The Brunswick Street Bookstore
| 305 Brunswick Street, Fitzroy |
5 oranları
8.00/10.00 |
|
+61 3 9416 1030 |
|
The Brunswick Street Bookstore haritada
değerlendirme
Gareth Simpson (25.05.2017 13:52)
Very well curated, intelligent and sophisticated selection.
Very well curated, intelligent and sophisticated selection.
Omid Shayan (04.06.2016 09:24)
A fantastic independent bookstore. Great selection, fantastic staff and a lovely place to hang out.
A fantastic independent bookstore. Great selection, fantastic staff and a lovely place to hang out.
Chris Papachristos (26.04.2016 03:00)
So sad to have to post this comment about a place that I truly love and which means so much to me. A save haven, away from the buzz of Brunswick street; an oasis, where you can be browse at liberty in the lap of the sum of human achievement in every sphere of intellectual and cultural endeavor. I love this space! You're not told to buy or to move on; instead, you're invited to be a part of the furniture. The staff are super helpful and make you feel at home - except for this one occasion, yesterday, Monday afternoon, ANZAC day at approximately 15.40, when I approached the counter to pay for a card I had already selected. The young girl behind the counter, who smelled of Year 11 or 12 or first year uni, above all of self-righteousness and Eastern Suburbs oak and plane tree foliage, did her best to be as unfriendly and as unhelpful as possible. She had chatted to the customer before me, handing him the change, and said good-bey. When my turn came, she took the card and muttered "SIx dollars". I gave her twenty and reached out for the change but the change was placed emphatically on the table. I acquiesced and collected it off the table only to realize that the card I had just bought was sitting on her side of the counter, left there for me to pick up. I had to literally lean over the entire width of the counter, which made me feel extremely uncomfortable. I smiled at her as I took my leave but felt the need to say something; however, my wife was with me and she hates me doing that.
This girl's conduct exuded a strange response. Either she thought I was Prince Charles or some pop idol god and, hence, she was completely dumb-founded, or she thought I was Frankenstein's monster incarnate or a leper just visiting, telling me I had no business in this street, my haunt, and in this suburb, my hood, or in this country, where I was born, raised and educated. I wished at that moment I belonged also to some other country I could call home but nothing but an island girt by sea kept popping into my mind.
Do people like this girl really still exist in this milieu? And, who does the hiring and firing in this, otherwise, magnificent establishment?
Thanking you,
Chris, disappointed, hurt and displaced.
So sad to have to post this comment about a place that I truly love and which means so much to me. A save haven, away from the buzz of Brunswick street; an oasis, where you can be browse at liberty in the lap of the sum of human achievement in every sphere of intellectual and cultural endeavor. I love this space! You're not told to buy or to move on; instead, you're invited to be a part of the furniture. The staff are super helpful and make you feel at home - except for this one occasion, yesterday, Monday afternoon, ANZAC day at approximately 15.40, when I approached the counter to pay for a card I had already selected. The young girl behind the counter, who smelled of Year 11 or 12 or first year uni, above all of self-righteousness and Eastern Suburbs oak and plane tree foliage, did her best to be as unfriendly and as unhelpful as possible. She had chatted to the customer before me, handing him the change, and said good-bey. When my turn came, she took the card and muttered "SIx dollars". I gave her twenty and reached out for the change but the change was placed emphatically on the table. I acquiesced and collected it off the table only to realize that the card I had just bought was sitting on her side of the counter, left there for me to pick up. I had to literally lean over the entire width of the counter, which made me feel extremely uncomfortable. I smiled at her as I took my leave but felt the need to say something; however, my wife was with me and she hates me doing that.
This girl's conduct exuded a strange response. Either she thought I was Prince Charles or some pop idol god and, hence, she was completely dumb-founded, or she thought I was Frankenstein's monster incarnate or a leper just visiting, telling me I had no business in this street, my haunt, and in this suburb, my hood, or in this country, where I was born, raised and educated. I wished at that moment I belonged also to some other country I could call home but nothing but an island girt by sea kept popping into my mind.
Do people like this girl really still exist in this milieu? And, who does the hiring and firing in this, otherwise, magnificent establishment?
Thanking you,
Chris, disappointed, hurt and displaced.
Stephen Said (25.01.2016 21:19)
Quiet little respite on a busy street. Very of friendly.
Quiet little respite on a busy street. Very of friendly.
Cate Allan (27.09.2012 15:00)
A fantastic bookshop and a Brunswick Street institution. A great, relaxed space to spend an afternoon.
A fantastic bookshop and a Brunswick Street institution. A great, relaxed space to spend an afternoon.
