London Review Bookshop
Just around the corner from the British Museum in a neighborhood that was once home to a number of eccentric specialty booksellers, in some respects, the London Review Bookshop is a perfectly ordinary place, nothing especially dazzling or quaint about it. It sells books. It likes books. But it’s the kind of bookstore where you can almost hear the books arguing with each other, some trying the persuasion of calm logic, others getting up on their hind legs and shouting. It’s a shop that’s selling ideas in book form, and there’s a surprising but welcome seriousness in its inventory—a solicitousness about your curiosity and your intelligence.