No list would be complete without mention of some of the smaller, family run bookshops:
Not every book-dealer can aspire to the dizzy heights of say…us, many shops, Baumans amongst them have to settle for only having a couple of First Folio Shakespeares, a mere handful of Nuremberg Chronicles and Hypnerotomachia Polyphili (Polyphiliii?). Not to mention this and this!
Their staff are highly trained, beautifully presented and mind-bogglingly knowledgeable sure, and their shops are beautiful and packed with treasures and…plural…but really? Who needs that when you can have me; smelling faintly of cider, rattling on interminably about William Hope Hodgson and looking as if I got dressed in the dark from the contents of a late 70’s Marshall Ward catalogue.
There’s also this:
Yes, you are seeing that right, I thought I was drunk too. Although in all fairness to the ever professional Mr. Hilbert he’s not to know what less fortunate people with access to photo-shop get up to. Lord knows there’s probably some images of me floating around out there that make me look responsible, adult and/or human! Perish the thought…
Although there aren’t many bookdealers with enough clout to get gently lampooned in Esquire Magazine!