Turning the page in Wānaka

The Next Chapter Bookshop has become a destination in its own right, drawing in readers from Wānaka and beyond

Tucked behind the bustle of Wānaka’s lake-side main street, The Next Chapter Bookshop has become as much a destination as the town itself.

“One thing we didn’t anticipate was becoming a visitor destination,” says owner Sally Battson. “We get a lot of travellers buying books. I’m constantly surprised by how many.”

In an era where print media is supposedly being swallowed up by the digital age, this small store offers something different. A place where locals and visitors alike step away from their screens and return, if only briefly, to a slower pace of life. To pause. To take a breath.

“You can browse, open a book, read a few pages and see if it speaks to you. You can’t replicate that on a Kindle,” Battson says.

The books on display here are not just stocked. They are curated, shaped by a genuine love of reading.

The name itself feels fitting.

For Sally Battson, The Next Chapter is not just about books. It reflects her own story. Not retirement, but a new beginning.

“I resigned from my job after 15 years as a medical practice manager,” she says. “People kept saying, ‘Oh, you’re retiring,’ and I said, ‘No, I’m not. I’m just going to do some other things.’”

What came next wasn’t planned.

Battson and her neighbour Jenny Ainge, a former documentary filmmaker, had spent years talking about books over coffee, sharing recommendations and building a quiet connection through reading.

“One day she rang me and said, ‘Have you ever walked into a chain bookstore and seen a book you want to read?’” Battson recalls. “And I said no. She said, ‘I think Wānaka needs an independent bookstore. Would you do it with me?’”

Owner Sally Battson among some of her current reads at The Next Chapter Bookshop in Wānaka.

The answer was immediate.

“Yes, yes, yes. I’m your girl.”

From there, it was a matter of working out what that bookstore would actually look like.

They opened in 2020, after months of searching for a space and, thanks to COVID, an unexpected window to slow down and think it through.

“At the beginning it was a bit of a lottery,” Battson says. “We knew what we liked to read, but we needed to understand our customers.”

So, they asked.

Wānaka, it turns out, is a town of readers, with dozens of book clubs spread quietly through the community. Battson and Ainge went along, sat in on meetings, and listened.

“We contacted as many as we could, went along and listened. What they liked, what they couldn’t find, what they wanted to read next,” she says. “We got a handle on our reading demographic quite quickly.”

What sits on the shelves now is a reflection of that. Not just personal taste, but a shared one.

“Our collection is shaped by the team as much as by me,” Battson says. “Everyone reads differently, and that’s a strength. We’re constantly learning from each other, and from our customers.”

It is a quieter kind of curation. Less about chasing trends, more about knowing what might resonate.

“The depth and breadth of what we stock is something people always comment on,” she says. “And a lot of that comes from those conversations.”

Spend any time in the shop and it becomes clear it is not just about what is on the shelves.

“I had a customer this morning who said, ‘I come here for the conversations,’” Battson says.

It captures something harder to define. Why people linger longer than they meant to. Why a quick visit turns into something else entirely.

“That’s the joy of it,” she says. “Matching people with books they’ll love.”

Those conversations often run deeper than expected.

“People share quite personal stories,” Battson says. “It feels like a safe space.”

Over time, that has grown into something more than retail. The shop now hosts regular book clubs across fiction, non-fiction, classics and poetry, along with author events that bring people together in ways that feel increasingly rare.

“We see that as an important part of what we do,” she says. “Building a sense of community.”

It is also a reminder that, despite everything, books are not disappearing.

“I think books still resonate with people,” Battson says. “There’s the tactile nature of them.”

Even those who have moved to digital seem to circle back.

“People who read electronically will often say they can’t remember the titles or the covers in the same way,” she says. “There’s something about holding a book that stays with you.”

In Wānaka, that pull is coming from an unexpected place.

“There are a lot of younger travellers coming in who say they’re sick of screens,” Battson says. “They’re heading off into the hills for a few days and just want a real book.”

More often than not, they reach for the classics. Something familiar, something lasting.

“They’ll pick up those Penguin classics and take them away with them,” she says. “It’s really interesting.”

For visitors, books also offer a way to connect more deeply with where they are.

“They’ll come in and say, ‘While I’m in New Zealand, I want to read a New Zealand author,’” Battson says. “They want to understand the place they’re in.”

For all its calm, the reality of running a bookshop is less romantic than it might seem.

“People idealise it,” Battson says. “They think it’s a dream job.”

In practice, it’s everything at once. Buyer, accountant, marketer. Along with the physical work of unpacking deliveries and keeping shelves turning.

“And ironically, once you own a bookshop, you have less time to read than you did before,” she says.

Last year brought another shift, when Ainge stepped away from the business.

Rather than bring in someone new, Battson chose to take it on alone.

“I realised I didn’t want to work with someone I didn’t know,” she says. “I wanted to do it my way and stand or fall on my own choices.”

So, she bought the business outright. A decision she describes, simply, as instinct.

“It didn’t feel that scary,” she says. “I tend to trust my instincts.”

Now, nearly six years on from opening, the shop has found its rhythm.

“We’re always thinking about how we can improve,” Battson says. “But it feels like we’ve got a good formula. We seem to be getting it right most of the time.”

In a town known for movement, this is a place that invites people to stop. To sit for a while. To read.

“Books don’t just go with you,” Battson says. “They take you where you’ve never been.”