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Today in the bookstore a woman came in and told me that for the first time in her life, she was reading for pleasure. She asked me to recommend some books to her. She was in her mid-40s, a matter-of-fact woman with a short haircut and a nice smile. She seemed steady. So far she had been reading non-fiction, real-life stories of triumph over adversity, with an element of faith in them. I asked her why she was just now starting to read, and she said she had moved to New York from another state for a job, and now she took the subway to work and had a lot of time on her hands.
How many other ways could she have spent that time? She could have been playing a game on her phone. She could have daydreamed. She could have listened to music and contemplated the shoes of other subway riders. These are all reasonable options! Shoes are pretty fun to look at, especially in New York. But instead she had decided to read for pleasure.
My co-worker and I shoved a bunch of books in her hands – she was already holding Ishmael Beah’s A Long Way Gone – and she ultimately also left with Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking. When she paid, it was with a gift card from a friend, and on it the friend had written: For the new reader. She said she would definitely come back to the store soon.
It goes without saying that I was beyond thrilled to meet her, and was so joyful she was starting on this really exciting journey to blow her mind with books. I’ve never met anyone like her before, and I doubt I would have if I wasn’t working in the bookstore. My world is ultimately very small, with the exception of the time I spend working there, and my social life with my very solid group of friends. Plus, my head is in the clouds most days, living in a fictional universe, so I really treasure these kinds of moments, which bring me back down to earth.
I believe in books, and I believe in community, and I believe in the connection of strangers. These are the things that are most important to me. When I meet a woman like her I am reminded: It is not a waste, this life. It is a struggle, but it is not a waste.
Tuesday is my birthday. I’m turning 40, and I feel pretty great. I hope you are too.
I always felt like community & communication were two words linked in both foundation and meaning. Always nice to read about places like Word that foster both.
Amen, sister This is (one reason) why we MUST keep bookstores alive.
2: I miss the browsing factor of bookstores. On Amazon, I’m told, “If you like X, you’ll like Y.” This sounds suspiciously like algebra to me, and I hated and feared algebra. Also, it’s formulaic and marketing-based. Whereas when I’m in a bookstore, perusing the stacks, I pick up books whose covers and titles interest me, read the jacket copy, read the first few pages…and often discover a new author, which is to say a new universe.
This doesn’t happen online.
3, when I’m blue, I go to a bookstore. Being among other people who love books, who wander the stacks and tables with that distracted, I-want-to-fall-in-love face…there’s no substitute.
BUY REAL BOOKS IN REAL STORES, PEOPLE. PLEASE.
PS, happy birthday.
mmm – happy 40th
(it gets better as they roll around)
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