Borders are about to close all over the nation. The economics behind the loss of the iconic bookstore chain are simple. Less people are buying books so the bookstores lose money and now 398 more Borders locations have to shut their doors. The how and what of it is easy enough to comprehend. The mind-boggling aspect lies in the why of it. Did people stop buying books? Did everyone stop reading? No. They just don’t buy them in person or read them on paper.
“Forget all that. What do you mean Borders is going out of business?” you may be thinking, “No, that is not possible. The stores are always so crowded.” Yes. Many of the locations are reported to have been fairly busy. This explains the shock value of Borders Group’s recent announcement. How on earth can a chain of busy stores, clearly enjoying a steady stream of customers, suddenly go broke and close up shop? Why? Because we, my fellow readers, have collectively changed our ways. As so succinctly stated by my hometown newspaper, the Atlanta Journal and Constitution, “The closing of Borders, the company which launched the concept of a big box bookstore in 1971, may seem the most ominous sign of a reading revolution, one bound to deeply impact the way books are published and sold…”
Here in greater Atlanta, Borders and its giant of a competitor, Barnes and Noble, are not generally considered places to shop for books. They may be a good spot to read a book, although few people seem to do so. They are definitely a great place to grab a cup of coffee and chat with friends. Sit back, relax with a cappuccino, and get some work done on the internet… ah, Borders is the frazzled professional’s paradise. Artists converge around trade magazine displays. Writers discuss manuscripts while perusing the new release section. Couples hold hands and sip lattes. Children sit, criss-cross-applesauce in the aisles, or lie in the floor propped up on elbows, with picture books. Parents read to their children and, every once in a while, adults sit down and crack open a book of their own choosing. On the surface it looks like a profitable business. Unless you glance over at the comparatively idle cash registers. What all of those faithful patrons have been failing to do, dear readers, is to actually buy books.
I love bookstores, and the smaller the store, the better, in my book. (I admit it. The pun was intentional. Sorry.) Yes, Borders was awesome. Barnes and Noble has a lovely children’s section, but the little used bookstores are the ones I truly love. Every book seems to have two stories. The one written on its pages, and the one behind those pages wearing down and fading. There is the chance to share in an infinitesimal piece of someone else’s history when we walk out the door with our three dollar novel and two dollar cook books tucked under our arms. We all win. We get our books. We save our money. We do our part for the environment. We support our local community. Obviously, we could get that same book delivered to our door, but we would miss out on an experience- the walls stacked with the brilliant and the mundane; thoughts and dreams and fears in ink surrounding us.
I do order books online on occasion. I typically order through Amazon, though, and I order "used" if possible, trying to find a reliable small used bookstore to buy from if the price is right. Why? Because someone has to put my eagerly anticipated dog-eared copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in a box and get it mailed off to me. I, personally, like to imagine that person as being a little like Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail- a true booklover.
Some of the glass-half-full-types see potential benefits from the end of Borders. With the death of a bookselling giant comes a possibility of growth for the little guy. We can only hope that the displaced Borders customers will find new safe havens among small, independent bookstores, and that they will have learned their collective lesson and actually make a few purchases.
