Shobha Sengupta | Changing avatar of reading, writing & selling books, art in social media age

Within a year, I learnt to break out of my crabby shell and honed my social skills. I understood that in order to survive, I had to talk. Otherwise, how would I sell anything? It was communication that grew my business.

So, from reader and a gasping appreciator of art I couldn’t ever afford myself, I turned into a salesperson. I enjoyed the transition into confidence and volubility, and found that my neighbours were gradually becoming a community of sorts. My first readers educated me and chided me on my lack of stock and together we evolved into solidity and substance.

In a few years, the store expanded, and people would bump into friends and books/art shopping would become a social event. I was witness to interesting interactions, and learnt much about my readers, whom I learnt to appreciate further. Everyone I knew, knew each other. We were a woven community.

Then 2011 was upon us. The Internet exploded. There was Flipkart and then Kindle. Pirated, free PDFs of the latest books were downloaded. I was gleefully shown these by customers. I was scolded for not being competitive in pricing (what about MRP, I wailed). I was even told by some to get a Kindle myself because it was so convenient! I was thoroughly confused. Had everyone forgotten I was a plain, mouldy bookseller?

Large bookstore chains had not jolted my equanimity as much as these “alarming” developments. My dreams of expansion had ended, and I decided to consolidate. One store was enough, and I gave up the other. Thankfully, there were still many beautiful readers who swore undying loyalty to the printed page and who couldn’t live without the fragrance of the physical book. So, I soldiered on, albeit somewhat staggeringly, expanding my art but tailoring my stock of books according to the needs of people in the times of the Internet.

These were only heralds of the galloping age of technology. The social media, unheard of a few years ago, became a trendsetter. There was so much to read and so much distraction!

All these past years, I had been told by my community that they would not read any Indian writing, no matter how hard I tried to persuade them otherwise. Chetan Bhagat and a few others had done some damage to the perception -- but interestingly, elsewhere, they sold more copies than writers with literary aspirations did.

Now, with the social media’s advent, I entered a new phase in my existence as a bookstore owner. Facebook was Babel enough, but then arrived Twitter and Instagram. I meandered into everything gradually, and in wonderment. What was happening to this ever expanding yet contracting world?

Then suddenly, a boom. Indian writing was mushrooming at a fantastic pace. In Gurgaon, where I was so proud to lead readers into the world of books, everyone had become a writer instead. What had just happened? I was bemused. Friends wanted me to display their books -- and now that they were writing, many certainly didn’t feel the need to read, and would not deign to look at the sparkling array of books on display. Besides, as an editor and book critic, I found any kind of honest feedback on their books backfiring, and whatever popularity I had gained over the years, was now beginning to slide downhill. Why was I recommending Anna Karenina and not their books, and why was I not displaying their books prominently? Well, what sort of a bookseller was I?

There were many artists too in this ever-growing Gurgaon. Couldn’t I host them too? What did I think I was: the Tate Gallery? I was in a quandary, and was beginning to lose friends who had stopped reading because they were writing or painting. Fortunately, paranoid entrepreneurship forces one to be nimble and adaptable, and I learnt to shapeshift, and humbly so.

Now, we host book launches and art fairs with aplomb, and I have grown to love every aspiring debut writer and artist, warts et al. We sell more books during book launches and more art during art fairs than we sell on regular days. We have a book club for our serious readers. And here comes the twist: literally, every society complex in Gurgaon has a book club (probably reading on Kindle, or listening to an accented audible as book sales have not grown exponentially).

This mental exercise is now coupled with driving, walking or cooking, etc. Some folks have decided that curling up with a book is a waste of time.

Most authors and artists are now permanently on social media, spending more time promoting their books and art than they did in writing or creating them. Well, why not? If Vincent Van Gogh had done some promotional marketing, he probably wouldn’t have died in poverty. And he would have certainly sold more than one piece of his eight hundred!

Alongside writers and artists, bookstores and art galleries now believe in digital marketing and content creation. We proudly tom-tom our popularity, instead of being the silent refuge of the thinking person. What should be today’s slogan in place of Descartes’ “I think, therefore, I am”? “I am on display, therefore I am”?

So now, booksellers are delving into event management and splashing their triumphs all over the social media. If you did it, then you jolly well flaunt it: that is the new mantra!