Independent book stores are a joy. But it’s tough out there

This holiday season, if you’re considering buying a book, think about supporting your local independent bookshop. They may well need it.

Young woman looking books on library showcase

The bookshops are shutting down. Three in my local area over the past few years, and most recently the one closest to me. Gutted. My closest temple of waiting words is now, soullessly, a luxury clothing store. Meanwhile an energetic independent bookseller in Perth is finding innovative ways to stay afloat while nourishing her bookish community, because it’s all about community with the indies. “I spend a lot of my day talking to lonely people,” says Guinevere Hall from the very lovely Typeface Books in Perth’s Applecross. “Bookshops are a safe space that people can come to without feeling they’re obliged to buy something. We run three book clubs in-store, made up of people who’d never met before and are now fast friends.”

But margins are woefully thin for our beloved booksellers, despite the succour they bring to our streetscapes. Hall bought her business in January 2020. “At the time the bookshop was projected to make $35,000 profit a year, and my rent was $320 a week,” she explains. Two months later, the pandemic started. “Consequently, in the last five years my rent has exploded to $500 a week and overhead costs have kept pace. Last financial year I took $40,000 profit.” $40,000. Right. To live on.

But Hall has been determined, somehow, to keep her business afloat. She introduced a membership option several years ago. “For $5 a month you get 10 per cent off your books and for $10 a month you get 10 per cent off and a free Advance Reading Copy of a book every month.” She says it was all going well, initially. “At one stage I had almost 100 members. I’m now down to 45, as financial pressures have stopped people contributing.” The price of a coffee or two a month to support your local bookshop? Frankly, a bargain.

I’ve been doing talks in various indies recently for my new, feminist literary thriller, Wing, and what glorious businesses they all are. Each so deliciously unique, each a buzzy little community hub and so very beautiful. These shops arrest time, holding us captive with wonder. A deep, deep peace plumes through me whenever I step across the threshold of an indy; they’re entered with gladness.

Yet it’s tough out there; these little stores constantly have to compete with the mighty discount chains like Big W. Hall is actually trying to offload Typeface, which is a story of not only bookselling in Australia’s independent sector but of a middle-aged, divorced woman looking practically at the bleakness of her financial prospects: “I’m thinking of my future without a house to my name and $40k a year without super, holidays or sick pay,” she says. “It’s not sustainable for me.” If she can’t find a buyer she’ll eventually shut up shop, and what a tragedy that will be.

Hall says bookselling is important not only to stave off loneliness in readers, but to nourish our culture. She’s a champion of Australian stories. “I hear a lot of complaints about the cost of books, which I understand, however the discounted books in department stores will never feature a first-time Australian author. They need us to hand-sell their book to our customers, who rely on our recommendations. I don’t have to tell you how important reading local voices is to our culture.”

Meanwhile, the shelves have been stripped from the space occupied by my own local, beloved bookshop, and its colourful division into the magical childrens’ section up the back has been dismantled. This bookshop’s demise has left a gaping cultural gap in the streetscape. 35 bucks would transport you to myriad other worlds in the shop’s old iteration, and stave off loneliness, but will not buy you so much as a belt in the new store. It’s a gut punch. This holiday season, if you’re considering buying a book, think about supporting your local independent bookshop. They may well need it.