Jane Cholmeley

The captivating true story of an underdog business – a feminist bookshop founded in Thatcher’s Britain – from a woman at the heart of the women’s liberation movement. An Independent and Stylist Best Non-Fiction Book for 2024

A Bookshop of One’s Own: How a group of women set out to change the world

Bilge Ince

A Spice Girl came in, though I've no idea which one. No Victoria. She very sweetly asked for some recommendations. bought all the books we suggested, and her bodyguard paid Like the Queen, Spice Girls don't carry money. Rather at the other end of the spectrum, Judge Stephen Tumin, Chief Inspector of Prisons, was a regular, and we felt useful when people from the United Nations High Commission for Refugees bought lots of books on rape in war during the Bosnian conflict

Christmas always had its moments. Vicky remembers a very drunk man coming in on Christmas Eve and saying, "Anything you've got on cats." A feminist bookshop -cats! Is the Pope Catholic? Well, we had tons of stuff: T-shirts, mugs, books, etc I heaped up a basket and then he said he had to go off and get some cash. I thought he'd never come back, but he did and it came to a lot of money." Not quite as profitable but certainly rather intriguing was a customer in 1998 whose visit was writ ten up in the Bookseller. A gentleman from Saudi Arabia bought five feminist T-shirts. "That', Jane was quoted as saying, is rev lution as far as I'm concerned.' The reporter put question: 'Do you think they were for his wives?' put the obvious.

All my life, books have been as essential to me as breathing… …Don't you sometimes just stop and marvel at a sentence? How did the writer pick those words, polish them and then put them in the right order? How did they create a sentence so breathtaking, you just want to pick it up and hug it? So, dear writers, for what you say and how vou say it. I am immensely grateful

"The queue stretched all the way down the Charing Cross Road and round the corner,' remembered Linda. 'I tell you, it is a wondrous sight to see a queue of women, and the occasional man, of all ages, all colours, chatting to each other, clutching books, excited to meet their author."

And in that queue was a young Black British writer, Malorie Blackman, who was struggling to get published. It took Blackman about three hours to get to the front of the queue, to the signing table, to meet her hero. In her outstanding auto biography Just Savin' she tells us how their conversation went:

'Please could you write "don't give up" in it for me requested.

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