Harlequin Books offers the opportunity for browsers to spend all day digging among their stock or even a quick visit to pick up something to read on a lazy summer’s day.
I
have discovered recently that I love Devon. This may be because I know a
certain someone there, and because we went on lots of boating holidays around
there too. I also love Devon because it has some of the best bookshops.
We
headed out to Totnes on a grey day in November, when everybody was just about
getting used to the idea of autumn and winter that lay beyond. I had looked online
before and Totnes was just like every other Devonshire town – it yielded up
three bookshops upon a silver platter. There are three bookshops in Totnes, not
counting the Oxfam bookshop (where, it has to be noted, I picked up Douglas
Cockerell’s Bookbinding) and the
wonderful charity shops. One is an independent, one is a small and cosy
second-hand, and one is Harlequin Books.
The
people at Harlequin have crowded books into every available space, which is
probably my favourite kind of set up. Books spilled from the shelves, all
tumbled, all in some messy order. Amusing labels accompanied your shopping
experience – something like ‘Expensive and Old’ was attached to a shelf
containing some first editions of a variety of books.
The
range of books is both fantastic and very easy to get lost in. At the front of
the shop, if the outside stalls – harking back to Victorian time bookshops – don’t
tempt you inside, then the selection of books within will. Heading the front of
the shop is the entire range of Wordsworth Classics, providing an inexpensive but
quality edition of what seems to be every known British classic. Other such books
adorned the shelves nearby. They attract
a browser to dig deeper into the shop. The contrast of new and old doesn’t
clash here, either – it is like the new books are complimenting the old, and
the collection within the shop is diverse.
Some
particularly nice children’s books sat upon some shelves with a teddy bear: and
next to them, a brilliant case of orange Penguins. There is something so
satisfying about seeing lots of those titles altogether, something desirable
and antique, as well. As far as I can remember, everything was reasonably
priced.
I
got distracted for a while by digging into a huge pile of old National Geographic.
I was hoping that a cover or a title of an article would jump out at me as a
potential Christmas present for my brother. Nothing was forthcoming, and my attention
went back to a book I had seen on the ‘Expensive and Old’ shelf.
The
variety here was delightful, and the atmosphere perfect for any book lover.
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It
was a large book of Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tales that caught my eye.
As you may already know from reading this blog, I go pretty gaga over books of
fairy tales. I was immediately entranced by the beautiful cover design, and
then the age – although not as old as some of the books I own, this was from
the 1920s. I like to imagine a previous owner of such a book, and holding it,
it filled me with sweet and warm images of children being read to at night, by
candlelight: or a child camping under the covers with a torch.
Apprehensively,
I opened the book. It was £25. I couldn’t really afford to spend that much
money.
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David
and I visited Harlequin Books again in April. Nothing much had changed, except
I noticed that the Hans Christian Anderson book had gone. I would have been
prepared to buy it, if it had been there still.
Curiously,
David seemed ever so interested in the not-so-interesting sale books that were
gracing the outside stalls that he didn’t come into the shop at all.
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It
was reasonably bright for my birthday in May. I had not received any books as
yet. David’s presents looked promising. There was a pretty heavy book-looking
one among the others.
Tearing
into the paper I recognised a pattern that I had fallen in love with. The Hans
Christian Anderson Book fell into my hands.
It
turned out that it was David who had bought the book just a few days before our
visit, and he didn’t want to back into the shop in case the owner sad, ‘How’s
the book?’ and therefore ruining a lovely surprise.
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It
sits proudly next to Andrew Lang and Grimm. My collection of fairy tales is
growing, and this book is a beautiful companion within my ever-increasing collection
of Crumblers.
