London is full of lovely bookshops, but they are missing that Irish charm
STRANGE to say but one of things I miss about home is the quality of staff in bookshops here. It’s not that they aren’t pleasant people or anything like that but what’s missing is that informality when asking about a book or looking for a suggestion. Irish independent bookshops have a very special place in towns and villages all over the country.
I will never forget the sight of Louisa Cameron, owner of Raven Books in Blackrock in Dublin, on her bike during the pandemic.
Every day, she packed parcels of orders into bags and placed them in the basket at the front of her bicycle before heading out for the day to drop the precious packages on doorsteps around the neighbourhood for expectant readers who couldn’t physically visit their local bookshop.
Even without a global catastrophe, Louisa remains a loyal, dedicated bookshop owner who can eke out every obscure book or sought-after bestseller for her army of loyal customers. Her shop is small but perfectly formed with a judiciously-placed armchair beside the crime section that I have found to be a useful place of refuge on occasion.
The only ‘problem’ being that the shop is across the road from SiSi, one of the great family-owned chippers in town. Now I’m salivating as I type just thinking about some curry chips and a chicken fillet burger... but I digress!
The local bookshops are hubs too, often replacing a post office that may no longer be there.
LIKE-MINDED souls gather at the shop counter and conversations quickly move from books to politics to weather and back again, this is when it stops being a bookshop and becomes a social gathering point, maybe the only one in a given day for some people. Honorable mentions for The Clifden Bookshop in Connemara where more friendly faces greet you in this intimate but exceptionally well-stocked bookshop. There’s plenty for children and lots of local history interest so it’s never a boring – or short – visit.
Books At One is a wonderful initiative too. Located in the heart of local communities, this is a bookshop scheme with soul. If you happen to be in Louisburgh, Co. Mayo or in Letterfrack, Co. Galway (tell Mary and Vincent I said hello) or indeed on Meath Street in Dublin, be sure to call by and see what it’s all about.
Depending on the venue, there’s a fine selection of books, a quality coffee and friendly welcomes.
The bigger bookshops are just as helpful, to their credit.
Whenever I go to Dubray or Easons, there’s a consistency to the faces offering to help which is always a good sign in a workplace.
But it’s also very helpful to repeat customers who the staff will recognise and immediately offer the latest book from a preferred author or maybe an ‘If you like that, you’ll love this…’ suggestion.
Meanwhile, London is home to some of the most aesthetically beautiful bookshops in the world.
Daunt Books in Marylebone is bookworm heaven. All dark wood and ladders, it’s a throwback with a modern twist.
There’s a whole area that carves out the globe in sections with books, authors and themes pertaining to any given country in the world. You could spend hours just browsing and of course, like me, you’ll end up with books you don’t need but just want!
Hatchards on Picadilly is another beauty. It’s so old-fashioned that you’d almost expect to bump into Charles Dickens himself, searching the shelves for his latest tome. Foyles is a vast literary emporium that has endless choice and can lead to rabbit-hole browsing before you realise you really should eat!
And yet, despite their obvious beauty, they all lack the charm of an Irish bookshop. I miss the easy chit-chat and often dark twist of humour that peppers the exchange over the counter and I’m very much looking forward to a browse and a bag of chips on my next visit home.
I was surprised at my own reaction to the return of Stormont last week. As someone who grew up listening to the grim soundtrack that was the news from the North on any given day throughout the Eighties and into the Nineties, the peace process that culminated in the Good Friday Agreement has always felt viscerally important to me as an Irish citizen.
The suspension of Stormont over the last two years has been disappointing so it was really very emotional to see normality resume when it did.
Watching Michelle O’Neill taking on the role of First Minister was remarkable in itself, but her opening remarks were dignified, historically on point and emotionally intelligent. Equally, Emma LittlePengelly’s comments as Deputy First Minister were welcome in their sensitivity. Neither woman hid from the violent reality of the recent past and yet they were wise in their decision to swiftly move the conversation on to the present and, arguably more importantly, the future.