In the good old days, we just used to get customers through the door. You generally knew who they were, where they lived, and what they liked to read, and we have lived with telephones for maybe 60 years. However, over the last few years phone enquiries have become much rarer. In tandem with this, we’ve noticed that our younger members of staff actively don’t like using the phone. Asking them to give someone a ring to let them know that their book has arrived feels like asking them to do something deeply unnatural and unpleasant.
On the other hand, the proliferation of telephone spam and con calls means that when we do call someone, the customer is very relieved that it’s a friendly call from their local bookshop. We think of this as a bit of a selling point – we are a small, positive, human interaction in a world that is often unpredictable and threatening.
These days we probably get more emails and messages via social media.
While I love that people use digital communications to order paper-and-ink books (essentially around since c500BCE, and printed books, around since c1440CE), there are drawbacks.
People tend to assume that we know who they are. While ‘begoniagrower39@gmail.com’ will know who they are and where they are, nine times out of ten their email enquiry will prompt a whole correspondence about who they are, where they live, and which shop (we have two) their enquiry relates to. Or they might equally want the book posting…
On the other hand, some of the more tech-savvy send us links to articles they have read or books they have seen reviewed, and this can be a huge help – much better than the ‘I heard it on the radio, must have been Radio 4, a couple of weeks ago… it’s a history of the ukelele’ type enquiry. Which generally turns out to have been something featured on Radio 2 six months previously and was actually about a dog called Banjo.
Humblingly, people sometimes send us Amazon links. They know that we can’t equal their prices (although the price differential these days is often negligible), but they want to spend their money locally and not with a global conglomerate.
Sometimes, though, even this isn’t the help they think it is. The data that Amazon (and it’s usually them), use, and the way it is presented is often deeply misleading. Books aren’t actually available, or they are poor quality reprints, self-published un-edited vanity projects, promoted by adverts, spam reviews and the like.
We couldn’t do the job without tech, let alone do it well. But I do long for the days of paper, pen, and customers through the door. And, actually, I think that, overwhelmingly, customers do as well.
Contact: @YLBookshop
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Gliff, by Ali Smith
Hamish Hamilton, £18.99
Ali Smith is a conundrum in our house. We think of her as a sort of literary colossus, someone whose books you have to read because they are ‘important’. On the other hand, her books are a really good read, and our 18-year-old boy consumes them. With her voice firmly in mind, Gliff is playful, challenging, and like nothing else we’ve recommended this year!
The Position of Spoons, by Deborah Levy
Hamish Hamilton, £20
A collection of short pieces of prose by another astonishing novelist. Put together these create an autobiography of sorts, but one that crackles and splinters. You may never have heard of Violette Leduc (the author not the architect), but that doesn’t matter. From lemons to celebrity car crashes, this superb and eclectic book will make you think differently – if you want to!
