Ruth Shaw - The Bookseller at the End of the World

First published in 2022

Text Ruth Shaw, 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

The photographs in the picture section are from the authors private collection.

Extract on page 175 from Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas The Dylan Thomas Trust.

Reproduced with kind permission of David Higham Associates.

Allen & Unwin

Level 2, 10 College Hill, Freemans Bay

Auckland 1011, New Zealand

Phone: (64 9) 377 3800

Email:

Web: www.allenandunwin.co.nz

83 Alexander Street

Crows Nest NSW 2065, Australia

Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand.

ISBN 978 1 98854 775 6

eISBN 978 1 76106 402 9

Design by Saskia Nicol

Cover illustration: Sophie Watsona

Cover design: Saskia Nicol

For my amazing mother, Freda (November 1925 June 1972), and for my incredible husband, Lance: my first and last love.

On the corner of Hillside Road and Home Street, opposite Lake Manapuri, sit Two Wee Bookshops, painted in a medley of bright colours and surrounded by plants, curiosities and the odd bookshop pet or two.

Each morning from late September through to mid-April, weekends included, I open my Two Wee Bookshops. My green 1961 Fiat 500 is prominently parked on the corner of Hillside Road and the Southern Scenic Highway, advertising the Smallest Bookshop in New Zealand. I put out the OPEN sign on the corner of Home Street and then start setting up the various tables and brightly painted old school desks with a variety of books. On the blackboard I write: OPEN, PLEASE RING BELL LOUDLY IF I AM NOT HERE. A ships bell hangs beside the door and I can hear it ringing from nearly anywhere on our large, tree-covered property.

I was 70 when I decided to open these bookshops, as a fun retirement hobby. I had opened my first bookshop almost 30 years earlier, as part of a yacht charter operation that my husband Lance and I ran called Fiordland Ecology Holidays.

Bookshops in general attract people who love books, but my Two Wee Bookshops are a beacon to everyone who travels past. It might be the bright colours, or the old windows and door, or the fact that they really are so small. Tibor, from Budapest, was driving past the small cottages when he caught a glimpse of the word Bookshop on my corner sign, did a quick U-turn and ended up living in our garden hut for a month. He was a male nurse on an extended holiday, living in his old station wagon. In return for food and accommodation, he worked in the small forest that surrounds our home. He loved books and spent a lot of his time sitting in the bookshop, reading and chatting to my customers. When I had to be away, he opened the bookshop for me and successfully sold lots of books. When he left, there were a lot of tears; he didnt want to go and we were sad to say goodbye.

And then we met Jana, the young German girl who came into the bookshop, sat on a chair and started to cry, blowing her nose into a well-soaked tissue. I hugged her, holding her close to me as she wept. Her relationship had just ended, she told me. I took her inside and Lance took over in the shop, in his usual understanding and compassionate way. He is the bookshops personal counsellor and serves endless cups of tea and coffee throughout the day. Lance is also my handyman, my Quick, help me! man, and he joins me in setting up the bookshops every morning. Jana stayed with us for a week.

Along came Lily from Poland, who was so homesick she just wanted to talk and wow, did she talk! I heard about her entire family, right down to her grandparents; where she went to school and where she had travelled in New Zealand. At the end of this breathless and mostly one-sided conversation, she told me about the breakup of her relationship.

Adam from Australia arrived. He looked about 21, a broad fellow with a cheeky smile. He was working in Milford Sound and had a few days off.

Just want to know how to read a book, he said.

I had never heard this before, but thought if anyone should know how to read a book, it would be a book dealer.

What are you interested in, Adam? I asked.

Not much. I do like growing and smoking dope.

I was a little taken aback at his openness he didnt know me. Then I considered my appearance from a strangers point of view. I was dressed in my trademark baggy Indian cotton pants, with a tunic down to my knees, topped off with a colourful hat. I could see his point. I have just the book for you, I said. Just wait its in my own library and its not actually for sale.

Bogor, written by Burton Silver and published in 1980, is a book of cartoon strips about a lone woodsman named Bogor who befriends a hedgehog who grows dope. The hedgehogs diet consists of snails that are farmed and fed on his marijuana plants. The strip featured in the New Zealand Listener magazine from 1973 until 1995, becoming New Zealands longest-running published cartoon series. We all fell in love with Bogor, which was pretty radical for the time. Bogor books soon appeared and are now collectable.

I returned to the shop with the book and told Adam the story behind Bogor and the friendly hedgehog who ate stoned snails. Youll love this. Its easy to read and Im sure once you start, you wont stop!

Adam did start reading. When he returned the book, he said hed been on Trade Me, hoping to buy some to start his own collection.

ONE DAY A man named Alan arrived. He sat on the doorstep in silence, his shoulders stooped, his head nearly touching his knees.

Why dont you come in and sit down? I said to him. Ill lock the door so you can have some time to yourself.

No, I wouldnt expect you to do that, he said, but he did stand up and come into the shop. I raced out, turned the OPEN sign around, cleaned the blackboard and closed the door. We just sat quietly for a few minutes until eventually I introduced myself. I looked across at him and he was crying.

Our home is right next door to the bookshops, so I ran in and asked Lance to make two cups of coffee and bring them to the shop. This is a frequent request during my busy times when people are waiting to get into the already crowded bookshop; more than five customers and there is no room to move! Lance entertains people who are waiting with amazing stories of his life, and makes tea and coffee. Thankfully he is a reader too, so he is happy to discuss books if required.

Coffee was duly delivered: one with milk only, the other with milk and sugar. Lance had guessed correctly Alan was a milk and sugar man.

Thanks, Ruth, Alan said. I think I was meant to come here except I dont actually read books.

Lots of people come here who dont read books.

It was the colours and the bell hanging by the door that attracted me. I am a fireman from New South Wales, and I was ordered to take some leave. So here I am. He sighed and looked up at me. Do you think I have let my workmates down? Because I do. Theyre still out there. And no matter where I go, I still smell smoke. The Australian bush fires that year were so horrendous that even here in Manapuri, at the bottom of the South Island of New Zealand, we could smell the smoke and our skies bled with the colour of fire.

We talked for over an hour. The horrors of what he had been through, and had to go back to, made me want to cry.