Tea in the Library (21 page)

How often do big city dwellers
—
not only those living in the heart of the city, but also those in far-flung suburbia
—
think nostalgically, or perhaps more accurately sentimentally of village life? Of meeting and chatting with the “community” in which they live? Of exchanging views and knowing where others stand on issues that affect them all
—
personal issues and public issues? Don't we all want to connect? The term “Village” is adopted by developers to make retirement home complexes and rows of local shops seem attractive. Many a suburb of a sprawling metropolis calls what is basically its local shopping centre “the village”. Underlying this is certainly a desire and a need for people to connect with others, much of which has been or is in danger of being lost as cities grow ever larger and town centres become more soul-less.

The forums for ordinary folk to have a say about issues of the day are often quite limited
—
you can write a letter to the newspaper (with a slim chance of publication). You can talk things over with friends. There are some groups where views can be exchanged , often with the drawbacks of formal structures.

But Tea In The Library had a vision to provide something more accessible, attractive, useful and inspiring for anyone who wanted to drop in to the book shop. Our author events were driven by a wish to allow people to talk over topics of interest, across a wide and varying range, to exchange ideas with the speaker and with others present, and to do this on a completely informal, relaxing, regular
—
and free
—
basis. Our vision was that we were providing a forum akin to a “town square”, where people gathered to express their views and hear those of their neighbours. And where people could stand up and air their own pet issues with a knowledgeable author and feel that the forum was listening to them and ideas and views were being disseminated in the community. In our view, there were few places like that
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and a book shop was an ideal forum.

Of course, our aims weren't completely altruistic
—
we also hoped to sell a few books!

Over the course of its short but eventful life, Tea In The Library managed to hold an author event almost every week, plus a bi-weekly Breakfast Club, and also organized and held several regular book clubs, as well as some intensive promotional events and a period of free entertainment. Our events calendar became one of the defining features of Tea In The Library. We were, I think, the only city bookshop doing such a regular program of author events, although there were certainly several bigger players than us, and some well-established events programs in the suburbs. Gleebooks of Glebe is widely known for a packed events calendar, and they were an inspiration for us.

It took us only a couple of failed experiments to conclude that there was only one night of the week that worked for us, Thursday night, when the city shops are open until 9 pm. Unlike many a modern international capital, Sydney shops close down at 5.30 or 6 pm, and everyone goes on home. Friday nights are more relaxed, but we found people preferred to meet their friends for drinks on Fridays than attend a bookshop event. So we soon settled into a routine of an author event starting at about 6 pm every Thursday evening. We developed a simple but yummy supper menu which could stave off the nibbles for attendees, and this was also the time when we managed to sell a decent quantity of wine. We decided not to charge admission
—
except on a few occasions when events were held to benefit a charitable cause
—
thinking that what we really wanted was to attract people into the shop and build a loyal following. I still think this was the right approach for us.

As for the authors, our dear speakers, we had some really wonderful evenings with some amazing characters and talented authors. The crowds we attracted varied from pitiful to overflowing, but generally were cozily around 15 – 25 people, kicking back with a cappuccino or a glass of Bookends white wine, a cheese plate, and lots of questions. Our big “rule” for these events
—
which we communicated to our speakers
—
was that there should be only a short-ish talk (say 20 minutes) and then lots of time for questions and comments from the audience. This often ran to another 45 minutes, and many times longer. This was the essence of what we were doing
—
providing a forum for regular people to quiz an author, to give their views, and to hear others. In my modest opinion, we were very successful.

The evening finished off with the author sitting at a table piled with copies of her or his book, busily signing. Our sales on Thursdays were regularly at least twice or three times other week days. While we were still way behind what we needed in sales, it was certainly a morale booster, if nothing else, to sell 100 copies of book in one evening (which happened, though not often!) 

In finding our speakers we trolled far and wide. Sometimes authors or their friends approached us directly. We were given a lot of support right from the start by one of the publishers, Random House, who sent us some big name authors and supported our program whenever they could. Other publishers were helpful also, and they were our principal source for speakers. Of course, as a small shop we couldn't expect the really big names, although even some of those came to us when their books had been out for a while. It is a symbiotic relationship, publishers and booksellers. We wanted authors who would attract book buyers and interested customers; the publishers wanted venues for their authors to promote their books, and book buyers.

Our speakers varied enormously in their background and subject matter, ranging from fiction writers to political commentators to new-age inspirationists to niche non-fiction topics. We were nothing if not eclectic.

Our very first event
—
held, miraculously, on our second week open
—
was an overseas fiction writer, Douglas Kennedy, an American living in the UK. Somehow the publisher squeezed in one more bookshop for Douglas to visit before he flew home from his book promotion tour. Of course we weren't established at this stage, but by dint of extensive flyers, signs and word of mouth we managed to attract about 12 people to hear Douglas. Right away the beauty of our venue became apparent. We all clustered around Douglas as he sat on a chesterfield in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine in his hand (and in several of our hands also), and in this mode the group didn't seem thin on the ground, but rather cozy and intimate, and just the right size! Douglas was great
—
he took all those questions about “how do you get your ideas?” and “is it hard to write?” and answered them seriously and informatively. What a trial it must be for authors to trudge from one venue to another on the promotional trail, and how disappointing to find only a small group turning up to hear the words of wisdom. Douglas actually wrote me a very kind “thank you” note from the UK on his return home
—
lovely!

Dear Annette

Thank you for your very kind card which finally wended its way to me
(via Random house) this month. It was a pleasure inaugurating the
Author events at Tea In The Library — and I wish you all the very best
for the future success of your very unique (in these monocultural times
of ours) bookshop.

I am deep into the next novel — and hope to be back in Sydney after its
publication — a good incentive to finish the damn thing.

Best — Douglas Kennedy

At least I think that what the note reads
—
Douglas' handwriting is a bit unclear. I'm not sure about “monocultural times”, although I tend to agree with it.

We gradually learnt to structure our events according to a formula, including ordering in enough book stock, checking that everyone had the date right, providing a little gesture of appreciation, and having a short but pithy introduction prepared. I did many of the introductions, especially in the early days, although Emma was really the brains behind the running of events (and the book clubs) for much of the time.

A memorable evening was the visit of Don Watson, former speech writer for Prime Minister Paul Keating, and author of the then-best-selling book in independent book shops,
Death Sentence. The Death of
Public Language.
This was a huge coup, and we were still in our early days and very nervous and disorganized. We were, I admit, taken by surprise at the numbers attracted
—
about 60 people squashed in. We tried to find everyone a chair, when we should probably just have allowed some to stand. (Later we acquired a couple of dozen folding chairs and learnt to prepare the premises to cope with more people). We struggled to find enough stock of the book to satisfy demand (damn!)
—
saved somewhat by a “spare carton” of volumes brought along by Dr. Watson's Random House publicist. But boy was there a buzz! The audience hung on every word. And true to our growing modus operandi, questions came thick and fast
—
intelligent, enquiring, and often accompanied by observant comment. I was both thrilled and inspired.

I won't dwell too long on the other end of the spectrum, another event held in our early days and also supported by Random House (which was proving to be wonderful). Two authors who had written several books about wine and beer had come along on a Friday evening. They brought with them a dozen bottles, intended to be tasted by the assembled group, to illustrate a few of their points. Unfortunately, no group in fact assembled. There was myself and two or three staff, and that was it. A couple did wander in about half an hour after the start time, but by that stage the authors, their publicist, me and the staff had made good use of the dozen, and none of us really cared. The couple were treated to some one-on-one author comments, plus a glass or two, and a good time was had by all. No book sales, however.

No review of our events calendar would be complete without mention of our Anzac Day spectacular. Each 25th of April the city hosts the dawn Remembrance Service, followed by a March of military proportions down George Street
—
just one block from our shop. Out of respect, businesses don't open until the afternoon. On our first Anzac Day in business, we hosted a book launch for
Living By
The Sword
by Captain Tom Frame, an army chaplain
—
a thoughtful discussion of the concept of a “just war” and the problems of reconciling Christian religious beliefs and a military career, published by UNSW Press. This was rather more “heavy” stuff than usual, but very thoughtful and thought-provoking. Because it was a launch (Captain Frame had been published several times before), his family, friends and colleagues attended, and many had come from the morning March, and so were attired in full military dress regalia, with a sprig of rosemary (for remembrance) in their buttonholes. It was quite an imposing group! In the spirit of the day, Tea In The Library served meat pies, beer and Anzac biscuits.

Our Breakfast Club was inaugurated a few months after opening, to try to boost recognition of our breakfast opening hours, and to provide a before-work event for business people and office workers. The idea was to find business-oriented topics and speakers, and for this we were helped by organisations such as speakers' bureaux, which are sometimes looking for a showcase to give a taste of what their business speakers can do. It was held every two weeks, at 8 am on a Tuesday morning, and to attract patrons we gave away tea, filter coffee, juice and mini muffins. We scheduled the talk and questions to go until 8.45 am, so that people could make it to their offices by 9 if necessary. Although the day that Jeff McMullen, a well-known ex-current affairs reporter, came and spoke inspiringly about his work with disadvantaged aboriginal communities in the Northern Territory, focusing on literacy and health, the shop was still packed with overwhelmingly enthusiastic people at 10 am.

Our Breakfast Club was still in its infancy when, one morning, one of our young part-time waitresses had the task of writing a promotional message on our footpath blackboard. “Eggs on Proust?” she wrote –to attract those who wanted both literary stimulation and breakfast sustenance. I was very taken with this piece of wit, and registered “Eggs on Proust?” as a trade mark. We used it as the name of our Breakfast Club from then on.

Perhaps our all-time favourite author (and there were so many lovely ones) was Lucinda Holdforth, whose book
True Pleasures. A
Memoir Of Women In Paris
was a current favourite of mine and of many others. Lucinda presented a Thursday evening event and was a great hit, with her stories of Madame Pompadour and Coco Chanel and Nancy Mitford, as well as anecdotes of her own experiences exploring the Place de Voges and wandering Paris. She was a wonderful joy to hear and to talk with. Lucinda was a great supporter of ours, and returned to the shop three times in all, to speak, as well as dropping in to see us from time to time. One memorable morning, Lucinda needed all the aplomb she could muster (which luckily was quite a lot). She was speaking at a morning event, with about 20 people sipping tea and listening raptly. There was the sound of someone coming in the front door (we usually pulled the door closed while our guest was actually speaking, to reduce the noise of the York Street buses)
—
perhaps a latecomer to hear Lucinda? I was sitting at the back of the audience with Sandy, and we both watched in dawning horror as the lady who entered moved through the quiet audience
—
Lucinda still talking
—
to the ladies toilet on the other side of the room. She was carrying two sanitary disposal bins. Dumbstruck, Sandy and I looked at each other, both realizing that what went in would inevitably come out. And of course the sanitary company lady emerged with the two full bins and walked back out through the quiet audience and out the front door. Every single person in the room pretended they had not seen this, and Lucinda, the trooper, kept gamely on, faltering only momentarily. When the full bins emerged, as I recall.