Customer Reviews

A Novel Bookstore

5 star:		(6)
4 star:		(9)
3 star:		(6)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

Probably every lover of literary fiction has had a fantasy about creating or finding the ideal bookstore, and the main characters in this novel by Laurence Cosse have created just such a bookstore. Ivan (Van) Georg, who manages a shop called The Good Novel, and Francesca Aldo-Valbelli, the heiress who is supporting it financially, have committed themselves to a shop which is not "an ordinary bookstore...[and] our customers [are not] ordinary customers." A committee of eight writers representing different styles of novels selects the books for the shop, each member having a pen name so that no one, not even other committee members, knows their identities, and the book owners stock the shop with these "good" books. With a choice Parisian location near the famed Odeon Theatre, the shop opens to customers in August. The shop is mobbed from the outset. By Christmas, the shop is a huge success.

But success has come at a price. Large numbers of new customers have ordered pop novels, then failed to pick them up, leaving the shop to pay for them. Nasty comments appear on their internet forum, and a seemingly organized attack is mounted in the press, with accusations of elitism taking up whole pages, At one point the shop is described as a "totalitarian undertaking," an attempt by a small group of elite to control the reading done by the public. Fascist accusations result. Ugly posters are plastered all over town, and demands are made that the shop's financial backer be unmasked. Lawsuits are initiated.

Eventually, three attempts to murder members of the secret selection committee, described in the opening pages of the novel, involve the police. Throughout the attacks, both physical and in print, the author raises questions of who benefits from the destruction of one small bookstore and its people. Resentful owners of other bookstores? A general public insulted by the shop's cultural snobbery? Publishers of new novels which have not "made the cut" for inclusion at the shop? A cabal of disaffected authors whose books are not carried by the shop? Soon the attacks begin to take their toll.

A combination of mystery, fantasy, philosophical analysis, and economic treatise on the book industry, A Novel Bookstore raises interesting questions within a unique story. The novel does have its problems, however. A love story involving manager Van and Anis, a wispy and only vaguely attentive young woman, is unsatisfying, and the mystery is not well integrated. The attempts at murder described in the beginning of the novel gain little attention for most of the novel as the ins and outs of book shop business and publishing dominate the "action." In fact, some of the most interesting sections of the novel are those related to the decisions of what books to include on the shelves. Though the novel is obviously fiction, some readers will feel that the plot line and its consequences lack enough realism to provide the reader with significant new understandings of the real "book world." Mary Whipple

A fun read for those who like the literary world, if a little pretentious at times. I didn't regret the time I spent reading the book, but the end was anticlimatic...sort of philosophical surrender to the same forces that the protagonist defies through the story. Maybe that was the author's message, but it leaves the book in a gray zone between an entertaining whodunit and a long musing on the state of bookselling.

I loved the concept of this book, but in the end found it a little dull to read. And without a working knowledge of French novels, so many of the references blew right past me. I'm sure that if you were familiar with all of the book titles and authors they reference, it was a richer read (I did like it when I recognized something, and found it an interesting comment on the definition of "good"). But the suspense part of the story wasn't that well constructed -- a villain who pretty much comes out of nowhere? And it wasn't that hard to figure out who the narrator was, though I suspect that was supposed to be a surprise. And the love story was not very satisfying. In summary: I felt like this book was trying to be too many things at once, and only succeeded at one of those things (taking a stand for the idea that some art/literature is just better than other art/literature - there is no need to celebrate all of it equally; popularity is not an effective guide to "good;" promotion often goes to the marginal; commercial interests can kill good art and those who support it). These are important ideas, and the book did a great job at constructing a way to present them. Unfortunately for me as a reader, it succeeded at making the intellectual theme work, but left the more emotional themes to be less well-developed.

Do you stand reading in bookstores until you realize you are now late, and the book is half done? Do you find yourself scanning friends' bookshelves surreptitiously, while nodding at small talk? Do you think some books are better than others? If so, you will probably enjoy this book as much as I did. However, if you think there is no such thing as a "great book" or are a publisher or mega-chain bookstore owner, you probably won't.

Although this book contains within it a mystery, a couple of love stories, and a bit of otherworldly Chagallishness, mostly it is about people who love books. The catch is that these people don't love just any books, they love good books. Often today's culture celebrates diversity by saying everything is equally good. The consumer should decide for his or her self. Differences in quality are minimized, hidden, or ignored for fear of the e-word: elitism.

A Novel Bookstore explores this concept in the world of book publishing, selling, and reviewing. Fed up with the mediocrity and sameness of the mega-bookstores, and even many smaller ones, Ivan and Francesca decide to open the ideal bookstore: one which carries only "good" novels. We are led through their entire planning process. Novels or all fiction? Just classics or also newly released? Only new copies or also used? And above all, who will decide? The bookstore opens with a flourish and attracts both serious readers and the attention of those who stand to lose if some books are deemed better than others.

I found the beginning of the book delightful: a celebration of literature wrapped in a fun mystery-love story. But somewhere in the last third, I began to feel as though the author had lost her way. A narrative voice appears from nowhere and is a distraction, the mystery comes bogged down and is never resolved, and the theme of discernment in literature turns to an inditement of large publishers, booksellers, critics, and book prize judges in general. But despite a less than optimal ending, I found the book fun to read and a reminder that it is okay to say, "This is a good book, and this one is not."

A great concept, poorly executed. Should have stopped when I found myself bored and frustrated early on--what detective would sit and listen to the endless details of the creation of the Good Novel Bookstore? But kept going, out of my appreciation for the concept. And what has happened to proofreading in so many current novels? This one had constant errors of grammar and syntax and an amazing number of instances where words left out made it impossible to guess at the author's meaning. Is this bad translating or editing laxity? Hard to tell.

One positive note: did like Francesca. Though she was a little too saintly to be believed, her story was nevertheless moving.

What a pity that such a passionate book could not be better. I so wanted to love it. The irony--perhaps paradox would be a better word--is that the book about A Novel Bookstore, housing only good books, would not be sold in that bookstore.

At least for two reasons. First and foremost is that it is more like an extended essay, or a philosophical book, than a novel (roman in French, to avoid confusion), second that as a novel it is not very good. Several commentators have talked about this in detail so I will not repeat them here.

For its aim I would award seven (7) stars, as a novel about 3 stars. I arrive at an average of four. I know, I know

People -- both on the dust jacket and here -- seem to think of this book as a 'farce,' as 'droll;' as satire or philosophy or a testament to literature. It does have some of those qualities -- although I see no 'farce' -- and very little of a mystery (a genre of which I am a devotee). I see it quite otherwise; I had tears rising in my eyes at the end of this long cello note of a book in which a remarkable woman achieves spiritual greatness; in which a remarkable young woman (who at the beginning seems like a cliche from French Nouvelle Vague films), turns out to have very real reasons and who in her own way loses profoundly (although saved by her youth); in which a remarkable man cannot finally hold onto his life, even as he begins to understand it; and finally a book that is not about spite, malice, or culprits, but rather about how so much of what we want

will always have others arrayed against it, will always have exquisite moments and losses, will always be part of a larger impure fabric (in this book, the commercial publishing world) which finally is not the enemy but rather the terms of being alive. Quite a good book. Stay with that cello note; it's at the heart of it.

This is perhaps the best book I read this year. I couldn't put it down, I was completely enthralled in the characters, in the discussion of the novels. I constantly felt the urge to go and re-read Stendhal, Balzac, and Merimee. I also discovered some new writers and immediately added them to my Amazon wishlist.

A great, great book to read for you lovers of literary mystery!!!

Although reading sometimes more like a blog than a novel, this charming book should delight book-lovers everywhere. Most of all, it will please those who know the special place that books still hold in French culture, a privileged position that is under threat from commercial interests, there as elsewhere. The premise is simple: a wealthy woman teams up with an enthusiastic bookseller to create a store that will sell only novels, eschewing the mass releases and popular authors and choosing only those books that will stand the test of time. To make the initial selection, the pair approach eight contemporary writers and ask them to submit their list of the top 600 novels of any period or nation, written in French or available in a good translation. To avoid any possibility of influence, they are to do this in absolute secrecy, working only through pseudonyms. Their choices will be sold in their new shop on the Left Bank in Paris, to be called "Au bon roman." The name (which is is also the title of the original novel) is quite straightforward in French, but although Alison Anderson's smooth translation of the book is generally most readable, she is forced to render this as "The Good Novel," which sounds clunky and makes the store seem pretentious.

A pity, because you have to understand the shop as a homely place where readers can relax among like-minded friends. And when its initial success is followed by inevitable accusations of cultural elitism, soon ratcheted up to a vicious pitch, you have to know which side you are on. The novel begins, a bit confusingly, when these assaults have gone beyond the verbal, and three of the supposedly anonymous committee are attacked in life-threatening circumstances. The proprietors manage to find a literary-minded detective, and tell him the story of the store and their involvement in it -- an implausibly emotional narrative for such circumstances, but the core of the book. The use of a mystery-thriller as a container is an awkward device, especially since the revelations at the end are not all that satisfying, and the novel tapers off into a vague limbo. There are various threads of bittersweet romance that weave through the story also, but one would not read for those alone.

No, the main interest is literary fiction, in all its different forms: what kinds of people write, why they write, why people read, and how books are sold. With the exception of the eight committee members, all the authors and books mentioned appear to be real; I have put several on my French-language wish-list already, and there are many others from other countries that I want to follow up. For whatever reason, I have no trouble trusting Laurence Cossé (who is a woman, incidentally) as a reader after my own heart, and that alone makes me glad to own the book, despite its flaws. Like Muriel Barbery in THE ELEGANCE OF THE HEDGEHOG, Cossé has managed to open French intellectual life to the general reader, but without Barbery's pretensions, despite what the enemies of his ideal little bookstore might allege.

There is a lot to like in this little novel. The "mystery" aspect is quite secondary to the emersion into the beauty, art, and importance of great writing and the passion to raise the focus of that art above the commercial pop-swamp that is the book business of today. The love story, or stories, adds a parallel background layer of passion -- mostly due to the classic treatment. That is, so much is thought and felt rather than spoken. This good read is not perfect. The plot line indeed has problems toward the end. The writing is also uneven-- some passages are truly beautiful and artistic -- others are plain. But the essence of the cultural clash that emerges around the real importance of great books, hits a certain nail on the head emotionally. The story, towards the end, also strangely begins to shadow and reflect all of modern culture including the political absurdities of the small and selfish mentality we see paralyzing government today. Important if not essential things are, in fact, being lost in our modern material world. Even with its flaws, the abundence of beautiful ideas, people and passages make this book worth reading. The book is worth the time just to read the epic explanation Francesca gives of the value great writing brings to the human condition. As others have commented, this effort falls short of being a great work itself. But it somehow honors great writing in such a loving and powerful way that it inspires nonetheless-- to read more and better works.