Wendee Wieking was a bookseller at Queen Anne Books in Seattle, Wash., for more than four years. She writes:
For the recently released My Bookstore: Writers Celebrate their Favorite Places to Browse, Read, and Shop, 84 writers submitted short essays about their favorite bookstores. Most chose to write about their hometown, neighborhood bookstore.
I, too, have a favorite bookstore, the one where until recently I worked as a bookseller: Queen Anne Books, a gem of a shop where we greeted each person who entered--most by first name. A neighborhood fixture, Queen Anne Books did what indie bookstores do best--we handsold the books we love, we special ordered the ones we didn't carry, we catered to the tastes of our customers and we introduced new authors to our readers.
Queen Anne is a thriving urban neighborhood, just minutes from downtown Seattle. Our customers followed the "shop local" ethic. They were fiercely loyal to their local bookstore. This was no small matter. I marvel that in this day and age, people willingly pay full price for their books. After all, there are so many options for saving a few bucks. But paying full price is part of the unspoken pact between patron and independent bookstore. Customers shop local and don't expect discounts to ensure that the neighborhood has its own literary destination. For our part, we booksellers stock the best books, greet our customers warmly, help select the perfect book and even remember what Marilyn bought for her grandson last Christmas.
Sadly, at Queen Anne Books that fragile trust between bookstore and customer was broken on October 31, when the new owner of our beautiful store--she bought it only in April--locked its doors. On the eve of the holiday season, Queen Anne Books was closed indefinitely, with all inventory put into storage somewhere in Seattle. Customers were aghast, sickened, incensed. Full-grown adults cried at the counter. Children stared in disbelief when told the store would close in a few days. A dear woman said our store was one of her last tethers to life--a place where she felt welcome, and where she found comfort and acceptance.
This is not your typical story of a bricks-and-mortar store closing because of big box stores or the prevalence of e-books. No, this is the unthinkable story of an owner who had a dream of a bookstore and the financial resources to write the check, but none of the personal moxie to run a business. So after a mere six months and deciding the book business was not her game, she closed the doors and broke the trust with our beloved customers.
How can this be? For 14 years, Queen Anne Books has been the heart and soul of our community. Children who once entered our doors holding a parent's hand are now college students. Authors who launched their first books at release parties in our space are now New York Times bestselling authors. Our bookstore was a living, breathing, life enriching haven for readers of all kinds.
I loved Queen Anne Books, but most of all I loved being a bookseller. It may seem simple, but the satisfaction of helping a customer select the perfect book for her own pleasure, or perhaps for her elderly father, makes a day worthwhile. I love being surrounded by books. I love unpacking boxes on Monday so Tuesday's new releases are displayed prominently for our customers. I love our backroom overflowing with advance reader copies and wondering which of them will be the next bestseller. As we struggle to keep connections alive with friends and family who live far away, what is more rewarding than helping a customer select the perfect book so she can buy two copies, then send one to her long-distance mother so that weeks later they can discuss it on the phone? (We had a customer who did this regularly.)
I believe we've come full circle on this issue of the independent bookstore and its long-term viability. In recent years there have been threats from all sides--online mega discounters offering free shipping, huge high-volume stores where every title has a 40% off sticker, electronic reading devices so slim they fit in your pocket and feed your greed for instant gratification.
But it turns out people still like bookstores. They like the long browse, and the handwritten recommendation cards. They like to talk about books, and read the first few pages before purchasing. They love the staff picks table. They love books.
As a matter of fact, people will pay full price if it means they can have their own, cozy bookstore within walking distance of their home. What better to do on a rainy Saturday than spend a couple hours in the bookstore? Chances are you'll discover a great book and bump into neighbors.
So, for the time being, there is no independent bookstore on Queen Anne. There is a small glimmer of hope that a local ownership/management team might emerge after the new year. But for now, I'm not recommending books to holiday shoppers, and that makes me sad.