RIP, Borders

I visited a terminally ill-friend last night. It was the first time ever that I've been in a bookstore and hoped not to find any of my books.

I ended up not looking for them, even avoiding the sections where I knew they would be. It was sad, walking down the well-stocked aisles: Every book in the store represents income a writer (and publisher) won't receive. While the impact at any one branch may not be large, multiply that across the country and the sums become staggering.

Much worse is the fact that one of the most important outlets between authors and readers will be gone, once the dust settles on the liquidation sales. While other markets will undoubtedly take up some of the slack, ultimately less places selling books means less books sold. Anyone who believes books and reading are important, has to think that the demise of the company - which was not at all preordained by technological changes - hurts us all.

The worst irony is that the chain helped pressure many small bookstores, putting them out of business and weakening the entire ecosystem before succumbing itself. The mall store I went to - roughly a half-hour away - was one reason the small shop in my village closed a few years back.*

The local Borders (not the one in the photo, btw) was not crowded when I went in, though as usual it was busier than any of place in the mall. I felt sorry for the workers, who were all cheerful despite the impending ax.

As I was leaving, I felt a sudden impulse to go back and grab my own works off the shelves, take them up to the register, and pay full price for them. It might have felt as I was striking one last blow for books in general.

But then I realized that neither I nor my publisher were likely to be paid for those books. The only people I'd be helping were the executives who'd presided over the bankruptcy. They already had taken my money, in effect; no sense giving them any more.

* That store was NOT Merritt Books, which remains my favorite local bookstore, and one everyone should visit.