On Saturday it is Bookshop Day. My heart always sinks a little when I hear that a day has been set aside to celebrate something I love: it too often feels like being put on a list of exotic endangered species – and indeed libraries, small presses and bookshops are all disappearing fast.
When my first book was published, there were no ebooks, no Amazon and most high streets boasted a bookshop. Chains and independents thrived equally – partly because book prices were fixed, which made for a level playing field. But with the demise of the net book agreement, the book world began to change. Independent bookshops could no longer afford to compete. The chains pointed to the free market – until Amazon appeared on the scene, when they themselves began to fall to online competition.
Now, only a comparative handful of bookshops remain. And yet, they represent so much more than an opportunity to buy books. Like libraries, small bookshops are a part of a wider society. A good local bookshop is quirky, individual; reflecting the needs of the community. Sometimes it looks more like someone's home than a place of business – there's maybe even a cat – and with staff who care about books, not just shifting units.
But in the face of powerful online and supermarket opposition, small bookshops have had to work hard to survive. They have had to be creative: reading groups; storytime for children; even ice-cream stalls and bookshop bands. They are also often the most enthusiastic organisers of author visits and signings. Small bookshops show diversity and individualism in a world growing ever more corporate.
They stand for community in the face of business expansion. They represent a protest against the offshore companies that are reducing our high streets to a series of empty shop fronts. That's why we must do our best to support them, not just on Bookshop Day, but every day. Because in 10 years' time, no one wants to hear their child ask: "Mummy, what's a bookshop?"
