When Kotobkhan celebrated its birthday, Rania Khallaf was there Out, past the hinterlands of New Maadi, Kotobkhan -- a sort of Persianised Arabic term for "bookshop" -- occupies the ground floor of a pleasantly garden-flanked building on Lasselki Street, one of the main thoroughfares of the area. You go up three steps, ring the bell -- alternatively, you can push the door open, which sets off the bell automatically -- and it's as if you are walking into a friend's house. Facing you is a mini café and the genuine smiles of the personnel. To your side are stacks of archival pictures and, over in the distance, a selection of especially made notebooks. An intimate space: the children's corner, for one feature, is full of knowledge and fun in three languages -- Arabic, English and French -- while a small seating area affords adults the chance to read or work in relative silence. Karam Youssef, the owner and director of the place, is especially radiant tonight: on the Kotobkhan's first birthday there are writers, readers and friends, all in the mood for celebration. Drinks and cake are being served. It was just before eight when Youssef held up the microphone to deliver her speech, starting with a warm welcome. "When people ask me how I evaluate the experience one year later," she eventually said, "I proudly tell them that Kotobkhan is now like a child of mine. Money- wise, there is not much I have gained, but the love I got from readers who love my bookshop is invaluable..." By which time it was high- profile economist Galal Amin's turn; and, after praising Kotobkhan's "beauty and intimate atmosphere"-- wherever you turn you see a beautiful thing or an idea -- he reviewed the history of independent bookshops in Egypt from a personal perspective, pointing to Al-Nahda and the Anglo bookshops which, during the years leading up to 1952 and "even before the opening of the Americaine coffee shop, gave downtown Cairo a distinctive spirit"; he recalled anecdotes relayed by his older brother, author Hussein Amin, who witnessed the well-known writer Abbas Mahmoud El-Aqqad joking roughly with the Anglo's owner -- evidence of the familiarity between writers and bookshop owners, which is "all but completely gone nowadays". At Lutfallah's, the Marxist owner, subsequently imprisoned in the 1960s, was enraged when Amin asked him about "books on socialism", saying there was no such thing -- it was either communism or nothing. "Later on, when Madbuli and Dar El-Shorouk opened on Talaat Harb, I realised that book store owners were all publishers. One could hardly find books by other publishers on their premises. And this is a clear advantage of the new independent bookstores: readers can find books on different subjects, from different publishers and trends, all in the same place." Unlike at Madbouli's, customers can browse or indeed read while enjoying a cup of coffee: "The funny thing about traditional bookshops is that you need only touch a book for a salesman to be over your shoulder asking gruffly if it's a book you want to buy." With the emergence -- and popularity -- of Volume One and Diwan as well as Kotobkhan, one might quite sensibly ask about the factors contributing to the resurgence of independent bookshops at this particular juncture. Amin believes it has to do with a new generation of readers: "And they, if I may say so, have expectations beyond what the traditional market can offer. They also have purchasing power." Others thought it rather a consequence of the Internet and satellite TV -- a view to which Youssef objected, placing it instead firmly in the context of the literary and cinematic energy which overtook Cairo in the mid- to late-1990s, giving rise to, among other things, the literary Generation of the Nineties, many of whose representatives are involved with Kotobkhan. She was rather more specific about her drive to found a bookshop in private: "I've been in love with old books and every kind of paper since I was a small child; collecting scraps was my hobby. But it wasn't until a year and a half ago that I decided to purchase this place and turn it into a bookshop. It's an individual effort." She has no plans for expansion: "What is important is to establish a strong base, to develop the readers' trust in this space as a cultural gathering point." She targets everyone, down to new-born babies. Despite a bias towards new Arabic writing, she covers all subjects. She is keen on quality of service but favours "guest hospitality" over "customer service" as such. Slowly but surely is her strategy, and crossing over into the realm of publishing is the next challenge. The first book, the result of a six-month writing workshop with Yasser Abdel-Latif, will appear shortly. Audience members like poet Mohamed Ibrahim Abu Senna were very supportive. The reason Kotobkhan is special, Abu Senna said, is its owner's keenness on bringing the sublime into the everyday. It stands out even among independent bookshops: "It is not just a place for buying books in a pleasant atmosphere. It also works as a 'service centre', providing the opportunity for reader-writer interaction and the coexistence of different kinds of art." photo: Sherif Sonbol
