Today we would like to introduce you to our bookstore buddy Benedikt Rüssel. Mr. Rüssel is the owner of the bookstore Rüssel in Nuremberg, whose management he unexpectedly took over as a student in the 1970s.
Dear Mr. Rüssel, why did you choose to run a bookshop?
My father was a bookseller and owned his shop. When I grew up, from boyhood onwards, being a bookseller simply didn’t appeal to me.
At the age of just sixty, my father died suddenly and quite unexpectedly. I decided to take over the management of his bookshop for an interim, hopefully short period until it could be sold or I might be prepared to take it on after all. At the time, I was nearing the end of my student years (my subjects included German and Political Science) and I wanted to complete my studies. Still, I was convinced that my wide-ranging knowledge of literature would make me perfectly able to run the shop for a while – a big mistake, I freely admit.
My father‘s female colleague had to tutor me at the outset of course. I soon realised that I couldn’t rely simply on following my literary tastes but also had to know about retailing both as an entrepreneur and as someone who could respond to the needs of the customers – some would surely be keen book readers. So, eventually, I became a bookseller and have by now been in that trade for more the forty-five years.
Please describe the final few meters of the route you take in the mornings to your bookshop.
From the time of my take-over and until some five years ago, my shop was part of a large shopping centre. I finally decided to change location and my new shop is in a suburban high street with a baker's, a pharmacy and a butcher's across the road. There is also a small supermarket and a garden café.
Suddenly I was in the light, real daylight, and had views over trees and lawns. There were squirrels and crows, clouds, sun and rain, quite often snow, too. Here, in the quiet, single voices could be heard talking and asking questions. You could hear children laughing or crying. I wouldn’t have to endure for ever the mass of unidentifiable noises that I had almost become used to, a mixture of many, many sounds: rumbling escalators, blaring music, loudspeaker announcements, barking dogs, rowdy people and so on.
Throughout the day ...When the shop-door opens and someone steps inside...
Often, after stepping inside my shop, I go to stand by the front door, looking out over the street scene and greeting passing neighbours while I drink my first cup of coffee of the day.
In the evenings, I enjoy holding forth to a group of people who have come to one of our very popular reading sessions in the shop. Some just listen and some join the discussion, we drink a glass of wine and talk about new novels from every corner of the world: what is especially fascinating about them, what the language is like –the register it is written in and the literary images – and, of course, the storyline.
What is the wonderful thing that happens when we read?
We are often taken to some faraway place, often into another historical time. At other times, we are alone and can explore ourselves. Reading can continue until late at night, and perhaps we don’t even then reach an understanding of why we like just this book so much, why we can’t let go of it. It might be that it tells us of things that truly matter to us by had gone unnoticed.
Many say they don’t have the time to read. What can they do about that?
The only people who have no time to read are those who somehow have failed to realise that they are unthinkingly missing out on one of life’s great pleasures. Moments spent on literature or music make every day more enjoyable. And you can benefit from reading or listening anywhere, on your way to work or instead of staring at some stupid late-night TV show.
Has a Norwegian book given you a reading experience that you remember with pleasure?
Where to start? Or stop? From the classics onward:
Even now, many years after I first read Per Pettersen’s work, I cannot speak highly enough about To Sibiria (transl. Anne Born for Vintage, 2008)andOut Stealing Horses (transl. Anne Born for Harvill Secker, 2005). I will surely return to these books many more times.
Ever since Karin Fossum’s crime novels (several of Karin Fossum’s books are published in English e.g. The Whisperer, Harvill Secker, 2018) about the Inspector Konrad Sejer’s cases began to come out in German translation, I feel that they completely outclassed everything else written in this genre, except possibly the early novels by Anne Holt (several of Anne Holt’s books are published in English e.g. Modus 5. Corvus, 2017).
On to the present day: Matias Faldbakken’s The Hills (transl. Alice Menzies for Black Swan, 2019) and Johan Harstad’s Max, Mischa og Tetoffensiven (Gyldendal 2015, so far unavailable in English.)
And, just between us: Is there anything like these books in German literature!?!
Translated from the German by Anna Paterson
Visit the Buchhandlung Rüssel's website here.
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