Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Bythell follows up Diary of a Bookseller with an assortment of amusing and often cantankerous stories about a year in his life as the owner of a used bookstore in a Scottish village. The author painstakingly tracks sales, the number of customers who visit, and till totals for each day, punctuated by acerbic observations. There are the head-scratching requests ("I'm looking for a book but I can't remember the title. It's called The Red Balloon."), unexpectedly hilarious purchases (an elderly man buying a guide to wild sex), and the clueless ("It's a bookshop.... So does that mean that people can just borrow the books?"). Bythell's scathing commentary about customers drives much of his narrative, including a description of a woman wearing an unpleasant fragrance ("which I can only assume was manufactured as a particularly unpleasant neurotoxin by a North Korean biochemist in a secret bunker. Kim Jong Ill, indeed") as well as cheap customers asking for discounts or complaining about prices (" 'That's outrageous! Who would want to buy that?' Well, you for a start"). Bibliophiles will delight in, and occasionally wince at, these humorous anecdotes. (Apr.)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
A bookseller in Wigtown, Scotland, recounts a year in his life as a small-town dealer of secondhand books. "The pleasure derived from handling books that have introduced something of cultural or scientific significance to the world is undeniably the greatest luxury that this business affords," writes Bythell. In a diary that records his wry observations from behind the counter of his store, the author entertains readers with eccentric character portraits and stories of his life in the book trade. The colorful cast of characters includes bookshop regulars like Eric, the local orange-robed Buddhist; Captain, Bythell's "accursed cat"; "Sandy the tattooed pagan"; and "Mole-Man," a patron with a penchant for in-store "literary excavations." Bythell's employees are equally quirky. Nicky, the author's one paid worker, is an opinionated Jehovah's Witness who "consistently ignores my instructions" and criticizes her boss as "an impediment to the success of the business." His volunteer employee, an Italian college student named Emanuela (whom the author nicknamed Granny due to her endless complaints about bodily aches), came to Wigtown to move beyond the world of study and "expand [her] knowledge." Woven into stories about haggling with clients over prices or dealing with daily rounds of vague online customer requests--e.g., a query about a book from "around about 1951. Part of the story line is about a cart of apples being upset, that's all I know")--are more personal dramas, like the end of his marriage and the difficult realities of owning a store when "50 per cent [sic] of retail purchases are made online." For Bythell, managing technical glitches, contending with low profit margins on Amazon, and worrying about the future of his business are all part of a day's work. Irascibly droll and sometimes elegiac, this is an engaging account of bookstore life from the vanishing front lines of the brick-and-mortar retail industry. Bighearted, sobering, and humane. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
