St Andrews bookshop closure after 144 years like a 'tear'

Fisher and Donaldson, the Koh-i-Noor of cake-shops is still enchanting small children like the witch’s house in Hansel and Gretel. Next door though, there’s a place selling watches. Fair enough.

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Unfortunately it insists on “offering a watch-building experience”. Someone needs to tell the owners to behave themselves. St Andrews does not offer ‘experiences’. 

IJ Mellis cheesemonger is still selling his curds on South Street. It’s still the only food emporium which can deploy the word ‘artisan’ without sparking a desire to pan the windows in.  

The natural rhythms of St Andrews’ three main thoroughfares seem undisturbed. Even the rain, now merely a downpour, seems not inclement. In December it’s a mercy. For this is perhaps one of the few times you can admire this Auld Grey Toun without your sightline being vandalised by the wretched livery of golfers. 

J&G Innes Ltd is closing after 144 years (Image: Visit Scotland)

Yet, there’s been a tear in the fabric of St Andrews. Last week, the imminent closure of J&G Innes Ltd, after 144 years of selling books and stationery, was announced. In St Andrews and beyond it was greeted like the death of a much-loved and venerated auntie. You knew she was old, but had assumed she’d still be around for many years yet. 

How to best describe this place to someone who’s never been there? Well, it’s one of those shops which you simply can’t pass without being enticed inside. It sits on the corner of South Street and Church Street, a two-storey wood and stone reliquary with a wooden garret window and diamond-latticed windows. 

J&G Innes Ltd is picked out in gold leaf and the St Andrews Citizen, the 153-year old newspaper, a copy of which becomes my last-ever purchase from the shop. The interior could have served as the location for Ollivander’s wand-shop in Harry Potter. And for an old newspaper man like me it always warms the heart to see rows of printed titles laid on the counter. 

It seemed fitting then that the closure of the town’s most recognisable shop was the splash in last week’s Citizen along with a picture which dominated the front. 

On Saturday, two weeks before Christmas, the shop was teeming with customers, including one elderly couple who had travelled from the north of England to take a last look. “We met in St Andrews as students,” said she, “and this was where we came to browse and stock up.” 

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Local councillor, Jane Anne Liston, expressed her gratitude to the owner, Jude Innes and her staff for the “years of service" they have given to the people of St Andrews. 

“I fear that Innes has been the victim of changing shopping patterns over the years, which the pandemic restrictions will have exacerbated.” 

Jude Innes though is hopeful that the book-selling tradition in this space might be maintained by its future owner. “It would be lovely,” she says, “but St Andrews is well served for bookshops old and new.

“We’ve always been more than ‘just a bookshop’. We’ve been a library, a printers, a book binders, a stationers, a picture-framers, a gift shop an art gallery and an art suppliers. This has helped us survive for so long especially through the demise of the net book agreement, and the growth of supermarkets. I think our popularity is also because the shop is so unusual-looking and unique. But also I would hope for friendly helpful service.”

A golfer playing at St Andrews

“We’ve been inundated with good wishes from all around the world, including America, Australia and New Zealand. It’s very humbling and heart-warming for what has been a very hard decision to make. Some people told they once worked with us and one lady brought a photo in today from 1947 of a staff party with her Mum in it.”

That there won’t be a bookshop here after this year seems as startling to the locals as removing the traffic-cone from the Duke of Wellington might be to Glaswegians. And at least any new owners won’t be able to alter the look of the building. You could sell sacks of coal from these premises and it would still look great. 

My friend Aileen, a native of Fife’s East Neuk, is sanguine about the closure. “Just so long as it’s not a coffee-house chain,” she says. “Maybe something like Liberty London, the luxury brand store would be in keeping with the building.”

Like many other local people she’s much more concerned about what’s happening at the other end of the town on North Street, one of Scotland’s most historic boulevards. It’s also home to the New Picture House Cinema which is threatened with being converted into a luxury sports bar by a consortium headed by golfer, Tiger Woods and the singer, Justin Timberlake. 

A petition on change.org is already just shy of its target of 15,000 signatures. It describes the cinema as “a cherished and historic cultural landmark in our beloved town” and calls on Fife Council to consider when deciding whether the conversion, which will strip the picture house of two if its three screens, should go ahead  

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“The New Picture House isn't just any cinema; it's the heart and soul of St Andrews. As the only cinema in our town, it holds a special place in the hearts of all who call this beautiful place home."
Glen, who owns Spoiled Hairdressing on Albany Place, is unperturbed by the planned development.

Look, the cinema hadn’t exactly been putting up the House Full signs,” he says. “And anyway, I think that what’s being proposed can breathe new life into it while still retaining the film-house. There’s a gap for something different in St Andrews which will appeal to young and old. As with JG Innes, the building is an attraction in itself and that will always remain.”

The rain which was sweeping in on curtains, is now merely a downpour and so I walk back up North Street to the remains of St Andrews Cathedral. Let’s be honest here: few other places in Scotland seem as proofed against the predations of the 21st century. 

You walk up past the academic buildings and the Martyr’s Kirk and the stone cottages on College Street. This is Edinburgh’s much less contrived little sister. It would take a lot to spoil it. Even the festive folderols seem demure and understated, as though a curfew has been imposed to prevent an outbreak before Christmas Eve.

I’m soon rewarded for braving the weather. A bride, looking glorious in her wedding dress, is sheltering in the doorway of a coffee shop. I stop to wish her all the best on her big day and tell her the dress looks a million dollars. Her name is Annie and she’s American. Perhaps she attended the university and has returned to marry her student prince. She lights up this dreichest of days in the Auld Grey Toun, still casting spells in the rain.