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3.71 AVERAGE
3.71 AVERAGE
No rating as I don’t like to rate people’s lives but, I absolutely love this. It was like a little slice of life of what it’s like to own a bookshop. I felt like I was a fly on the wall watching life go by in the shop. Highly recommend and will hopefully be visiting the bookshop soon.
funny
lighthearted
slow-paced
I love books in diary format and books in general, so I really enjoyed this slightly snarky account of a bookseller in Scotland that I picked up while in Edinburgh. It did cure any desire to own my own bookshop though. That business is rough right now. It encouraged me to always buy a book when I go in a book store, especially the independent ones.
You know those books that you're sad to finish so you slow down reading it to savor it a little longer? This is one of those. Maybe it's because you start to feel like you know the shop regulars and staff and it's nice 'hanging out' with them while reading. I wouldn't say this is a laugh out loud funny kind of book but I definitely chuckled several times. :)
In all honesty, I like the act of reading more than I like books. To me, the stories and the characters are what matters, and the book, physical or otherwise, is just the way by which the stories are delivered. By extension, bookstores are like containment facilities for books, which in turn are depositories for stories written by authors, living or dead. As much joy as bookstores give me whenever I walk into one, I do not quite have the same romantic attachment to them as I do to the stories and characters themselves. So when people ask if I visit bookstores or libraries when I travel overseas, they are surprised when I tell them that it is not usually a high priority on my itinerary. A friend once asked if I had heard of an Airbnb listing in Scotland called The Open Book, which allowed guests to run a secondhand bookstore. I told her that I had no such aspirations, because, as much as I love stories, the idea of running a bookstore sounded as mundane as it was backbreaking. And if Shaun Bythell's account of what it is like to run Scotland's second-largest secondhand bookstore is anything to go by, my instincts have been proven accurate.
The Diary of a Bookseller (sometime also released as Confessions of a Bookseller) is Bythell's day-to-day record of what it is like to run a bookstore. The 'diary' in the title is not figurative, either, because the book is literally a diary, starting from 1 January and ending on 31 December, with the number of customers, the revenue earned and the staff manning the counter all painstakingly recorded on every entry. And if that sounds a little boring that's because, well, it is. Bythell doesn't try to glamourise what goes on at your favourite indie bookstore. A big part of it is about rearranging books, dealing with rude or chatty (sometimes both) customers, visiting the homes of widows to purchase her husband's old books, fixing the internet connection, fixing a burst water pipe or heater, sending angry emails to customer support about the internet connection, etc. What I do like about the book is that it isn't trying to make the job out to be something that it is not. You don't become a millionaire by owning a secondhand bookstore. This is not a career for you just because you enjoy reading. In many ways, The Diary of a Bookseller reads like a cautionary tale for the wide-eyed book lovers who want to turn their passion into a business venture. "Abandon all hope," Bythell seems to be saying. "Ye who enter here!"
There are, however, several things that I don't quite enjoy about the book. For example, because it is literally a day-to-day account, the events become quite repetitive by the time you get to April. All the daily tasks that I listed above are still the daily tasks several months later, and it doesn't change. You might not feel the repetitiveness as the person engaged in those tasks, but readers will very quickly catch on. Of course, the mundane nature of running a bookstore is the same reason why many people harbour romantic ideas of the profession. These people are likely also the ones who will get more out of this book than me.
Another element of this book that I sort of dislike is Bythell's wry attitude towards his customers and staff. Everybody is somehow lazy, tardy or incompetent. Emmanuela, an Italian girl who volunteers to work for Bythell, is often described as having an indecipherable accent, a glutton who gobbles up food and wine and a terrible cook; Nicky, the long-time assistant in the shop, is often described as being untidy, incompetent especially when it comes to pricing books and always late for work. Then there are the other volunteers who've come and gone, and they've all been described as being useless for the job. The strangest part, though, is that if you visit his shop's social media accounts, which are fairly active by the way, he seems to have a friendly relationship with his staff. Nicky, for one, appears in numerous old videos, and you can even find one of Emmanuela praising her experience at the shop. Maybe Bythell's just playing up the stereotype of being a jaded bookstore owner, but I cannot help but also wonder if his characterisations of these people in the book is what he truly feels.
If you've ever dreamt of running a bookstore and want to know what it is like to actually do it, this is the book for you. It does accurately paint the image of a sleepy, charming town, and a vibrant community of fellow book lovers. When Wigtown decides to hold its annual book festival, for example, you do feel the community coming together to make it happen. But it does feel a little slice-of-life, a little boring, a little repetitive and a little too blunt for someone who's writing about real-life people he's worked with. It's as if, because he's a quirky bookstore owner, we are giving him a pass for being a bit nasty to the people who work for him.
The Diary of a Bookseller (sometime also released as Confessions of a Bookseller) is Bythell's day-to-day record of what it is like to run a bookstore. The 'diary' in the title is not figurative, either, because the book is literally a diary, starting from 1 January and ending on 31 December, with the number of customers, the revenue earned and the staff manning the counter all painstakingly recorded on every entry. And if that sounds a little boring that's because, well, it is. Bythell doesn't try to glamourise what goes on at your favourite indie bookstore. A big part of it is about rearranging books, dealing with rude or chatty (sometimes both) customers, visiting the homes of widows to purchase her husband's old books, fixing the internet connection, fixing a burst water pipe or heater, sending angry emails to customer support about the internet connection, etc. What I do like about the book is that it isn't trying to make the job out to be something that it is not. You don't become a millionaire by owning a secondhand bookstore. This is not a career for you just because you enjoy reading. In many ways, The Diary of a Bookseller reads like a cautionary tale for the wide-eyed book lovers who want to turn their passion into a business venture. "Abandon all hope," Bythell seems to be saying. "Ye who enter here!"
There are, however, several things that I don't quite enjoy about the book. For example, because it is literally a day-to-day account, the events become quite repetitive by the time you get to April. All the daily tasks that I listed above are still the daily tasks several months later, and it doesn't change. You might not feel the repetitiveness as the person engaged in those tasks, but readers will very quickly catch on. Of course, the mundane nature of running a bookstore is the same reason why many people harbour romantic ideas of the profession. These people are likely also the ones who will get more out of this book than me.
Another element of this book that I sort of dislike is Bythell's wry attitude towards his customers and staff. Everybody is somehow lazy, tardy or incompetent. Emmanuela, an Italian girl who volunteers to work for Bythell, is often described as having an indecipherable accent, a glutton who gobbles up food and wine and a terrible cook; Nicky, the long-time assistant in the shop, is often described as being untidy, incompetent especially when it comes to pricing books and always late for work. Then there are the other volunteers who've come and gone, and they've all been described as being useless for the job. The strangest part, though, is that if you visit his shop's social media accounts, which are fairly active by the way, he seems to have a friendly relationship with his staff. Nicky, for one, appears in numerous old videos, and you can even find one of Emmanuela praising her experience at the shop. Maybe Bythell's just playing up the stereotype of being a jaded bookstore owner, but I cannot help but also wonder if his characterisations of these people in the book is what he truly feels.
If you've ever dreamt of running a bookstore and want to know what it is like to actually do it, this is the book for you. It does accurately paint the image of a sleepy, charming town, and a vibrant community of fellow book lovers. When Wigtown decides to hold its annual book festival, for example, you do feel the community coming together to make it happen. But it does feel a little slice-of-life, a little boring, a little repetitive and a little too blunt for someone who's writing about real-life people he's worked with. It's as if, because he's a quirky bookstore owner, we are giving him a pass for being a bit nasty to the people who work for him.
funny
reflective
slow-paced
funny
informative
medium-paced
funny
lighthearted
fast-paced