I must have spent much of the first 40 years of my life inside second-hand-bookshops and the shelves of my house testify to the fact. I still find it hard to resist if I see one, but I no longer go out of my way to visit them. I'm afraid the Internet has taken so much of the fun out of this. I remember, for example, the enormous pleasure I got from trying to build a complete collection of the works of W.W. Jacobs (one name that could stand for many others): the joy at finding one of his works in some dusty corner in a bookshop in, say, Totnes... Then came the day when I found that all I had to do was click on Abebooks and there they all were, at reasonable prices, available in shops all around the world. And now it's even easier: I can download them for free from Gutenberg. The time and money I could have saved...
But the pleasure (however pointless) I would have lost, of course.
By the way, the bookshop in Venice is, as I have said elsewhere, very picturesque but extremely frustrating. It is almost impossible to find anything and the owner rarely has much of a clue where things are.
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