Dear Goldsboro Fellowship readers,
If you're reading this, odds are pretty good that you're someone who loves a bookstore. You probably have a favourite; in fact, I'd be certain of it. You likely have a few favourites. It'll probably come as no surprise that I do, too.
I was a shy kid who liked reading – fairy tales, fantasy novels, science fiction and Nancy Drew mysteries were generally where I could be found – and nothing thrilled me more than getting to go to bookstores with my parents and simply roam. The first time we ever visited London, my father spent the weeks leading up to the trip telling me about Foyles, a bookstore he adored and was excited to share with me. (I bought a Nancy Drew.) Back in Los Angeles, where I grew up, our local favourite was the storied A Change of Hobbit, a fantasy bookshop where we as a family could indulge our taste in everything from Asimov to Xanth.
It was a no-brainer to set my own fairy tale in a bookstore, when I finally found myself writing the story of a cursed princess trying to make her own happy ending. Being stuck in a bookshop with no choice but to live there and enjoy the experience? What a terrible burden, truly. Bookstores are magical places whether or not one is starring in a fantasy novel; every book is a treasure waiting to be discovered, a voyage waiting to be taken.
As Beulah Bonecrusher's Emporium of Books was my fantasy bookstore, however, that meant I got to make it the true bookstore of my dreams: bowed windows straight out of Austen, rickety stairs leading up and up and up. Books lining every nook and cranny; shelves groaning with volumes; clouds of dust which puff up with every new discovery. And a bookstore cat, of course; every bookstore needs at least one magical animal, be that a cat that's never quite where you expect, or a dog snoozing in an inconvenient spot.
I built Beulah's out of every happy bookstore memory I have: Amadeus Books, in Lafayette, California, which was a used bookstore inside someone's old house; even the former bathroom (which had a non-working toilet and bathtub) was lined with shelves. Powell's Books in Chicago – a sister to the famous Powell's in Seattle – where even on a student's tight budget I could find something wonderful in the (slightly dank) basement. The Strand in New York; A Clean, Well Lit Place in San Francisco, The Village Well in Los Angeles, The Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale, Arizona; The Sanctuary Bookshop in Lyme Regis ... the list goes on and on. (Not to mention a special shout-out to The Green Dragon Bookstore in Fort Dodge, Iowa, and the Green Dragon Bookshop in Crewkerne...)
The list goes on forever.
For everyone who's ever lost – and found – themselves inside a bookshop, Stay for a Spell is for you. I hope it's (almost) as magical as the real thing.
All my very best,
Amy Coombe
