Un anno della vita di Florence Green è condensato nelle 180 pagine di questo romanzo.
In quest’anno un sogno si realizza e tramonta, insieme al desiderio di dare una svolta alla sua esistenza di vedova di mezza età in una cittadina sperduta dell’East Anglia: aprire una libreria, investendo i risparmi di una vita. Un’impresa, in un luogo dove sembra che nessuno legga e un’attività commerciale basata sulla cultura appare poco più che bizzarra.

“Sta parlando di cultura?” disse il direttore, con una voce a mezza strada fra la pietà e il rispetto.
“La cultura è per i dilettanti. Non posso gestire il mio esercizio in perdita. Shakespeare era un professionista!”.

In quella zona paludosa, in cui la vita degli abitanti è regolata da abitudini e pettegolezzi, la nuova attività porta uno scompiglio indesiderato.

“La città stessa era un'isola fra mare e fiume, pronta a brontolare e a ritirarsi dentro se stessa non appena sentiva il freddo”

L’ostinazione di Florence si scontra con diverse resistenze

“Chiuse gli occhi, in breve, fingendo per un po’ che gli esseri umani non si dividono in sterminatori e sterminati, con i primi che predominano, in qualunque momento”.

Pagina dopo pagina, lo stile essenziale ed elegante dell’autrice ci accompagna verso una resa che la stessa Florence considera inevitabile.

“Non le dispiacque tanto quanto si era aspettata. Era la sconfitta, ma la sconfitta è accolta meno male quando si è stanchi”.

La storia lascia un gusto amaro, quel senso di incompiutezza che hanno i sogni quando la realtà irrompe.

“A Flintmarket prese il 10.46 per Liverpool Street. Mentre il treno usciva dalla stazione se ne stette col capo chino per la vergogna, perché la città dove era vissuta per quasi dieci anni non aveva voluto una libreria”.

“In the end, she valued kindness above everything.”

This is an excellent story. It comes across as light at first, full of allusions to time (1959) and place (the eastern coast of England), and sprinkled with dark humor. I happily read along, very much enjoying the character of Florence Green setting out on her challenging venture.

“It’s a peculiar thing to take a step forward in middle age, but having done it I don’t intend to retreat.”

Florence is determined to make a go of a book shop, against the wishes of the powers-that-be in her isolated little town. I have had my own disagreeable experiences with small towns, and Fitzgerald deftly describes what can happen when everyone knows everyone and you’re hounded by prying eyes and unwittingly caught up in selfish schemes.

The writing is deceptively simple. While it starts with a light feel, about half way you realize you’ve skipped your way into a tragedy. When you’re done reading, you feel like you’ve read something Russian, like Chekhov maybe, which has left you contemplating personal values and the cruelty of human nature.

I’m looking forward to checking out more Penelope Fitzgerald!

'The Bookshop' is a little story of an ordinary woman, Florence Green, in 1959 England with a little money. She decides to open a bookstore in a little village which has no bookstore. With a great deal of innocence and no savvy, she overcomes a number of obstacles - a bank loan, buying a run-down house, having no previous ties to the community - and opens her store. Tourists like the store!

It doesn't take long before a variety of village folk notice. The local Establishment (an aristocratic family) and nearby slacker businesses feel threatened by her store. Mrs. Gamart, a local who considers herself the local Art expert, does not want the bookshop. Local businesses resent her success. The other villagers are indifferent about the bookstore at best, and easily bought off by the haters to work against her at worst.

This novel is a soft-spoken indictment against the insularity of small village life. Ordinary people in the community are emotionally smothered with genteel soft pillows while the other villagers indifferently watch. It made me think of that scene in the movie 'The Time Machine' (1960) starring Rod Taylor where the Eloi sit on the bank of a river and calmly watch Weena drowning, mildly entertained. Nothing that loud or creepy actually happens in this little story, by the way.

Location location location! That said, the message is not everyone will want your brand of upgrade to their life. This story makes vividly clear what people need is not as easily accepted as what people want.

I made comment on specific points in the book as part of a group read over the past couple of weeks. Here, I'm more interested in a general overview so that potential readers know what to expect.

It's the story of a retired woman, who sets up a bookshop in an out of the way, almost moribund to me, English seaside town. Eventually, she decides to use her savings to open the business, although there may not be sufficient local market to support doing so. At the risk of spoiling the story I'll leave it at that her enterprise does not go well. On the way to the unfortunate ending, it's about her interaction with several locals as a character-driven story, although there is a strong sense of place. High writing quality, although I suppose I'd be forced to say that at times some suspension of disbelief was required.

A better place to start with the author than Offshore, where I had trouble distinguishing the characters. Eve Karpf did a terrific job with the audio narration here.

When I started this book I thought, "Oh, another nice Miss Read." When I finished, I just sat still for a while. She gave me the same feeling I had after reading Henry James's Washington Square. Oh, the cruelty! Fitzgerald is a new author to me. I'm going to start looking for her other books.

I read this book by flashlight during a winter storm where we were without power for 36 hours. Brr! I'm just posting about it now because it was part of my Books on the Nightstand Postal Bookswap, where six of us have been sending books in a circle for a year. Now that the circle has closed, I can make sure these books are counted in my 2016 reads.

This is a slight book, more of a novella, about a woman who decides to open a book shop in a fictional coastal town in Suffolk. But rather than this being a feel-good, woman-opens-bookshop-and-finds-love/friendship, it is more of a tale of expectations challenged by tradition.

Habe gerade (06.05.2017) meine alte Review wiedergefunden, von der ich nicht weiß, ob ich sie heute noch so stehen lassen würde. Eine erneute Lektüre steht demnächst an:

Florence Green, Witwe und in ihrer Jugend Verkäuferin in einer Buchhandlung, beschließt, Ende der 50er Jahre in dem englischen Dörfchen Hardborough eine Buchhandlung zu eröffnen. Dabei stellen sich ihr einige Hindernisse in den Weg. Das Domizil der Buchhandlung wird plötzlich von der örtlichen Prominenz in Gestalt der Schirmherrin aller kulturellen Aktivitäten im Ort, Mrs. Gamart, beansprucht. Dabei bringt nicht nur die Feuchtigkeit des Hauses die Bücher zum schimmeln, sondern auch ein Hausgespenst Florence zur Verzweiflung. Erwartet der Leser nun eine spannende Geschichte über eine Frau, die ihr Ziel, eine eigene Buchhandlung zu leiten, leidenschaftlich verfolgt, wird er enttäuscht. Die Buchhändlerin liest nicht einmal selber, sondern lässt brisantes Schriftgut lesen. Ein zurückgezogen lebender Bewohner von Hardborough soll eine Art Expertise erstellen. Dabei handelt es sich um Nabokovs "Lolita", deren Verkauf in Florence' Laden einen - wenn auch bescheidenen - Skandal auslöst.

Beim Leser bleibt das Gefühl zurück, einem Etikettenschwindel erlegen zu sein, denn die Buchhandlung wird mit einer Passion betrieben, mit der auch ein Fischladen geführt werden könnte. Aber Lesebegeisterung als Eigenschaft der Protagonisten ist en vogue, von Huizings "Buchtrinker" bis zu Cohens "Buchhändler". Das wird wohl dazu geführt haben, den bereits 1978 im Englischen publizierten Roman nun ins Deutsche zu übersetzen. Und "Der Fischladen" wäre ja auch wirklich ein blöder Titel.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Neue Review nach erneuter Lektüre 2018:
Noch immer stört mich, dass Bibliophilie eine eher untergeordnete Rolle in diesem Buch spielt, dass mich mit dem Titel also auf eine falsche Fährte setzt. Bezeichnend ist vielleicht auch eine Aussage wie „Sie war eine Kauffrau: Warum sollte ihr jemand zutrauen, daß sie irgendwas mit Kunst und Kultur zu schaffen hätte?“ Aber, das muss man dem Buch zugute halten, es wird ganz gut dieser spezielle britische, indirekte Tonfall getroffen, kombiniert mit einer schönen Beschreibung einer kleinen englischen Stadt in den 50ern. Mich erinnert die Erzählweise ein wenig an den Ton in der TV-Serie „Der Doktor und das liebe Vieh“ (die Bücher kenne ich nicht). Nur ist das leider nicht so ganz „my cup of tea“, wofür aber Fitzgerald nichts kann.

Gerade habe ich die Verfilmung von Isabel Coixet gesehen, die zwar kein Meisterwerk darstellt und in der durch die musikalische Untermalung es zeitweise arg melodramatisch wird. Dennoch ist die Verfilmung recht gelungen, denn was ich im Buch vermisse, die Bibliophie, wird hier doch etwas sichtbarer durch das ins Bild setzen der Buchhandlung und einzelner Buchcover. Ebenso wird der Humor der Vorlage durch wirklich tolle Schauspieler wunderbar herausgekitzelt. Der Film ist schon allein sehenswert wegen Bill Nighy als Mr. Brundish – wunderbar verschroben, hilflos, verletzbar.

Das hat mich dann auch ein wenig mit der Vorlage versöhnt und es gibt einen zweiten Stern ;)

Uma mulher decide abrir uma livraria na pequena vila onde vive. A ideia é boa porque não tem concorrência, o problema é a senhora não perceber nada da mercadoria; ou seja, de livros. Vende manuais de flores e pesca, postais ilustrados e marcadores de livros. Tem também uns livros para emprestar da categoria A, B e C.
O que mais me impressionou foi quando um amigo lhe sugeriu - para aumentar as vendas - que encomendasse alguns exemplares de Lolita, de Nabokov. A lojista não tinha qualquer ideia do que seria (apenas que o nome lhe soava a russo) e pediu a outro amigo que o lesse e a aconselhasse sobre se deveria vendê-lo na loja. Mas ela não o leu!

Penso que o objectivo deste livro é relatar as dificuldades com que uma mulher sozinha se depara quando pretende ser inovadora. Mas tanto fazia que o título fosse A Barbearia, A Charcutaria, A Relojoaria ou qualquer outra coisa.

Revisited for the 2019 Mookse Madness Tournament, I only came across Penelope Fitzgerald in 2017 at the age of 48.

This is very late, but that seems appropriate for an author who herself launched her literary career at 58 and wrote her first novel at 60 had her second (this novel) shortlisted for the Booker the next year, and won the Booker the following year.

Florence Green, a middle-aged widower decides to buy a derelict property in a small Suffolk coastal town Hardborough and sets up a bookshop. She is initially encouraged by the locals not to proceed – either to move elsewhere or ideally buy the closing down fishmongers, so as to assist the fishmonger and also free up the derelict (and poltergeist possessed) property for the local head of society Mrs Gamart to pursue her plan of an arts centre to rival Aldeburgh (one to be run by a local minor television celebrity, the self-possessed Milo North). At first succeeding (helped by a precocious young assistant and by sales of “Lolita”) she is eventually worn down by the machinations of the locals and her property repossessed with no compensation by the local council for an arts centre, forcing Florence to leave “Her head bowed with shame, because the town in which she had lived for nearly ten years had not wanted a bookshop”.

Some of the best lines in the book:

Hardborough

“Every fifty years or so it had lost, as though careless or indifferent to such things, another means of communication”.

Of Milo

“Gentleness is not kindness. His fluid personality tested and stole into the weak places of others until it found it could settle down into its own advantage”.

Florence, anxious at a party

“drank some of the champagne and the smaller worries of the day seemed to stream upwards as tiny pinpricks through the golden mouthfuls and to break harmlessly and vanish”.

Saxford Tye, a village where a rival bookshop is built instead of holiday homes as

“no one had ever been known to spend a holiday there …. the village was unique in that part of Suffolk in not having a picturesque church to offer the visitor. The Church had, in fact, carelessly been burnt down during the celebrations of 1925, when the Sugar Beet Subsidy Act had been passed, saving the lethargic population from extinction”.

Beautiful vignette of a novel - and a fantastically observed account of life in a small country town with deftly sketched characters.

If you asked me to choose a writer particularly skilled at illustrating the latent nastiness that lurks in small provincial towns, my first choice would probably be a French author -- either Balzac or de Maupassant. The cruelties and resentments of village life are recurrent themes in their work -- a good illustration is one of de Maupassant's earliest and best-known stories,  Boule de Suife , which paints a devastating picture of the meanness and nastiness that characterizes the behavior of the powerful towards those they perceive as being lower in the social pecking order. It's not a particularly uplifting view of human behavior, but de Maupassant is so convincing that you don't doubt him for an instant.

I haven't read any other fiction by Penelope Fitzgerald, but "The Bookshop", a novel of only 120 pages (but of staggering brilliance), immediately places her in the same league as de Maupassant. Which is to say, way up there. It's astonishingly good. (Why am I only now discovering this author?)

So I face the reviewer's problem of being reduced to babbling incoherence by a book that I really, really loved. (Ideally, I'd have this problem more often). Efforts to isolate the exact locus of its brilliance have a way of foundering in the overworked cliches of reviewerspeak. What the heck - why don't you just mix and match at will from this partial list:

# terrific, idiosyncratic characters, in particular
# Florence, the totally kick-ass heroine, who is pitted against
# some totally hissable villains - the kind it's fun to hate
# a story that pulls you in - Fitzgerald grabs your attention and never lets go (now, a hyper-critical reviewer might point out that having your story be about a plucky widow who tries to improve life in her town by opening a bookshop amounts to stacking the deck - c'mon, admit it, who didn't love 84 Charing Cross Road growing up - but there will be none of that niggling hypercriticality in this review)
# originality - this is not a book that fulfils one's cosy expectations (it's no 84 Charing Cross Road, refer to the first paragraph above re pettiness and meanness of village life)
# excellent writing - specifically, Fitzgerald's uncanny ability to create vivid characters, situations, and a sense of place with amazing economy
# etc, etc, etc

Oh, what the heck, all I really need to say is that I strongly encourage you to read the book yourself, if you haven't already done so.

I'm heading off to track down some more of Penelope Fitzgerald's books.
Between this and the even more awesome "Winesburg, Ohio", this was a weekend in which it was good to be a reader!

This is a caustic story of an English widow who decides to open a bookshop in a seaside East Anglian village against local opposition: they want the site to be used as a cultural centre.
This poignant and piercing story does not give space to neither gratitude nor empathy. Possibly one of the most compelling novels of my book list so far.

A small village, Hardborough, hardly surviving the harsh salted air and erosion of the ocean, becomes the choice for a new book shop to be opened by a widow, Florence Green. By all intentions, in 1959, it could have been an asset to the town, but it is soon obvious that Mrs. Green overstepped social boundaries by buying a building that Mrs. Violet Gamart, wife of general Gamart RET, wanted for other purposes. Besides this unforgivable faut pas, Mrs. Green also unknowingly interferes with the social leadership of the formidable arts doyenne, Mrs. Gamart.

Two camps are slowly surfacing and dubious intentions become the name of the game. The kindhearted widow, Mrs. Green, does not understand the forces at work against her. Evil and greed do not make friends, neither do they embrace mercy or kindness. Politics is not for the soft-hearted. Small town politics are seldom for sissies.

It is a weird book, since the ending is unexpected. The author has this unbelievable eye for detail that constantly blew me away. The reality of the ending is fitting, although I was hoping for something more 'acceptable'. I so wanted her, Mrs. Green, to live happily ever after. Alas, novels do not always end in fairy tales, and this is one of them. I think this ending reminds me too much of our own realities which we so often want to escape. :-)

A good read. For sure. An excellent writer. I think the ending de-starred this book, since the prose was really outstanding. With another ending this book would not have become an award winner. I do believe that the ambiance of the book was to confront and question our own morals and approaches to life and living and the people around us. What can we be really proud of in our relationships with other people. Where do we fit in, in this small village issues? How honest are we? What do we really contribute to any group/society we are members of?

We recognize ourselves in this book and find it hard to admit our own roles, hence our aversion to the ending. A Rorschach test of reality we do not want to admit or face.

So yes, it was good and it was bad. It was the truth as we know it. It was us. It is us.