Third time's the charm

My first week at work went by pretty quickly. Ok, it’s only three days but I’ve worked part-time before and trust me, three days can sometimes feel like forever. It consisted mainly of the inner workings of the bookstore: ordering books, receiving new shipments, databases, software, learning how the cash register works (just in case), getting to know the store and its extensive collection of books on philosophy, politics and history which baffles me every day.

To give you an example of their main public, a book by a Belgian philosopher whose name I already forgot (seeing as I don’t know anything beyond Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Hume, Descartes and Kant) outsold Belgium’s most popular thriller author Pieter Aspe on a scale of 12/1. Popular fiction like Aspe is also something they try to avoid in order to distinguish the store from the average commercial bookshop, making the store not only more literary and intellectually stimulating (some have even gone as far as calling it elitist) but also slightly tougher to get the hang off.

Another aspect that will take some getting used to, is getting to know your costumers. All my colleagues already know 90% of the clientele’s names as most of them are regulars. A daunting task indeed, but fun none the less.

My first impression, as you may have noticed, is very positive. I expect it will take me some time to get the hang off the job, the store and the many faces that pass through but I think I’m gonna like it here. And for the first time, my co-workers even seem great and that’s saying a lot.

Now I’d like to end this post with a cute little anecdote that proves that chance encounters don’t just happen in the movies. I was sitting at my desk in the back of the store scanning some new books that had arrived earlier that day when I overheard part of a conversation between a man and a woman who both reached for the same book on the Middle East. The man said to the woman that she could have it and she answered that she just wanted to know the price so he could take it. Anyway, they started talking about the book, that they were both retired schoolteachers and moved on to their hobbies, travels,… Twenty minutes later they parted ways after exchanging phone numbers proving that love can happen when you least expect it and in a bookstore none the less, how beautiful is that?

Thursday's trailer

Book Reviews

I haven’t reviewed any books in quite a while, not that I haven’t read any, I was just never in the mood or on holiday. It happens. So here are some short, sweet and sassy summaries of books that have kept me company the past few weeks.

Mirror Mirror by Gregory Maguire

Maguire is best known for his contemporary adaptation of The Wizard of Oz, namely Wicked. In Mirror Mirror, Maguire has adapted Snow White to a 16th century Italian setting. It was last month’s book club book and quite a chore. I just couldn’t get into the story and the characters were down -right tedious. I started skimming the book from page 60 onwards just so I could say I finished it because I honestly couldn’t care less.

The Book of Lost Things by John Connelly

Once again, fairytales only better. After his mother dies, twelve-year-old David stumbles into an enchanted world filled with dwarves, wolves and myths and where nothing is what it seems. David is believed to be the next king in this dark and sinister coming of age story filled with things that go bump in the night. Connelly’s use of fairytales was simply ingenious as he has created a truly unique world filled with beloved characters, important lessons and lots of magic.

Notes on a Scandal by Zoë Heller

I actually wanted to see the movie with Cate Blanchett and Judi Dench but this book was on sale and I had never read anything by Heller before so… The book wasn’t bad, just slightly disappointing. After watching the trailer I was expecting a much darker psycho-sexual tale about a woman who begins an affair with a 15-year-old student. In the book her so called best friend Barbara (Dench) recalls the whole affair from start to its inevitably disastrous finish. No more, no less. The novel was bland, predictable but well written.

How I live now by Meg Rosoff

I’ve been trying to read one YA book a month seeing as it is becoming a genre that can no longer be ignored. I bought it because it was supposed to be “utterly flawless”, “an unforgettable adventure” and “fresh, honest and funny” but it was absurd, frustrating and boring. Basically everything goes to hell, no one wonders why and teenagers having sex with their cousins is completely natural. The perfect example that not all YA should be read after the age of 16.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

I loved this book. It’s a gothic drama / love story like Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights filled with mystery, tragedy and good old fashioned storytelling. It revolves around Angelfield House and its former infamous inhabitants, the March family. What happened to them? And how does it affect biographer Margaret Lea? The Thirteenth Tale is book you want to curl up with in front of a roaring fire and just let it consume you.


On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan

After actually being on Chesil beach, I couldn’t resist this book any longer. Although McEwan’s so called masterpiece Atonement was one of the worst novels I have ever read (even worse than How I live now), I decided to give this short piece of prose ago and I’m so glad that I did. It’s about a couple’s tragic wedding night in 1962. The result is quite sad, eloquent and truly heartfelt. My faith in McEwan has been temporarily restored, thanks to this sensitive yet sensual story that focuses on our most private thoughts (and parts for that matter).

And for those of you who were wondering, the job’s great. So no complaints there for a change.

First day jitters

Today's the day, after 3 months of knowing and waiting I'm finally starting my new job at the Groene Waterman, an independent bookstore in the heart of Antwerp. I'm actually quite nervous because it's everything I've been looking for, the perfect location, part-time and books, glorious books.

Back in Belgium

Our ten day UK trip flew by, partly due to the grueling schedule (sorry pumpkin) but mostly because we had a great time. I don’t know why people insist on enduring hours of traffic to get to the South of France when England is just a breezy boat trip away. And contrary to common beliefs, the sun actually shines there as well; I even got a slight tan.


I’m happy to say that we did 95% of everything I planned on doing and I was really blown away by this country’s wide open spaces and quaint little villages, even more so that I expected. And apparently driving on the left isn’t that bad or so my driver tells me.


A little recap: Rye (small, fortified and scrumptious), Beachy Head (white cliffs, windy, amazing), Brighton (lovely independent shops, infamous pier, Taj Mahal-like pavilion), Winchester (rain, Jane Austen’s grave, missed the Round Table), Stonehenge (small, expensive, too many tourists and lots of magpies), Salisbury (huge cathedral, lovely town, pick nick), Bournemouth (sandy beach, great park, live music), Cerne Abbas (chalk giant, beautiful village, stunning abbey), Dorchester (Thomas Hardy, cream tea, lots of wasps), Chesil beach (windy, impressive length, hard), Torquay (aka the English Riviera, lovely marina, Agatha Christie, beautiful location and B&B), Fowey (quaint, gorgeous cove, spectacular views),


Eden Project (cool concept, hot, bought a venus flytrap), Penzance (room with a sea view, saw the St. Michael’s Mount, very tired), St. Ives (tiny hilly town, Tate St. Ives, fantastic shops, beaches, views = perfection), Dartmoor National Park (wild dartmoor ponies, nature as far as the eye can see, fairytale-like villages), Glastonbury (abundance of spiritual shops, King Arthur’s grave, breathtaking abbey and cute ducklings), Cheddar Gorge (rip off), Bath (absolutely beautiful town, peaceful, so many shops), Bristol (didn’t leave hotel), Vale of the white horse (chalk horse on hill, green and exhausting), Buckland


(granddad’s birthplace, quiet, quaint, cozy), Oxford (lots of bookshops, infamous Norrington room at Blackwells, majestic buildings), Windsor (Windsor Castle, Eton college and The Book Depository!), London (Hampstead Heath: spectacular views of the city and a lovely walk, Highgate cemetery: dramatic, haunting, Douglas Adams and George Elliot) and Canterbury finally (cathedral, lots of shopping and it felt like coming home because we'd already been there so many times).


My favorite spots however, were without a doubt St. Ives, Bath, Fowey, Dartmoor National Park and Rye, if the previous recap wasn't that clear.

There are also ten things I learned the past ten days:

• Travelling in the UK takes longer. The only decent motorway doesn’t pass along the coastline so don’t count on driving more than an average of 50 kilometers an hour.
• I truly loath baths! They are uncomfortable, unpractical and take too long to fill up.
• The sat nav in our new car apparently doesn’t always know the crucial difference between left and right plus she can’t pronounce the word one in Dutch which gets me every time.
• I now know why the English put milk in their tea, without it, it’s a recipe for heartburn. I’m talking from experience here.
• I love nature, or driving through it at least.
• Cream teas (pot of tea with some delicious scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam) rock!
• Even the smallest town has at least one bookstore, proving once again that the UK is my kind of country.
• When I do finally grow up I want to live in a Cotswold cottage, seriously.
• Belgium desperately needs a Marks & Spencer! Life would be so much easier.
• And finally, my new favorite word is shrubbery.

On a different note, whenever I go to England I always return with at least three books thanks to Waterstones perpetual 3 for 2 offer and this time was no different:

• The Help by Kathryn Stockett, one of the most hyped novels of the summer
• On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan which I wanted to read after actually being on Chesil Beach
• The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks, a dark and twisted cult classic

What I didn’t count on however, was stumbling across the 2£ bookshop in Oxford where I adopted:

• The Adventuress by Audrey Niffenegger, a gorgeous “novel in pictures”
• Wetlands by Charlotte Roche, a girl and her vagina which took everyone by surprise last year
• The winner stands alone by Paulo Coelho, Coelho’s first attempt at the thriller genre
• The art of racing in the rain by Garth Stein, drama and a talking dog for just 2£

I also bought Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, a colossal novel that has been getting rave reviews for months now (3£ at Waterstones due to a small crease) and The Hairy Bikers Food Tour of Britain which was half price and a scrumptious reminder of their wonderful show.


What more can I say? There were some absolutely gorgeous towns, endless stretches of nature, exciting rocky roads, an amazing (cultural) heritage, sandy and stony beaches, lovely regional dishes and finally lots and lots of shops. What more could you ask for really, besides a little more time? But this trip was just an initiation to see which regions are begging for some further exploration over the next couple of years because one thing’s for sure, we'll be back!

Doomsday (for my sweet pea at least)

In a couple of minutes we'll be heading towards Calais, ready to embark on our roadtrip down the English country lanes, quaint towns, beautiful nature and plentiful bookshops. We had lots of last minute shopping to do this weekend like finding some decent raincoats as opposed to suntan lotion 'cause the weather is going to be slightly unpredictable but I don't care, we're gonna have a great time. Too bad I wasn't able to find those red polka dotted wellies, I've been lusting after for weeks now, in my size. I've been putting off buying them because who wears wellies these days, really? But they're just so damn cute and the occasion had finally arisen. Needless to say, there are a lot of big footed woman out there with impeccable taste.

See you in a fortnight!

Thursday's trailer

Wired weirdos with scissors, or why I don't like having my hair cut

I had a haircut today but unlike most women who like to be pampered, massaged and oiled up, I hate being touched by strangers. Even my hair is off limits making my visits purely mandatory and few and far in between.

It’s probably due to the fact that I always used to have really long hair (meaning at one point I was able to sit on it) until three years ago that is plus, whenever a hairdresser sees my hair they start rambling on about short asymmetrical spiky 'dos, making me quiver in fear. My grandmother also considers long hair to be a virtue and a blessing and cried every time I had a centimeter removed, needless to say, she wouldn’t talk to me for days when I decided to try something new back then.

Seeing as my hair was always long, I hardly ever went to the hairdressers. The result is that I’m still incredibly nervous and uncomfortable whenever I go now. It’s my equivalent of going to the dentist. Every time I muster up the courage to head on down, I’ve always got some trendy style in mind but once I’m sitting in that chair, I panic and say ‘just a little off the ends please’. I’m still determined to have a sleek and stylish hairdo, one day at least.

The last time I went, I had it cut shoulder length with bangs (the most radical thing I’ve ever done thus far) but several months down the line bits started sticking out, strange wavy parts manifested and it looked like a mermaid dress: voluptuous on top, going in at the neck and sprouting feet down below. I know if I went more often these things wouldn’t happen and maybe I’d feel more at ease but alas, I’m not wired that way.

This afternoon I went in to have my ends trimmed, which is my idea of living on the edge, but then something strange happened. Before you could even utter the phrase Bob’s your uncle, the stylist had chopped off half my hair and was already heading for the cash register leaving me slightly traumatized and looking like a sweeter, softer version of Mary Portas.

Now I have to admit that I kinda like it, after the initial shock passed at least. Who knows, maybe a little tough love was just what I needed.

The Clock without a Face

Let me just start off by saying how much fun this book is! McSweeney’s latest children’s book oozes their trademark playfulness and sophistication. The Clock without a Face is a whodunit filled with loads of riddles and puzzles that had me enthralled for hours and I’m not exactly the target audience. The story is great: absurd, witty and clever. The oddly named characters such as General Klobberduck, Jigsy Squonk and Sigfried Plumpjack are loveable and savagely original. And then there’s the artwork in this house-shaped book which is simply sublime. But what is all the fuss about?

Gus Twintig (a pseudonym for writers Scott Teplin, Mac Barnett, and illustrator Eli Horowitz) is your modern day Watson. He assists the world renowned detective Roy Dodge in solving all kinds of mysteries by taking detailed notes and making pristine pictures. Their new assignment is to investigate who stole the 12 numbers of the legendary Emerald Khroniker, aka a priceless clock, owned by the obnoxious importer Bevel Ternky. However, each of the 12 inhabitants of the lower floors also had something stolen. Coincidence? Complot? You tell me.

What makes this book more than an ordinary detective story is that readers must conduct their own investigations, scouring detailed illustrations for hidden clues in order to solve the puzzle. When the book is finished the search begins, not just for all the owner’s lost artifacts but for the actual stolen numbers. Twelve emerald-studded numbers (each handmade and one of a kind) have been hidden in 12 holes across the United States turning The Clock without a Face into not only a wacky delight but also into a real life treasure hunt!

Seeing as I live in Belgium, I’m hardly going for the gold (or should I say emeralds) but I loved locating the stolen goods and solving the riddles. Trust me, it's the perfect entertainment for a rainy afternoon no matter how old you are!

Holiday planning: stress and satisfaction guaranteed!

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time planning our upcoming trip to England. The initial idea was taking the ferry over and driving along the South coast, no fuss, no hassle, just seeing what happens. I bought the Great Britain version of the Eyewitness travel guides to see which places were definitely worth a visit because besides annual trips to London, Canterbury and some place I can’t remember were my relatives live, my knowledge of the UK landscape is minimal at best. Yet I’ve always wanted to drive or should I say be driven (still haven’t got a driver’s license) through the beautiful countryside, visit quaint villages, enjoy the local cuisine (don’t mock it until you’ve tried it) and shop till I drop. For some inexplicable reason England is the only holiday destination where my luggage has usually doubled in size by the end of the trip. The UK is also one of the few places outside of Belgium that can guarantee me a sunburn free summer, so what more could I ask for?


I started making a provisional route along all the places I (I mean we) wanted to see depending on how much we can cram into ten days. It looks something like this: Rye, Beachy Head and the Seven Sisters, Brighton, Winchester, Salisbury, Stonehenge, Bournemouth, Cerne Abas, Dorchester, Chesil Beach, Farringdon (granddad’s birthplace), Torquay, Fowey, Eden Project, Penzance, St. Ives, Tintagel, Dartmoor National Park, Glastonbury, Cheddar Gorge, Bath, Bristol, Vale of the White Horse, Blenheim Palace, Oxford, Windsor, London, Leeds Castle and Canterbury for a quick trip to Sainsbury’s before we head home. Sounds relaxing, right? If you hadn’t guessed already, I’m not exactly the “sit on a beach and do nothing” type or not for more than two hours at least.


I also bought the AA Guide with over 3000 bed & breakfasts so we’d be sure to find somewhere to shower, shave and sleep. On our spontaneous voyage to France last year, finding a vacant chambre d’hôtes turned out to be quite a challenge so this year, I’m prepared or so I thought.


It all started with the ferry which turned out to be cheaper when booked in advance and we wouldn’t have to wait a couple of hours to board so we decided to set the dates of our arrival and return. Between the 9th and 18th of August we’d still be free to come and go as we pleased. I divided our route in ten almost equal pieces and started looking for decent B&B’s (meaning I need an ensuite) at our estimated location, just to see what was out there. I then encountered several very cute spots and we decided that maybe we should already book a few, no harm in that plus less worry along the way but as fate would have it, they were all fully booked making us very nervous indeed. I started contacting all the B&B’s in the region that were within our budget and still no luck, resulting in a slight panic. Needless to say, 12 hours and 68 emails later (thank you bookdirectrooms.com) we now have en route accommodation for each night. Bye bye spontaneity, hello tight schedule. I can hardly wait!