Fancy a coffee?

You have strong opinions. Strong and contradictory.

My picks this week

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• Supremely informative: Justice on the Brink: The Death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the Rise of Amy Coney Barrett, and Twelve Months that Transformed the Supreme Court by Linda Greenhouse. The news about Roe v Wade made me want to swot up on the court. This is an excellent recent primer that covers the tumultuous final year of Trump’s presidency and the court’s increasing partisanship. Call it the backstory!

  • A speed read, on the same themes: The US Supreme Court: A Very Short Introduction

  • And check out: this from the archive by Grace Paley (recommended by Federica) and this short piece from The Atlantic (thanks, Rhys)

• Bloody good reads, chosen by my colleague Lucie:

  • All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. The beautifully-written and moving story of Marie-Laure, a blind French girl escaping occupied Paris with her father and a young German radio operator.

  • The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid. A reclusive former Hollywood star reflects on her rise to stardom and the husbands she collected along the way

The ideal bookshop is airy, spacious and easy to navigate. There is always a fresh pot of coffee and a well-chosen playlist.

It is also hushed (apart from the creaking floorboards), cramped and charmingly cluttered. Some of the books may have tea stains, but the bespectacled (and bejumpered) owner could never be mistaken for a barista.

My survey on your favourite bookshops threw up several points of disagreement. Some of you, for example, like a shop that stocks a few last-minute gift options as well as books. Others are unconvinced. (“Bookmarks, totes, mugs all okay, but not ‘Harry Potter jigsaws’.”)

As I mentioned last week, though, two topics are more divisive than any others: music and coffee. First, coffee. One of the most succinct responders painted a charming picture of his ideal bookshop: “nice, kind staff and smell of books/coffee.” Here was the bookshop café as sophisticated shopping companion, as literary wingman.

Some of you even appealed to my best commercial instincts. “This will make me stay much longer and have a good look at everything,” wrote one. “Having space to read and have coffee is a warm invitation in and to stay,” wrote another.

To others, though, a bookshop café is a noisy distraction at best, at worst a reminder that while Hell may indeed be other people, its ninth circle is other people’s children. “I don’t like the smell of food and hot drinks and the chatter that comes with them,” read one response. A second singled out “in-house coffee shops with kids whining”. Others still fretted about the etiquette: can you sit and read a book before buying it? What if you decide it’s tosh?

Then there’s the music. Or not.

Several of you appreciate a good tune or two while you browse; some responders even doffed their caps to bookshops with good taste in music. “It shouldn’t be *too* quiet as it feels awkward and airless,” went a response typical of this group.

But another camp felt equally strongly that music is for clothes shops. One of you wrote that you are repelled by bookshops “that are too hipster, like the ones playing music”.

What to make of all of that? Well, um, thanks for your useful feedback. Ahem.

I suppose a wannabe bookseller could look at those results and decide to split the difference. Radio 4 until 5pm, then pure floor-fillers. A coffee shop hidden downstairs in the bookshop’s own speakeasy.

But even were compromise possible, it wouldn’t be desirable. Trying to please too many people, the shop would end up pleasing no one; a bland mishmash rather than an indie with soul.

Nic Bottomley of Mr B’s Emporium in Bath talks about the importance of “opinionated bookselling”. In an era of endless scrolling, indie bookshops should be confident in offering their picks: “Try this.” “That one? Maybe you’d prefer this, actually.” I think the same principle applies to ambience. What indies can offer is a vibe, any vibe. After all, algorithms can be very efficient, but they don’t tend to have much personality.

I can think of plenty of examples that I like of both types of bookshop: ones you could loosely term “old-school” and ones that are “third spaces” - hangouts for like-minded people that are neither home nor work.

But I think Backstory should be the latter. And proudly so. In part because that’s the sort of place I’d rather work. I like a buzz, friends catching up, swapping books and chatter. Books and wine are two of my favourite things, so, you know, bring your whole self to work, and all that.

It’s also because I want Backstory to feel welcoming to a broad spectrum of passers-by. Including passers-by with kids! Surely there’s nothing nicer as a bookseller than seeing a young customer discover the joy of reading for the first time.

Even though I love books and talking about books, I still feel a little intimidated in the sort of shop where a bell tinkles when you cross the threshold and the owner seems to be paying close attention to your choice of beach read. A bit of (quiet, background) music and some bar stools can do a lot to create a more relaxed setting.

Still, I have one bit of good news for the non-coffee holdouts. As my friends will attest, there is pretty much zero chance that any bookshop of mine will ever be described as “a bit too hipster”.

So, how about it? Let’s get a coffee soon? Or even better a glass of wine. Mine’s a Rioja.

Tom