Book Buying Analysis 2019

This is the third year running i’ve kept track of the books I buy, to throw all the data into a spreadsheet, make a pretty graph, and talk about how much money I spend on how many books from what places. I just find it interesting, okay? Previous years can be found here.

Other than one spectacular anomaly (which I’ll get to later), my two biggest spenders remain unchanged: Page 45 and Wordery. I’m nothing if not a faithful customer, apparently. But not to Waterstones this year—I didn’t buy a single book from them! I’m lumping all charity shops together this year, as there was no singular stand-out shop. Five Leaves, a local bookshop, and Troutmark, in Cardiff, both make a reappearance after being missing in 2018. At the Sign of the Dragon is a science fiction shop in Wigtown, which I could have spent hours longer in. And Stella and Rose Books… my anomaly.

Here are the numbers:

At the Sign of the Dragon
Total number of books bought: 8
Total cost: £30.99
Average price per book: £3.87

Charity
Total number of books bought: 10
Total cost: £23.97
Average price per book: £2.40

Five Leaves
Total number of books bought: 3
Total cost: £27.98
Average price per book: £9.33

Page 45
Total number of books bought: 7
Total cost: £79.93
Average price per book: £11.42

Stella Books
Total number of books bought: 3
Total cost: £80.00
Average price per book: £26.67

Troutmark
Total number of books bought: 3
Total cost: £10.50
Average price per book: £3.50

Wordery
Total number of books bought: 6
Total cost: £52.48
Average price per book: £8.75

Cumulatively, this is the damage:

2019 Totals:
Total number of books bought: 40
Total cost: £305.85
Average price per book: £7.65

And visually, we’re looking at this masterpiece of a bar chart:

Let’s start by addressing the anomaly in the room. I spent £80.00 on three books. This has skewed these numbers a bit, but oh well. I bought the Folio Society John Wyndham editions. Secondhand, because the Folio Society isn’t printing any more copies. So technically a ‘rare book’ purchase—my first, in fact. I regret nothing. This tipped November into my highest spend month, when in the previous two years I haven’t spent anything in November.

Expensive anomaly aside, October was my most active month, when I spent almost £78 on eight books. The two main shops I bought from were Page 45 and Five Leaves, both local independent bookshops who I am happy to support. I didn’t spend anything in the first two months of the year. Which differs hugely from the last two years, where both months were pretty big spending months. But I made up for it in March, with £45.47 spent in the second busiest month (discounting The Anomaly). And I was too busy enjoying the nice weather in June and July to buy any books, apparently.

Although Page 45 was were I spent a high chunk of money, on average the cost of each book was £11.42. That’s an improvement from last year’s average Page 45 book price of £15.99, but not quite as good as 2017’s £10.79. My average book price at Wordery is only going up: £7.91 in 2017, £8.51 in 2018, and now £8.75 in 2019. As a more reputable competitor to Amazon with free world wide shipping on all books, i’m more than happy with those numbers.

Objectively, May was by far and away my best month. I bought the most books (12), but spent the least per book on average (£3.15). Once again not including The Anomaly, my monthly averages aren’t bad, with April being the worst, where I bought two books, spending an average of £12.90 per book (two totally-worth it books—I just went to check what they were!).

Even with The Anomaly, my overall yearly spent was less than the two years previously. So i’m pretty chuffed with that. But I did buy my lowest number of books—only 40 compared to 2018’s 58 and 2017’s 46. And that’s pushed the average price per book to the highest in the last three years at £7.65.

Looking at the books I got, I think on the whole I bought with more purpose this year. I chose books I genuinely wanted, mostly from independent shops, by under-represented authors, and on interesting and important topics. Plus a whole bunch of cheap, incredible, secondhand science fiction. Oh, and those rare John Wyndhams. I may not have read every book I bought in 2019 yet, but I can safely say I regret none of them.

This analysis thing is getting interesting. The only consistent similarities are the places I spend the most money, and December being a no-buy month. Otherwise I feel like I’m a bit of a wildcard with my book buying habits. And I’m okay with that. Let’s see what my 2020 book buying brings… can I bring in my total cost at under £300? Will I buy another set of expensive rare books? Could I discover a new favourite bookshop? See you next year to find out!

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Book Buying Analysis 2018

In 2017 I kept track of all the books I bought, and at the end of the year I compiled all the data and wrote a post about it. Well, it should be no surprise that in 2018 I kept hold of all the receipts, all the confirmation emails, and all the delivery slips for every book I purchased so I could do the same thing all over again. What’s a bit of analysis if you can’t compare at least two sets of year end data?

Thankfully I still had the spreadsheet my more numbers-minded partner created last year, so it was fairly easy to input the new figures and extract the important data. The graph proved a pain in the proverbial, but it came together in the end, and no number crunching is truly complete without a pretty picture of it.

And so, the numbers.

My three top suppliers remain unchanged: Page 45, Waterstones, and Wordery. The only others I really thought worth mentioning were Abe Books, where I bought 5 secondhand books; Story Bundle, where a particular theme might catch my interest now and again; and three UK cities, where I visited a bunch of independent bookshops (Brighton, Cardiff, and Edinburgh). Laid out, here’s the damage:

Abe Books:
Total number of books bought: 5
Total cost: £14.41
Average price per book: £2.88

Independent Brighton:
Total number of books bought: 2
Total cost: £12.99
Average price per book: £6.50

Independent Cardiff:
Total number of books bought: 3
Total cost: £13.50
Average price per book: £4.50

Independent Edinburgh:
Total number of books bought: 7
Total cost: £63.46
Average price per book: £9.07

Page 45:
Total number of books bought: 6
Total cost: £95.93
Average price per book: £15.99

Story Bundle:
Total number of books bought: 10
Total cost: £11.20
Average price per book: £1.12

Waterstones:
Total number of books bought: 4
Total cost: £38.96
Average price per book: £9.74

Wordery:
Total number of books bought: 10
Total cost: £85.10
Average price per book: £8.51

And including the few other places I bought an odd book, the 2018 totals look like this:

2018 Totals:
Total number of books bought: 58
Total cost: £366.48
Average price per book: £6.32

But numbers are meaningless without colourful graphs, so let’s show off the hard work I put into this one:

For reasons I cannot fathom, July was my busiest book-buying month, with £115.78 spent on 17 books, though at an average of £6.81 a book, that’s not too bad, right? February, May, and October are close on July’s heels with £76.35, £61.85, and £53.97 spent respectively. Perhaps one of the best months, objectively, was March, with £24.19 spent on 12 books, which makes an average of £2.02 a book!

The most books I bought from one supplier was a tie between Story Bundle and Wordery, with 10 from each. But with average book costs of £1.12 and £8.51 respectively, Story Bundle was by far a better deal! Just like last year, Page 45 is my biggest wallet drainer, with £95.93 spent on 6 books, making them a whopping £15.99 each on average. As an independent store selling top quality and high priced graphic novels, Page 45 will always be my biggest spend—and I have no regrets about that.

Let’s do a little compare and contrast with 2017.

My average monthly spend was £30.54. More than last year’s £26.88, but I did spend £44 extra and bought 12 more books than in 2017… so things were always going to look worse.

In 2017 my busiest book buying month was far and away January, where I spent over double compared to any other month. July has been the busiest month in 2018, but without that runaway lead… and I barely spent £20 in January. Considering I spent more money on more books in 2018, there are also more months where I didn’t buy any books at all. Five whole months where not a single book came into my possession, compared to only two in 2017. The one thing that stands out clearly, though, is that in both years November and December are no-go months for book buying. I could speculate that this is because I’m too busy buying books as christmas presents, or not wanting to disturb my wishlist ahead of christmas… but I honestly don’t know why.

As fun and interesting as this is, I still haven’t spotted any real trends or patterns yet. Oh well, let’s see how 2019 goes…

When the Book Isn’t Better

The age-old adage: “Don’t judge a book by its movie” or “The book was better.” As bibliophiles we completely agree, right? The book has more depth, more detail, more character development, more complex plot… just more.

But what about when the book isn’t better?

Hear me out.

Some books, while having a great story, or world, or bunch of characters can still be… not great. But that spark of interesting can make an awesome film. Or maybe the essence, the heart, the soul, the meaning of a book isn’t captured to its full potential, but that essence translates better and more genuinely on screen.

It happens. Let me list a few!

Candyman/The Forbidden
I really loved the short story The Forbidden, and it had such an atmosphere and creepy vibe. The film captures that so freaking well. The film also has the opportunity to expand on the mythology and characters and atmosphere… I prefer it just because it adds more to the story.

The Maze Runner
I slogged my way through one and half of the books—they’re terrible. Like, objectively awful. The writing is atrocious and utterly cringe-worthy. But the plot? The mystery is so amazingly addictive. I adore the ideas and the world created. I’ve seen all three films, and while the third dragged and was overall a bit disappointing, they were all entirely more enjoyable than the books.

The Godfather
Honestly, the only reason I prefer the film is because the sexism is nowhere near as prominent and obvious as it is in the book. The book’s sexism made me angry!

The War of the Worlds
A more controversial choice, perhaps. While the film isn’t ground breaking, it’s a perfectly adequate action-packed thriller. I think it’s better than the book because I found the book quite emotionless. It read like an action list, like an outline for a book. This happens, that happens, then something else happens. There was no connection or motivation with the characters—the film managed to include that while also keeping the plot and drama interesting.

Girl, Interrupted
The author of this “true story” is just so whiny and annoying. The film, thankfully, is spared that!

What Dreams May Come
This was one of my favourite films for a long time. The idea that love conquers all, even death. I hadn’t known it was based on a book, but of course I read it as soon as I found out. While some aspects of the book were fascinating, the big climactic romance scene was such a poor, disappointing, and disgusting depiction of love. The main character reduces his wife to the chores and services she offers, rather than the connection they share—and it ruined the entire book for me.

Life of Pi
I enjoyed the book, but I did struggle through it. And the film was just beautiful as hell!

Are there any films you prefer to the book they’re based on? Or do you think i’m a monster for the very idea that they can better? Let me know in the comments!

Favourite Words

I love reading and I love writing. When you get down to it, I love words. The way they sound, how they look, the way they feel in my mouth, the action of writing them. Fitting them together to make sentences and expand meaning. The fact they make communication possible and how you can commit to paper what was previously just abstract thought.

Yeah. I love words.

Therefore I thought it only fitting that I use some words to help express my love for them. Specifically, my love for some of my very favourite words. Everyone has favourite words, right? That’s a totally normal thing?

Aesthetic – I just like the way it feels on the tongue. It makes me use every part of mouth and I really enjoy saying it out loud.

Ergo – A word not used enough. Simple, but somehow still more interesting than ‘therefore’.

Superfluous – It sounds almost bougie, but I like that about it. The word itself seems like excessive and unnecessary.

Awesome – Because it describes me perfectly! But really, this word has helped me be more self-confident and appreciate myself for who I am.

Schadenfreude – I love the German language (not that I can speak it); they have some of the best words and this is just one of them. I love this word, and this feeling…

I work as a medical secretary and i’ve found a lot of my favourite words while working. There are some fascinatingly strange and wonderful words to be found in the medical world. I’ve limited myself to my top four.

Ophthalmology – It’s the ph and th right there at the start that I love about this word. It’s a bit of a tongue bender and I love hearing people mispronounce it!

Amitriptyline – Because I haven’t yet met a doctor who can spell it correctly. They know there’s a Y in there amongst all those Is, but they’re never quite sure where it goes.

Clopidogrel – There are two pronunciations of this, and I only love one of them:
Clopid-oh-grel = Boring
Clopey-dog-rel = Amusing

Epididymis – This is a sperm duct in the testicles, but regardless of that, I just think it’s a fun word!

Words are wonderful, varied things and I love learning new ones. I purposely left ‘moist’ off of my list, because the main reason I like it is because so many people don’t! Please share some of your favourite words in comments and tell me why you like them!

On Giving Up

I’ve always had trouble giving up on books. Once I start them I find it hard to abandon them, even when i’m really just not enjoying them. I was faced with this dilemma recently, when I was about 150 pages from the end of The City of Mirrors. Despite five-star loving the first two books in the series, the final book wasn’t working for me. I wanted to give up, but i’d put so much time and effort into reading the previous 2,300 pages of the series, I felt it would be a waste to stop so close to the end. I compromised by skim-reading the last 150 pages.

This experience really got me thinking about not finishing books, and giving up on books that just aren’t your thing. At what point is a book “bad enough” to quit? At what point does a book become irredeemable? I think the answer depends on the reader—their own priorities and feelings.

For me I think the biggest reason I don’t give up on books more often is FOMO. I fear missing out on an amazing ending, or an incredible plot twist, or a brilliant bit of character development. For me it’s the “what if?” that keeps me reading books i’m not loving.

When reading a book I’m not enjoying I slow down. It takes me ages to finish a book that’s not doing it for me. And I realise that the time i’m wasting on those books should leave me worried about missing out on other good books… but somehow I just don’t feel FOMO in that direction.

More often than not there will be something about a book that I like and want to follow through on. Characters and what happens to them, the plot and how it concludes, general questions I want answers to. Hope is not a bad thing, and giving up on books often feels like giving up hope. This can make the prospect of not finishing a book demoralising rather than liberating.

For me, I think, a book has to be so bad it’s worn me down to the point where I no longer have hope. My personal threshold for books being good enough to finish is pretty high. For other people it’s pretty low, and in many ways I envy that decisiveness and ability to so easily move on. However my tolerance has declined a little; there was a time I would never not finish a book, but I’ve left three books unfinished in the last five years. While that sounds like nothing, it’s impressive for me.

Maybe in time i’ll get more ruthless. Maybe i’ll learn to cut ties earlier if a book is not impressing me enough, before I get too invested in seeing it through. Maybe i’m just too easy to please. This rambling has got me nowhere, really, and i’m still not sure how exactly I feel about not finishing books. Huh. Oh well.

What’re your feelings on not finishing books you aren’t enjoying? Do you have criteria a book needs to fulfil before you give up? Should it have you hooked by page 50 or it’s off to the charity shop? Is it too late to give up once you’re invested, even if it’s a drag? Give me your tips and thoughts!

Book Buying Analysis 2017

Last year I loved reading the analysis on the year’s book buying that Rachel over at Confessions of a Book Geek put together. I found it really interesting to lay it all out, see how much was spent at each shop and what the average price per book was. I liked it so much so, I decided to keep track of my own book buying habits in 2017.

I kept all my receipts, and even wrote out little notes for books bought online. At the start of this year I attempted to throw them all into a spreadsheet and do some magic calculations. Turns out I’m rubbish at that, and my abysmal attempt offended my accountant partner so much he took my receipts and did it all for me!

I have four main book suppliers: Wordery, Waterstones, Oxfam bookshops, and a local comic book shop called Page 45. Other bookshops I spent my hard-earned money at this year was another local called Five Leaves Bookshop, Scarthin Books in Cromford, and Troutmark Books in Cardiff. So let’s break it down:

Wordery:
Total number of books bought: 6
Total cost: £47.44
Average price per book: £7.91

Waterstones:
Total number of books bought: 7
Total cost: £69.93
Average price per book: £9.99

Oxfam:
Total number of books bought: 14
Total cost: £33.36
Average price per book: £2.38

Page 45:
Total number of books bought: 10
Total cost: £107.89
Average price per book: £10.79

Five Leaves:
Total number of books bought: 3
Total cost: £29.93
Average price per book: £9.98

Scarthin:
Total number of books bought: 3
Total cost: £19.97
Average price per book: £6.66

Troutmark:
Total number of books bought: 1
Total cost: £2.50
Average price per book: £2.50

If that wasn’t bad enough, when we put it all together, it looks worse:

2017 Totals:
Total number of books bought: 46
Total cost: £322.52
Average price per book: £7.01

Let’s make this information more aesthetically pleasing–and less number-y–by looking at it in graph form:

Taking it monthly, January was by far my most active book-buying month, with 11 books bought and £92.84 spent. The other months don’t compare, with all of them remaining between 2 and 8 books bought, and never breaching £40.00 spent. And by the end of the year I’d stopped completely, buying no books in November or December! So, er, can I blame the worst of it on a post-Christmas, new-year frenzy?

Spreading the load, overall my average monthly spend was £26.88, which doesn’t sound so bad. I’m going to focus on that number.

With all the prices in one place, it’s a bit hard to comprehend how I spent so much. But it’s also easy to see how I managed it. I bought the highest number of 14 books from Oxfam, but only spent £33 there in the whole year. Whereas I bought half as many books from Waterstones, but managed to spend almost £70! The priciest place, unsurprisingly, was Page 45, with an average cost of just under £11 per book. As an independent bookshop selling comics and graphic novels, the cost of their books are generally on the higher end of the scale anyway. Pair that with the fact I get a little giddy every time I step foot in there and rarely leave without buying something and it’s easy to see why that shop alone counts for an entire third of my yearly spend.

I don’t really have any take away from this, other than the fact it was interesting to see it all broken down this way. I’ve realised I favour buying books I genuinely want from more reputable and ethical places over the thrill of a bargain, and I find myself grateful that I’m in a position to do that.

I have yet to spend a penny on books in 2018, but now I’m in the habit, I’m sure I’ll find myself squirrelling away my receipts to do all of this again next year!

Unmotivated Reader

It’s hard to finish a book when you’re not enjoying it, but what about when the book is good enough, you just find yourself in an unmotivated reading rut?

It could be argued that if a book is good enough you’ll find the time and desire to read it, but i don’t think it’s that simple. Sometimes a book can be enjoyed, but it can also be difficult to read. Maybe the subject matter is deep or serious, maybe the prose is old fashioned or purposely abstract, maybe the chapters are excessively long or the narrative voice is difficult. None of those things have to mean you aren’t enjoying the story, the characters, the message.

So, what to do? When you’re enjoying a book, but for whatever reason, it’s taking you a while to read it. I don’t actually have an answer–this is simply the problem i’m currently faced with.

I’ve decided to not beat myself up over it. I might not pick the book up for a week–so be it! I won’t force myself to read it when i’m not feeling it; it won’t make my desire to read it suddenly increase. I’m into the last 100 pages, now–the final stretch–and that’s usually when my drive picks up. Even if i can’t get enough of a book and devour it in days, the last 100 pages will be read the fastest.

If i was the type, i might pick up another book. Come back to this one when i’m done, or read them both at the same time. But i’m just not that kind of reader. I envy those who are, but when i read i’m all-in. I immerse myself in a single book, even if that immersion lasts for several long weeks–months? If need be.

My reading challenge might be shot this year, but i’m reading the books i want to read, at my own pace, on my own terms. Goals and reading pressures aren’t why i read–they aren’t always fun. I’ll read what i like, how i like, for how long i like. Reading ruts be damned!

Horror vs Sci-Fi

Horror is designed to scare and make you hide under the bed covers, while science fiction is made to imagine and get you thinking beyond the world’s limitations. They have their differences, yet horror and science fiction are both interesting genres. But I would say that; they’re my favourites.

It might not always be obvious, but they do also have a lot in common, including the subjects they explore and the fact that they twist the familiar in order to achieve this. Of course, how they twist things and the outcomes reached can vary wildly.

Society

Society is one topic commonly explored, with horror often focusing on the more evil, destructive nature of it. This is the basis for books like William Golding’s Lord of the Flies, where a group of young children are stranded alone on an island. They organise themselves and begin with the best of intentions, but their small community swiftly dissolves into violence, chaos, and a fight for power.

Exploration of societies is a mainstay for sci-fi, either by the evolution of one we are familiar with or the introduction of alien cultures juxtaposed against our own. Many science fiction writers create entire universes, with planets and cultures spanning several books. In The Dispossessed Ursula Le Guin explores a 200-year-old utopian lunar colony through the eyes of a character who controversially chooses to return to the planet it orbits. Despite his disillusionment with the society he grew up in, the character learns the other culture is no utopia either.

Humanity

Humanity, with its notions of morality and its inevitable mortality, can be a meaningful subject to deal with. Horror is a genre so intrinsically linked with death, and that gives it an interesting perspective to offer on life. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde looks at the life of a man who remains young, attractive and hedonistic, as a portrait of him grows old. While Gray gains immortality he loses aspects of his humanity, which become trapped in the portrait. He loses sight of himself and we begin to wonder if there are things worse than death.

In the hands of science fiction, the nature of life and what it means to be human are often explored via technological advancement, the prevalence of machines and the development of artificial intelligence. This is the case with Philip K Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? which plays with the idea of androids developing beyond their AI, and the ethics of terminating such machines along with the repercussions for humanity of letting them live.

Gender

It’s fascinating to see society and humanity explored within both the sci-fi and horror genres, but even more interesting has to be gender. It’s apparently a tricky subject in fiction, with female characters often being reduced to stereotypes and secondary characters. No genres are immune to these pitfalls, but this is one area where horror and science fiction vary much more significantly.

Horror is notorious for its poor representation and mistreatment of females, focusing on their bodies for sex and slaughter and sin, either in service of the male villain or as the horror itself. Stephen King’s Carrie is an example of the latter, with the title character’s telekinetic powers triggered by the onset of menstruation. The horrific climax is the result of Carrie allowing herself to unleash her emotions, while literally drenched in blood. Because a hormonal young woman is a terrifying thing, according to some very male horror authors.

Science fiction, however, can be a much more empowering place to explore what it means to be a woman. Likely because there are a lot more women writing in sci-fi, compared to horror, with props to Mary Shelley, author of Frankenstein, as the inventor of science fiction. The Female Man by Joanna Russ is a feminist novel which utilises sci-fi to share the stories of one woman, from four different universes. Each woman offers a different view; each world an alternative option. Marriage, conformity, independence, a world without men…

Ultimately both horror and science fiction present interesting views by picking apart the world as we know it and offering an alternative perspective in its place. Whether by imagining other worlds or critiquing our own, both genres give us important perspective on who we are, and who we could be.

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Why I Skip Straight to the Negative Reviews

For the longest time, I never read reviews. I was adamant that one stranger’s opinion on a book would never be helpful; I’d need to read it and make up my own mind, thank you very much. It goes without saying that I’ve read a lot of mediocre books.

Ironically, it was reading the love-it-or-hate-it reviews of The Bell Jar, having written a very average three-star review of it myself, that lead me to read reviews before reading a book.

A great book cover or blurb has always caught my attention, but what makes me want to pick up a book and start reading is its negative reviews. Does that seem counter-intuitive? The thing is, knowing how much someone loved a book is nice, but it’s rarely informative. And don’t even get me started on keyboard smash and gif-filled reviews.

This might be related to the fact that I get far, far more pleasure from writing about books I dislike than from writing about books I enjoy. The fact that I spent hours of my time reading a book that didn’t feel worthwhile makes writing about why a satisfying and cathartic experience. Negative reviews are motivated by the need to critique rather than simply praise, and that substantive content is why I find them more useful.

I generally find positive reviews hard to wade through, with too much time spent explaining the premise—I won’t need that if you can only convince me to read the book! Their enthusiasm can feel quite forced or seem like posturing, rather than a genuine appreciation for the material. Those kinds of unreflective remarks are not reviews—they’re histrionics.

So instead I find myself scrolling right past the epic and occasionally nonsensical praise. I filter for the one- and two-star reviews, and I bask in the bashing, the whining and the disappointment. When someone dislikes a book they don’t often spend paragraphs rehashing the plot (unless it’s to point out the holes); it’s straight to the things that bothered them.

And here’s the point—the reason I can trawl through a dozen negative reviews and still want to read the book by the end of it—what other people dislike, I might love! If someone moans about there not being enough description—great! I hate too much description. If a reviewer complains because there’s too much dialogue—fantastic! I thrive on dialogue. If a reader gripes over hating the characters for not being nice enough—brilliant! I adore morally grey characters.

Of course, negative reviews aren’t all wonderful. I can just as easily find one I agree with, which lists criticisms that are deal breakers for me. But such reviews are just as, if not more, appreciated—they save me from wasting my precious book-reading time on something I’d hate.

Ultimately I’m very grateful to anyone who, instead of simply tossing aside the books they don’t like, actually takes the time to review them. They could very well be helping me find the next book I love.