Yesterday I made a trip to the nearest Borders Bookstore, which as any avid reader knows, is closing for good all of its brick-and-mortar stores. I'd put off the excursion in the vain attempt to blithely ignore what was happening. If I don't go, it won't be real; the store won't close.Denial is a wonderful thing.
It also reminded me of the demise of Walden's when they were absorbed by Borders just a few years ago. Walden's was in my estimation the superior store, in spite of the fact they'd last landed under the Border's banner after a series of mergers and acquisitions over the previous two decades. To me, Walden's had the best of both worlds, being large enough to have a little of everything yet somehow maintaining the friendly feel of an independent bookseller.
The 1998 romantic comedy You've Got Mail showed the friendship budding into romance of two email correspondents who didn't know who the other was in real life: the owner of an independently owned children's bookstore named The Shop Around the Corner (a nod to the 1940 film with a similar theme) and the owner of the large superstore Fox Books which was edging her out of business. Did anyone think 13 years ago that something could come along and edge out the superstores? That something had its origins four years prior when Amazon.com began as an online bookseller. It is likely that some day there will be something that will edge Amazon.com out.
I am as guilty as anyone else in favoring online shopping over more traditional stores. Convenience and selection are drawing factors as well as price. The only thing I can say in my defense is that when I compare prices of used copies of any particular item, I will look at seller ratings (which determine number of satisfied customers or transactions) and generally select the lower number -- someone with 40 ratings is the "little guy" compared to someone with 40,000. Still, I admit it: I see a book advertised in a catalog and I check the Amazon price. I check out a book from the local public library and enjoy it enough to add to my collection - and I check the Amazon price. I could go to a local bookseller and have them order it for me - but I haven't done so in years.
One of the reasons I don't do so is because I know myself well enough to know how dangerous the act of browsing is. Winding my way between tall bookcases, perhaps looking for a particular book but before I get to that section of the alphabet, a half dozen titles will catch my eye. I feel compelled to take "just a peek" inside the book, to read the opening paragraph and paragraphs selected randomly throughout the book. There's a delicious pleasure in browsing, even when you make it to the counter with an armful of books you hadn't known you desperately needed, and without the title you initially sought, either because it wasn't available or because you simply forgot why you entered the store in the first place. But the magic of online shopping is that the computer tosses your friendly suggestions which customers just like you purchased in addition to your choice. Some of those suggestions are confusing -- I've had suggestions of slasher flicks when I've looked at family friendly cartoons, or automobile repair manuals suggested after I looked at a cookbook. But some of those suggestions resulted in the discovery of a new author or series.
I guess there's good and bad to both types of stores. Both have led me to new favorites and things I might not have ever known about otherwise, as not everything is going to garner the attention Harry Potter has, even if it ought to. Both have prompted me to visit the library first which in turn either made me glad I'd not spent my money on something that looked more appealing in the store or email advertisement, or sent me back to the store for my own copy for my own shelf or for a gift.
There has been much speculation that ebook technology will kill traditional bookstores altogether, or even kill books in their traditional form. Despite the numbers in both dollars and copies purchased, I think this will be a long time coming, as most readers I know still enjoy the weight and feel of paper in their hands. But perhaps a hundred years from now a book with paper leaves bound in a spine will be as archaic as a papyrus scroll. The way we share information and tell stories will undoubtedly continue to change. But hopefully the need to tell those stories never will.
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