Non-Fiction
Stimulus Package for Bookstores?
artwork by vadreshu rita
My good friend, Manan, is looking to buy or set up a bookstore in the Boston area. So far, I have not been a very enthusiastic supporter of his new project, since I am aware that independent booksellers have been fast disappearing from the US map. According to the American Booksellers Association, the number of independent bookstores has plummeted from about 6,000 in the early 1990s to 2,200 today. In the current economic situation, more stores will be closing their doors as they fail to cope with declining readership and the onslaught of the likes of Amazon.com. And even the ones that might survive, such as Barnes & Noble and Borders, will do so only because they are diversifying, have customer loyalty, and are retail chains themselves. The era of the neighbourhood bookshop or the true mom 'n pop bookstore is at an end. However, these facts and other statistics have not deterred Manan from occasionally suggesting that I invest with him in a small bookstore. He also is hoping that the Obama Administration will throw some money from the Stimulus Package at booksellers, a dying breed! "So who do you think is going to buy a book from your store?" I asked him in exasperation when he brought up the issue again last week. He instantly retorted that "You may not, given the penny-pincher that you are. But all my friends and students buy and read books regularly." Then he did something that even surprised me. He took a line from a well-known Bengali poem, "Jootey jodi ekta poisha," and adapted it to "If you are left with only one dirham, O beloved follower, do buy food to satisfy your hunger, but if you have another dirham, go and buy a page or two to read, my loyal devotee." I protested weakly, "But the last line was asking the follower to buy flowers, phool kiney niyo hey anuragee." But, I am not sure whether he heard me or not, since he was probably savoring his tactical victory over me. I conceded that point to him. Yes, people do still buy books, and statistics do indicate that used book sales are up, but his jab at my frugal habits did not sit well with me. It is true that I do not spend too much money on buying books these days, but on the other hand, his business acumen and experience is much stronger than mine. He has dabbled in commercial enterprises since we both landed on the shores of the United States around the same time, even hawking encyclopedias door to door in summer, and later enlisting as an independent distributor of household products. In my self-defense, I will say though that I know a thing or two about buying books. Until very recently I was an avid book buyer myself. As a little boy, one of my most favorite pastimes was to save up enough money to buy a book. The first book I bought cost me eight annas that I had received as a salaami from my mom on Eid Day. I took the money, and with my elder brother, my constant companion in all my adventures during those years, walked towards the city center in Mymensingh town. We stopped at a cluster of little shops, and bought some candy. However, my 'adhli', as it was called, was still in my pocket when we stopped at another shop, lured by its colorful festoons. It happened to be a little book stall, measuring at most five by eight by six. The bookseller was sitting on a raised platform, almost as if guarding the book collection. Weekly and monthly magazines were hung for display on a rope strung along the entire length of the store. Most of the magazines in those days were Indian, including Jalsha, Ultroroth, Ghoroa, and Betar Jagat. With my hand in my pocket still clutching the half-rupee, I asked the shopkeeper if there were any books that cost eight annas. He fished out a thin book printed on coarse paper and a soft cover. The title was 'Gopal Bharer Golpo.' I had no idea who Gopal was nor did I know what the story was about. But the shop owner and another customer must have praised the book and its characters, Gopal and Raja Krishnachandra, since I was willing to part with my precious adhli for the choti-boi. For the rest of the day, we wandered about near the school area, and along the banks of Brahmaputra River, protectively clutching the precious book. When I finally reached home, I opened the book, and could not lay it down. Even after all these years, I can still remember most of the stories I read in that book. Gopal, as nearly all Bengalis, or nowadays perhaps all Bengalis of a certain generation, was a comic and wit with a scrurrilous turn of mind, and his adventures still resonate with me. I was also fascinated to learn Bengali words that I did not know at that time even existed, for example 'kosto kathinya,' 'mall tyag,' 'minshey', etc. The first magazine I ever bought also has its own history. Since we did not have any allowances or any money to spend, my brothers and I had to be enterprising in earning and saving money. One of our uncles lived with us for many years. He was in the habit of smoking and chewing betel leaves. More importantly, he had more disposable cash than we did and would indulge us from time to time. We lived in Joginagar in the old city and my uncle would command us to run to the corner shack at least a few times during the day to purchase the items he needed. Pretty soon my brothers and I realized that if we bought a packet of cigarettes ourselves, and sold individual sticks to him at the retail price, we could pocket the profit. So we pooled our resources and our little commercial trading enterprise, with my uncle as the only customer, took off and became a profitable venture. Every day our profit was over a shiki, a quarter of a rupee during those days. Soon I had more than one rupee, and one day my brother and I decided that we had to go to New Market on a shopping junket. But we did not know the market well and soon found ourselves among bookstores, stationery shops, and magazine stalls. Fortunately, we were familiar with the Indian Bengali magazines and the Puja Specials that came from West Bengal. We spent a good deal of time browsing the hard covers, but then settled on a current copy of the weekly magazine Shuktara. Sandesh was a little thicker, and I would have preferred that, but since the price was out of my reach, I came back with Shuktara. Again, the joy of laying my hand on my own copy of the magazine was beyond description. Seeing this and knowing that I was not going to waste my money on candy and jhal muri, my mother offered to give me ten annas a week for the magazine. The magazine would come to the stall every Thursday, unless the flight from Calcutta was delayed or cancelled. I would anxiously wait to run to the store to buy it from our flat in Azimpur Colony in Dhaka, where we had moved the same year. Nowadays, I am an economist and a realist insofar as investing is concerned. Book readership and the market for booksellers have been dwindling over the last few years at a precipitous rate, and this trend has only accelerated with the Internet and the economic downturn. The numbers are just too stark to ignore. The following statistics about book publishing and reading are on www.parapub.com, the Web site of self-publishing guru Dan Poynter: *1/3 of high school graduates never read another book for the rest of their lives. *42 percent of college graduates never read another book after college. *80 percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year. *70 percent of U.S. adults have not been in a bookstore in the last five years. In a recent study of all major US cities, Boston, my home town, ranked 47th, well behind Las Vegas, in the number of bookstores per 100,000. Ironically, Boston is host to some of America's most literate and cultured society, dotted with numerous universities and arts and cultural centers. Las Vegas, on the other hand, is a city known for its gambling and show business. Of course, one could find a logical explanation for these apparently paradoxical numbers, but the fact of the matter is new entrepreneurs in publishing and distribution face an uphill task. I showed Manan all the statistics, and explained to him what the trend lines show. As soon as I started talking about data and statistics, he rolled his eyes, and said, "There you go again. Don't you remember, you told me once "There are lies, damn lies, and statistics"? I couldn't believe my own ears. He had used my words, which I myself had borrowed from Disraeli, and flung it back to me to point out the weakness of published statistical data, to cut me down and my logic too! Finally, after a pause, I turned towards his son, Mikey, to for some needed support. But that gambit had the opposite effect. "A book store with a few other features like a coffee shop, Internet cafe and a gift shop might not be a bad idea," he interjected, and I could see he had thrown his lot with his father and they'd ganged up against me. Reluctant to admit defeat, I unloosed a parting shot at Mikey, "Hope you are not thinking of getting into the publishing business, since that has no future in this age." "Well, Uncle, if I do, it will be in electronic publishing." Touché! As I was finishing up this story, a BBC News item caught my attention. In London, two friends, Alfie Boyd and Claire Wilson, have embarked upon a project to give away free books to the underground railway riders. Thinking that there must be something better than reading give-away newspapers while commuting, they have started loaning free books on London's subway riders. They plan to continue offering free novels to commuters outside five London's Tube stations once a month in line with a program they call "Choose What You Read." Once commuters finish the books, they are to add their names to a list of readers inside the cover and return them to a drop box in central London. Maybe my friend and his son are on to something new!
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