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"Independent bookstores are where the real booksellers are!"
Because, as everyone knows, chain bookstores only hire illiterate schlubs who might as well be selling nail polish for all their emotional engagement and knowledge is worth. (Not that I have anything against nail polish, or people who sell it, but you can't really talk about its amazing dialogue, or plot twists. Not unless you really enjoy getting strange looks. Which, admittedly, I sometimes do -- oh wait! Tangent!)
The meme has made its latest appearance (here's an example) in the responses to Amazon's latest fail, and it usually comes from the keyboards of authors. Which saddens me, because booksellers (of all stripes) tend to have a symbiotic relationship with authors, and if there's one profession where you rather expect people to pay attention to their words -- well.
Suffice to say, it doesn't encourage me to wax enthusiastic about their books.
It does have the knock-on effect of making me think, "Well, independent bookstores aren't all that!" Which is obviously not true, unless we're talking about my particular nemesis, Readings Carlton. Where the shelves are messy, half the aisles are inaccessible to prams and wheelchairs, and a bookseller who was way too cool for school told me last year that there was no point in my ordering The Language of Bees by Laurie R. King, because it would be expensive and take a few weeks. I'd like to say that I waved my [chain bookstore] staff card in his face, said, "I know, that's why I'm taking advantage of your superior special order facilities, and would it kill you to make eye contact? I'm trying to give your company fifty bucks!" and stormed out.
What I actually did was mumble, "Never mind" as I turned away, feeling quite unwanted. Possibly that staff member has been replaced by someone who can actually be bothered to deal with the public; I wouldn't know, as I've never been back.
While I understand that good independents are lovely places filled with sunshine and light and smiles and happiness, I'm a little bit tired of being bookselling chopped liver. I'd say more, but I have a massive pile of new release YA novels beside my desk, and they're not going to read themselves.
Because, as everyone knows, chain bookstores only hire illiterate schlubs who might as well be selling nail polish for all their emotional engagement and knowledge is worth. (Not that I have anything against nail polish, or people who sell it, but you can't really talk about its amazing dialogue, or plot twists. Not unless you really enjoy getting strange looks. Which, admittedly, I sometimes do -- oh wait! Tangent!)
The meme has made its latest appearance (here's an example) in the responses to Amazon's latest fail, and it usually comes from the keyboards of authors. Which saddens me, because booksellers (of all stripes) tend to have a symbiotic relationship with authors, and if there's one profession where you rather expect people to pay attention to their words -- well.
Suffice to say, it doesn't encourage me to wax enthusiastic about their books.
It does have the knock-on effect of making me think, "Well, independent bookstores aren't all that!" Which is obviously not true, unless we're talking about my particular nemesis, Readings Carlton. Where the shelves are messy, half the aisles are inaccessible to prams and wheelchairs, and a bookseller who was way too cool for school told me last year that there was no point in my ordering The Language of Bees by Laurie R. King, because it would be expensive and take a few weeks. I'd like to say that I waved my [chain bookstore] staff card in his face, said, "I know, that's why I'm taking advantage of your superior special order facilities, and would it kill you to make eye contact? I'm trying to give your company fifty bucks!" and stormed out.
What I actually did was mumble, "Never mind" as I turned away, feeling quite unwanted. Possibly that staff member has been replaced by someone who can actually be bothered to deal with the public; I wouldn't know, as I've never been back.
While I understand that good independents are lovely places filled with sunshine and light and smiles and happiness, I'm a little bit tired of being bookselling chopped liver. I'd say more, but I have a massive pile of new release YA novels beside my desk, and they're not going to read themselves.
