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09/05/2006: ""

Last Saturday I was talking to a customer who smiled at me and said, "It's really great that you're the last bookstore in town, huh?"

I shook my head and said, "No, it's not."

So many people seem to think that it's great to be a monopoly, to be the last chance for someone to get what they want. Actually, nothing could be further from the truth.

Remember that scene in "Miracle on 34th Street", where Macy's doesn't have the item in question, so they cheerfully send the customer to their competitor, Gimbel's Department Store? Likewise, I always tried to maintain a good relationship with my competitors, unless they went out of their way to be rude or discourteous to me. Regardless, I always referred customers to someone else if I couldn't help them. During the long reign of Goodenough Books, we always referred customers to each other. I still maintain the same relationship with The Bookstore & Town Center Books, both of them over in Pleasanton; and with the Livermore Library. Sure, we bookstores are out to make a living, but there's no reason why we have to be rapacious about it. Bookshops that are "out for blood" tend not to last very long.

But now, with Goodenough, Bookworm, Whitestone, and Bassett in the Literary Afterlife, Book Oasis is left to fend for itself. For the customers who enter the door, they want and expect the remaining shop to have what they need, and I do my darnedest to make sure I've got it. I sell new books on demand, have author signings, read voraciously in order to recommend new titles, and make sure the music is always varied and tasteful. But, "Lions and Tigers and Bears!", the corporate predators are fast and thick. The superstores continue to take over more market-share, the big department stores have huge book displays, online reading and shopping continues to rise, while the overall number of book readers appears to be declining.

We may in fact be entering a literary Dark Age--where small bookstores have a Hobbesian existence (nasty, brutish and short--not Calvin's boon companion!), and those who read do all their shopping largely online. As our civilization continues to constrict, with the world getting smaller by the day, more and more of us are working longer hours, and have less time to shop. Hence, the rising popularity of online shopping. With gifs and virtual displays, it's easier to simply pick out what you want and have it delivered. One wonders what kind of profit margin the delivery companies have.

Speaking of online, another customer asked me why I simply didn't move my stock into a warehouse and work as an internet supplier. The truth is, I considered that, several years ago. The primary reason why I didn't do it was because, A) I enjoy the interactions with you the cutomers; and, B) the walk-in traffic ensures a steady supply of books. Lacking the open door, I'd be doing a fair amount of scrounging. Dumpster-diving for books? That would be a new experience! Not unheard of, though; I've got a few scouts who do that regularly.

So, no, being the last bookstore in town is not a happy thing. It is a warning--to me, to you, and to everyone. As we become more wrapped up in our own lives, some parts of the world around us fade from lack of attention. In a purely Darwinian sense this is not so surprising--small bookstores are like pockets of isolated soldiers on a slippery slope during a war, working to maintan their footholds. The battlefield is littered with the bones of lost comrades; stores that have either surrendered, or gone down fighting. Just today I heard that Beauty and the Books, a prominent Seattle store, has given up the ghost. When asked where he was going, the owner replied, "I haven't the faintest idea. Into the great unknown."

MacArthur said that old soldiers never die, they just fade away. But what about booksellers? What *does* a former bookseller do? Newspaper stand? Librarian? Peddle armadillo washing-stands door to door? Ideally, they should write a book about their experiences. Helene Hanff's "84 Charing Cross Road" is a fine example. Most of us in the business have had a few hair-raising experiences, and many funny ones. I have long thought about following in this great tradition. Perhaps, when I'm old and grey, I'll set the stories down to print.

I hope to see you all in here, soon! Give me fodder for my memoirs, and treat yourselves to the literary experience. The last bookstore in Livermore can use your support, especially if we are to face the future alone.