Ta Voix

Dear Book Lovers, Avid Readers, and One-time Shoppers,

I write this, having been back at work for a couple of weeks now, unveiling our treasure trove to you again. It’s a different world we live in now, and it’s taking some getting used to, both for us and for you. And, having reflected on this new world, I have a few things I would like to say.

Firstly, thank you. Thank you to those who have come back. Thank you to those who are following these new rules. Those tinges of pleasure are more poignant in my day than ever before: a small child saying ‘Mummy, look, all the books are still here,’ two friends giddy at the smell of pages, or someone stocking up on hundreds of pounds worth of spirituality books. It truly is wonderful to see that your love of books hasn’t been defeated since we’ve been gone.

Yet, I have to reach out and speak to some of you. And although we agree that it’s good to be back, this may only be a half-truth for me. For the half you don’t see doesn’t come until later, when the lights are off and I’ve started to make my way home — a new 16km cycle or a train (no more going underground for me) — and only then do the new realities set in. What we’re going through isn’t over. 

Only once I come to rest do I realise that I am truly exhausted. Perhaps I have spent the whole day running on adrenaline and hyper-vigilance, as I try to protect you, my family, and my friends from this thing we call Covid-19. My own safety is last on this list, because I care less about being ill myself than I do about passing it on to those who might not recover. It is an enormous weight to constantly think that you could be infecting hundreds of people in the space of a day. I do not want to be responsible for spreading this disease; that is a huge burden to bear.

So I have a plea, to those of you who are coming back to our bookshops and those of you who are emerging from your homes again: do everything you can for those of us who have to interact with people from all walks of life. Learn to wear a mask on public transport (too often have I seen them pulled down, taken off, or just not worn at all). Keep your distance — we try to step back when you’re too close — don’t take offence, we are following our guidelines. Don’t use cash if you can help it; if twenty people give me cash in a day, I have to sanitize my hands as many times and it’s painful after a while. Even the small things — don’t make me touch your books to put them through the till (barcode up, please!), because I worry about giving this to you, too. 

And I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. The nastier side of this is something I thought I would never face working in a bookshop. You imagine peace, rustling pages, and maybe the smell of coffee. But the threat of people who don’t take this seriously is very real. This week I was instead met with insults, aggression, and ridicule for trying to protect you. I know it wasn’t you; it was  someone who wasn’t even planning on coming into our space. I was left crying and shaking, for what? So a rude man could feel powerful? It could have been so much worse — and I was preparing for the worst — being spat at, physically assaulted. I go through these scenarios before I go to sleep; it’s no wonder I’m so tired.

Breaking these rules that so many are adhering to is not just scary for me, but a sign that you do not respect me. If you don’t wear a mask without a reasonable exemption, you prove that you do not care whether I, or anyone else, gets the virus. I’ve had money
thrown at me, people ignoring the Perspex screens designed to keep us apart, coming too close. And really, working in a bookshop, I’m probably coming off quite lightly compared to others in retail. Respect them, too. It will make the difference. 

Continue to love books. Love them passionately and share them with all the enthusiasm I know you’ve always had. We will continue to welcome you with (metaphorically) open arms. But I do not want to be a spreader of this virus, a carrier, or the cause of a new infection. So please, don’t make me one.

Love always, and keep reading,

Your local, friendly Bookseller