'Sentimental Amateurs' – five years of Mostly Books

If a week is a long time in politics, five years is a lifetime in retail. On Saturday, July 1st 2006 – armed with books and a bubble machine – we opened the doors of our shop. This Saturday we will be serving champagne and cake, and we invite you to drop in and celebrate our fifth birthday with us.

During the five years that we’ve been open – in fact, even before that – this blog has been an integral part of Mostly Books, a sort of ‘running commentary’ of what we did and how we did it. At the beginning we never really thought anyone would read it, and it was very much a warts-and-all look at two enthusiastic, but possibly deluded, neophyte booksellers following their dream. But even from the first few posts we started to get readers – and more importantly commentators – who, looking back, probably couldn’t bear to watch a potential car crash happen, and weighed in with all kinds of suggestions, tips and assistance which made (and continue to make) a huge difference in the success of the shop.

Looking back through the 316 posts we’ve made over the past five years (approx one post every six days apparently) you get an accelerated and very scary whistle-stop tour through five incredible years of bookselling. I did this last night, and I’m still reeling.

The story (the way the blog tells it) seems to go like this: Couple have dream to open shop, start blogging, muse on the difficulties of everything from shelving to stock selection, indulge in slightly naughty underhand spying missions to nearest large city which catch the imagination and advice starts to come in from authors and booksellers from around the world. Shop opens, congratulations follow, amusing posts on the realities of running shop (hard work), dealing with customers (a joy) and interacting with the wider book trade in getting hold of obscure orders (often complex to the point of baffling insane). First events start happening, Christmas arrives leaving bookselling couple happy, but in heap on floor on Christmas Eve. New Year sees events start to get bigger and more complicated, hiatus caused by change of lifestyle having unforeseen impact on family life (a baby) then threatens to become crisis with apocalyptic floods, over-ambitious outdoor event and first Harry Potter launch, but victory and triumph snatched from jaws of defeat with New Bookshop of the Year Award. Cue stream of celebrity authors, courses, appearances, a radio gig, fame and fortune.

That’s the way the blog tells it of course. But the blog is ever-so-slightly one-sided. It gives a resolutely positive and, yes, spun side to events. What doesn’t appear on the blog are the mistakes that were made (several biggies), errors of judgment (many) and the things that didn’t come off (or, more usually, came off in ever respect apart from commercial). It doesn’t record the dark teatimes of the soul and late-night impromptu planning sessions over one-too-many glasses of wine as we tried to solve problems, change tactics and work out how the hell you make a bookshop work in the 21st century.

At the heart of it, it is difficult to over-emphasise just how demanding bookselling is on a day-to-day basis. Retail is physically demanding anyway, but bookselling has the added intellectual exertion that comes from a constant shifting of the mental gears as you switch between “recommendations for a bright 5 year old who likes dragons” to “a 60th birthday present for my Uncle who doesn’t read much” to books on infant sleep problems, diabetes and bereavement.

Those last subjects hint at a third element, one unique I believe to independent community retailing; the emotional demand that comes from sharing with customers, and them sharing back. It is the most incredible thing, and is what Anna Dreda at Wenlock Books once described to me as the magic that can happen in a bookshop when you recommend just the right book. There are plenty of people who get ground up by modern life, who – for all kinds of reasons – find they suddenly don’t fit into the neat systems of megalithic and Internet-powered modern business, and are in danger of getting squashed by the tectonic plates. At that particular moment, local community retailing – and bookshops in particular – provide a haven from the madness, and a place where they can simply talk to someone who can, in a very basic way, sit them down, give them a cup of tea, try to understand their problems, and genuinely care enough to work hard to suggest some answers. Sometimes this does not involve books even.

Many of our customers have become friends, and we have watched children grow up (and even start working in the shop). On the flip side, Abingdon has many families who are here for a short time, and it is always sad to see cherished customers moving away (although we try to recommend them a good bookshop before they do).

In the first year we were open, a customer (who we now know extremely well) described us as “sentimental amateurs”, and that was probably a not altogether inaccurate description of how we started. But as we’ve grown in confidence, as we’ve understood what we do well (and more importantly, what we don’t do well) I like to think we’ve hung on to all that’s good about sentimentality (caring about our customers) and amateurish-ness (open to new ideas) but this is now housed under thicker, and more rugged bookseller skin that allow us to run a much more professional and effective operation.

We genuinely feel very positive and upbeat about the future of our shop, and thanks to the fantastic staff that we have – past and present – we feel it is running better than ever, and we are still enjoying the experience. What may happen in the future next five years – with profound changes underway given the current economic and technological revolution in the book world – is a whole ‘nother question - and one for a different blog post methinks...

For now, this Saturday, Nicki and I will be in the shop to celebrate heartily with whoever comes in. Thank you seems a fairly inadequate expression for how we feel, but really – a heartfelt thank you to the many, many wonderful people who have helped make the shop the success that it is.

If you are in Abingdon on Saturday, please do drop in for some champagne because we would love to see you. I’m sure five years has seen plenty of changes in your life – why not come in and mark this as well? And if you can’t make it to the shop, post a happy birthday message below, tweet something suitably birthday-ish, or drop by our Facebook page and let us know you’re thinking of us. It means a great deal to know you’re with us, we’ve come a long way in five years and we couldn’t have done it without you.

Oh, and we found the bubble machine, repaired it. And it’s ready to roll on Saturday…

With very best wishes,

Mark & Nicki Thornton
Mostly Books, July 2011

Now We Are Three

It's our third birthday tomorrow. We haven't got anything special planned, but Nicki and I will be in the shop together (now a regular Wednesday event) and our Wednesday evening bookgroup meets, well, in the evening. We started our first bookgroup almost as soon as we opened, and for me it's still one of the highlights. To be honest, we're pretty shattered, coming down off a rather ambitious events programme over the past few weeks, so a nice quiet Wednesday doing some admin and talking about books with customers will be very enjoyable. Whilst the economic climate couldn't be more different, the actual weather tomorrow will be pretty similar to when we opened. And I do love selling books in my shorts... I think it's worth saying that Nicki and I continue to love running the shop, we are so grateful for the continued support of everyone in the town, and we've lots of plans for events and activities in the coming months and years. A heartfelt and sincere thank you to everyone who supports us, and allows us to continue doing what we do. So - have a slice of birthday cake on us wherever you are, and in the meantime, please enjoy some pictures from our Alice in Wonderland party held in the shop today. Alison was very hot in those ears, and apparently that's a Mutant Ninja (Mock) Turtle. Thanks to Esther for the pics...and for the use of her children!

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked. "Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." "How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here." (With thank to Roy H Williams and his timely memo...)

Birthday the second

Two years ago we opened the doors of mostly books - it was a scorcher, and I was in my shorts. Last year we celebrated our first birthday, and the weather couldn't have been different - it hoiked it down all day.

Today is was nice and sunny for our second birthday. Which was nice.

We had a very low-key day. Our first birthday was an important milestone (and fell on a Saturday) but we had a big celebration recently for the award, and besides, Nicki and I (and everyone else for that matter) have been involved in a lot of events, activities and planning recently - and we're a bit shattered. So as I say, low-key.

Lots of good stuff to tell you about though.

Yesterday I had the very good fortune to meet the wonderful David Fickling (he of David Fickling Books) at his offices in Oxford. The offices are just what you'd expect of one of the country's most dynamic and fun children's book publishers - bookcases everywhere crammed with books, posters everywhere, The whole place - and David himself - oozes a passion and love of reading for kids, I've never quite visited a place like it.

I can't say too much about the meeting at this stage, but I did have the opportunity to find out all about this:
The DFC is now in its fifth week - and as someone who was brought up on The Beano and 2000AD, the comic is a revelation and everything you'd expect from a project which involvs (amongst many others) Philip Pullman and Nick Sharratt. Imagine being a kid and getting this through your letterbox once a week. Fab. Having had to 'dispose' of various cheaply-printed, nasty-plastic-toy-mounted rubbish which has, from time-to-time, been bought for Alex from supermarkets, etc, having a comic printed on quality paper, with literate stories from exciting new artists - utterly brilliant. Its sales deserve to go ballistic...

Anyway, that was yesterday. For our birthday proper we welcomed Helen Rappaport to the shop for an utterly compelling evening event which (given the fine weather) we did in the garden.

For those who don't know, Helen Rappaport is an extremely talented historian, Russianist (and Russian speaker) and a very fine writer. Her previously book on women serving in the Crimea was critically acclaimed, but tonight she spoke about her latest book: Ekaterinburg - the last days of the Romanovs.

I'd finished this on the bus back from Oxford the day before - and (genuinely) missed my stop, so engrossed was I in the final part of the book. Even though you know what's going to happen, Helen does such a good job of making you intimate with the Romanov family, that you feel compelled to read about their brutal (and it is exceptionally, and unflinchingly, horrific) assassination.
The book focuses on the final 14 days of the Tsar and his family, a period which becomes increasingly desperate and claustrophobic as the Romanovs - incarcerated in a city under siege - increasingly become not just a political problem, but a threat to the whole Bolshevik revolution - a problem that eventually can have only one solution.


For me, there's lots of parts that I found fascinating - particularly the entreaties made to the then US president Woodrow Wilson to interceed on Russia's behalf. The feeling was that the arrival of US troops would mean a people rising spontaneously up and toppling the Bolshevik dictators. Mmm, sound familiar?

And what of the role of our own Royal Family (and George V) in refusing asylum to their cousin? Here, Helen explains the complicated situation that existed in this country at that time:



Helen (as befits an ex-actor) is a wonderful and passionate speaker, but this evening you got a sense of the emotional attachment she has to the Russian people and to how the almost-cult of the Romanovs is closely wrapped up in Russian identity and post-communist culture (the entire family are now saints and have been canonised in the Orthodox Church). It's a moot point about just how much of paradigm shift the assassination of The Romanovs represented in terms of the bloodshed of the 20th century, but with Russia a resurgent - and increasingly assertive - nation once again, it does us well to remind ourselves about this particular bloody episode in its history. Helen's book is an excellent place to start, and I really thank her for coming along and making it such a memorable evening