Such a glamorous life I lead. Why, this past Sunday alone I flitted from Moncton to Don Mills. Eat your hearts out, Paris to New York travellers, or Sydney to Berliners! Moncton, as per my previous blog entry, was for the Frye Festival. then back to the Toronto's most venerable suburb for the official opening of the truly grand McNally-Robinson bookstore, attended by tout literary Toronto.
There are any number of reasons to celebrate the arrival of McNally-Robinson in the Big Smoke. Perhaps the primary one is that it, like a number of other new bookstores in Toronto, is bucking several trends: to corporatism, to a perceived literacy gap and to a economy that's as shrivelled as an old raisin that you might find under the fridge.
McNally-Robinson joins a line of similarly brave souls ( a bookstore does have a soul, you know; I'm not quite so sure about persons) who have in the recent past opened independent boosktores in Toronto, now surely one of the best-served books cities in the world. I refer to the elegant store run by the estimable Ben McNally (Ben McNally Books), to the three Type stores in the care of partners Samara Walbohm and Joanne Saul, and to the continued presence and expansion of the grand-daddy of the independents, Frans Donker's mini-chain, Book City. Brave, resourceful and honourable folks all. Long may they flourish.
The new McNally-Robinson, located prominently in a California-style outdoor shopping complex that was a shock to me (I was last in Don Mills about 10 years ago, when the old and almost mouldering shopping centre was still extant) is also beautifully designed; although it's very large (two floors), the surprisingly intimate layout allows each section to feel like a small specialty bookstore of its own. The weather is mild and relatively southern at the moment, but as my friend G. wondered, what will happen in February when Don Mills is at its most winterly Canadian? Perhaps the frozen hordes will be driven inside to thaw and dine (there's a fine restaurant in situ).
There's a personal element here as well. I was living in Winnipeg, a few blocks from where Paul and Holly McNally opened their first store, a modest but very intelligently run shop in a relatively upscale strip mall. I became a customer immediately - first order, the original edition of David Thomson's A Biographical Dictionary of Film, which I still have and still consult for its headily insightful essays - and have followed their progress with considerable interest, some unprofessional rooting, and perhaps a dab of envy.
