Men read either the novels it is possible to respect, or detective stories. But the real reason why I should not like to be in the book trade for life is that while I was in it I lost my love of books.
Roughly speaking, what one might call the AVERAGE novel--the ordinary, good-bad, Galsworthy-and-water stuff which is the norm of the English novel--seems to exist only for women. Nevertheless booksellers generally find that it pays them better to have a certain number of books stolen we used to lose about a dozen a month than to frighten customers away by demanding a deposit.
Modern books for children are rather horrible things, especially when you see them in the mass. Apparently the whole of that frightful torrent of trash the pages read every year would, I calculated, cover nearly three quarters of an acre was stored for ever in his memory.
The other is the person who orders large quantities of Bookshop memories essay for which he has not the smallest intention of paying.
One of our subscribers to my knowledge read four or five detective stories every week for over a year, besides others which he got from another library. It used to interest me to see the brutal cynicism with which Christian sentiment is exploited.
You can get their measure by having a look at the trade papers where they advertise their wants. Stamp-collectors are a strange, silent, fish-like breed, of all ages, but only of the male sex; women, apparently, fail to see the peculiar charm of gumming bits of coloured paper into albums.
At Christmas time we spent a feverish ten days struggling with Christmas cards and calendars, which are tiresome things to sell but good business while the season lasts.
Like most second-hand bookshops we had various sidelines. Roughly speaking, what one might call the average novel — the ordinary, good-bad, Galsworthy-and-water stuff which is the norm of the English novel — seems to exist only for women.
Nothing pleased me quite so much as to buy a job lot of them for a shilling at a country auction.
But apart from these there are two well-known types of pest by whom every second-hand bookshop is haunted. I believe, though, that the writers are more to blame here than the readers. Modern books for children are rather horrible things, especially when you see them in the mass.
Our shop had an exceptionally interesting stock, yet I doubt whether ten per cent of our customers knew a good book from a bad one. I believe, though, that the writers are more to blame here than the readers.
We sold second-hand typewriters, for instance, and also stamps — used stamps, I mean. For all their big talk there is something moth-eaten and aimless about them.
Also it is a humane trade which is not capable of being vulgarized beyond a certain point.Bookshop Memories, the essay of George Orwell.
First published: November by/in Fortnightly, GB, London. Within the essay Orwell describes the irritating behaviour of bookshop customers; 'First edition snobs' 'Oriental students' 'Vague minded women'.
"The kind of people who would be a nuisance anywhere but have special opportunities in a book shop". Summary of the essay Bookshop memories by George. GEORGE Orwell's "Bookshop Memories" is an essay about his experience working in a second-hand bookshop in London.
The writer is at his sarcastic best in this one/5.
Bookshop Memories, a Essay by George Orwell. Alexandre Duret-Lutz, Shakespeare and Company Bookshop, Paris, Alexandre Duret-Lutz, Shakespeare and Company Bookshop, Paris, Bookshop memories: your pictures and stories here is a selection of your bookshop memories.
I recall doing a short essay on how to check fraud, based on what I saw at Foyles (one of the. Bookshop Memories Essay.
When I worked in a second-hand bookshop--so easily pictured, if you don't work in one, as a kind of paradise where charming old gentlemen browse eternally among calf-bound folios--the thing that chiefly struck me was the rarity of really bookish people.Download