Showing posts with label bookstore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bookstore. Show all posts

Thursday, March 28, 2024

Evolution.

Munro's Bookstore in Victoria: behold the ongoing decline of the mass-market novel and the triumph of the trade paperback and the hardcover - it's like seeing the last few Neanderthals making their way down the path to extinction...

- Sid

Monday, March 2, 2009

And they're close to an Irish pub, too.

"You do realize," said Zanna, "that you're stroking a milk carton."
"You're just jealous."
China MiƩville, Un Lun Dun
I spent part of the weekend on Vancouver Island helping my niece and her boyfriend move, but I also managed to find some free time to do some shopping in Victoria. If you're visiting British Columbia's capital, I strongly recommend Munro's Books on Government Street to anyone whose interests lie in the literary world.

During a previous visit, I had wandered into Munro's without any particular expectations, since very few non-genre bookstores have anything unique to offer to the science fiction and fantasy shopper*. However, to my surprise and pleasure, I found a paperback copy of Terry Pratchett's first novel, The Carpet People, which I'd never even heard of, let alone seen on a store shelf.

As a result, I went in this time with more of a sense of optimism, and was rewarded by a trade paperback copy of China MiƩville's Un Lun Dun for a mere $11.00, which is not all that much more than I would have expected to pay for a regular paperback. Even more surprising, the price was actually $11.00, rather than $10.99 or some similar insult to my mathematical intelligence.

Now if they can only overcome their identity problem - do they really need to have their name in that many places on their storefront?
- Sid

* In fact, there are some genre stores that don't have a lot to offer, either. White Dwarf, Vancouver's science fiction and fantasy specialty store, has done nothing to impress me, between their hard-to-browse shelving and the fact that they never have called me about the book that I ordered three years ago. Their dog is a pleasant sort, though.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

A Million Vacations.

SIGHTSEEING 
You are not my guide. My guide was bipedal.
We Earth people do not do that.
Oh, what a jolly fine natatorium (mating perch, arranged spectacle, involuntary phenomenon)!
At what hour does the lovelorn princess hurl herself into the flaming volcano? May we participate?
Please direct me to the nearest sentient mammal.
Take me to the Earth Consulate without any delay.
- Joanna Russ, Useful Phrases for the Tourist

Just returned from a week and a half in Ontario, and I have to say that as vacations go, it was pretty good. Usually I visit foreign locations when I have time off, but it had been almost a year since I'd been back east, and I felt more than a little overdue. 

The World's Biggest Bookstore at Edward and Yonge in Toronto continues to be a superior shopping location. I can't speak for their approach to other genres, but from the perspective of the science fiction and fantasy fan, it's a great spot. Although currently under the umbrella of Indigo/Chapters, the WBB seems to be free from their more irritating policies: science fiction and fantasy aren't separated, thereby allowing more continuity for authors who write in both areas and avoiding conflicts over exactly what category in which to place some of the more ambiguous authors. (What IS Perdido Street Station, really?) 

In addition, they also seem to have some extra latitude in terms of their selection. One of their end displays prominently features a pulp fiction retrospective which includes lesser known characters of Robert E. Howard's such as Bran Mak Morn and Almuric in addition to the inevitable Conan the Barbarian selections. 

The same display includes a couple of C. L. Moore short story collections, Leigh Brackett, and two Norvell Page collections featuring the Spider, Page's answer to the Shadow et al. The WBB also has enough distance between displays that it's possible to see the bottom shelf without bending over or crouching down, which is greatly appreciated by those of us with iffy knees.

Moving on from the WBB, I head down to Queen Street and the Silver Snail, a landmark in the Toronto comic book scene since 1976. (Gosh, what year did they move to their current address? They were about a block or so further east when I started visiting Toronto in the late 70's.) Originally focused purely on new and used/collectable comics, over time an increasingly large and varied selection of action figures, models and toys has been added to the store's lineup. Although I gave up buying comics a few years ago, I still like to go in and see if things have changed in either the store or the marketplace, and end up making a purchase after all: the DC Comics Elseworlds edition of Red Son. What if Superman's capsule had landed in Russia instead of the American Midwest? It's an interesting question - after all, Superman was only fighting for "Truth, Justice and the American Way" because that was how he'd been raised. Red Son examines how different things might have been if he had grown up on a Soviet collective farm. (Sidebar: Stalin translates into English as "man of steel".) 

A rippling drumbeat from a sidewalk performer echoes along the buildings as I cross Spadina, and a young man in cargo shorts and t-shirt rushes by, clutching a hammer and three sharpened stakes - presumably en route to some kind of Buffy inspired rendezvous with a trio of vampires. Further along the block is Bakka-Phoenix, the latest incarnation of the venerable Queen Street science fiction and fantasy bookstore. 

Originally just Bakka (it's a Dune reference, for those of you not among the cognoscenti) it opened further east on Queen Street in 1972, moved to Yonge Street in 1998, and it's been back on Queen since 2005, just a little further west and comfortably out of the trendy section. Sadly, the front window no longer explains the provenance of the name. 

 Even more sadly, the used book section is a pale shadow of its former self, although it's possible that this may not be a planned development. While I'm there, a young woman comes in desperately seeking the Amber series by Roger Zelazny, and heads to the used section in hopes of saving a little cash. The staff member on site provides the surprising statistic that no one has brought an individual Zelazny text in for sale since 1998. (Frankly, I'm a little sceptical about that, ten years seems like an awfully long dry spell, although it's a nice little tribute to the late Mr. Zelazny.) 

Bakka (I'm sorry, the Phoenix part doesn't fly for me, no pun intended) has always been distinguished by the dedication and knowledge of the staff - not surprising given the number of genre authors who have worked there. I have no idea if the woman working the cash is an author or not, but she displays a wide and varied knowledge of both the inventory and the field as customers ask her a variety of questions.

I buy a couple of books, and manage to make my escape after only a limited interaction with Michelle, a long term employee (and monumental bitch) who sweeps into the store just as I'm paying for my selections. 

 Interestingly enough, all three stores provide evidence that the US/Canadian book price situation is being dealt with on the grass-roots level as well as being addressed by the publishers. My Charles Stross novel from the WBB only has a one-dollar difference in price, as opposed to the illogical three-dollar difference of last year. The Silver Snail sells me Red Son for US cover price, rather than the four-dollar-higher Canadian price, and Bakka has marked down one of the books that I buy by fifty cents - okay, not a lot, but for an independent outlet where every penny counts, it's a noteworthy gesture. 

- Sid

Monday, February 26, 2007

A rose by any other name.

I just picked up my copy of The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction - no easy task, at 1395 pages and 2 and 7/8 inches thick in trade paperback it's big enough to use as a bookend - and, in a moment of whimsy, looked up the term "Science Fiction". Surprisingly, there's no entry, and I couldn't seem to find anything in the Introduction or the "Contents of This Book". 

Oddly enough, there are listings for alternative names, such as the British "scientific romance" of the pre-WWII years, and the original "Scientifiction" of Hugo Gernsback's invention - even a quick hit-and-run on "sci-fi", apparently now being pronounced "skiffy" - but no actual definatory entry on "science fiction". You'd think if you were going to knock off close to 1500 pages on a topic, you'd spare a word or two on what it was you were discussing. 

 All right, then, what is science fiction? 

 Many of the available definitions seem to aim more at distinguishing SF from fantasy than anything else. Chapters, the major Canadian book chain, separates the two genres into separate sections, albeit with mixed success. I recently suggested to an undeserving victim who was ringing up my purchases that, as a basic rule of thumb, the ones with space ships on the covers are often SF, and the ones with dragons are usually fantasy. (Not a hard distinction, but a useful filter for the uninitiated.) 

However, there are obviously more subtle distinctions in play at Chapters: Batman novelizations are in the science fiction section, whereas Spiderman is fantasy. Hmmm... 

But, I digress - space ships and dragons aside, is there a functioning definition of science fiction in play? Thanks to Google™, we are quickly presented with over two million links for the search terms "science fiction definitions". (Apparently a few people have an opinion on this.) For the most part, I suspect that most people, albeit unwittingly, use the Damon Knight definition:

Science fiction means what we point to when we say it.
In other words, whatever we want to be SF, is. Personally, in spite of all the involved, thoughtful, and philosophical definitions that have been put forward, I've always had a strong affection for Philip K. Dick's take on the question, from the introduction to The Golden Man:
The SF writer sees not just possibilities but wild possibilities. It's not just "What if–", it's "My God, what if–!"
And we shall proceed on that basis - it's not just "what if".
- Sid