(Photos by Erin Balser)
You wouldn’t know it from the countless media profiles of the Ossington Avenue strip but the area is home to more than just clothing boutiques, cafes and low-signage hipster bars and high-concept eateries. Tucked in the middle of the strip is one of the city’s best used bookstores, Frantic City (123 Ossington Avenue). Specializing in 20th-century literature and poetry, philosophy, graphic novels and books on culture and music, the store also sells a large selection of vintage vinyl, especially 45s of the early garage rock and punk variety.
“Highbrow lit/lowbrow music,” is how owner Tim Hanna sums up the store’s eclectic stock. Opened in 2005, the store was originally called Babel Books, but Hannah found that the name wasn’t sticking with customers. “I did an informal poll,” he says, “and I found that 95% of people referred to the store as That Place on Ossington. The new name is easier to remember and it’s also truer to the store’s program.”
Hannah’s original partner in the store was Randy Harnett, owner of She Said Boom, where Hannah had previously worked. “I had time on my hands,” Hannah says, “and Randy had the money.” Hannah and Harnett based the store on the She Said Boom retail model of mixing used 20th-century and countercultural literature with pop culture books and used CDs and DVDs. Frantic City is now digital-free, the shiny discs a casualty of file-sharing and downloading. “I had no idea that five years down the road I wouldn’t be selling any digital material,” Hannah says.
The shift to vinyl, which the store was already selling in small quantities, was a natural development. Hanna spins vintage 45s at bars around the city with with fellow garage-punk fanatic Flipped-Out Phil, and his musical tastes gravitate back to the pre-digital age. He’s also promoting local band The Bon and selling their popular debut 45 in the store. Besides, young music fans are getting hip to vinyl.
Hanna sees no contradiction between his store’s two very specialized stocks. “I wanted to create a store where I could hand-pick what I think is important from our culture,” he says. “I’m interested in the connections between Jack Kerouac and The Clash, between the beats and the punks, so having old paperbacks and LPs sharing a space seems perfectly natural.”
Some first-time visitors are confused by the store’s mix. “The record geeks who come in might get freaked out by the books. They don’t always see how you can have a philosophy section and a heavy-metal section in the same store. And some hardcore readers think they’ve wandered into a record store.”
Hanna figures that the bulk of his trade will always be books, as they are easier to come by than vinyl records and appeal to a broader clientele. He admits that it’s been a struggle attracting browsers to the area. “The Ossington strip was originally too dodgy to support a used-book store,” he says. “Now it’s a little too posh.”
Making a living from selling old books has never been for the faint-hearted, Hanna figures. “I have two tattoos,” he says. “On one arm I have the Black Flag bars and on the other a reproduction of Dore’s drawing of Don Quixote tilting at a windmill. Tilting at windmills means fighting a lost cause – that should be the bookseller’s moto.”
