Bythell's Diary of a Bookseller series gets duller and more embittered with each entry. Where the first book was well edited, cozy and charming, the subsequent books have ballooned out in page size as his editors have let him loose, but totally lack the charm and interest of the first.
It's a hard slog for the first 200 pages or so, which largely recount Bythell's feud with Amazon and unreliability and fulfilling online orders, until the Wigtown Book Festival. The diary would have been more interesting if it started in the middle.
The mean-spiritedness of this book really make it hard to like Bythell and erase any warm feeling one might have held towards him. Every customer is mocked and stereotyped based on intrinsic characteristics beyond their control. Australians, Queenslanders, the bald, the hairy, the tall, people with lisps, the English, the religious, trainspotters, the old, the young, the sick and the enfeebled are mocked on every page. For all his stated dislike of Fleming, Bythell inherited the love of seeking to pair dislikeable people with physical and mental impairments.
The book picks up in the brief moments Bythell talks about things he enjoys doing, such as walking in Spain, running his own publishing imprint and super local histories of Wigtown.
Strangely he never makes the connection between his bad back and sciatica and a lifetime spent lifting books in and out of vans and going to the pub.
Bythell's refusal to pay his workers adequately comes across as Scrooge like especially when one worker is deported to the US, one pitches a tent in his backyard, one becomes a doctor, one develops a dislike of him, and Granny openly bemoans his lack of payment as she's sent off to exchange cash at a bank he's not a member of.
Meanwhile, Bythell acquires increasingly more properties in Wigtown and tells you of his family's rural lodging holdings. Alongside his admiration for the riches acquired by the 18th century book seller/publishers he comes across almost as a parody of the petite bourgeoisie as rendered by Marx.