Sunday, February 5, 2012

Lygon Street bookshops


“What can one do with old encyclopedias?” I asked Paul, proprietor of the Red Wheelbarrow bookshop. He confirmed my fears that they go to pulp. It seems such a waste: all that stored carbon in the paper and all that accumulated knowledge and information in the contents. Not to mention the historical snapshot that some of the writing styles and biases capture. In the end, an old set of Britannica became the stumps that ensured that my furniture stored in the garage of my old house did not get waterlogged when water came through the garage after a heavy downpour. Their sheer physical bulk was their only remaining use.
The Red Wheelbarrow is one of my favourite stops on the stretch of Lygon Street between Brunswick Road and Glenlyon Street. The A-frame sign out the front advertises “books bought and sold” and indeed, during my visit today a gentleman came in with a couple of bags of books. Paul is choosy, (I know from when I once brought in a backpack full) and he only bought one or two.
His discernment means that the shop has a wonderful selection of good books and has the feel of a study/ personal library/ meeting room. Indeed, poetry reading sessions are held there regularly, and I am sure that the stories exchanged in the shop are as interesting as those contained in the pages of the books around the walls.
But this is not the only place where poetry is important. Early in my explorations of this area of Lygon Street, I met the poet John di Mase in his bookshop and bought his collection of poetry “Love Songs over the Metropolis”. What I love about John’s shop is its unpredictability. Sometimes it is there, sometimes it is inhabited by other artists and craftspeople. Once, when it was in a vintage incarnation, I saw some two beautiful old sewing posters, depicting different stitching styles – one was in Czech and one was in Slovak. The lady who was running the shop at that time did not know their story, but one can only speculate how they got to Lygon Street from the classrooms of 1930s Czechoslovakia.

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