I could not have predicted the tempest in a teapot arising from an article I wrote about a local bookshop accidentally receiving a shipment meant for Kenya. Last Week in Denmark’s social media team posted it on Facebook (link to the post below) and the comments started rolling in.
Most of them positive, but, of course, it’s the negative ones that stung and stick in my mind. I’ve had adverse interactions before on Facebook that were much ruder (which is a huge reason why I don’t use Facebook much anymore). It’s a relief none of the comments were misogynistic or deeply unpleasant, they were just keyboard warrior fare.
A few commenters assumed the worst about the Danish bookstore keeping the books: “Bad chance for the bookshop in Nairobi, there is so much work when you choose the books you are commanding, often for clients, and now you must start it all again. Even if the money earned after this is send to them, it’s really annoying.”
A now-deleted comment said: “This is not the flex you think it is” and proceeded to rant about how the Danes were taking advantage. Others expressed anger that the Danish bookshop had prevented their Kenyan counterpart from receiving the books they’d ordered.
It was heartening that other Facebook users chimed in with corrections. For instance, when one person asked: “Does it mean that the bookshop in Nairobi was never compensated for the books that went missing?,” three others set them straight, with one noting that “the article says that it was re-sent the order from the publisher.”
Another commenter explained how publishers generally handle these kinds of issues: “As a former bookseller I have received the occasional shipment in error, none as interesting as yours! As is usual, the publisher sent a new shipment to the store that ordered it and told us to keep the books, sell them, donate them whatever worked best for us. They understand how low the markup is on books and are happy if these very occasional mistakes can be to the benefit of all.”
Other negative commenters questioned why the Kenyan bookshop wasn’t named. One person posted a few times: “frankly, how hard can it be [to find the other store]? There are not 1000 bookshops in Nairobi… Remember the 7 degrees of separation theory.” The Danish bookshop owner didn’t know the identity of the Kenyan store, but had asked the publishers rep for it. The staff member who opened the shipment tried to track down the intended sender (given that she works at a bookstore, I think it’s reasonable to assume she has decent research skills). Although the internet can give the illusion that every piece of information is discoverable, it’s not always the case.
While the negative comments bothered me (and still do, otherwise I would’t be writing about them), the Facebook engagement has contributed to nearly 5,000 views of the article on the Last Week in Denmark site. The Danish bookshop owner has told me that she’s had great feedback on the piece. It’s prompted new customers to discover an independent bookshop — and new readers to subscribe to Last Week in Denmark.
The misdirected shipment has also opened my eyes to titles I might otherwise not have discovered. I recently started a novel by Nigerian author Ayọ̀bámi Adébáyọ̀ and have a memoir by Clemantine Wamariya on my TBR (here’s the full list titles that found surprising homes in Denmark). But this has been a push to further limit my time on Facebook and made me think about how interactions with social media impact my mental wellbeing.