Do you suffer from bibliomania? John W. Doull does — and his Dartmouth bookstore proves it

If there's anyone in the country who might be considered a bibliomaniac, it's probably John W. Doull, longtime proprietor of the bookstore in Dartmouth, N.S., that bears his name.

First popularized by an English cleric, Rev. Thomas Frognall Dibli, in his 1800s study Bibliomania; or Book Madness, the term is used to describe anyone who — as the Oxford English Dictionary puts it — has "a rage for collecting and possessing books."

This furor, of course, often defies simple explanation.

But if you find yourself obsessively buying books at every opportunity, scouting second-hand stores for special editions of ones you already own, and running out of space in your own apartment for your collection, it's likely you're afflicted with it too.

If that's the case, John W. Doull, Bookseller will feel just like home. In operation since 1987, the bookstore has survived two moves and been housed in three separate buildings.

A photo of the exterior of John W. Doull bookstore on Main Street in Dartmouth, N.S. (Andrew Sampson/CBC)

Doull now counts by his own estimate somewhere between two million and three million books in his inventory, spread out over the store, the upstairs of its building, and an additional garage storage space.

If true — the estimate is unverified —  it would mean his store has more books than the entire circulation for Halifax Public Libraries, said to be over one million books.

Formerly a mainstay in downtown Halifax, the store moved to its current location inside an old white vinyl-sided building on Main Street in Dartmouth back in 2012.

It's hardly the most eye-catching spot, but those who venture to open the front door and walk inside will likely be delighted by the sheer breadth of the books on display.

It's the type of shop, increasingly rare in an age where square footage is at a premium, that feels like a labyrinth in and of itself.

Turn one corner and you might go from books on art, film, photography and architecture, to a whole section dedicated to the works of Walden author Henry David Thoreau.

Turn another and you might find yourself entering a pitch-black room, reaching for the light switch, only to flick it upwards and illuminate an entirely unexpected selection of poetry from all over the world.

Everywhere you turn, it seems there's new treasures.

Doull's bookstore is broken down into dozens of different sections, categorized by everything from genre to geography to time period. (Andrew Sampson/CBC)

On a recent visit, for example, I found boxes and boxes of Rolling Stone dating back to the magazine's heyday in the 1970s and '80s, each issue priced affordably at a dollar apiece.

On a different trip, I pulled a hardcover copy of dearly departed Newfoundland actor Gordon Pinsent's novel The Rowdyman, signed by the author with the simple inscription, "In Friendship."

Various archival issues of Rolling Stone magazine, purchased from John W. Doull, Bookseller. (Andrew Sampson/CBC)

Doull's bookstore also specializes in rare and out-of-print books, like this signed copy of The Rowdyman by Gordon Pinsent. (Andrew Sampson/CBC)

Indeed, Doull's store seems to exist to feed the same sense of discovery he once felt as an undergraduate student, sifting through the stacks at Dalhousie University's Killam Memorial Library.

"I remember going up to the top floor, and wanting to do a finger-touch of every book," he recalled. "I'd just sort of look, and if something piqued my interest, I'd pull it out and look at it more.… That's the nice thing about libraries … you'd go in and look for one book and pull it out, and then you'd see the ones around it, and say, 'Oh that's interesting."

This sheer depth might seem heaven-sent to some, but it can intimidate or frustrate others, as evidenced by a string of recent negative reviews on Google.

"That's true," said Doull. "They come in and say, 'Oh,' and they might swear or something and then they look around quickly and zip out again. That's a common occurrence."

But then again, there's plenty of bookshops one can go to find the same 20 or so books everyone else is reading.

Doull's store has never been that place.

'I know dangerously little about a fair number of things'

Talking with Doull about his childhood, it's clear he came by his vocation honestly.

From a young age, both his parents impressed on him the vitality of reading.

"My parents were great readers," he said. "Their idea of a good time was sitting in the living room, listening to CBC Stereo … they'd each be reading and my mother would be knitting away."

The house was full of books, though not nearly as full as his own is today, and his mother would read to him regularly, about all sorts of subjects, including military history, until he was about 10 years old and began to read consistently on his own.

After graduating from high school, he did a foundation year at the University of King's College before earning a BA at Dalhousie University, where he took courses on everything from English literature, to women's studies and esoteric topics like the history of science, before going on to study at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design.

Schooner Books, where Doull got his start in the business, is located on Inglis Street in the south end of Halifax. (Andrew Sampson/CBC)

If there's one flaw in his reading habits, according to Doull, it's that he's a bit of a dilettante, interested in a wide variety of topics but an expert in few.

"I used to despair of my education that way," he said. "But on the other hand, it's sort of perfect for this kind of job, because I know dangerously little about a fair number of things."

One thing Doull is an expert at these days, however, is bookselling

He first earned his keep at Schooner Books, now located on Inglis Street in Halifax, after becoming such a frequent customer that the owners offered him a job, reasoning that by that point he knew the catalogue as well as they did.

That store, like Doull's own, specializes in rare and antiquarian books, and in the days before the internet, both outlets would compile mail-order catalogues outlining their collections.

One of the crown jewels of Doull's shop is this wall dedicated to Penguin Books, featuring hundreds of paperback editions from the publisher. 'I've been a Penguin fancier more than half of my life,' he says. (Andrew Sampson/CBC)

"I remember John [Townsend, an owner at Schooner Books] going down in the basement, working on his catalogues … on a typewriter, and every now and then I'd hear some swearing because he made a mistake."

Doull said he's glad to have learned his trade in the days before the internet made everything available with the click of a button, even though he has since reluctantly got on board.

Visiting him recently, he took a moment to respond to an email inquiry from Peru.

Online sales help keep store afloat

Sixty-thousand books are now listed on his store's website, Doull said, with online sales making up a healthy portion of his business.

The rise of e-readers was once forecasted to spell no uncertain doom for booksellers like Doull, but that reality hasn't exactly panned out. Physical books, in many ways, are as vital as they've ever been.

Doull is heartened, too, by seeing young readers continue to walk through his doors.

But there's no question that surviving as an independent bookseller in 2023 is difficult. There's less foot traffic at his Dartmouth location, and the pandemic didn't help matters.

Doull no longer buys as many used books because times are tight, but said he does welcome donations, like the boxes of Rolling Stone magazines his store was recently given.

The store is his life's work, but Doull knows he's not getting any younger,

"I would want it to continue but I'm gonna be 67 in a couple of months," he said. "I'm slowing down and so I don't know what's gonna happen to the shop."

But for now — and hopefully a long time to come — the store is still in full swing.

Go visit and see for yourself. And ask for John W. Doull, bookseller.

He's not going to hold your hand as you walk through his shop, but he promises he won't bite.