In 2009, my answer to the question ‘Are bricks and mortar bookshops doomed?’ underwent a subtle but significant change. (No one has actually asked me that specific question, by the way – after all, who cares what I think? Well, I do, so I have regularly asked myself the question).
Anyway, up until some time in 2009, when pondering an answer to this weighty self-inflicted question, I would have to think about it a bit. Kick a few ideas and scenarios around in my head. Weigh up the exact wording of my response. And end up with: ‘Probably.’ Which I would then dress up with various caveats and qualifications.
For a while now, however, my answer has not been something I need to think about too much. Are bricks and mortar bookshops doomed? Yeah, pretty much.
I’m still going to stick one or two qualifications on there, though, just to be picky. By ‘bookshops’ I mean mostly – but by no means exclusively – the big stores that reside in every town centre in the UK. By ‘doomed’ I mean headed for a potentially savage reduction in numbers and, for the surviving outlets, a future rather different from their recent past. Timescale-wise, I’m no real futurist so who knows? The evidence in the UK would seem to suggest that it’s already underway: Borders UK – a small but not insignificant chain – went under late last year. Waterstone’s, the last big dedicated bookselling chain, has just announced really horrible Christmas trading figures, at a time when most other high street retailers have been posting surprisingly good numbers. (I’ve no idea how WH Smiths, the other long-established biggish beast of high street book sales is doing, but they’re not solely reliant on books for revenue so may not be so vulnerable).
I really, really like bookshops, so this is not a change I instinctively welcome, but it would be silly to ignore my personal contribution to the hammering these bookstores have been taking. Because I’m definitely part of the problem. A tiny, tiny itsy-bitsy little part of the problem, for sure, but I’m in there doing my bit to destroy their business model. I’m only human, and the forces arrayed against the poor old bricks and mortar bookstore are powerful enough to suck even me along in their seductive wake.
The price- and convenience-appeal of online shopping (not just for books, of course) is too much for me to resist, a lot of the time. Although I’m far from poor, I’m not rich enough these days to be entirely uninterested in the unit cost of my reading habit, and there’s a lot to be said for being able to acquire the objects of my desire without having to even leave my house. Result: it’s at least possible that in 2009 I spent more buying coffee in bookshops than I did buying actual books. And much as I like coffee (and tediously expensive as it is in such places) I don’t spend nearly enough on it to keep Waterstones or any other cafe-equipped bookstore in business for long.
If it was only the competition from online sellers that the stores had to face, they could probably hang on in there. But the supermarkets have driven a coach and horses through the established price structure for bestsellers, destroying what used to be a central plank in the financial viability of dedicated bookstores. I am, at least, innocent of any complicity in this development, since I have never bought a book in a supermarket, and hope I never will. (Which is fairly easy for me to say since, to date, they don’t sell the kind of books I tend to read).
And there’s the third, and probably most dangerous, club bludgeoning the bookstores about the head: e-readers. Late last year I played around with one in a shop, the first time I’ve ever really done so with proper attention. And – sacrilege! – I found myself thinking: ‘You know, I could actually read a novel like this. It’s quite a pleasing bit of kit, all in all. And it would be kind of cool to have hundreds of books in your pocket …’ I might even buy one, one day. (They’ll have to be both even better and cheaper, though). And that’s really bad news for bookstores, because I’m a paper and ink guy through and through. If even I’m wavering … well, the end is surely nigh. The real breakthrough for digital books is a little way off yet, but one things for sure: the market for them isn’t about to start shrinking any time soon..
I expect there will still be some shops that make enough money solely from selling books to keep going – quite possibly they’ll be local, brilliantly managed independent shops with a specialist interest. And there will no doubt be plenty of places that sell books alongside all kinds of other stuff. But I’m pretty sure we’re in the twilight of the ubiquitous, big, dedicated bookshops in prime retail locations we’ve all grown up with. Eventually lots of them will go the same way so many of the music stores have gone, and the way the movie rental shops and the video game stores will probably go in due course. (Is it my imagination, or do all these places, when they close down, get replaced with mobile phone shops? Is there some law about this I’m unaware of? Is there no upper limit on the density of mobile phone emporia an area can support?)
It’s just change. It’s the way of things these days. Business models, even whole industries, come and go. No point in getting gloomy about it, or too nostalgic for the way things used to be – particularly when I, along with millions of other perfectly well-intentioned folk, am helping to propel the change. But there’s no getting away from the fact I’ll miss knowing that I can find, somewhere in the centre of every reasonable-sized town in the UK, a big open shop filled with rank upon rank of shelves stuffed with thousands and thousands of books (and pretty much nothing but books), and having the sense of being on the threshold of a great storehouse of knowledge and entertainment and craft. And cruising the aisles touching the books and turning them over in my hands, admiring them as objects. I hope that when these places are gone – or at least much rarer than they used to be – their absence won’t be an excuse for people to forget how important and magical books with paper pages are (were?).
But as I said before, I’m no futurist. So who knows?