February 28, 2011 - 11:38pm
Nostalgic for the Borders social network
BY LAUREN CASERTA
When the manager of my local Borders offered me a summer position as a barista in the bookstore’s café, I felt torn. Sure, I would be logistically separated from my beloved novels by a mountain of coffee beans and paper cups, but Ohio had crappy job market; beggars can’t be choosers, as they say, and I was begging. I accepted the job despite knowing that my four-month bookstore stint would, ironically, leave me very few opportunities to read any of the hundreds of novels sitting just a few tantalizing feet out of my reach.
To my surprise, I was not at all disappointed by my lack of hands-on literary experiences. My longing for a chance to explore nearby books was soon eased by my fascination with the people who would visit me for their coffee breaks as they wandered lazily through the store.
Local authors, established and “aspiring,” would chat with me about their writer’s block before leaving with their espressos to hunker down in a secluded armchair and churn out another chapter or two of their latest endeavor. Kids from nearby schools would wander up to my counter with questions about their summer reading books, only to end up sucking me into debates over whether Dumbledore or Gandalf was a better wizard (Gandalf, of course). Even the lunch-break employees from the neighboring Proctor & Gamble plant couldn’t resist poking through nearby shelves as they waited for their chai lattes and doppio espressos; more than once I caught sight of groups of burly men in business suits pawing nostalgically through shelves of comic books as they discussed their favorite childhood super villains.
What surprised me most of all was the sense of literary camaraderie that seemed to envelop each person immediately upon walking in the door. Complete strangers were never afraid to ask each other for the names their favorite authors or books. I’m certain that I gave out just as many book suggestions as I received from my customers.
For me, Borders is not a glorified warehouse gussied up with some crown molding and carpeting; it houses a hub of social activity fueled by a network of passionate employees and a community of customers who are willing to get off of their butts for an hour or two and engage in the active pursuit of new knowledge, new ideas and new opinions.
As I scour the internet for information regarding Borders’s recent bankruptcy, I can’t help but feel a sense of dread every time I come across phrases like “brick-and-mortar bookstores” and “tactile bookstores.” Though the advent of e-books and amazon.com have challenged the public’s perception of what it means to be a “book” or a “bookstore” in hopes of reviving their dying interest in any novel that hasn’t been fortunate enough to find fame on Oprah’s book list, shifts to digital markets like these have neglected to preserve the physical, communal environments that fostered today’s readers.
If bookstores become a thing of the past, where will this leave the readers of tomorrow?
• More on Borders: Borders files for Chapter 11 bankruptcy
