All Things Considered

Book Depository & GBH ~ Grievous Bookish Harm

 

Once upon a time, books were sent through the post in adequate packing; they were placed lovingly into specially designed thick cardboard book boxes, or they were wrapped in bubble wrap with protective sheets of card wrapped around that. They arrived, unless the postman played football with them for a couple of hours (in the rain), in the same condition as that in which they left the bookseller's hands. Books travelled across the world and arrived at their destination in pristine condition; my shelves are full of books that made such journeys and lived to tell the tale.

Nowadays, in the world of online high-speed cut-price-book-flogging, there's so much price-reduction-orientated corner-cutting that books are sent out almost naked. In all likelihood, if the trip through the Royal Mail doesn't do for them, that last drop from the letterbox to the ground beneath it most certainly will. I've taken to placing a soft pillow beneath mine, to catch those weary volumes that weren't respected enough to be sent out in decent travelling attire. But this measure is only successful if the book was sent out in good condition in the first place, as opposed to being molested by packing staff prior to the commencement of its travels.

There are many booksellers who are most accomplished in the field of bibliophilic assault, but the company that, at present at least, leaves the others in the shade is The Book Depository.

It is the done thing these days to send books both large and small, no matter how heavy or valuable they may be, through the post in a jiffy bag (the inventor of which should be hanged, drawn and quartered). The Book Depository, however, has gone one better. You may, if you're lucky (for want of a better word), receive a jiffied tome; alternatively, you could receive your book in one of these: 

It is called, by its manufacturers, a lil' envelope... and that most certainly is what it is. An envelope. Who knew that it was actually possible to produce a packing material that offers less protection to a book than a jiffy bag? The wondrous powers of human inventiveness never cease to amaze me. 

Keeping jiffy bags and lil' envelopes in mind, you'll hardly be surprised to hear that books arrive from The Book Depository in less than perfect condition. Insult is added to injury by the fact that they don't leave that company's premises in perfect condition to begin with. This is the 'new' book that I received yesterday, complete with a slash across the top of the front cover, a heavily creased spine (from being opened by someone who felt like a little light reading in the packing room?), and bumped corners. The black spot beneath 'Mankind' is an ink mark, presumably added because the book didn't look sufficiently secondhand already.

Well, these things happen, I suppose. Mrs Packer had left her spectacles at home and failed to notice, before shoving the book into inadequate packing, that the book had been trampled by a felt-tip pen wielding, literate elephant earlier in the day. So, I wrote an email to The Book Depository to ask for a refund. They requested photographs of the damage, which I duly sent off in a second email. Their response?

'I’m very sorry to hear about this. In this case we could offer a 30% refund to you for the damaged item, would this be acceptable?'

A 30% refund? On what planet in this Universe of ours would that ever be considered acceptable? But it wasn't the first time I'd experienced some difficulty when trying to get a refund from The Book Depository. In May last year, a book arrived with a damaged cover (the damage having occurred prior to shipping), and I was offered a partial refund and told that I would still have to pay for the book's postage. A little light tweeting to The Book Depository on Twitter sorted that matter out, after I'd publicly expressed my indignation at their 'bloody cheek'. Then there was the Leonardo da Vinci book that arrived with a worn cover, and the partial refund I was offered for that.

Oh, and then there was the book that didn't arrive at all. Having informed customer services on the 16th March (this year) that it had not been delivered, I was told that I would receive a refund. No refund arrived, so I wrote to customer services again. No response. So I toddled on over to Twitter...

But no refund arrived. More emails were sent. Eventually, on the 13th April, one month after the book failed to show up, I got my refund in the form of a cheque. I thought about having it framed.

After receiving my most recent 30% refund offer (for which I was so overcome by their generosity that I was almost moved to tears), I decided (better abysmally late than never) that I would never buy a book from The Book Depository again. I wrote to customer services and asked them to cancel my two outstanding pre-orders. Much to my surprise, they informed me that I would receive a refund for those two books (a full one too... not 30%... it must be Christmas). But wait, those two books aren't even available yet; one isn't due out until January 2013! Since when was it considered appropriate for a bookseller to charge for a pre-ordered book nine months before it's published?

A little surprised by this turn of events, I started to think (which is never a good thing) about my previous orders. Last April I pre-ordered a book from The Book Depository, but it didn't occur to me to check at the time to see if I'd been charged for it straight away (after all, who takes a payment for a book that's not due out for a year?). Well, The Book Depository does. Ordered on the 18th April 2011, charged for on the 21st April 2011, shipped one year later on the 16th April 2012. Well, sink me... what do you think of them apples?!

A couple of years ago, I recommended The Book Depository to friends both online and off. My first few books had arrived quickly and in good condition (in proper cardboard book boxes). I now feel responsible for leading those who were daft enough to listen to me into the clutches of a company that has no respect whatsoever for the books in its care or for the customers it is supposed to serve. Considering the way that books are treated by some booksellers, it's small wonder that so many unfortunate tomes find their way back to their publishers to be pulped.

When it comes to the charge of grievous bookish harm, the jury (that would be me) finds The Book Depository guilty in the first degree.

Review ~ The Shadow of the Wind

 

The Shadow of the Wind
By Carlos Ruiz Zafón
Illustrated edition, Weidenfeld &
Nicolson, London, 2005
403 pages

'Few things leave a deeper mark on a reader than the first book that finds its way into his heart. Those first images, the echo of words we think we have left behind, accompany us throughout our lives and sculpt a palace in our memory to which, sooner or later – no matter how many books we read, how many worlds we discover, or how much we learn to forget – we will return.'

The story begins in the early summer of 1945 in Barcelona, in the wake of the Spanish Civil War, when ten-year-old Daniel Sempere is taken to the ancient, cavernous Cemetery of Forgotten Books for the first time by his antiquarian bookseller father. From the hundreds of thousands of books contained within the endless corridors of the labyrinthine bibliographic mausoleum, Daniel must choose one book to adopt; he will, he is told, be that book's guardian for the rest of his life. He chooses The Shadow of the Wind by an obscure Spanish novelist called Julián Carax - a choice that will change his life forever.

Captivated by the book, Daniel becomes intrigued by its enigmatic author. Over the years that follow, as he grows from a young boy into an awkward adolescent, he uncovers various clues about Carax and attempts to build a picture of the man. He is told that Carax was killed in Barcelona at the beginning of the civil war and discovers that his is the only surviving copy of The Shadow of the Wind; a sinister, faceless character who smells of burned paper and calls himself Laín Coubert, the name of a character created by Carax, has been going around burning every book by Carax that he can find and Daniel's copy survived only because it had been kept safe in the Cemetery of Forgotten Books.

With the help of his frequently entertaining sidekick Fermín Romero de Torres (a man with secrets of his own), Daniel begins to piece together the truth about the tragic events of Julián Carax's life, events which appear unnervingly similar to those taking place in his own life. In the process, he stirs up emotions amongst those who once knew Carax and attracts the decidedly dangerous attention of the vengeful and sadistic police inspector (and ex-Francoist torturer and assassin) Francisco Javier Fumero, whose quest for vengeance threatens the lives of Daniel and those close to him.

It's difficult to go into any further detail without giving too much away, so I won't. What I will say is that this is a fabulous, captivating book; a book about books, which is the very best kind of book for a bibliophile like me. There are plot twists and turns aplenty; there are characters to love and hate, and there is tragedy, romance and humour (especially when Fermín Romero de Torres is about). Once I began reading, I really didn't want to stop. So, as this truly is an outstanding book, I'm giving it five gold stars. 

Leighton House Museum ~ A Victorian Delight

 

Above: The staircase hall, Leighton House Museum.
© Photographer Justin Barton.

Leighton House, built to designs by George Aitchison and completed in 1866, was constructed as a private home and studio for the renowned Victorian artist Frederick Lord Leighton (1830-1896). Leighton was passionate about architecture and was heavily involved in the building's design, construction and interior decoration. In the words of his sisters, in a letter to the Times (26th January 1899):

'He built his house as it now stands for his own artistic delight. Every stone of it has been the object of his loving care. It was a joy to him until the moment when he lay down to die.'

The interior decoration of the house is astounding, especially the opulent Arab Hall, based on a reception room at the twelfth century palace of La Zisa at Palermo in Sicily. This impressive centrepiece of the house, with its gold mosaic frieze designed by Walter Crane and fantastic domed ceiling, was added to the original building in 1877-81 to house Leighton's substantial collection of Islamic tiles, most of which came from Damascus. The task of deciding how best to arrange the vast number of tiles, repairing damaged ones and making replicas where necessary, was given to William de Morgan, the most important ceramic artist of the Arts & Crafts Movement. He was also responsible for decorating the walls of the wonderful Narcissus Hall, which connects the Arab Hall extension to the original house.  

Above: Frank Dicksee, Chivalry, 1885, oil on canvas, 182.7 x 136.6 cm.
© The John Schaeffer Collection.

The house, the only artist's studio-home open to the public in the UK, offers visitors a wonderful opportunity to experience the surroundings of an eminent Victorian artist, including Leighton's grand first-floor painting studio (and you can even see his paint box). And, as part of the Museums at Night annual after hours celebration, the house will be open to the public during the evening of Friday 18th May this year, when visitors will be invited to experience A Victorian Delight (pre-registration is required, there's a link at the foot of this post).

Also, from Thursday 26th April to Sunday 23rd September, an exhibition will be taking place at Leighton House entitled Victorian Visions, Pre-Raphaelite and Nineteenth-Century Art from the John Schaeffer Collection. Key works from one of the finest private collections of British 19th-century and Pre-Raphaelite art will be on display in the UK for the first time. There will be works by Leighton (the colour sketch for his celebrated painting Flaming June), John William Waterhouse (see image below), William Holman Hunt, George Frederic Watts, Frank Dicksee (see image above) and Solomon J. Solomon. It's an unmissable opportunity for anyone interested in 19th century British art.

Above: J.W. Waterhouse, Mariamne, 1887, oil on canvas, 259 x 180 cm.
© The John Schaeffer Collection.

Details: Leighton House Museum, 12 Holland Park Road, London W14 8LZ, tel 020 7602 3316. Open daily 10am to 5.30pm, closed Tuesdays. For more information visit the official web site: www.leightonhouse.co.uk/.

Victorian Visions: Pre-Raphaelite and Nineteenth-Century Art from the John Schaeffer Collection. Thursday 26th April to Sunday 23rd September 2012.

A Victorian Delight, free Museums at Night event at Leighton House Museum. Friday, 18th May 2012. Doors open at 6.30pm. To register, visit: www.leightonhouse.eventbrite.co.uk/.

* All images reproduced by kind permission of The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea Museums Service.