On the Shelf

 When you spend as much time as I do scanning the bookshelves of charity shops, you can't help noticing certain trends in what turns up for sale (I'm referring only to the shelves labelled 'Literature' – or, in the case of one of my favourite shops, 'Cult Literature', a rather eccentric way to describe anything vaguely literary or 'serious' published in the 20th century). At the moment the charity shops seem to be awash with William Goldings – and they are staying on the shelves, as are the ever present Lawrence Durrells (invariably in Faber paperback). Iris Murdoch continues to turn up reliably, as do Muriel Spark and Beryl Bainbridge, with a scattering of Elizabeth Bowens. I guess the disproportionate presence of these writers shows that they have fallen out of fashion: does anyone read Durrell now? It seems more than surprising that he was once so popular and evidently sold well. I must admit I never got on with Golding, nor with Iris Murdoch's bizarre novels (though I'm a fan of both Spark and Bainbridge). 
   Other persistent presences on the charity shop shelves are single titles, often novels that have won the Booker or had rave reviews, been bought by the susceptible and disposed of, probably unread. Life of Pi and The God of Small Things turn up regularly, as do Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, and I've recently spotted The Sense of an Ending (Julian Barnes), and even The Bone People. Incredibly, there still seems to be a copy of D.M. Thomas's The White Hotel (1981, pipped at the Booker post by Midnight's Children) in virtually every charity shop. As for poetry, there is never much of it, and what there is is dominated by popular anthologies and war poetry (invariably WWI), with the odd Heaney and Armitage popping up, and sometimes Yeats and Housman. The most ubiquitous name is, unsurprisingly, John Betjeman, our last (probably in both senses) bestselling poet. I suspect that, unlike much of what turns up most often in charity shops, his works are still being read and enjoyed; there has certainly been no recent surge in Betjemans – he has always been there. Overall, though, I guess most of what is on the charity shop shelves – at least what stays there for weeks on end – must be taken to represent what people once read and no longer want to read, an index of changing times, and tastes.