Under the Acropolis

It’s a Sunday morning in Athens and we discover the Athens (or is Thessalonika? we’re never sure which as everybody's bags say the latter) book fair. It’s a long line of covered stalls at the foot of the Acropolis in front of the Theatre of Herrod Atticus. Admittedly the location helps, and the fact that there don’t seem to be that many bookshops in Athens – we counted four although weren’t really looking and weren’t sure about libraries - but it’s certainly popular. You can see the book fair to the left of the picture.

It’s probably a bit like the Paris bouquinistes, who sell books beside the Seine, or the sellers underneath London’s Waterloo Bridge, except that the books here are new and all the major and minor Greek publishers seem to be represented. At least we assume they must be big publishers if they’re publishing Mo Hayder and Karin Slaughter in Greek. Everything from doctor nurse romances and pink glittery fairy books to Gramsci (quelle nostalgie) and Nietzche are here, together with a rather dubious anti-Turkish publisher stall manned by a fierce-looking man.

It just made you feel, well, civilised and we definitely would have done the impulse purchases except we don’t do Greek (admittedly being in such a stupendous place and on holiday helped but it wasn’t just that). It wasn’t slightly desperate the way small publisher fairs can be, but neither was it intimidating and slick like the London Book Fair and there was no threat of being invited to brunch with June Whitfield to celebrate her new book. It also gave you a much bigger selection than at your typical book festival with no threat of muddy fields.

It made you wonder why we don’t have anything like this in Britain. Publishers are always trying to find out who their customers are – and what a wonderful way to get direct feedback and sell some books into the bargain with a great time to be had by all. I’m sure there are good reasons why this can’t be done and I’m just in the throes of post-holiday euphoria but, hey, I’ll be back to metropolitan gloomy soon.

By the way, never ask an Athenian, lovely people as they are, the way anywhere. But that’s another story ....