Letsgoloolala with Lily Anne
I’m settling well in this old Spanish coach house. At a distance a terra cotta wall provides a blank canvas. Adjacent to that is another spectacularly tall honey coloured wall. Sometimes I imagine that a caricature prisoner in striped pyjamas will appear some day and shout down ‘ Buenos Dias Senora . Veo que te gusta escribir? Te daré algo para escribir.’ Good Day Madam. I see you like to write? I’ll give you something to write about. I don’t know why I imagined this scene as I didn’t feel lonely or unsafe. In fact I felt free in the most private house I had ever lived in.
My first week in Valencia I took the train to Estación Del Norte. As I crossed the road I spotted a prestigious looking bookstore with the name Libreria Soriano and the year 1947. I figured ‘Why start at the bottom?’ and duly entered the premises. I explained my interest in selling a bilingual book of short stories and was shown downstairs. I spoke to a gracious Spanish lady who was prepared to give me some assistance by way of explaining that I would need a factura- an invoice but that first I should go to the Tributaria, the government office for literature in such and such a street. There I would be advised on the protocol necessary to sell my books in Spain. She had a good look at the publication details and seemed willing to accept a copy either to sit in a long queue on a shelf above her or as I hoped to take home and peruse in her own time. I established that the bookstore did have a foreign languages section and was clearly situated in the heart of Valencia city with an amazing footfall. Confident that this lady knew a bit about books I followed her suggestion and headed towards the Tributaria.
I actually made a small error rechecking directions on the way and arrived at Tributaria Number Nine, a government office and main access for Spanish citizens with a host of different issues not including books. I got my ticket proffering my European passport, my place of residence and sat in the queue. When I got to the counter I was advised that I was in the wrong office I must have looked suitably crestfallen. As time was of the essence the thoughtful lady public servant summoned a young male colleague fluent in English, and advised him to phone the other office on my behalf. He promptly reported back to me so that I left Number Nine armed with all the information I needed to make the next step in my sales journey if I wished to sell my book in Spain.
I made a temporary return home in early July escaping el calor and attending a local concert, featuring Neil Young and Bob Dylan. I made sure to liaise with public servants in Dublin who were equally accommodating. Yes I could sell my book under the European double taxation agreement. The coach house did not come with a carriage. Armed with this information I was happy to expend a lot of shoe leather walking the beautiful old style Spanish highways and byways in pursuit of sales.
The Gran Via Turia
My tour of bookstores began on my return to Spain in September. First stop was a Paris Valencian bookshop in Gran Via del Turia. Success! A lady called Marian very politely agreed to take 3 books. On the strength of this fait accompli I went into Fan Set, a Valencian bookshop in the Cultural Centre 9 Octubre right in the heart of The Old Town or Centro historico. A pleasant young woman called Nuria seemed pleased to meet an Irish author of short stories, presented in a bilingual pattern. She too was willing to take 3 books. On then to another Paris Valencian shop close to Plaza España. There I met Teresa who took time to show me the now bi lingual classics including our own James Joyce and Oscar Wilde- translated and selling for considerably less than my offer. She let me down very graciously. I understood the point she was making. Just as graciously we exchanged smiles.
On then to Plaza ALfons Magnanimo. I was hopeful that the name would be a good omen and sure enough after young Ausius and Ester conferred, discreetly and having sorted out Ester’s major concern, they agreed to take ten books. The terms were the same as with the other shops: I gave the books on deposit and then for sale or return. Ester acquiesced, once she knew that they wouldn’t be expected to pay shipping to return the books to the author. All in all it was a good day’s business. I was prompted then to photograph my book adding the addresses of the three bookshops and forwarded to family and all connections Valencian or Spanish. Next thing I knew I had a recommendation from a Valencian author on Twitter. It was time to celebrate so I bought a feathered pen to match the feather in my cap.
