I think it is a true thing to say that book lovers, readers all, love to browse the shelves of bookstores. No doubt we all make online purchases now and then, and some of us, self included, may read on electronic devices, but there’s still something uniquely special about going to the store, standing among the aisles, browsing the spines. Of course, we may have goals for our shopping experience (if indeed we intend to make purchases). Maybe there’s a book we’re dying to read, or, maybe not. Maybe we just want to see what we can find.
Enter me. I live in Bonn, Germany, which, because it is in Germany, where the day-to-day language is, yes, you guessed it, German, there is simply a smaller selection of English-language books available for browsing. That being said, most major bookstores do have an English-language section, and indeed I’ve come to know the ins-and-outs of these sections at the two bookstores I most often frequent near my apartment in Bonn, Germany. Enter my browsing habits.
Don’t get me wrong. I still buy both paper and e-books online. Sometimes there is a specific book I want and the stores, which tend to have mostly newer stuff, or classics, just don’t have it. But I also browse.
And about that browsing habit…
What blows my mind (truly) is that having far less selection to choose from has actually greatly expanded my reading habits. Before Germany, I read poetry, novels, history (mostly medieval studies), and some other nonfiction. Now I’ve added essays, graphic novels, and short stories to the list. For some reason, I have found a lot of short story collections in the bookstores of Bonn. (The books are coming from the UK. Do British people especially like short stories? I find myself asking this question.)
Brief aside: The short stories entry is a big deal because now I also write them, and that’s hugely satisfying. When you only write novels, or novellas, a lot of your ideas are going to go unwritten. Short stories help heal the rift between that list of ideas we all have in our heads and the sheer possibility of getting some, or most, of those ideas down onto paper. In one way or another. (Also, it is and shall ever remain a fatal flaw to write in a genre that one isn’t widely reading. Thanks to the bookstores of Bonn, I am reading widely.)
The bookstores here also tend to be heavy on the big award winners and the authors that end up on the short lists for those awards. In the US, though, there was also a ton of other stuff to read, so I didn’t always manage to keep abreast. Not here. Nope. I’m all up in that. I am a truly informed reader. (Probably my favorite writers so far in this category have been Han Kang and Paul Beatty.)
I could go on, and on, and sometimes I do. Suffice it to say, that if I were living in the US, I would not be reading the books, or genres, I am reading now.
Here’s another example of how this works. One writer I am fairly certain I would have unceremoniously and completely ignored if his books weren’t so ubiquitous here is Neil Gaiman. I just would never have read him! (Even though I loved that movie, Stardust.) Yet in the last few days of neuro-my-brain-rubbed-all-the-wrong-ways-eyes-on-fire kind of feelings, Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean at the End of the Lane has proven to be the best escape. Ever. So there’s also that.
More on this in the future, but that’s all for now. Till next week.