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The role of paper bookshops

Alba Donati, born in the Italian town of Lucca in 1960, is a poet, literary critic and bookseller. She worked in the publishing sector in Florence and got tired of it. So she decided to set up a small bookstore in the small town where her mother is from and where she spent a lot of childhood summers

In this narrative memoir, written as a diary, Donati relates her daily life and that of the bookshop over the course of a year

@Book­stores, and this is noth­ing new, are often sur­rounded by an aura that makes them cosy, quiet and ap­peal­ing. As an owner, you are highly un­likely to get rich, but you there’s a good chance that you will be able to make a liv­ing. For reg­u­lar vis­i­tors, it can end up being like a cor­ner of their home. Now you can buy books on­line and have them de­liv­ered to your home. Fine. There are also macro-book­shops, and nice ones too, where books are every­where. Also fine. But in this re­port, we are going to talk about a trend that started some time ago: small book­shops that play the prox­im­ity card, that have reg­u­lar cus­tomers who they know by name, whose fam­ily they ask after and who they know what to rec­om­mend to. Spaces with all kinds of aes­thetic charms to en­chant their po­ten­tial pub­lic.

In Barcelona alone there are many book­shops with these char­ac­ter­is­tics, but in terms of den­sity, the win­ner is the town of Ca­longe, which has seven book­shops for fewer than 12,000 in­hab­i­tants. Plus the many who are at­tracted by the claim of “Ca­longe, the town of books”.

The pas­sion aroused by book­shops has been tran­scribed into nov­els, di­aries and hy­brid pub­li­ca­tions of all kinds. We will re­view some ex­am­ples, start­ing with two new ones, La lli­bre­ria del turó, by Alba Do­nati, and My days in the Morisaki book­store, by Satoshi Yag­i­sawa (pub­lished, re­spec­tively, by Navona, with Cata­lan trans­la­tion by Jordi Mas, and Le­tras de Plata, with Span­ish trans­la­tion by Es­te­fanía Asins).

The lat­ter, the debut novel by the Japan­ese writer, nar­rates the young pro­tag­o­nist’s dis­cov­ery of a pas­sion for books. Lost in the mid­dle of Jinbo-cho, Tokyo’s book­shop and pub­lish­ing dis­trict, a reader’s par­adise, is the small Morisaki book­shop, which has been run by Takako’s fam­ily for more than three gen­er­a­tions. It is the king­dom of Satoru, Takako’s ec­cen­tric uncle, en­thu­si­as­tic and some­what un­bal­anced, who de­votes his life to books and the shop, es­pe­cially after his wife aban­doned him.

Takako, on the other hand, finds her­self in a spi­ral of chaos and de­pres­sion that has cost her friend­ships and work since Hideaki, whose hus­band she was in love with, told her that he had promised him­self to an­other woman. Her uncle’s offer of work at the book­shop can’t come at a bet­ter time to com­pletely turn her life up­side down. Sud­denly, Takako, who has never been a great reader, lives sur­rounded by books and en­thu­si­as­ti­cally dis­cusses lit­er­a­ture while dis­cov­er­ing a new pas­sion.

The other novel is La lli­bre­ria del turó, by Alba Do­nati (pub­lished by Edi­cions 62, with Cata­lan trans­la­tion by Car­les Biosca, and Lumen, with Span­ish trans­la­tion by Ana Ciu­rans Ferrándiz). It blends the per­sonal diary with a chron­i­cle of life. Its au­thor, Alba Do­nati (Lucca, 1960), is a poet, lit­er­ary critic and book­seller who got tired of work­ing in the pub­lish­ing sec­tor in Flo­rence. “Nowa­days, they force you to multi-task and I don’t want to do it any­more,” con­fesses the au­thor, who vis­ited Barcelona to pre­sent her book.

In 2019, she de­cided to open a small book­shop, Sopra la Penna, in Lu­cig­nana, the small vil­lage in the mid­dle of Tus­cany where her ma­ter­nal fam­ily are from and where she spent many sum­mers. “Lu­cig­nana is a small town, it has about 180 in­hab­i­tants, but young cou­ples with chil­dren live there and the at­mos­phere is a cheer­ful one. There is no bar, no restau­rant, no ac­com­mo­da­tion,” she says.

In this nar­ra­tive mem­oir, writ­ten as a diary, Do­nati re­lates her daily life and that of the book­shop over the course of a year, in­clud­ing or­ders. “Every day, she writes down book or­ders, which trace a so­ci­o­log­i­cal view of the buy­ers. The only book by Cata­lan au­thors is Par­lar amb les plantes, by Marta Or­riols, three copies,” says Pilar Bel­tran, ed­i­tor of Edi­cions 62.

La lli­bre­ria del turó is the story of a dou­ble pas­sion: one for books and one for peo­ple. And it is also the nar­ra­tion of the life of a happy and re­silient woman, her roots, her sense of home, her choices to go against the main­stream, the story of her fam­ily, child­hood, sen­ti­men­tal and lit­er­ary ed­u­ca­tion, and the ori­gin of her love for sto­ries.

But it wasn’t all like a ro­man­tic movie. A few months after open­ing the shop: “It caught fire be­cause of a short cir­cuit in the cof­fee maker. Then came the pan­demic. And I also fell down a lad­der and broke an arm and a leg,” Do­nati says, laugh­ing. “After that, I got money and shows of sup­port from every­where, in­clud­ing from Ital­ian em­i­grants to Aus­tralia and the United States.”

“On the day of the shop’s open­ing, a coach un­ex­pect­edly turned up with 30 women.” And some 85% of vis­its are by women. Per­haps be­cause she has mostly books writ­ten by women and, on a sep­a­rate shelf, oth­ers writ­ten by men. “They’re very dif­fer­ent books; that’s why I have them sep­a­rated. Women have been silent for many cen­turies, and now it’s time for us to talk more,” she says.

“The his­tory of the book­shop is the story of my life; they’re in­sep­a­ra­ble.” That is why she de­cided to write the book, which she al­ready has the rights for to make a film or se­ries. “When I fin­ished the book and gave it to my agent, it was a Fri­day and he told me he’d tell me what re­cep­tion it’d had in a week or so. The next day, the Sat­ur­day, he called me be­cause he kept re­ceiv­ing of­fers from pub­lish­ers who wanted to pub­lish it.”

In Cat­alo­nia, we have a sim­i­lar ex­am­ple. Alins is a vil­lage in Pal­lars Sobirà with about 80 in­hab­i­tants on the way to the Pica d’Es­tats. An im­pos­ing nat­ural en­vi­ron­ment that many missed dur­ing the pan­demic, such as the jour­nal­ist and na­ture-lover Mer­itx­ell-An­fitrite Álvarez (An­dorra la Vella, 1987). A year ago, she lived and worked in Madrid, but the pan­demic prompted her to make a life change. She de­cided to re­turn to Alins, her grand­mother’s vil­lage, and open a book­shop there, Natura Lli­bres, spe­cial­is­ing in na­ture and moun­tain lit­er­a­ture of any genre. She ac­knowl­edges that some may see it as “a bold and reck­less dream”. In the heart of Pal­lars, life is dif­fer­ent, and bet­ter. And for her, books are an­other basic need. Al­varez just needs to re­count her ex­pe­ri­ence in a book to suc­ceed like Do­nati has.

Fea­ture Sant Jordi’s Day

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