Ode to my lost bookstores

I love my new apartment. I love my new location in general. I'm closer to a lot of things that matter to me. Hopefully I like my new job. I dislike the lack of independent booksellers within reach.

The downtown area is lacking. I frequent one of them which is a used bookstore. The people are nice and the cause is good. It is also a decent spot to pick up novels that I have been meaning to read and donate novels I have read and don't feel the need to keep. It lacks some of the more intense historical books I desire. I can forgive them that. The other independent bookstore has a very nice setup, is very cozy and enjoys a wide variety of literature. I even found a signed copy of "Man Killed By Pheasant". It isn't a hard book to find, but it pleased me to find it. This bookstore is lacking in two areas that are very important to me: science fiction and history. These are niche areas, I understand that. The history books I especially understand, they won't sell so they can't carry them. Those two bookstores can be forgiven.

The two large bookstores near my habitation are B & N and Borders. These shall not go softly. B & N lacks an interesting SF section. Have they even heard of Isaac Asimov? Frank Herbert? Doubt it. It's impossible to find classic SF books. The new release of Le Guin's "Left Hand" can be found, because of the recent reprint no doubt. Same thing with Borders. It makes me a little sad. They can have fifteen rows of cookbooks, most being pushed by fools like Emeril, but a row and a half of decent history books is all the space they can spare.

I miss being able to walk down the street and have my choice of used bookstores. Stores that know about good books. Experts on everything from old science fiction to the new Man Booker shortlist. However, I can find all of my favorite books online, usually paying shipping and handling at odd rates. Sometimes the books can only be found in the UK or Australia, also odd.

Maybe I have strange tastes. Still, I think people need to have a decent little bookstore to browse through and real people to talk to about the books on the shelves. Nothing is better for new realms of literature like another human being. It's how I discovered SF books, late night chats with my old roommate. It's how I discovered Max Brooks, hilarious, Sandy Tolan, tragic, and Christopher Moore, odd. Human interaction is key to literature. I can get my books online through Abe or Powell. I can read other people's posts on LibraryThing. I am still left lacking. I need my little bookstore with the interesting owner, the lovable cat and the old houses converted to shelving stations. Oh well, I'm going to go read on my couch and pet my cat and try to become absorbed with something else for a while...