In Praise of Used Bookstores
Another trip to Bookishly Happy triggered some thoughts and ruminations on this wonderful form of retail therapy...
Good morning, my bookish friends (and anyone else who may have wandered into my orbit, either intentionally or otherwise). Pull up a chair and help yourself to a cookie while I brew some tea, because today, I'm simply going to indulge myself in an ode to one of the most wonderful forms of retail therapy in our modern world: the used bookstore.
I had an errand to run in Coeur d'Alene on Saturday, and since I was unsupervised and in no rush to get home, I spent about an hour at Bookishly Happy, my new favorite place in town. I've mentioned this delightful used bookstore in the past, but in case you've missed it, let me just wholeheartedly recommend you stop in if you're ever in Coeur d'Alene. The owner, Alex, curates her stock carefully, and it's well-organized and very browsable. She always has a quality playlist going in the background--not to loud, not too soft--and it runs the gamut from jazz to classical to movie soundtrack. Like I've said before--what she lacks in space, she more than makes up for in vibes.
I think every time I go in there I come back with at least five or six books. Only once have I managed less, and that was a day when I just needed a copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, because somehow in the course of six people reading the series from start to finish, book one got lost. In any case, this was Saturday's haul:
Or rather, that was Saturday's haul except for the top one. I picked up Katharine Graham's Personal History at the Montana Valley Book Store in Alberton, Montana, on Friday. The Man and I made a day trip to Missoula to meet our older daughter (who is in the process of moving there), and on our way home, he noted the large freeway sign on I-90 advertising a used bookstore with "100,000 used books." "Do you want to stop?" he asked in possibly the least necessary question he has ever asked me aside from "do you want a few of my fries?"
If it had not been quite so late in the day and if we had not had the dog with us, I daresay my haul from the Montana Valley Book Store could have easily rivaled the one from Bookishly Happy. I will be returning soon, I assure you.
A Brief History of My Love Affair with Used Bookstores
I am no stranger to used books in general. I have long enjoyed browsing through thrift shops, yard sales, and general secondhand stores for titles I didn't know I wanted to read until I found them. I have flipped through boxes and piles marked "free" to find something I can rescue. And of course, as a lifelong supporter of libraries--publicly funded, private, Little Free, personal, whatever--I've read many books that have rested in many other hands.
I love a brand new book with all its untapped promise, but there is something almost mystical about partaking of a story that others have indulged in before you--to touch the pages others have turned, to laugh or cry in the same places, to see where someone might have made a note or dog-eared a page out of love and read more carefully, hoping to find the same insight the previous reader found.
Used bookstores are a portal to this unique magic.
I don't remember the first time I encountered an actual used bookstore, but I do recall some of my favorites. As someone who worked in downtown Portland for many years, I of course visited Powell's Books, which is an experience in a category of its own. It's one of those places that feels familiar when you walk in, but every excursion is a little different.
There's Robert's Bookshop in Lincoln City, Oregon, which is still my older daughter's favorite bookstore anywhere. (She may or may not have driven from Salt Lake City to Lincoln City primarily for a visit to that shop.) Give yourself a day to explore the entire shop. Every time you think you've reached the end, you turn a corner and find another alcove, closet, or cubby you haven't explored.
My daughter-in-law took me to her favorite used bookstore in Virginia Beach--AFK Books and Records. That's where I picked up A Gentleman in Moscow, so for that introduction to Amor Towles, I will always remember this bookstore as a favorite. If I had not been contemplating a long plane trip home, I probably would have picked up more than two books. AFK Books and Records is also small but mighty in vibes, plus they had a shop dog. Shop pets make everything better.
There have been many other used book outlets over the years, though I'm hard-pressed to remember their names or precise locations. I've never regretted stepping through the door to one.
Walk into any used bookstore anywhere, and you will instantly know you've stepped into another world.
Or rather, into a space between the worlds.
Unique Magic
First, there is that aroma unique to used books. The scientific explanation has to do with lignin, a complex compound present in plants that breaks down over time. Lignin is closely related to vanillin, which explains that slightly sweetish aroma you get around old books. Combine that lignin with glue, ink, and anything else used to put together a physical book, and you have all kinds of volatile organic compounds that break down over time.
Or maybe it's just actually what Heaven smells like.
In the world of used books, we accept that we are sharing in the physical remains of strangers. We know that others have touched these books before, and it doesn't seem to bother us. We are partaking in a tradition. We are links in a chain, bound together by stories. This uniquely human magic--this storytelling gene--gives us a kind of metaphysical immunity from the normal aversion to sharing personal items.
Used bookstores keep stories alive. I recently read West With Giraffes and then passed it on to the bestie when she was visiting, and when a mutual friend said she was curious about it, I told her to ask the bestie to pass it along. That book might get three or four good reads out of it just in my circle of friends. Maybe one of them will eventually trade it at a used bookstore, and it will gain still more love.
I've heard people speculate that there's an ethical issue with this particular kind of creative product lifecycle because it deprives creators of income. I don't see it this way at all. I think it opens more people to a creator's work. As The New York Times Magazine's The Ethicist suggests, used bookstores "... don’t just preserve art; they bring enthusiasts together, spark conversations and cultivate new audiences."
Beyond Magic
Used bookstores provide a unique public service. There are all kinds of practical reasons to support used bookstores--save money over buying new, support local small businesses, reduce waste--but my favorite reason is that they keep stories alive and in circulation. How many times have I seen a book I was curious about or heard about many years ago but forgot existed? I might see it on a shelf at a used bookstore and remember--oh yes, I wanted to read that!
I've browsed used bookstores for titles from my massive TBR list. I've replaced old favorites that I've loaned out and never received back. I "loaned" Little Women to my niece a few years ago and told her she could keep it, and when I saw another copy at Bookishly Happy a couple of months ago, I happily bought it again, knowing that I am just as likely to repeat this cycle as not.
When I buy a used book, I have no pressure to read it right away--I can buy it to just sit on my shelf, waiting for that moment when the urge hits. I can buy it to preserve history; buying used memoirs, biographies, and histories is a way to keep originally published versions in the world. I can even, as my bestie's husband suggested with a grin when I stumbled upon a copy of Ronald Reagan's diaries in a thrift shop in Wallace, simply buy books that look good in a Zoom background.
Used bookstores encourage the practice of tsundoku, of surrounding ourselves with unread books. I don't have to feel guilty about filling my shelves with unread books. They are both aspiration and memento mori--a reminder that I still have things to learn, adventures to pursue, but that time is limited. They encourage generosity--I can feel good about passing on a story I loved to someone who might enjoy it as well, because I know I'm growing the audience for that creator and that book, and besides, I can just replace it with another used book if I want to.
We are going back to Coeur d'Alene this weekend, and this time, I am planning to open a trade account at Bookishly Happy. I have several books on these shelves that I know I won't read again, and I want to participate in the used book lifecycle beyond just buying more books.
Besides, I need to make some room... for more books...
Until next week…