Bookshops should be realms of quiet adventure. You might enter with vague purpose, to satisfy a hankering for a taut thriller or complex history. And you might emerge later with an armful of volumes completely unrelated to your initial intent. Therein lies the appeal of browsing. You never know what treasures you'll unearth.
That's if you're left to own devices and not, as so often happens to me, interrupted by a shop assistant who intrudes upon your reverie to ask if you need help. If I did, I'd ask for it. Nothing gets me out of a bookshop faster.
The reverse is true for those maddening big box hardware stores, where you do need help to find the left handed widget YouTube has said is essential for that minor repair. Invariably these places are staffed by people with an uncanny ability to disappear the moment you require help locating said widget.
