This book was simply written with some interesting characters. Having lived in a small English town for several years, I could appreciate some of the realities of hierarchy and subtle bullying. Mrs Green had every chance of making her bookshop dream come true if not for the machinations of the "woman of the manor." The young girl who helped in the shop was delightful in her open manner and take charge attitude. Families like hers fostered children who were more like miniature adults. The ending struck me as terribly sad and unfair. There was no failure - she had just been outwitted by a spoiled woman who always got her way.

There seem to be a lot of reviews complaining that The Bookshop is depressing. I don't understand that viewpoint at all. This book was hilarious. It's all about the humor of having diminished expectations and still being unable to live up to them. Perhaps I shouldn't think too hard about why that appeals to me. Four stars.

Mixed feelings. Well written, but too sad and bleak for my tastes. I had a similar reaction to John Williams' Stoner. The Bookshop and Stoner are both very well written books, but I have no desire to revisit either again.

2019 addendum: I saw the film version of this novel recently - partly to see what had been done with the book, and partly because I always enjoy watching Bill Nighy. The film left me with many of the same feelings that reading the book did - except that the tag at the end with Florence's young assistant left me with a feeling of hope. I may be something of a Pollyanna type, but I don't like hopelessness, which is what I was left with when I read the book.

My expectations were a bit Pym-ish. The Bookshop promised all sorts of apt visions, austerity, widows, spinsters, modernity, the Church. Well there were traces of such harbored within, but the bend bent elsewhere. I was actually reminded of Murdoch's Sandcastles, the provincials backbiting like crabs, human spirit crushed by petty jealousy. It was perfect day for this here: cats and dogs all day.

I feel at a loss about this book. I finished it three days ago, and my thoughts about this little 1978 Booker-nominated novel still haven't settled in a definitive manner. They haven't settled at all.

Did I like it? I don't usually have difficulty answering that question. Of course, there were things I liked about it. I liked that the protagonist, Florence Green, wanted to spend her widowhood running a bookshop. I liked that she was spunky and stood up to Mrs. Gamart, who wanted her to abandon the idea. I liked the strange, unfriendly atmosphere of the small town of Hardborough. I liked the lack of sentimentality with which this was written, which kept it from being too cutesy.

Some things about it, though, I didn't really like. The main thing, one that I can put my finger on, is that we never really know Florence Green. The book is written from quite a remove, almost like that of a fairy tale, one that includes ghosts (or "rappers" as they are called here). We don't really know why she wants to run a bookshop. She doesn't read and doesn't know good books (and has to ask someone whether they think it would be a good idea to stock Vladimir Nabokov's new novel Lolita in her store). So, this woman who is sort of wide-eyed and carried along by a tide, who doesn't love books particularly, opens a book shop and is met with 1950s English small-mindedness. Should I care?

The weird thing is that I did care. I was thrilled when people lined up to buy the Nabokov book. I cheered when Florence found a champion in Mr. Brundish. My heart sank as the ending approached, that rather brutal ending.

Would I have liked it better if the author had allowed us a little bit of happily-ever-after at the end, I wonder? Or would I have found it twee, and complained of the sweetness? I suspect that this a is a no-win situation for me and Penelope Fitzgerald. No-lose, too. I'm sitting here, right in the middle of the road. What an unhelpful review!

What an ugly little book this is. The town seems ugly, not at all picturesque (at least as described), and the people who live in it are even worse; small minded, uncultured, unfriendly and toady. Why would anyone want to live there, or choose to open a business there?

I’m afraid I didn’t much care for this bleak and uncompromisingly downbeat novel. I found I couldn’t even feel bad for the protagonist who seemed a rather silly sort who opens a book shop on a whim (not from a love of books).

*spoilers*

Mrs Green opens her book shop in a long abandoned old building and learns that a wealthy and influential (filthy rich and powerful) local harridan wants the old building for an “arts centre.” When our protagonist resists entreaties to find a different property or give up the venture altogether the villain sets into motion a scheme to displace her for good and all.

I hated the filthy rich woman, but I never developed much affection for Mrs Green either. The author failed to imbue her with any endearing qualities. I felt that I was more outraged at what was happening to Mrs Green than she was herself. There was no outburst of righteous indignation: “I’ve been wronged, damn it!” “I’m being persecuted!” The town folk are a motley crew who don’t seem to care much about this woman, her business or her situation.

If I were Mrs Green I fear this would have morphed into an Agatha Christie story of local dowager found in the drawing room with the sash from the curtains wound round her throat. The actual ending is ultra-real and quite harsh.

There is an underdeveloped and wholly superfluous subplot involving a poltergeist, as well as anecdotal scenes of running the book shop. I’m afraid I didn’t buy into the drama. The whole seemed rather stagnant and failed to engage me on any emotional level until the very end…but too little too late.

Alright, so you think you deserve a happy ending? Don't we all? Well, sometimes life, or the author, has other plans. What is that they say about life imitating art? Now if only the bookstore owners suddenly finding themselves in Florence Green's shoes could put the book down, let off some steam by writing a scathing review, and move on to something else. What kind of endings would they write?

3,5⭐/5

This is a small, but lovely book. I say "small" rather than "short" (though it is, at only about 120 pages) because like Austen, Fitzgerald works in miniature here. The plot is simple -- Florence Green starts a bookshop in a small English town, and Fitzgerald examines the repercussions of her decision and its effects on herself and the other inhabitants of the town.

For me, this turned out an interesting example of how reading tastes can change over the years. When I started it, I remembered belatedly that I'd read it several years ago (at least six, since it was before I started keeping track of my reading); when I looked it up on Amazon, I found that I'd only rated it two stars. I think this must have been on the grounds that, as some of the reader reviews there complain, nothing really happens in the book. Well, yes, there are no earthshattering events, and the characters are just ordinary people -- but Fitzgerald portrays their lives in a keenly observed way that, this time through, I was much more gripped by the book. Now I want to read more Fitzgerald.

This droll and wicked novel is about a passionate woman who dreams of opening a bookstore in a quaint English village. Penelope Fitzgerald is a masterful writer and in my opinion, this is one of her best books. Five stars.

A perfect little gem!

The title of the book rather misled me- The Bookshop. I expected a book about books. Instead, I received a book about the machinations of position and wealth and its power over a woman with neither.

We meet Florence Green, a middle aged widow, who decides to open a bookshop in an old abandoned, rundown, ghost inhabited building.

“She had a kind heart, though that is not much use when it comes to the matter of self preservation.”

Florence had no idea that the influential Mrs. Gabart had other plans for the building and once she found out, she didn’t care.

“She blinded herself, in short, by pretending for a while that human beings are not divided into exterminators and exterminatees, with the former, at any given moment, predominating.”

Hardborough is a village where everyone knows everyone’s business and people side with the one who can help them out. I loved the way Fitzgerald brought all these peripheral characters forward. My favourite was Christine, the 10 year old that Florence hired to help in the shop. The conversations between the two of them brought much needed humour to the book.

Florence was such an interesting person. She stood strong against the opposition. I admired her tenacity. What I couldn’t figure out is why she had such a strong desire to open a bookshop. She wanted to bring “culture” to their village. But she was not a reader. When the book “Lolita” was recommended to her as a book with selling power, she had to seek the advice of a wealthy, sympathetic patron, Mr. Brundish.

This is a book that crept up on me. Deep down, I was pretty sure how it would end- the journey to that ending was utterly captivating. Fitzgerald’s writing is stark and powerful. This was my first foray into her books and definitely not my last.

“A good book is the precious life blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life, and as such it must surely be a necessary commodity.”

It definitely is to me!

Published: 1978

Not your fault, Penelope. Just read one too many repressed-English-lady-in-a-closed-society stories in a row I think. Instead of the connection and recognition I typically feel, I came out the other side of predicting the words you were going to say with the face of the enemies that you spend much of the book fighting. Which means I need a break from you lovely ladies- as overidentified with you as I am- even I can need, like Charlotte, a little more air to breathe and I can't appreciate going on one more 200-300 page journey to get a tiny piece of it like I typically do. I'll be back when I haven't just read about ten-fifteen of your sisters all in a row. I'll bet it will be a relief to be back among you when I do, but not just now.