Rethinking the Box: The Unique Experience [Case Study 5 of 5]
This is the last (or perhaps, only penultimate? I’ve got at least one more really good retail idea in me, I think) of the mini-series I’ve chosen to call “Unique Bookstore Experiences”
Previously: Zero – Intro – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 –
…and I’m shunting the rest of the boilerplate I’ve used as an intro in the last 4 ‘bookstore experience’ posts to the very end of this article; yes, this is part of the “Rethinking the Box” series — I’ve written more than 30 columns to date and it seems there is no end to the general topic — and indeed, I can talk for months [23 months and counting, and just three weeks shy of two whole years!] about bookselling, and bookstores, and retail, and publishing, and the very nature of the damn books themselves
But now I’d like to wander far afield (once again) before getting back to the point, and pull in some history, tradition, and philosophy, some obvious trivia and some not-so-obvious connections
For my last “unique bookstore experience” I’m going to try to sell you on an idea I’m calling “The Fleet Street Pub” – and it’s a bookstore that doesn’t sell books. (…well, we’ll likely end up stocking a few carefully selected titles—300 or so books, and a smattering of magazines—but not anywhere close to what you currently find)
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First up, why the name “Fleet Street”?
Here, let me quote wikipedia
As early as the 13th century, it seems to have been known as Fleet Bridge Street, and in the early part of the 14th century it began to be mentioned frequently by its present name, spelled, of course, in accordance with the customs of those days. Fleet Street began as the road from the commercial City of London to the political hub at Westminster. The length of Fleet Street marks the expansion of the City in the 14th century. At the east end of the street is where the River Fleet flowed against the medieval walls of London; at the west end is the Temple Bar which marks the current city limits, extended to there in 1329.
To the south lies an area of legal buildings known as the Temple, formerly the property of the Knights Templar, which at its core includes two of the four Inns of Court: the Inner Temple and the Middle Temple. There are many lawyers’ offices (especially barristers’ chambers) in the vicinity. Nearby, on Strand, are the Royal Courts of Justice and the Old Bailey is also only a few minutes walk from Ludgate Circus.
Publishing started in Fleet Street around 1500 when William Caxton’s apprentice, Wynkyn de Worde, set up a printing shop near Shoe Lane, while at around the same time Richard Pynson set up as publisher and printer next to St Dunstan’s church. More printers and publishers followed, mainly supplying the legal trade in the four Law Inns around the area. In March 1702, London’s first daily newspaper, The Daily Courant, was published in Fleet Street from premises above the White Hart Inn.
At Temple Bar to the west, as Fleet Street crosses the boundary out of the City of London, it becomes the Strand; to the east, past Ludgate Circus, the route rises as Ludgate Hill. The nearest tube stations are Temple, Chancery Lane, and Blackfriars underground/ mainline stations and the City Thameslink station. Chancery Lane and Fetter Lane are at the western end of the street.
For many years Fleet Street was especially noted for its taverns and coffeehouses. Many notable persons of literary and political fame used to frequent these, and a few have survived to this day, in name at least. Along with Saint Dunstan’s, two other old London churches must also be mentioned as belonging to the Fleet Street region: Temple Church and Saint Bride’s. Fleet Street has witnessed throughout its long career many notable processions. Coronations, funerals, etc., never failed to pass through it. Famous men in large numbers had frequently close relations with Fleet Street, either by living there or in one of its many side streets, or by being regular frequenters of its taverns. Amongst these should be mentioned especially Ben Jonson, John Milton, Izaak Walton, John Dryden, Samuel Johnson, Edmund Burke, Oliver Goldsmith and Charles Lamb.
[of course the actual wikipedia article is chockablock with links to all the particulars — though for those of you who prefer books, I might also point you to Akroyd’s London: a Biograpy and Standage’s The Victorian Internet]
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…Let me call back to the first batch of five case studies, where I posited another bar [Lloyd’s, in that case] with a very similar profile:
There is a segment of information junkies that just isn’t being served by other channels; cable news networks and NPR are a good start but where does one go for in-depth analysis and thoughtful commentary? Books are one answer, but where can one find the right books? — or the left books for that matter, or the just-a-shade-off-center-but-potentially-controversial books?
…And also re-post one of the primary conclusions to the very first Rethinking the Box column
Even more than the books, though, the modern bookstore sells atmosphere. It only seems like they give it away: cups of coffee, the occasional newspaper or magazine, and eventually the larger purchase (even if only once or twice a year) pays for the comfy chairs, the music, the knowledgeable staff, and all that reading you sponges do for free while lounging in the aisles, or the inconsiderate louts who tie up all the tables (and outlets) in the cafe with their laptops and accoutrement, and even the people sleeping in the aforementioned comfy chairs.
You don’t get any of that from Amazon.
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What use is a Bookstore?
…Or more to the point, what did we use for “bookstores” before 1990? Way back, before the Big Boxes invaded every suburb and when the “major chain” book stores were mall bookstores like B. Dalton or Waldenbooks? (around 1978, according to a Time Magazine article I linked to in the first “Rethinking the Box” post)
Where did you buy books in the 80s, before Barnes & Noble or Borders darkened the highway by your local mall? And by “you” I mean *you*, personally: sure, if you live in New York, or San Francisco, or Portland (I ♥ Powell’s. I will likely never even step foot inside, but still, I love that it exists) then you have to wonder what the big deal is,
but before the Big Box Bookstore, most of us lived in book deserts. Dependent on the skills of local librarians, the whims of hobbyist-booksellers, or genuine good luck if our local bookshop happened to be a true gem, a Light in the Wilderness.
The mall-chains were a step up for most of us. Borders, Barnes & Noble? These were revelations. No, really: and stop for just a moment and appreciate what the chains that many now despise [and which are, in the current economy, at least in part endangered] did for the average shopper in the average suburb all across the U.S.: 90% of us now live within 30 minutes drive of a 20,000+ sq.ft. bookstore that stocks 100,000+ books, and cycles through new releases on a weekly basis — not just the NYT bestsellers, but an astoundingly large percentage of books you’d never heard of and likely never would have in the book market just 15 years past.
Many forget what a revolution a Big Box Bookstore was in 1990, because it was immediately followed by the internet, and internet bookstores, in 1995 or so. But would Amazon (as a bookseller) have been such a success without the pioneering efforts of the major chains just a few years earlier?
That’s a point that can be argued, I think.
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And What Do We Use Bookstores For?
Surprisingly, it isn’t now (and hasn’t been for at least 2 years) the sales of books — though of course that is the economic activity that pays for the rest.
Most folks buy bestsellers online, or from places like Wal-Mart, Target, & Costco. And sure, I sell an awful lot at the bookstore, too, (…that’s why they call them “bestsellers”, after all) but few go out of their way to buy a book from a bookstore — those that do are our best customers, and we booksellers love them, to bits — but the largest part of the market doesn’t want a bookstore, they just want the damn book. It was mentioned on Oprah, or Glenn Beck, or they’re making a movie, or it’s sparkly-vampires-in-a-barely-contained-metaphor-about-teenaged-sex or whatever. The Buzz surrounding the book has nothing to do with books-as-art or literature-as-our-collective-soul, but instead is just a facet of overall-media-consumption and honestly: some folks are put out that we’re “forcing” them to “read” a gods-damn “book”.
“Isn’t it a movie or TV show yet?”
[Obviously I have issues. Not as many issues as society, if this is where we find ourselves as a culture, but I’m the odd man out so it’s “my” “problem” and not a symptom of overall decay and apocolypse.] [In a “Mad Max”, “Zardoz” universe I’ll be the compulsive hoarder of books. And I’ll be happy. And armed. Back off.]
For a segment of books, and those buying them, there has always been a market outside the book shop. There were the racks at drugstores, newsstands, and eventually at the supermarkets — and Walmart and Target and everywhere: Bestsellers, genre fiction, the pulp and the popular. The book became a commodity, no longer a specialty product, in some respects no longer a ‘book’ – not libris ipsis but just another entertainment option next to $4.99 DVDs, tabloid mags, and the diversion available from cable TV or game platforms.
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The old book retail model doesn’t quite work anymore, not in a world with online, discounted sales of physical books and instant downloads of e-books. But some of us (myself included) aren’t ready to let go of the ‘bookstore’ quite yet, and there should be some way to make a bookstore work even as book retail [as we used to know it] is significantly marginalized and in large chunks replaced by online analogues and substitutes.
One merely [merely, as if it’s that easy] has to “rethink the box” and come up with a new way to run a bookstore.
Why a Pub?
Well…
This not only plays into my proclivities (I am on record multiple times and across multiple platforms as a fond lover of alcoholic beverages) but also into my professional experience — a lifetime ago, before I was a bookseller, I worked in the hospitality industry (as a consultant—not a bartender or waiter, thank you very much) (though I’m a mean bartender, and even after 14 years off I still feel I could immediately step into that role and earn a few tips besides) and a lifetime before that I was studying architecture at Georgia Tech and I’m probably the only barfly on record who will sit inside a pub and analyze their lighting, acoustics, customer circulation, work flow behind the bar, HVAC, and décor — all while getting pleasantly stonked.
Also, as a business model: Pubs predate bookstores by a millennium. So what if the medium/media is/are dying? — alcoholism isn’t just recession proof: it will survive the end of Empires — and to date, it is impossible to download or pirate a beer.
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So.
What does the public want from a bookstore?
- A public restroom, first and foremost.
- Free Wifi
- Many, many outlets where one can plug in and recharge all of our modern gadgets.
- a place to sit
- a comfortable place to sit, preferably — but any stack of books, empty fixture, or patch of floor will do — so long as it is next to an outlet.
- a table
- a table with a chair (or other place to sit) preferred, and so long as both are comfortable, even more so (and folks will stay all day) — But I’ve noted “customers” using counters, book shelves, window sills, empty tables (or promotional tables full of books) — it doesn’t really matter, folks just want a flat horizontal surface and if we don’t provide one, they’ll improvise.
- A computer to look up stuff. Ideally, they want an unrestricted terminal connected to the internet. Which is why they should go to a library, and we’re not the library, and they shouldn’t expect “free internet” on free hardware even when we do offer “free wifi” — but good luck explaining this to people. Failing all the internets for free without even a speedbump or one’s own hardware, most customers would be happy with a terminal that connects with our inventory system, so they can find “the book” [Oprah’s or otherwise] themselves. Because customers hate “customer service”. — Oh, it’s not that they hate the help; I think it’s that they hate showing weakness.
“I don’t need help. Just tell me where/how to find the books. I’ll do it myself.”
…except, if I tell you where/how, well, you’re not doing it by yourself at that point, are you? A related problem is folks who never, never go to the information desk (because they don’t need help) but who will stop a bookseller working in the stacks (or actively ambush one who happened to be walking past) with a “Oh, by the way” question that honestly, can only be answered at the desk, where we have computers that connect to the internet
This is my singular complaint, currently. I’ve taken to responding to these “oh, by the way” inquires with:
“Well, I don’t know that off the top of my head, but if you’ll follow me to the Information Desk where my booksellers can check the computer for you we’ll see if we have that in stock.”
Yes, you’d be able to hear the italics in my voice when I say it. It’s such a *heavy* hint that I fear I might harm some customers when I drop it.
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The last thing people want from a bookstore is something to read, though that is the convenient excuse to stop by the bookstore (for internet via wifi, or to recharge a phone, or otherwise) — though of course if one does manage to make it into a bookstore, actually paying for something to read is so far beyond reasonable expectations that I’m almost embarrassed to mention it.
So.
Back the the Pub:
Folks want a place to meet, meet up, congregate, and maybe consume some media besides.
I can do that.
They want direction and guidance, on what to read and on what’s important and relevant:
This is harder. A lot depends on which booksellers I can hire, and also on the clientele my store supports; our customers are also our best resources. A shop could be built around popular genre categories: a mystery-theme pub — or a sci-fi theme, though the sci-fi fan base is fractious and hard to engage. A foodie-themed, foodie-friendly, come-in-and-cook-with-us bookstore would do exceptionally well right now, though I have some doubts as to the longevity of such a shop.
However: news, current events, relevant history and considered political discourse have been currant since Demosthenes, and has reappeared time and time again: from the first (wildly inaccurate, perhaps fictional) travel historiologues to Marco Polo to Amerigo Vespucci to Robinson Crusoe to Lewis & Clark to Daniel Boone to John Fremont to Huck Finn to William Randolf Hearst to Theodore Roosevelt to Hemingway to JFK to the NRPK
— and yes, some of those are fictional, but the ‘historical’ characters often aren’t much better, and the fictional stories are better (which is why we remember them) – and our appetite for news hasn’t diminshed at all over the 2500 years since dead Greeks figured out the message would carry further if they just wrote things down.
This idea of “writing things down” encompasses not only publishing but also newsprint, and all of its offspring: newsreels, evening TV newscasts on the 3 [only 3, at the time] broadcast networks, cable news networks, and eventually the whole blogoverse and corporate news websites besides.
Sure, we can navigate these strange. unexplored waters from home, by ourselves – but wouldn’t it be great to have a guide – someone who has been out there for years, who has been there before
Day to day, you’ll never actually meet this person; but if you’re lucky, you might find the bookstore/pub/outlet they work at.
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A Public Place to meet
A Quiet Place to sit and read
A friendly port in the storm — with outlets, and wifi, and clean restrooms.
The last place in town that carries the London papers
…or the Washington papers
…or even [eventually] the New York newspapers. Used to be, you’d trip over these at any newsstand, but good luck finding a news agent these days
& a decent pint, with a decent lunch menu.
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The Fleet Street Pub doesn’t even have to sell books, though I could see setting aside enough floor/wall space for five or six bookcases: for notable books — for sale or just to have. At this point, books are no longer the main profit center, or even the raison d‘être
Books are in our DNA, but the retailer of 50 or 20 years hence may not be a ‘bookstore’ per se. Just like livery stables and farriers transitioned to become garages and mechanics: booksellers & bookstores will still be around, but I can’t say exactly how we’ll be serving the community.
I think quite a bit of what we now call ‘bookselling’ — those who know books and follow new releases and make recommendations — will transition to the internet as we all become bloggers [book bloggers, in this instance]
…And actually, I’ve an idea or two on how to make that work, and pay…
but it is as hard to predict where bookstores will be in 50 years, as it would be to predict fast-food drive throughs and motels and Detroit car shows while shovelling shit in a stable in 1905. Anyone who claims to know is lying, and we’ve decades of technological change to deal with yet, before the ‘obvious’ answer even shows up.
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Study your History. Recognise your Motives. Location, Location, Location. Know your Customer Base, and your Staff. Hire folks who love books. Find your Niche. Consider your Product Lines, Stock Your Shelves, Set your main-aisle displays, consider Alternative display strategies, take a second look at What the Customers Want and Why Even Annoying Customers are Important. Answer for yourself whether raw dollars or customer service is more important to your store, and its future. Stare again in dismay at the Profit Margins. Try calculating your upper-limit affordable rent and affordable salaries along with revenue from inventory (with a side of coffee) and compare your numbers to average industry per-storefront sales.
Unique Bookstore Experiences: Zero – Intro – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4
Chronologically: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 – 17 – 18 – 19 – 20 – 21 – 22 – 23 – 24 – 25 – 26 – 27 – 28 – 29 – 30 – 31