Chapter 19 #2
‘Hilda, please tell me it’ll all be okay,’ I said to my pup who was snoring gently in the corner of the bookshop.
It was way past her normal bedtime, and I knew she’d much prefer to be curled up in her actual bed rather than lying on the wooden floor of the shop, but she was keeping close to me, a loyal pooch as always.
She gave a little grunt in her sleep which I decided to interpret as her version of a pep talk.
‘Thanks, lovely girl, I don’t know what I’d do without you.
Time to focus on undoing the mess I’ve created in here. ’
I stood back and surveyed the bookshop cabin. There were now gaping holes in the shelves and piles of books littered the floor. It was in no fit state to be open to the public for business as usual, let alone to be a venue for the upcoming Blind Date with a Book night.
‘Little steps, little steps,’ I told myself. ‘I can do this.’
I moved the Blind Date with a Book trolley to the opposite corner of the cabin and then stared thoughtfully at the shelves.
Despite the unconventional location of the shop, I’d always stuck closely to tradition when it came to setting out the stock with the classic divides of different genres and whether the books were new or second-hand.
But as I thought about my usual sales technique, that wasn’t really how I worked.
My approach was holistic, connecting readers with the book that they needed, a volume which would cast light on a problem, give them confidence to choose a new path, or provide that much needed escape from the pressure of their day-to-day existence.
It was the way I chose my own reading material after all.
I’d always been a very intuitive reader, selecting books because I felt inexplicably drawn to them at a particular time in my life, rather than reading books I felt I had to.
Sometimes I would wander up and down beside a bookcase, hand outstretched, softly running my fingers along the spines.
Every so often I would pause and contemplate the title, perhaps pulling the volume out to gaze at the cover and read the blurb.
Some I would set aside as a maybe, others would go straight back on the shelf for another occasion.
But then when I found the one, the book that I needed at that particular point, I would know it with my whole body.
The tension would disappear, to be replaced by a feeling of utter rightness.
I had found my literary companion, the book that would hold my hand and walk me through whatever challenge I was facing in my life – or enable me to escape it for a precious while.
Perhaps I needed to recreate that browsing experience in my shop.
I picked up a few books and started shuffling them into different piles, not allowing myself to think too hard about why I was grouping certain volumes together.
But as I worked, I realised I was starting to feel calmer and more in control of my situation.
A couple of hours later, I sat back on my heels and took stock.
In all honesty, the bookshop looked like it had been broken into.
But despite the appearance of chaos, I could see the order there.
Instead of neatly delineated divisions between the usual genres, the books were with companions which complemented them, gathered together by feelings rather than the conventions dictated by the categories set out by a marketing team.
What my customers would make of this eclectic system, I didn’t know, but the most important thing was that it felt right to me.
I spent another hour dusting the shelves and putting the books back in their new sections. Then I took out my label maker and started creating signs to help readers navigate the system.
‘Books that give you the warm fuzzies’ for one sign.
‘Books with answers’ for another. ‘Heavily marketed but they actually deserve the hype’ for those readers who, like me, tended to avoid the books they saw plastered on billboards everywhere, fearing that they wouldn’t live up to their promise.
‘Hidden gems which should have been heavily marketed’ was the largest section.
I had to do my bit for the authors who deserved more attention than what publishers’ meagre marketing budgets whipped up.
As dawn approached, I stood back and surveyed my surroundings.
To the casual observer, it looked like I’d hardly done anything at all.
But a Bookship regular would spot the difference immediately.
I hoped it would improve their browsing experience, rather than putting them off.
I couldn’t afford to alienate those who’d been loyal to the shop from the start.
At least the exercise of sorting out the shelves had given me plenty of time to get my thoughts in order too.
The inspection was going to happen regardless of my feelings about it.
But I wasn’t going to let the fear of it bog me down.
The Oxford Bookship was my passion, and I would fight for it until my very last breath.