Autumn has always been a season of stories. Perhaps it’s the earlier dusk or the instinctive turn inward, but this time of year invites us to imagine, to remember, and to reconnect with the narratives that shape our lives. It feels fitting, then, that this issue of the OLB reflects on Dean Jonathan Swift and the fantastical voyages of Gulliver — tales that used imagination not as escape, but as a way of interpreting reality.
In our village of Gerrards Cross, my wife Jennifer and I see that same instinct every day inside our little shop. Crocus Books & Gifts is small by the standards of Swift’s Lilliput or Brobdingnag, but we believe it can contain worlds just as vast, if we open our minds to the possibilities!
More than thirty years ago, Jennifer and I met in Toronto while working for one of the big communications consulting firms. We were on different teams, but united by a shared purpose: helping clients tell their stories in ways that were credible, persuasive and even inspiring. In some ways it was our profound love of storytelling that helped to bring us together.
Across continents, career changes and the joyful chaos of raising children, that thread never loosened. At home, reading became our nightly ritual — a place where our children learned that stories could be invented, expanded, reshaped, and shared. Characters we created together lived on in our imaginations long after the lights were turned out. In those moments, we were not consultants or executives; we were simply humans doing what humans have always done: making sense – or light – of the world through narrative.
Fastforward more than three decades since we first met, and our lives have come full circle in a way. Just over a year ago, Jennifer and I took over the independent bookshop we had loved for more than a decade. For Jennifer, it was the realisation of a longheld dream; for both of us, it felt like returning to the heart of what we have always valued so deeply.
Today, we hope that Crocus Books is more than a shop. For one-time visitors or our most loyal customers, we hope it’s a hub of curiosity, creativity and conversation. We see children arrive wideeyed, discovering stories that spark lifelong reading journeys. Families browse together, sharing recommendations and rediscovering old favourites. Our book clubs gather to debate, laugh and occasionally disagree — proof that stories still provoke thought in ways no algorithm can replicate. We host author visits, seasonal events, and even the occasional appearance from beloved cartoon characters who remind children and their parents of the magic that fiction can inspire.
We are often told that reading is in decline, that attention spans are shrinking, that high streets are fading. Convenience, speed and digital distraction have become the dominant narrative of modern life. And yet, every day, we see a quiet resistance: people choosing to step inside, to browse, to linger, to talk, to imagine.
Perhaps that is the enduring lesson of Swift and the storytellers who came before him. Imagination is not frivolous. It is how we interrogate the world, how we challenge it, how we understand it. A bookshop — especially an independent one — is a small but determined act of defiance against the idea that stories and real human connection no longer matter.
On our high street, they matter more than ever.
