“Heaven, I’m in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak.” For Fred Astaire, Irving Berlin’s words described his experience while dancing “cheek to cheek” with Ginger Rogers. With two left feet, the dance floor isn’t heaven for me; instead, I hummed that tune during a recent visit to Ashland Books. I agree with Tahereh Mafi: “I love walking into a bookstore. It’s like all my friends are sitting on shelves, waving their pages at me.”
As I scanned the shelves, I recognized hundreds of friends. Nancy Drew met me just inside the door with her sidekicks Bess Marvin and George Fayne, ready to jump into Nancy’s roadster and solve the next mystery to hit River Heights. While created by the same publisher as the Hardy Boys, somehow the boys just didn’t catch my interest like Nancy and her friends did.
A full shelf of Robert Heinlein reminded me of my adolescent connection to “Stranger in a Strange Land.” Perhaps it’s worth another look to see how Valentine Michael Smith’s ideas fit into my more mature worldview. Will I still grok it? (Martian for “to drink in all available aspects of reality, or to become one with the observed”).
I saw many other gems that longed to come home with me, but having scaled down my library quite a bit in our last move, I resisted the temptation to own more books, especially those I’ve already read. However, I discovered a pristine copy of an Inspector Armand Gamache mystery by Louise Penny and wrapped it up for my sister for Christmas, excited to introduce her to one of my favorite story-tellers and the captivating villagers of Three Pines. A few other friends, both old and new, snuck their way into my shopping bag, so there are now three piles by my bedside instead of one, just begging to be read soon.
As Vincent van Gogh testified, “So often, a visit to a bookshop has cheered me, and reminded me that there are good things in the world.” So too for me. It was a delightful morning, but overshadowed by the knowledge that this downtown store would soon close its doors. The owner was wistful in his reflection, wondering if his business might have been able to turn the corner if he had been able to hold on just a little bit longer. Since the announcement of the store’s demise, there have been many expressions of appreciation from regular customers and community members for his carefully curated bookstore, but not in enough time to keep its doors open.
The closing of old (and sometimes not-so-old) businesses and the opening of new ones is a constant in the landscape of small communities in mid-America. It can result from the natural cycle of economics, as technology and tastes change or family circumstances intervene. Change also occurs when proprietors retire, as Anita and Ray Weaver recently did – Ashland is thrilled that The Candy and Nut Shoppe will live on under a new owner.
Yet at times, the closures come because these specialty shops in the downtowns of small cities and towns across the country just can’t make it financially. Even in communities that manage to get on the tourist track, there’s still often a tiny profit margin in these small retail shops. The death knell ringing in thousands of downtowns is a familiar refrain.
Could the bookstore have been saved? Perhaps a different ambiance, a mixture of new books and old, more community events, celebrity visits, coffee and tea in a reading nook? Who knows? But in the end, it comes down to paying customers walking through the door and spending money. No matter the quality, quantity, price or uniqueness of merchandise, whether bicycles, jewelry, toys, or books, if customers don’t cross the threshold of brick and mortar stores with their wallets open, the stores can’t survive.
Sadly, Ashland Books has now moved its inventory to “Useful Junk,” an antique shop on State Route 58 in Sullivan, leaving a book-shaped hole in the soul of downtown. Perhaps that hole will remind us that “shop local” isn’t just a sales slogan – it is the lifeblood of Ashland.
No comments:
Post a Comment