By Sarah Zinn
I always go to Barnes & Noble when I’m having a bad day. I’m not sure if it’s the comfort of childhood memories, but something about the smell of coffee and freshly bound books is soothing to me. I find a book about something weird, like Organized Crime: A History of the Mafia, and snuggle up in a corner loveseat and flip through the pages as I drink my coffee.
Most stores are pragmatic creations designed to persuade the consumer to buy their product. Bookstores seem more patient. They welcome you to a spectrum of literary works and allow you to linger on various genres — from Travel to Science and Mathematics to Romance. They encourage curiosity. Don’t know anything about gardening? Here’s a section of books you can peruse.
When life disappoints and I’m in a slump, it’s nice to walk into a place and see physical evidence of the dedication and drive people have for what inspires them. I know that as soon as I meander through each aisle and selectively read the backs of books, I’ll be reminded of how many different things people are passionate about and I am reinvigorated.
Bookstores bring to light issues and interests I was unaware existed. It wasn’t until I spontaneously wandered over to the “Biography” section and picked up a book called Wave, a story about a girl who survived her parents and sibling in the devastating tsunami of 2004, did I truly understand the scale and toll of such a disaster.
I remember being bored in high school, sitting on the floor of Barnes & Noble by the travel section with my friend and looking through all the books featuring places we wanted to go. Whether it was the deserts of the Middle East, the tropic jungles of the Amazon, or the curious different boroughs of New York, our eyes feasted on the possibilities the world had to offer.
There is an intrinsic value to bookstores that online retailers do not understand or offer. Selling books on a sterile, desolate online forum assumes that everyone always knows what they are looking for, and goes against the very spirit of educating through books. Just like paintings and music, books aren’t commodities of easily estimable worth. Like a work of art, each book means something different to each person, and therefore, should not be sold in such an impersonal way.
In 2011, the market swallowed Borders, one of the biggest in the book-selling business, and economists predict that in wake of e-books and Amazon, Barnes & Noble will be next. Sentiments are mixed at the demise of these chains. Some people hated them when they brutally overtook the small local bookstores of their town; others were delighted at their arrival because it meant their town finally had a bookstore. Either way, I think the collapse of bookstores is a symptom of online consumerism that most find tragic.
It’s true that bookstores lack certain conveniences that online shopping provides, but with convenience we sacrifice personality. Bookstores enrich communities, whether it’s for the benefit of the curious child looking at a world atlas or the septuagenarian sitting in on the monthly poetry reading. It’s a rare place where you can feel the shared pulse of humanity in its attempt to express its infinite thoughts, unyielding passions and precious discoveries that have educated generations since the beginning of time.
Sarah Zinn is currently a student at Indiana University studying Journalism. She’s a creative, passionate writer and with a compulsion for wit. In her free time she enjoys venturing outdoors, eating ethnic food, painting and on the rare occasion, sleeping. She is very interested in civil rights, the environment, public policy, and the arts. She has a curiosity for most things, excluding only finite math and stressfully dramatic shows such as CSI and 90210. She is a diehard fan of Seinfeld and most girl bands of the indie rock persuasion. The daughter of an expat, Sarah has called the state of Indiana, Athens GR, and London England home within the 19 years of her life. Sarah writes for her university’s newspaper the Indiana Daily Student, and has been published in Indianapolis Monthly Magazine. Follow her on Twitter @sarah_zinn.
Photo by Jennifer S Roberts