Tonight I grieve for The Little Bookstore. In two weeks, its owner will lock the doors and walk away. Almost from the start, my faith in the little shop failed. It was up against a big-box bookstore and temptingly clickable Amazon. And booklovers, too, are a spoiled bunch. They crave the crispness of a never-turned virgin page and the immediacy of a bestseller. They dump their dog-of-a-book at the used bookstore for credit and keep their treasures. Purists use the library. Book groups share among themselves. To many of us who knew the little bookstore, it stood like a David encircled by Goliaths. And this David lost. Other Davids remain--ones better equpped with new stock, specialities, author connections and children's story hours. I plan to shop the David stores, but I will buy from the Goliaths, too. I'm a booklover and I'm spoiled.
What I'm reading now: Ape House by Sara Gruen.
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