South Kensington Books is a small, precious jewel nestled among touristic attractions, cafes, and buzzing restaurants.
A few metres out of the South Kensington tube station – you have to turn right towards Thurloe Street as soon as you get out – the light green wooden façade interrupts the monotony of the shining colourful signs of cafeterias and takeaway shops. The front window frames a wide selection of books of any genre; the soft brown-chocolate moquette muffles the noise of the visitors’ paces; the till counter stands on the left. Numerous volumes pack the walls of the main room. Fiction welcomes the readers along with an intense scent of wood displays and printed paper. The new releases shelf lays immediately after the entrance, the discounted section follows, and then the staff recommendations. I’m surprised that “The animal farm” occupies number two of them. To the left, the massive section of art and architecture covers the entire wall, reaching the beginning of the next room. History and biographies are the main topics here. You have everything you need to know about historical studies, events, and important kings before your eyes. Every epoch has its essay, from the ancient Roman Empire to the unfinished and still on-going conflict in the Middle East. The variety of the biographies is impressive; the story of the most cunning and capable politician rests close to the life-without-limitations of the most eccentric rock star. The bookshop is an incredible source of unexpected writings. Despite its hidden position in a corner, I can’t help noticing the poetry section. It contains collections and volumes I wouldn’t ever have thought to find. I peer at books dedicated to Italian and Spanish authors I thought they hadn’t ever been translated. I loved this store. Its cosy and warm atmosphere makes you feel special. The independent bookseller is a treasure trove of rare editions and unknown new writers. This is the perfect place for exigent readers who are searching unmissable editions and unusual authors. LINK: South Kensington Books - Independent bookseller
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A five-floor grey building soars above Piccadilly Circus. It houses one of the biggest bookshops in London: Waterstones Piccadilly.
The sliding glass doors open, and I pop into the store. Although it’s a predictable choice, visiting this branch evokes old and sweet memories. The first time I came to London, I spent almost an entire afternoon hanging around the numerous stalls and shelves full of books. It also recalls my initial weeks in the city. It was the place in which I spent endless hours flipping the pages of the newest releases and absorbing the beauty of the classics of literature. The time goes by, and the feeling is always the same anytime I go through the main door: astonishment. The structure of the shop is approximately the same, although they made a few refurbishments. Bestsellers and staff recommendations occupy the ground floor. The latest novels pack the huge wall to the right of the entrance. At the end of the hall, a short stair descends to the stationery. The birthday cards fill the wooden displays, and square tables with glass tops contain precious fountain pens to collect and gift. An unusual spiral stair climbs to the upper floor on which the small, cosy café is located. It’s my favourite place where I like to have a break during my exploration. The main counter is on the top of the stair, and the mouth-watering pastries and cakes lay on the table directly in front of the newcomers. People sit at the coloured tables, chatting and perusing the pages of their purchases. Descending the spiral stair without having tasted one of the cakes is heart-breaking; I will come back after having visited the four floors of books waiting for me. I head to the first, climbing the white marble steps. Every kind of fiction is in this section. If you turn left, at the top of the stairway, sci-fi is the welcoming genre. I stroll around, the carpeted floor muffles the noise of my steps. A pleasant scent of printed paper fills my nostrils; people whisper, asking the customers assistants information about the novels they’re interested in. The room on the other side contains my favourite works: crime and thrillers. I get lost in there, kidnapped by the intriguing pages written by Peter James, Agatha Christie, and Raymond Chandler. Leaving for another floor is like cutting off a part of me. The next floors contain numerous volumes, from children literature to politics and economy. After more than one hour of wandering, I decide to let gluttony win and I head for the ground floor café. In front of a coffee and a slice of banana loaf, I observe the multitude of people visiting the shop. We have the shy tourist, who picks up the book which caught his attention, looks at it and then puts it back. The regular customers are easily recognisable; they have a stack of books in their hands and continuously ask the staff for suggestions, events or new releases. I glance at a gentlelady sat at the table next to me. She smiles, I smile back. She then bends his head down and plunges back into the reading of the novel he bought. Any time I come here, it surprises me to see how books bring different people together. They tell us stories that make us dream, suffer, weep, and laugh. It doesn’t matter whether you often or rarely visit it; it doesn’t matter whether you’re looking for something specific or you’re just wandering. Books enchant you with their story and drag you into a marvellous world. The welcoming Blackwell’s Bookshop has recently hosted an entertaining panel dedicated to Fantasy and Horror. The guests’ authors were Bradley Beaulieu (A veil of spears), Anna Spark-Smith (The Court of broken knives), and Catriona Ward (Rawblood).
The blue and white sign of the shop looms before my eyes as I walk down High Street Holborn. The University of Arts of London towers over the trafficked lanes, on the other side of the road. A smiling lady with golden frame glasses asks me if I’m there for the event. I think the question is quite banal, but I then realise that, on the counter to the left of the main door, a sign reads ‘Shop closed for evening event’. She encourages me to take a seat in the small cafeteria at the end of the books displaying area; the conversation is starting in a few minutes. I only have the time to sit down, take out my indispensable notepad, and silence my mobile. The authors are already sitting on the stylish cream coloured sofa in front of the audience. Bradley Beaulieu leads the group; a slender, salt-and-pepper hair man with a thin goatee and two lively penetrating green eyes. Catriona Ward follows closely; her thick blonde hair shine and wave. She smiles and observes the people who came out to listen to them. Anna Smith-Spark, a tall woman with neatly combed black hair and two dark eyes betraying her excitement, closes the group. Her long green dress billows step after step; her unbuttoned dark cardigan wraps her small shoulders and harmonically follows the waving movement of her body. Everybody’s eyes stare stupefied at her unusual glossy boots with spikes. The writers start the evening by reading a chapter of their works. The hall fell totally silent; people’s attention focuses the battle scene Anna Smith Spark chooses to read, on the thrilling situation of the cave ghost Catriona decides to share, on the internal dilemma Bradley Beaulieu ideates for his main character. An enthusiastic applause warms the novelists’ spirit as they terminate their reading. “I think the writing process is the most interesting phase of our work,” Beaulieu says, kicking off the conversation, “but what kind of difficulties did we go through before getting started?” “The book that a writer creates represents what you really are,” Ward answers. “It comes out from a hidden side of your mind spontaneously. The beginning is scaring, but, once you started, writing becomes essential.” “The idea pops in your mind unexpectedly,” Smith Spark confirms. “While you’re writing, you find yourself immersed in a world you created. It’s, indeed, part of your subconscious. You’ve always had in you.” The authors agree; Beaulieu says writing becomes easier and easier after you get used to it. It goes on smoothly and straightforwardly. “Sometimes it may be difficult to have the right impulse,” Ward says. “When the impulse arrives, you think you sorted your troubles out, but, instead, you’ve just created new problems.” “Using multiple points of view allowed me to focus on different perspectives and consider different ideas,” Beaulieu claims. “It also helps to figure out whether your work is working out or not.” “It’s a feeling,” Smith Spark interjects. “I have to feel comfortable. If I don’t, it drives me crazy.” Ward nods; the authors are on the same wavelength. Comfortability and can-do attitude are vital to the creative process. “To write something from a different perspective is also very challenging,” Ward says. “It allows you to point at the characters’ internal contradictions.” “All the characters have particularities,” Beaulieu agrees. “My main character has a singular external personality, but when you read about her life and what she got through, you understand why she does and thinks certain things.” “That’s very important, but characters aren’t only mere protagonists of a story,” Smith Spark says. “The reader has to be able to read between the lines. The characters we create also reflect our perception of the reality and our values. We have to get over the simplicity of the story and appreciate their moral deepness.” “We care about the characters and we sometimes end up feeling the same emotion they feel during the story,” Beaulieu confirms. “Sometimes it’s very difficult to have to get rid of them.” The time is unfortunately over. The conversation has quickly come to an end. I get up and head to the exit with my mind full of thoughts. These events are always inspirational. They help they who, like me, are interested in writing, but they also give a clear image of what the life of an author is. It’s not only sit in front of a computer and put down a few words which make a sort of sense. It’s a more intense a deeper sensation which involves every moment and feeling of your life. I quite often post about what I really love - writing, authors’ events and books - and, before being an aspiring writer, I’m an avid reader. As every reader, I’ve got my personal islands of happiness: my favourite bookshops. They don’t need to be extremely peculiar or stunning; what they need is to make me feel comfortable, to make me feel like I was at home. I decided to write a few articles about my preferred books-heavens in London. Some of them may be unusual. Others may not be strange, but they have a sort of special meaning for me. The first I have the pleasure of introducing to you is The London Review of Books Shop, situated in a small and quiet road opposite to the British Museum. The green wooden structure framing the windows and bearing the golden writing ‘The London Review of Books’ looms in front of you as you walk up Bury Road. The paces of curious visitors and regular customer thump on the ligneous floor. The odour of printed books, mixed with the sour smell of coffee and the sweet scent of pastries, invades your nostrils – the entrance of the café is only a few metres on the left, after the main door.
The walls are fully packed with colourful volumes; serious topics give you a warm welcome. In this area, you can find everything you may need to know about current affairs and travels. If you step to the side on your left, History becomes the principal subject. The rectangular counter stands at the end of the room; two gentlemen – a guy about thirty-year-old and an older man – observe the tranquil strolling of the customers and help the most demanding readers to find their book of interest. I walk along the room, glancing at the three tables in the middle of the aisle. The volumes deal with the current politics, intriguing essays, and, on the last stand, fiction books. I gazed at the counter and notice an arrow-shaped sign pointing at the lower floor. Before going down, I turn to my right. The room expands, and I plunge into the fiction section. Crime, novels, mystery, sci-fi, and romance are neatly displayed before my eyes. I decide to explore the basement; I slowly descend the stairs, step-by-step. A man sits in an armchair at the bottom of the stairs. He raises his head and glances at me, then, without flinching, he resumes reading the book which lays on his lap. The small room is fascinating; philosophy, literary criticism and, children books dominate the entire sector. The smell of coffee and cake strongly hits my nostrils again, as I climb the stairs back. The café is as cosy and welcoming as the whole shop. The window contains the most delicious and mouth-watering brownie, muffins, and cakes. A line of tables is along the wall opposite the counter. A few people occupy the common table to my right. They all are busy in tasting their cakes and sipping their warm afternoon teas. I sit at the only table available next to the door and I order a brownie and rooibos tea. I’m feeling as comfortable as I hadn’t ever left home. The bookshop is precisely this: a warm and welcoming home. If books are the unique portable magic – as Stephen King claimed – bookshops are the unique magic realms of every reader. |
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