Reviews for Shelf life

The average rating for Shelf life based on 2 reviews is 2.5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2017-04-10 00:00:00 Cathy Thomas (2.5) The premise was so alluring: after radiation treatment for breast cancer (documented in her previous book, Songs from a Lead-Lined Room, which I’d like to get hold of), Shea, a novelist, gets an unexpected injection of confidence and purpose when she’s offered part-time work at Edwards Books in Springfield, Massachusetts. “I am now an author working in a bookstore. I am a spy from another land. Not unlike a dairy farmer hanging around the cheese shop.” The first 40 pages and last 13 pages of this memoir about her first year of working in the shop (2001–2) are terrific. It’s the pages in between that are the problem. I read this slowly over the course of a month, keeping it as a bedside book, and every few pages or so I’d put it down and think, “gosh, that was so boring!” Because, yes, working in a bookstore has moments of excitement and fulfillment (as I know from personal experience), but from day to day it also has plenty of monotony. Unfortunately, the book’s enthusiastic subtitle is mostly misleading, because Shea largely concentrates on the tedious stuff: setting up bestseller and holiday displays, planning events, an honor system for paying for newspapers, taking inventory, the spate of post-9/11 books on terrorism and the Towers, long, pointless lists of the various magazines, gifts and greeting cards Edwards stocks, and so on. The focus on popular books of the time, not to mention the plethora of magazines, makes the book feel dated. There are enjoyable bits here (especially the memories of Shea’s research travels and book tours) and if you’re a current bookstore employee you may warm to it more than I did, but overall – especially given the fairly frequent typos – I wasn’t too surprised that I was able to get this signed copy for a penny plus shipping via Amazon.

Review # 2 was written on 2007-08-20 00:00:00 Richard Spiering A memoir about a writer who, after a fight with cancer, takes a part-time job at a local, independently-run bookstore. This seemed right up my alley: books, bookstores, and writing are three of my favorite things (throw in some slashy TV and a couple of cupcakes and I'll never leave). But Shea's narrative is both too personal and too distant. She'll say things like, "And then Old Hank, who everyone in town knows, came in." That example is totally made-up and probably exaggerated, but the point remains: I don't know Old Hank; Shea never makes me feel, as a reader, like I know Old Hank—or anyone. I felt like I was having a conversation with a group of people I just met but who all know each other: their stories would resonate greatly with them, but leave me feeling left out in the cold. Shea never brings the reader in; she made me nostalgic for the bookstore in the small town where I grew up, but didn't make me feel like I knew her bookstore at all. I don't know if I was just cranky when I read this or not, but it left me feeling dissatisfied; it left me cold.