I have received a wonderful gift. In real terms it’s not actually a gift for me. It doesn’t belong to me and no one gave it to me, but as a thing for me to cherish, it’s high up there on the list of special things.
It’s a new independent bookshop in the town where I live.
No one reading this will be surprised by the revelation that I love independent bookshops. I may not have been able to publish here for a while but I’ve not stopped visiting the local bookshop of whatever town or village I find myself in, and I’ve continued my commitment to buying a book in every good bookshop I visit (which means 99.9% of them). But this is different.
This is a bookshop I can easily return to again and again.
I don’t need to buy one book to write the bookshop and address in the cover as an aide memoire of the wonderful time I had there.
In this bookshop I need to buy one book, and then another, and another, and another. Visiting again, and again, and again because finally I can.
And so do you.
Because this bookshop needs me and my regular purchases as much as I need it.
Station Books on Tunbridge Wells High Street isn't a treat to be stumbled across for a one-off visit, it's to become a regular part of my shopping, the place where I'll re-stock my reading pile in much the same way I'd re-stock the bread bin (if I was civilised enough to own a bread bin, and also so much more special than that).
And what a good local it is.
I couldn’t have imagined a bookshop more suited to both Royal Tunbridge Wells and my very niche requirements.
When I walked in and turned left to review the first bookcase, the very first title I read was that of my all-time favourite book*. I then looked up and picked out shelf after shelf of classics that I either already love or have long wanted to read.
Next are two bookcases of contemporary fiction and again there were rows of titles I’m curious about or have read and recommended more times than I can remember. If visitors look no further, they’ll find a wealth of words to lose themselves in here.
Indeed, when he arrived to meet me, I lost The Boy to these three bookcases as he settled into a comfy chair and attempted to whittle down a long list of future reads.
Next we have a rarity in the world of the small independent bookshop: a couple of bookcases dedicated to science fiction and fantasy and horror. I don’t know much about the last category, but the first two are the treats I hunt for whenever I’m in a bookshop. Even larger stores often only manage a shelf or two to these titles, so to find so much choice for this lover of different worlds was more than I could have ever hoped for. I naturally picked up my first purchase from here (Calypso by Oliver K Langmead) and I look forward to working my way along the shelves and enjoying recommendations during future visits.
Moving on, the non-fiction bookcases had me wanting to buy up half their contents, and the nearby boardgames are the icing on the cake in terms of things I long for. My niece is also going to benefit from the good selection of children’s books and I love the efforts made to support young dyslexic readers.
I’m not going to list off the entire contents of the bookshop – I want you to visit for yourselves to find your own favourite bookcase. But I will tell you it’s a longer room than you’d expect from the front and even in its status of “soft opening, minimal viable product on the shelves” I was sorry I only had the space of a lunch break to linger.
And linger I shall. Again, and again, and again as I return to enjoy the luxury of having an independent bookshop open its door in my town.
When I was younger, I didn’t understand the rare and precious gift that was my local independent bookshop. Teenage me was lucky enough to have one nearby where I spent all my pocket money on £1 Penguin Classics*, then student me fell in love with another local which kindly ordered in Iris Murdoch’s entire catalogue and allowed me to buy as I could afford them.
Then I relocated and discovered I was in an independent bookshopless town. A few years later the same again, and again. Until then, I hadn’t considered it possible that there could be places without bookshops. I grew up visiting them and I simply assumed they were everywhere. I took them for granted. I didn’t realise there could be an absence until I experienced it. I don’t want to experience that absence again.
I don't have the words to say how happy I am to finally have an independent bookshop here in the town I now call home. It’s not really mine, or yours, but it is the town’s. It’s our local bookshop and I'm sure you'll all join me in supporting our local independent bookshop.
Welcome to Tunbridge Wells, Station Books.
* My favourite book is The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, which I first encountered as a £1 Penguin Classic in my first independent bookshop.
