I have a romantic image of working in a bookstore. Flicking through the latest novel, picking up my knitting, busting out a row or two, and then wowing a softly spoken customer with the breadth of my literary knowledge.
This is, of course, fantasy land. I’m well aware of this, as I actually worked in a bookshop in Glasgow in my early twenties. It was on a high street and the foot traffic consisted of rowdy football fans stumbling into the wrong shop and customers who couldn’t understand a word I was saying.
So I’m not sure why I asked Jenna Todd, manager of
