Independent Bookshop of the Week: John Sandoe Books

A good bookshop is like a good café – the thoughtful staff remember your morning order or in this case, perhaps your literary tastes. Rarely would one find this personal service in a large high street chain.

This week, we celebrate those bookshops so integral to communities – in local villages, towns and cities around the country. Independent Booksellers Week, which runs from 14-21 June, heralds both long-established and new generation bookshops that are independently operated. Various events – from author readings to competitions – are being held around the country. To find events and participating bookshops near you, log on to Independent Booksellers Week.

In the past two years, 100 or so independent bookshops in the UK have opened. Despite the economic downturn and a decrease in consumer spending on books, the sector has reported a 1% rise in sales.

To mark this remarkable achievement, we look at one of the few beloved bookshops in London that’s inspired a cult and loyal following: John Sandoe Books.

10 Blacklands Terrace, SW3 2SR

Nearest tube: Sloane Square

020 7589 9473

www.johnsandoe.com

Location: Tucked away in a side street off of the King’s Road, this is a hidden gem – immaculate on the outside and in the inside, a pleasantly surprising jumble [of books]. Housed in a lovely Georgian building, its history harks back to 1957.

Selection: Delightfully comprehensive despite the size of the shop. Every genre and subject features – from the usual fiction suspects to non-fiction titles spanning psychology through to ornithology. They also stock a range of poetry and new writing journals like Vendela Vida’s The Believer and Ambit.

Upon entering the shop, one is greeted by a front table stacked with relatively recent titles – from David Mitchell’s The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet to Martin Amis’s The Pregnant Widow. To the left of the ground floor is where the magnificently well-informed shopkeepers hold fort.

The surrounding shelves are stacked with backlist titles, mostly arranged alphabetically.  To the left of the register is a backroom that houses all the art titles from Phaidon and Taschen but also from lesser-known publishers.

Clambering up the steep spiral staircase (hopefully without falling over teetering piles of books) leads on to an attic-like space fitted with a concertina shelving system – where more backlist titles hide coyly behind other books. When I was here, I had the room all to myself so I ambushed the solitary chair and leafed through my selection, including the travel books, which are also to be found on the first floor.

The basement, on the other hand is where all the children’s books are – from Dr. Seuss to childhood favourites like Roald Dahl and J.R.R. Tolkien. It’s seductively presented and there’s a chair where I imagine a storyteller might be seated while children cross-legged on the floor might look up at her in awe as she reads The Witches (or perhaps something slightly less disturbing).

This is also where all the plays and poetry books are and books on gardening and birds.

Interiors: The books are the furniture. And except for the battered chairs and a few wooden shelves, you’ll hardly notice the interiors. But the atmosphere is easygoing and agreeable.

Staff: Ah, wonderfully helpful and impressively (scarily?) well read. Whether you’re looking for a book for a friend, for an aunt or a grandmother, they can point you to the right direction.

Plus points: Fine, so I went in there with a Daunt Books canvas bag (promise, I didn’t mean to). But they also have classy bags of their own in black with white typography.

Verdict: There is something reassuring about the organised entropy in this wonderful bookshop. It incites the same familiarity one might feel at one’s grandparent’s – in the nicest possible way: comforting, as if nothing in the world could go wrong within its premises. The selection’s impeccable too and despite its loyal client base, you somehow feel you have the bookshop all to yourself.