just 'I') meet that we take such an instant and irreparable hatred for. It's almost like a chemical reaction where the person standing in front of you is acting like some sort of catalyst for the nasty, primeval visciousness that lies buried at the base of the brain. And there's nothing you can do about it. This person was in yesterday and back in today and all I can think about when he's condescendingly droning on is Kathleen Turner in the 1989 movie, The War of the Roses:

'When I watch you eat. When I see you asleep. When I look at you lately, I just want to smash your face in.'

Normally I'm very calm, honest. Please don't let that put you off visiting C&P...

Slouching Towards Summer

I'm partied out. But there's a week in Brittany on the horizon and I think I can make it...

Finn is coming to the shop at 2pm and we're off to the park together. I think stumbling around a playground mumbling nonsense is all I'm good for at the minute!

Firsts...

The first customer of August was drunk. The way he stumbleswerved through the door brought my head up right away and he must have caught my dark glance because he came right out with it...

"I'm a bit pissed. Out all night...no sleep yet..."

I watched him as he staggered into the other room but he did seem to be browsing. Shoplifters are always easy to spot because they can't browse. They go from section to section with no logical connection between them. This bloke was looking at the fiction section. He was browsing. I left him to it and a few minutes later he came over with a copy of Dostoyevsky's The Idiot and Richard Yate's Revolutionary Road. A man of great taste! He paid and I helped him choose a card for his ex - then we had a great chat.

We discussed Revolutionary Road and the way the reader is drawn into the book, how impossible it is to avoid being completely snared by the writing. Disaster is there, right from the opening moments, but you just have to read on. We moved on to Yate's troubled life and the fact he used to write speeches for Robert Kennedy. (I avoided talking about his alcoholism given the circumstances) Another customer bought Suite Francaise and my new mate tried to sell her John McGahern's Amongst Women. Somehow his sales pitch of "This'll be the best thing you buy all year" failed to convince her and, after I explained he wasn't on commission she left - probably a little shaken by the early morning booze stink on his breath.

We chatted on and it turned out he used to go out with Jimmy Somerville. A discussion of fame and the effects it can have ensued. He then asked if I was gay and I said I wasn't. I showed him my ring and explained I was married.

"You could pass as gay" he said - which I took as a great compliment.

Then he left. But I felt August had got off to a good start...

The next first concerns the first party to celebrate the first book by our first lady Marie.

There was a great turnout (of course!) For some reason Marie seemed to be expecting one man and his dog but the place was heaving and the queue for signed first editions of her first novel started at 6:30 and kept Marie signing until 8:30. She was then able to mingle with her adoring public. The poor lass already had a signing related injury on her wrist - a kind of cross between a blister and a bruise - caused by a visit to the TBS warehouse.

It was just like the old days as Marie and I manned the till. In fact at one point Marie was seen selling her own book! A travesty I rushed across the room to rectify as soon as I'd finished saying hello to one of the numerous people who popped out of the woodwork and made an appearance. (Having kids kills the social life) The call to say Marie had a deal with Random House came while she was standing behind the C & P till so there was a beautiful symetry to the whole scene. Luckily we were so busy I only remembered I was going to make a speech after almost everyone (including Marie) had left. But Marie - we are thrilled for you and wish you all the best in what I'm sure will be a long career.

So it was a great day/evening and we do it all again tonight at the second launch of Marie's first novel on the second of August. Hmmm...doesn't have the same ring to it really...