By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist
One could argue that independent bookstores are a luxury. You can summon books to your doorstep with a few clicks, sometimes the same day. Or, if you have an E-reader, in seconds. So why do bookstores continue to survive?
As Blockbuster faded in the 2000s, I worried that bookstores might suffer the same fate. But here they are still, and they seem to be making a resurgence. According to the American Booksellers Association, more that 200 new indie bookstores opened in 2024. We are seeing a similar renaissance locally. Since 2023, three new bookstores have opened in the Pee Dee – Jack’s Books in Florence, Foxes Tales in Marion, and Our Next Chapter in Conway. It’s worth considering why.
First, I think, are the owners. Their identities are palpable within the walls. You feel as if you are walking into an extension of their homes. I can tell you the name of the owners of almost every independent bookstore that I have frequented more than once: Gwen at Foxes Tales, Jack (Ok, that’s a gimme), Wendy and her daughter Olivia at Litchfield Books, and Clint at All Good Books in Columbia. I fondly remember Rhett and Betty Jackson who founded the Happy Bookseller in Columbia which closed in 2008. And I look forward to meeting Bob and Lisa Martire at Our Next Chapter, whom I called for this column.
Second is the product itself. There is just something about books: their personalities on a shelf, their weight in your hands, the curve of the pages, the smell of the bindings. We connect with books in a different way from the way we do with VHS tapes or DVDs. Is an E-reader more economical and practical? Undoubtedly. But after a day full of screens, can you find repose and escape in another screen? Many of us cannot.
Third is the community bookstores create. If you are new in town, where would you go to meet people? Church used to be the answer, but less so now, particularly for young people. Bars and clubs, of course. If I were young, I would head to the local coffee shop first, and the bookstore next. Shopping for books is different from shopping for groceries. You don’t always have a plan, and you aren’t focused on getting home to cook dinner. People relax in a bookstore; their minds are open. Children peruse, curious and wide-eyed.
In the past month I have had the following conversations in a bookstore: As I was entering Litchfield Books, a woman I had never met engaged me in a five-minute conversation after I bent down to greet her dog. Inside, I had a long chat with Wendy and Olivia about books, bookstore dogs, bookstore swag (I love a good bookstore T-shirt and baseball cap) and the possibility of adding a coffee bar (I voted a loud “Yes!” to coffee). In another bookstore mentioned above, the name of which I shall not reveal, I was speaking to the owner about the new pope. The owner is a bit older than I and said, “I‘ve always thought of popes as very old men… but I just realized… I’m older than the pope!”
I met a new bookstore friend recently during a trip with my wife, Debbie, to Decatur, Georgia, for a wedding. Debbie is a nurse but could have been a librarian. She was always ready with a fun, age-appropriate bedtime story for me to read to our children. That was precious time, with a little head against each shoulder.
When she saw that the wedding venue was near a children’s bookshop called Little Shop of Stories, we knew we had to visit. Which brings us to the last reason why we can’t let bookstores go. Every one has a vibe, an ambience, much like a restaurant. At Little Shop, soft Saturday afternoon sunlight flooded though the glass façade into a welcoming space that was filled with perhaps a dozen patrons milling and talking. A father and daughter sat in a chair as he read to her.
When it came time to pay, the young woman at the counter mistakenly input my transaction as a credit rather than a charge. When I discovered the error on Monday, I called and spoke with my new friend, Heather, at Little Shop, who straightened it out. She was lovely; she was kind; we laughed. It was the best customer service call I suspect I will ever have. A few days later, a care package arrived with a Little Shop mug, a tote bag, and a half dozen books.
Take that, Amazon! Yes, you will pay slightly more at an independent bookstore. But we have already made this bargain with coffee shops. We understand that we are paying too much for the liquid in the cup. But that’s not all we are buying. We are renting a small portion of the shop, that favorite table where we like to sit. We are maintaining a relationship with the shop owner (Hi Liz at Groundout and Mel at Bear Bar) or our favorite barista that would end if the shop closed.
We have a choice. We can pay the minimum and have the lonely convenience of books at our doorstep or on our screen. Or we can choose a better way. We can support a small business that provides livelihoods for its staff and weaves a beautiful thread into the fabric of a neighborhood. Find an independent bookstore, and you’ve found a place that cares about its future.
A version of this column appeared in the June 18th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.
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I have a number of replies to make to this, some of which I will share in a separate post — perhaps more than one.
But for now, I’ll simply share a confession — I love independent bookstores, but I also have a great fondness for Barnes & Noble. Or at least, I still grieve for the loss of the one that used to be on Harbison, my favorite business in the world until they closed it.
But I’ve discovered other Barnes & Noble stores don’t fill that vacuum for me. And even though that new one at Woodhill is quite nice, it’s not the same. My favorite bookstore is All Good Books. And I think it might have been my fave even when the old B&N was still among us.
I’ll elaborate on that in a separate post…
As a former English teacher I have always held a special place in who I am for the books I loved. My growth from a toddler to a young adult was sprinkled liberally with animal stories and young characters full of adventure. Then came the seafaring tales I read as a very young middle schooler. Living in a relatively remote area of rural NC at the time, I was far away from the ocean. I never actually saw the ocean until I was a freshman in high school. By then I had read Stevenson, Dana, and a sprinkling of Melville. I can’t say I knew these books in the “literary” sense, but I could climb to the top of a very large oak tree in my front yard and pretend the wheat field in the adjacent field was actually the Atlantic Ocean. When I retired from teaching, I began again to read for the pleasure of reading, knowing in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t need to prepare lessons about the book. My parents were not educated in the sense that they had no formal schooling after grade 5. But as a boy, my Dad read the daily newspaper to me every evening after supper. I, too, applaud independent bookstores and long may they live. I just wish we had more adults participating in reading aloud to each other. I used to read to book clubs in Marion and Florence, generally at Christmas. The story would usually be Capote’s “A Christmas Memory,” a rich tale that is both full of love and sadness. Good column, Paul.