At the risk of opening myself of to a deluge of criticism from the wide wide open world, I would like to offer you one writer’s perspective on the closing of Border’s store here in Salem.
The closing of any bookstore is cause for alarm and reason for grief, but I find myself not especially sad about the Border’s closing, and here’s why.
1. Stock
I have never once found a book I was looking for at Border’s. Any time I have heard about an up-and-coming literary release and have trekked over to the store to get my hands on a copy, I have discovered the Salem store doesn’t have it in stock. If you want to be part of a conversation about something new, Border’s is not where you go.
“But you can order it!” a salesperson delightfully responds.
If I must order a book from a local bookstore, it shall be from the Book Bin, which is run by a very lovely young couple who just moved from Portland to Salem to be closer to the family’s business. If you haven’t met Kat and Obadiah yet, you need to head down to the Court Street store and introduce yourself.
Lesson learned: I value curating, and the Border’s on Lancaster is curated for mass market tastes.
2. Brand
I’m not attached to Borders. I don’t know any of the booksellers there, and if I’m spending money on books in town, I’d rather keep as much of it in the community as possible.
3. Trees
I used to be the kind of person who might actually roll over in bed on top of a stack of hardbacks, but that is no longer the case. For one, I have some nice built-ins in our new place, but also, I’ve taken quite well to E-reading.
I have come to believe quite strongly that some books are not worth the paper they are printed on. Many of them, actually. I’ve been paying very close attention to my reading and book-buying habits and have noticed I am still spending a decent chunk of change on new hardback fiction, on home design books and on magazines. In the magazine department, I’ve taken quite well to digital forms preferred by online only mags such as Lonny and Anthology.
I also have a Kindle. I’m using my Kindle to read the first chapters of books I might want to buy to add to my collection and for downloading digital nonfiction books I don’t necessarily need to have a hard copy of. I don’t see any point in buying paper copies of books I’m going to read only once and don’t want to pass to a friend.
4. Change
I’m more than a little terrified my son might grow up in a world where he sees bookstores as a place for old people. I’m doing the best I can to assure that’s not the case. But I’m really excited about what digital books mean for authors and control of copyright and publishing.
If I ever harbored any disillusion any book I might write would reach its audience through a stack in a Border’s with a book poster behind it to announce it to the world, it has long died. If you want to write and have an audience, you have to promote your own books. The Cormac McCarthys will always rise to the top. The rest of us have to hustle.
New media rarely replace the old. New physical forms allow for new artistic forms. And for those of us who love the old ways and never want to let go, we can always get together over coffee and have our own analog renaissance.
The value for Salem’s particular Border’s, for me, has always come from its magazine section. Here, I’ve been able to peruse any number of odd magazines I have an affinity for, including: Culture: The Word on Cheese, 1859 Magazine (Oregon lifestyle quarterly) to ReadyMade to Atomic Ranch, a magazine devoted entirely to the mid-century modern style. The section was a space for discovery unmatched by the Internet and is, as far as I can tell, unrivaled by any other location here in Salem. Even the library cannot compete with Border’s for access to obscure magazines that cost $11.95.
Also, I’m going to have to find a new location for our Bored Meeting — the twice annual conference my friend and magazine writer Rachel Bucci and I have been having in the Border’s cafe.
5. Location
Part of my soul dies every time I drive down Lancaster Ave.
I realize this post is ridiculous. One person’s buying habits do not bring down a national chain. Nor can it massage the hearts of the people who shopped there.
Yes, I am very sad for Border’s employees, and I am sad for my mother-in-law, who lives in a town where there is no alternative to Border’s. But I’m not sad for me.
