There is the wonderful myth that all a bookseller has to do to earn a living is read books and talk wonderful thoughts for endless hours. Pure bliss! Add to this delightful perception, the concept that the bookseller occasionally gets to travel abroad to Book Fairs or, as the French would have it, Book Salons. When you think of it, the Bookseller has such a marvellously romantic and idyllic job, it's a wonder the world and his wife aren't queuing for it.

For some now, the salon "Etonnant Voyageurs" at the Breton town of St. Malo has been earning the reputation as the best Book Fair in France. Match this to the fact that the French market has always had potential for current Irish publications and it was inevitable that we would be packing the car, heading for Rosslaire, Cherbourg and St. Malo. Another junket, yahoo! After one night's sea crossing in an Irish Ferries ship which hadn't paid its oil bill and two days driving we arrived in St. Malo soaked in torrential rain. When we asked for directions to our hotel - they looked at the name of the hotel first, then at us quizzically and then, Intra Muros! Intra Muros! Glancing at our skin to see if we had suddenly attracted some rare disease, we ventured; - where is Intra Muros - "You will see," We were told in such a way as to brook no further questions. With some trepidation we continued and suddenly the walls of St. Malo appeared before us like pilgrim travellers We drove through one of the gates to find ourselves in a warren of narrow streets. Despite the apparent chaos, there was a strange logic and in no time at all we had found our hotel. The finality of "You will see" was now apparent and we breathed a great sigh of relief.

During the following week we found S. Malo to be a delightful town with a varied and exotic history. A walk around this cobbled street town found strange little shops, restaurants, cafes intermingled with exotic squares, open air markets and medieval buildings all superbly surrounded by the world famous ramparts. We spent the first day exploring the town but in actual fact looking for more mundane outlets such as groceries and laundries became our sole purpose. There were none in evidence and, as the day wore on, became less in evidence. At one stage, we were directed outside the walls and after about one half hours walk along a promenade we discovered a laundry. Here we were honoured with the most blatant racist treatment it has been my pleasure to endure. Le Penn is certainly alive and well in St. Malo and the experience has made me more aware of the difficulties encountered by these non-nationals who live in our country.

Back into town! Finally we found out that there was a counter that took laundry in the only supermarket in Intra Muros. Some more detective work revealed that said supermarket was in fact in the basement of a rather trendy boutique. Somewhat relieved (facing 5 days, 10 hours manning a stand without a laundry service is one of the great perks of the junket), we descended the stairs into the supermarket with our bag of laundry. It took us some time to find the laundry area, somewhat longer to find the counter. After waiting for some minutes at said counter, we inquired at the supermarket. The girl at the check-out looked at us as if we were from Mars - "Le Pressing"? and then turning to the supermarket in general she asked, louder "Le Pressing"!, and then the light came on in her eyes and she said, Mais vous ne le saviez pas Monsieur", and the audience looked in wonder at the one person in town who didn?t know. "Le Pressing est en vacances!!

Stung back into reality, the following day was set up day. There was a gloriously relaxed atmosphere about the whole thing and there was little doubt that this was a Salon with a difference. Generally speaking the nature of the business in book fairs is the real commercial activity between the dealers or the publishers who take stands. The Frankfurt book fair, for example is about selling rights to foreign publishers. At a recent book fair we attended in Hammersmith London the only real business was between the established Bookshops and the named dealers who travel from fair to fair. The ordinary punter hardly gets a look in.

St. Malo is different. Here the customer is king. Each year has a different theme (this year it was Africa) and there are three days of readings, debates, discussions relating to the literature of the continent. These are held in the Café Litteraires while the publishers and other interested exhibitors are housed in a huge marquee that runs for several hundred yards along one of the many quays.

It seemed to me as if all the major French publishers were there and each one would have all of the Writers featured signing their books over the three public days of the show - the other two days were reserved for school children and locals. The result is that there could be up to 100 authors signing their books (not exclusively African) at any one time. Given St. Malo's population and geographic position, the show is extremely well supported by the public having more than 57,000 paying customers over the three-day period.

While the theme of the salon was Africa, it was by no means confined to African books or writers. There was room here for everybody. There was, of course a strong presence of Breton publishers, but what was most pleasing was the amount of Irish material that was available in French translation. It suggested that there is a strong interest in Ireland and things Irish to be found in France. The translations covered a wide range of subjects and included, along with the classics, such writers as Walter Macken, Colm Toibin, Lord Dunsany, Brendan Behan and Jennifer Johnston. John McGahern is a big hit with the French and Keith Ridgeways novel "The Falling" recently was a major literary prize. One of the more interesting titles I came across was a recent reprint of Anne Mercie Jovets. "L'Irlande en 1889". There is a wonderful chapter on Galway but what caught my eye were the illustrations used for the cover - they were two of the magnificent photographs taken of the Claddagh and first published in France in 1913. They, alone, make the book worth having.