Well, yesterday I was in town for a book signing to meet the authors. Out of respect, from this point all parties shall remain nameless. I arrive early in order to judge the interest in a new gen book by a relatively unknown author. The table is set up and roped off; a few customers stop and pick up the books to look at then wander off. There's nowhere to sit and wait - Eason's O'Connell Street isn't one of those bookshops that encourages sitting on a comfy chair to peruse a book but I am interested in the large central area set aside for Kindles and book downloads. Along with the virtual bookshop at Connolly station Eason's are really embracing new book technology.
I wait at the coffee shop at the back of the shop. It's an awkward time, 6pm on a Thursday night, for a teenage book signing so we'll see what happens. There's no sign of activity yet, oh the life of a touring author-will anyone turn up. Wasn't there some cringing story about less than thirty people turning up for Tess Daly's signing in Dublin a couple of years ago? Poor Tess. The market for teenage fiction or new gen is enormous. A whole new genre has been created where the previous generation jumped straight from Enid Blyton's Famous Five and Frances Hodgson Burnett's Little Princess straight onto Wuthering Heights, Flashman or books pinched illicitly off their parents bookshelves such as Erica Jong's Fear of Flying. Heaven forbid!
Enid Blyton's Books
Well, it's twenty past six, there's no-one at the desk telling people that the authors are held up or on the way, in fact there's no sign of life at all. I make a decision to leave - did they arrive? Fashionably late? I'll never know.
(Who cares? I did.)