Farewell

I just learned this past week that our local bookstore, Spellbound, will be going out of business. Once again, this town will not have a bookstore! A few years ago, I wouldn’t have thought it possible that a university town could exist without a bookstore, but I guess times are changing.

I know we’ve made great progress in technology, and I can’t imagine life without the Internet, but I sometimes ask myself if it’s all for the better. I want to wander among the bookshelves, letting a particular cover catch my eye. I want to flip through a few pages, or check out the back cover. I want to find something unexpected. I can’t do any of that on a website where you have to search by author or title. I don’t always know what I want!

I went into Spellbound to express my condolences. While I was there, I investigated the shelves, letting my eyes roam. I bought a book that I never would have expected beforehand, a book about eloquence. It was a good find, one I never would have made if I had to search for something specific. I’ll miss that feeling of discovery.

I realize that I could browse among the books in a library sale or at the recycling center, but that has a drawback: if I buy a book that way, my money is going to a good place, but not to the author. As you can imagine, I want to do what I can to support other writers.

I’ll miss Spellbound for other reasons, too. Brett and Marcy are two of the nicest people you’ll meet and they’ve been very supportive of me and other local authors. They held a book signing for several of us and they held a short story contest that got me out of my comfort zone last year, something I needed. They were always friendly and fun to talk to. I wish them the best and hope they’ll find some new endeavor that they’ll enjoy.

This also means I don’t have a local outlet for my novels right now. Some people don’t buy things online (amazing as that seems) and I liked to be able to tell them they could get one of my novels at Spellbound. Now the only outlet in town is the trunk of my car, which holds three copies of each novel. I don’t take credit cards or offer espresso, though.

I realize that we can’t stop progress. I realize that most people are perfectly happy shopping online because it can be quite convenient and lets them avoid the crowds. (I especially understand that at this time of year.)

But I’ll miss the personal service, the friendly face of the proprietor. I’ll miss the sense of surprise when I turn a corner to find something I never expected. I’ll miss the warm atmosphere.

I guess I’m old-fashioned.

      But I also think it’s possible that some things that are left behind shouldn’t be.