This is getting out of hand. Last summer, I went to book shops of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland. I swore to myself I would write them up when I was back. Except, of course, what happened is that I sprawled in an exhausted pile, panicked because my parents were coming in five minutes, and then started a school year– and never wrote. This year, we went to the UK, and I got approximately… well. I got every single Mog and Alfie book I saw that I didn’t already own, plus a few others.

The ultimate situation is that I have a whole lot of book shops I want to talk about, and, even beyond that, I want to pay tribute to what book shops can do, what purpose they serve.

For the record– because I know I have a reputation, I really need to give a disclaimer– I’ve actually been to book shops in my life that disappointed me. I’ve even been to a children’s book shop that felt to me like it lacked direction and curatorship standards. It was pretty, but far too big, had an adult book section (presumably so that adults could see themselves represented because it’s hard to feel marginalized as an adult in a kid’s space, I guess?), and the shelf talkers from the staff lacked substance and seriousness. I don’t recommend book shops that don’t meet my standards any more than I recommend books that don’t meet my standards. These, below, are all book shops I love.

What is a good book shop? What makes visiting a book shop special? And why, if you’ve been to a book shop yesterday, might you still be interested in going to another one today? And why not just go to the library?

These are all questions I’ve been asked– the latter questions usually less politely than that, usually by my father, back when I lived at home. Dad, for the record, the foundations of my house are fine and I give books away almost constantly. So there.

So let’s talk about good book shops.

My first book shop growing up was Tidewater Books in Sackville, New Brunswick, a store that’s now moved from its original location and, through various twists and turns in shops in the town, now has a large gift section, but it’s still owned by Ellen Pickle and it’s still going strong. I remember my first solo purchase there: a pen with purple ink I thought was just the most sophisticated thing I’d ever seen. And I remember the last book I bought there before we moved to Toronto– my own paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice. Nostalgia can be a positive or a negative. I miss the old storefront, but I’m so glad the shop is still around, and that it still features local books prominently. The space is friendly, Ellen Pickle has good taste which informs the selections, and the store is engaged with the long story of the Maritimes. When I was there, the window display was filled with local Indigenous stories for National Indigenous Peoples Day. I have a feeling that, even if I weren’t so emotionally attached to the very name of “Tidewater Books,” I would still find a book to love on any visit.

The two other big revelations to me on that trip were Woozles and Running the Goat. I was already in something of a long-distance relationship with both places. Woozles was known to me, of course, as the oldest children’s bookshop in Canada, but, more to the point, as the quiet label on the website says, it’s “a place for and about children.” Perfect. If children aren’t the point, it’s not at Woozles. As it should be. The place is open and cheery with a ton of wonderful art from local children’s book artists, some of the greatest, on the walls– the problem with writing so long after the fact is that I can’t remember them all! Lauren Soloy, Jon Klassen, I think Matthew Forsythe and– I can’t recall, I remember spinning around going “and LOOK! LOOOOOK!” a lot. My Spriggan, who was smaller then, fell passionately in love with the Very Giant Clifford plushie and the train table. My husband may possibly have stared at the counter at checkout and quietly asked if they had a box we could carry the books in. It was a bit of a situation. The local authors section– think of signed books from Lauren Soloy (with her charming doodles) and Sydney Smith who does the most beautiful miniature art in each volume he touches– more or less went home with me, but I’m sure they’ve restocked by now. The toy section is thoughtful and in no way overwhelms the books. I have mixed feelings about toys in book shops, but this section feels like it belongs there and enhances the “intelligently kid-oriented” atmosphere rather than simply caving to the inevitable drive towards merch rather than books. Above all: the booksellers! They are smart. They had a sense of what books my kids needed in about five seconds flat and, after quickly assessing the situation, let us do our browsing as well as offering thoughtful suggestions. They did not overwhelm us. I miss and will continue to miss my own beloved Children’s Book Shop forever, and this was a kind of stinging balm: a reminder of everything I loved, while also making me grateful that other places of equal quality, equally focused on providing children with good bookish spots, are still around. “What makes a good book shop?” Those smart, thoughtful booksellers go a long way towards answering that question, to my mind.

I put far too much thought into whether to put Running the Goat before or after Woozles. After all, we went to Woozles after Running the Goat. But there’s a pleasing orderliness to the provincial sequence of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, then Newfoundland. And, finally, I wanted to go from general book shop to children’s book shop to publisher with a shop.

Because if you’re looking for a distinctive shop, a shop that embodies everything simply impossible to get or experience through an online monstrosity that named itself after a part of the world it’s massively contributing to destroying, for example, I can’t think of anywhere more representative of the best in books than Running the Goat. I’ve written about the books they publish before– I’ll link to Urchin by Kate Story, but if you search “Running the Goat” in my archives you’ll also find Andy Jones’s Jack books, for example, and many other fine stories. Marnie at Running the Goat has a very quick eye for what’s distinctive, what’s clever, and, in particular, for the strand in a story that keeps you sitting waiting with the tiniest tension for the end… and which, in that twist that feels so very much like a “told” rather than “written” story, gets resolved with an audible grin that leaves the reader (or, hopefully, audience) in a chuckle. The newest story that does that for me? Dan Yashinsky’s The Golden Apples with suitably twisted art by Ekaterina Khlebnikova is the narrative you may find yourself retelling even when the book isn’t to hand, and yet you just know that Dan Yashinsky would be thrilled to feel he’d taught you a story to tell.

And when you visit the shop, you will find yourself feeling that folkloric world is simply the world you now inhabit. Grey roads, greenery, odd tufts of plants and flowers and shrubs and lots of trees. Why wouldn’t a fox come along for a chat? May as well. And after travelling a while down the road, houses thicken, and maybe there’ll be someone who can tell you how to get East of the Sun and West of the Moon if need be, why not? May as well. And then over that hill that might be a cliff you see the fog rolling off the water towards you. And here you are at Tors Cove (in the UK, I think especially the west of England, coming from the Welsh, I think– tor is a type of promontory or rocky height or cliff, and I’ve often wondered if Tors Cove relates to that), home to Running the Goat. By the time you’ve spotted the sign, you may be thinking that this, yes right here, this is where you’ll find a Wise Woman, possibly with a feline familiar, who can direct your quest. Why not? May as well. You would be correct. This is where Marnie is, and she’s wise and has a cat named Millie and she will show you how her amazing printing presses work and can she give you advice on where to go in the area? That she can. Can she suggest a book to enliven your waking hours and animate your dreams with puffins and laughter? She can do that, too. And can she chat with you and your kids and then send you off armed for adventure along the foggy shores? Yes.

If you’re seeking a book, I’m sure you can get one from Marnie. But the real, true reason to go to Running the Goat is to find your steps wandering towards an adventure you didn’t even know you were having. Running the Goat is a Newfoundland fairy tale.

Deep breaths– I think I’m going to call this Part I and stop right here. Final note: I’ve been writing this off and on for months. If you’re in the USA reading this? I’m going to very grumpily recommend that you make a purchase or three from any of the places abovementioned right now. ’nuff said on that point, from your extremely put out and deeply book-loving writer and reviewer with dual citizenship.