An Interesting Boing Boing Post with an essay by George Orwell from 1936, “Bookshop Memories.” It’s a hilarious, ill-tempered, mean-spirited and vastly entertaining rant about what’s wrong with the booky trade — sure to be appreciated by recovering booksellers like me, and bookstore junkies.
But as soon as I went to work in the bookshop I stopped buying books. Seen in the mass, five or ten thousand at a time, books were boring and even slightly sickening. Nowadays I do buy one occasionally, but only if it is a book that I want to read and can’t borrow, and I never buy junk. The sweet smell of decaying paper appeals to me no longer. It is too closely associated in my mind with paranoiac customers and dead bluebottles.
It’s not very in the
It’s not very in the original formatting of the post here that “It’s a hilarious, ill-tempered, mean-spirited and vastly entertaining rant about what’s wrong with the booky trade — sure to be appreciated by recovering booksellers like me, and bookstore junkies” comes verbatim from the Boing Boing post. That could be improved.
Of course, the above comment
Of course, the above comment was supposed to begin, “It’s not very clear in the original formatting here….” Speaking of not being clear.