MEET THE BOOKSELLER: Gavin Butler, St Arnaud Books

As a sequel to Jane Grant’s ‘A Day in the Life‘ at St Arnaud Books, her employee Gavin Butler brings his own perspective on working as a bookseller in rural Victoria.

A Day in the Life of St Arnaud Books
Part Two

I arrive at the shop, only ten minutes late. My first job is to place the books on the display stands. There are various types of stand and the boss is quite particular about which book goes on which stand. I find this a particularly challenging task but when I lied and exaggerated my way through the job interview (JI) I think I bragged about my enormous capacity to meet challenges. If I recall correctly, I think I may have said I relish a challenge. I don’t, of course. I like routine. I like daydreaming and I like gentle cleaning; I like running the feather duster over a spine or two.

I have completed the task and have earned a pie. I shut up shop and head to the bakery humming the bass solo from Tarkus, ELP’s prog-rock masterpiece. When I get back to the shop a customer is waiting outside. It is The Hip Priest. I had started eating the pie while I walked back. Now I am at that stage where the pie is half-eaten, it is still hot, the meat and gravy is out of the pastry, which is cracking alarmingly at top, bottom and sides. I am slurping it off the paper bag. He looks me up and down and clearly disapproves of what he sees. Last time he was in the shop he had asked for a heartfelt autobiography and I suggested Sick Bag by Nick Cave or Kay Cottee’s autobiography, First Lady. He took Sick Bag. I think I may be triggering him.

He enters the shop. He doesn’t mention Sick Bag. And neither do I.

The Hip Priest comes to the counter with three books that he has chosen for himself, without seeking my advice. One of the books he has chosen is First Lady. He is a good customer.

The boss keeps telling me to read more of the books in the shop so my recommendations may have a bit more heft behind them. I had dumped a truckload of Bullshit into the JI about my commitment to ongoing learning and turning negative experiences into learning modules. I decide to read a book. After putting on my scrubs I carefully extract one from the shelf.

I read the recommendation for this unknown writer from a very well-known writer: ‘[His] writing is as rich and luxurious as heavy, expensive brocade.’ Definitely one to consider. I put it back making sure to maintain the alphabetic integrity of the shelf. I pull another one out and read the blurb: ‘[She] threads the meaning of a sentence like a needle through silk.’ I check to see whether I am in the craft section. No. Okay. Back it goes for now. I am attracted to the thinness of another’s spine: ‘An utterly compelling work … seductively woven with a restrained consonance of connected images that build to a final symbolic release.’ Forget craft, this is art. I peek at the last page. Only 148 pp.

A man stands outside the doorway. ‘I’ve got more books than this,’ he tells me. I imagine I look somewhat baffled by this announcement. ‘I’ve got 10,00 books,’ he adds for clarification.

He is challenging me. I am not going to be beaten in a pissing contest. ‘This is just my display stock,’ I say airily. ‘I keep my main stock in an airport hangar outside Bendigo.’

‘Me too,’ he says, staring me down, before walking off in triumph.

Somewhat discombobulated by this encounter I temporarily abandon my mission to read all the cover blurbs in the shop. I put the ‘Back in 5 Minutes’ sign on the door and head back to the bakery. Proving my capacity for ongoing learning I buy a pie and wait until I am back in the shop and sitting at my desk before eating it. I wash it down with 500 mills of mineral water and let out an earth-rattling belch. A woman, who has come into the shop like a cat burglar in the night wearing dark shadowy clothing and in soft-soled shoes looks at me as if I am some kind of rude mechanical, the like of which she has never encountered before. I make a vow to eat my afternoon-tea pie in the bakery. ‘Can I help you?’ I ask pleasantly.

‘I’m looking for a beautiful, brutal book that I will experience as both earthy and unearthly. It must be an engrossing novel of bread and bones broken, the trace and rack of violence, and threads that lead the way out of exile. The pace of the book must reflect the contemplative nature of walking a labyrinth, both the inner one and the physical one that mirrors it.’

I walk confidently to the shelves and extract the book she needs, like a surgeon removing a heart. She holds the book in the same manner that the boss has instilled in me, cradling it like a precious heirloom. She hands me the book so I can register the sale – it is like one parent passing the baby to the other parent.

Closing time. I take off my scrubs and go back to the storeroom to have a smoke with my intern. It’s been a good day in the bookshop.


St Arnaud Books is located in the Victorian town of St Arnaud, in the Wimmera region, north-west of Melbourne. They specialise in Australian literature, and sell a mix of new and second-hand titles. A selection of their books are for sale online.

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