Last summer, when my Portland, Oregon, friend picked me up at the train station, we drove immediately to Powell’s City of Books where we sat down for much-needed coffee and conversation, then browsed the shop’s seven floors of treasures and oddities.
Powell’s describes itself at the world’s largest independent bookstore. There is nothing close to it here in the Valley, but Portland is the nation’s 25th largest metropolitan area with many more book buyers. However, western Massachusetts is rich in both readers and bookstores.
The continued strength of the independent book store might surprise some. Barnes & Noble, with roots in the 19th century, became the model for the megastore in 1992. The 1998 film, “You’ve Got Mail,” excused, perhaps even celebrated, the demise of the neighborhood bookseller.
That was also the year the e-reader became available. Smug predictions of the death of the little neighborhood shop were rampant … and premature. Surprisingly, the American Booksellers Association reports that the number of independent shops has increased since 2009 by 27 percent.
I drop into one of my three favorites — Broadside, on Main Street in Northampton; Amherst Books, not surprisingly on Main Street in Amherst; and the unambiguously named The Bookstore, in Lenox — at least two or three times a month. I do this in part to help maintain the stores, but I have other reasons as well. Sometimes, I am in search of the paperback edition of a recent book, but, usually, I am just in need of the quiet, bookish atmosphere. Of course, all three stores are similar with bookshelves lining their walls, but, each has its own personality.
Walking into Broadside is like opening the overflowing jewelry box your favorite aunt left you. The store is small and packed with specialties, such as the bookcase reserved for those who love Paris. I never go into Broadside without at least glancing at it and thinking of Les Deux Magots.
I take note of the political books and the biographies. I cruise the entire store, from right to left, doubling back at the science section, unless, of course, a grandchild’s birthday is near. Then I explore the children’s selections, set up by reading level.
Broadside offers books on western Massachusetts: the land, its history, the animals, its hiking paths. It also sells a three-dimensional map of the area that I just might buy if I ever figure out where to hang it.
The airy and spacious Amherst Books offers a spectacular wall of literature that rises at least 10 feet and is accessible by the sort of wheeled library ladder generally seen only in movies. The atmosphere here is more that of a tasteful, upscale, mid-20th century department store.
At the same time, Amherst Books has an academic feel. Textbooks and used books fill the basement. Amherst also specializes in poetry and sells mugs that proclaim, “Poetry Starts Here.” That’s the mug to fill when writer’s block strikes.
The Bookstore is a bit larger than Broadside and nearly as airy as Amherst. The center of the store offers a long table, filled with short stacks of the latest books, laid flat so their covers beckon. I have bought, read and enjoyed far too many books to list because of this display. As Lenox is home to Shakespeare & Company, and close to the Barrington Stage, the Colonial Theatre, the Unicorn Theatre and the Williamstown Theatre Festival, it is natural that this shop specializes in books on theater, playwrights and plays.
However, the purpose of a bookstore is to sell books. My daughter gave her freshman roommate a book for Christmas, and, as the roommate said, “Giving a book is giving permission to take a vacation.” Some of the most memorable gifts I have received have been books. When I had measles as a 5-year-old, my godmother sent me “Old Man Rabbit’s Dinner Party” and “Brownies, Hush.”
My older son remarked as a 19-year-old that he had always meant to read “Ulysses.” When he opened the book at Christmas, he said, “You remembered.” I gave copies of “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer to people who all have said, “It changed my life.”
I can hear, “Don’t argue with me. I’m a reader, but, why not order books from Amazon? Prime will drop the book on your door in two hours, if you’re in the right zip code.”
But, a bookstore is also a community. I have browsed the staff selections at Broadside and Amherst, and asked Matt Tannenbaum, the proprietor of The Bookstore who curates his stock, “What is this like?” I have attended readings that launched conversations that spilled out into the street, then continued at a restaurant or bar for another hour or two.
Those Amazon drones do not deliver community, which is why bookstores remain.
Susan Wozniak, of Easthampton, is a retired journalist and writing professor who writes a monthly column.