Time to clarify something.
It was recently pointed out to us by one of our favourite members that our Membership email might be construed as a two-tiered system of capitalist incentives allowing some customers access to special material for a fee.
Because of your small annual contribution, the freely accessible marketplace that is the sacred open used bookshop floor has been perverted into a Ballardesque structure of haves and have-nots, the haves receiving the chance to acquire, say, a rare Lovecraft title, before the plebes get a chance. Then, in this trickle-down method of bookselling, the remaining goods, the “left-overs” if you will, like some post-rapture brood of abandoned sinners, must make-do with what is left–a battered Austen title, a 15 year old book on gardening–not knowing that this other, transcendental world of books even existed beyond the cultish, promise of Membership. This is the criticism as we understand it. And let it be known, dear friends, that we are perfectly fine with that.
Completely and utterly fine with it.
See, bookselling is an alchemical mix of art and commerce. It is proof of the axiom, “the shortest distance between two points is a line, where the most beautiful is an arch.” Sometimes we can make bookstore decisions solely based on beauty. Rich, subversive, classic, or trashy beauty. Sometimes, though, in the case of bill paying and such, not to mention the irresistible demand from devoted customers, we just need to sell beautiful things to interested people. And the shortest distance here is the Membership–the exclusive, shameful, classist, divisive solution of Membership. If we could build a secret room behind a bookcase for all of you we would. No. Problem.
We’d stock that room with all the good stuff. We’d have wine and snacks and a dog ONLY YOU COULD PET. We’d follow in the footsteps of nearly every arts and culture business offering sneak-peeks to their best and brightest. And somehow, in the deep hours of the night, we’d be able to rest with the guilt that we allowed this hideous reality to happen.
Do we know how to square the circle between our snobbishness and sense of civil equality? Not one bit. As we’ve said in other emails, let the conflict lie. As the good F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, “The truest sign of intelligence is the ability to entertain two contradictory ideas simultaneously.” And while we rile against the awful simplicity of the world, building a little piece of heaven in the strangely, dusty swamp that is Richmond Street, our greatest love, sweet/smart books, will be shared first with you, our dear members.
Guilt. Free.
Much love,
Jason and Vanessa
