Note to self

Spend more time (and money) in places like this in 2014:

 

(Photos taken at Bookman, Orange, CA)

The Trouble with Used Books

(Note: I wrote this piece in response to an article in the September 2005 Writer’s Digest, “At What Cost?” by James Grippando. Unfortunately, I could not find a link to the original article, and I don’t have access to my original copy - if, in fact, I still have one. The only action I can suggest if you want to read “At What Cost?” is to order a back issue from Writer’s Digest. You don’t need to read it, though, in order to “get” this post.)

I have not been this worked up over a Writer’s Digest article in years, not since the days when it was heavy on the text and light on the pictures. (This is why I am writing this long past the time I should be in bed.) The new/used book dilemma is one I face off with every week, and it’s as slippery as a puck bouncing just out of reach of a hockey stick. This is an intractably gray issue.

Few are those who have the unlimited funds to buy any book they wish to read new, or the unlimited space to keep every book they buy. People who love books just can’t throw them into the trash when they’re done with them, so we need the used bookstore (or the used book webpage) for the dual boons of purchasing text at a discount and finding a home for books that are ready to move on.

But a used book, unlike Harry S Truman’s buck, does not stop at just one “here”, and this is where the trouble starts according to James Grippando. As a book passes hands along the used-book chain, it ups the numbers of those who will never buy that book new -- and thus never give a cent to the author who wrote those precious words or the publisher who took a chance on them.

Last July, in a fit of summer self-indulgence, I purchased two hardcovers at the same place on the same day: The Interruption of Everything by Terry McMillan and The Undomestic Goddess by Sophie Kinsella. (It didn’t hurt that they were both 20% off at the Barnes and Noble.) Those two books were leisure-time fun - until I was finished reading them, at which point they became clutter. As a dutiful daughter, I called my mom and asked if she wanted to read these books, because she is retired now and her reading budget is even more restricted than mine. She said yes, and I put them in a box headed for Las Vegas - a little annoyed with myself for not adding them to the cash-for-books pile. That was before I read this article.

If I had taken these two as-close-to-new-without-actually-being-new books to the used bookstore, the manager would have accepted them with no hesitation - and with remuneration for me, no doubt. These books are on the bestseller list and would have been out the door seconds after going on the shelf. But then those buyers would never buy the books new - and would then likely resell them online.

Grippando warns that if buyers keep choosing used books over new, “publishers may well be able to publish only those authors who can make the bulk of their advance in the first few weeks of hardcover publication. That means fewer authors will get published, and in turn, fewer choices for readers.”

Those words grabbed the writer side of myself and shook it fiercely - the hand you bite may someday be your own, it warned. The reader side of myself stared at the tall stack of books I was about to exchange for cash at the used bookstore, slightly relieved that most of them were out of print. (But then I see a copy of David McCullough’s Truman, purchased at a UBS for $6.99 when a new softcover would have been $20. Damn, damn, damn. Perhaps I should buy 1776, while it’s still 30% off, to make up for it.)

Oddly, Grippando made no mention of real-life used bookstores like the one I’ll be going to, nor of public libraries, nor of informal book exchange groups such as Bookcrossing (which is about leaving books in public places for others to pick up and read) - all of which also potentially bite into new book sales.

Should we feel guilty about buying anything at the used bookstore which accepts in-print books for resale, because there we can also find books that are no longer available new? Should we feel like we are stealing something if we check out an in-print book at our public library, the holy temple of readers? If I put a Bookcrossing label on my book Medgar Evers and leave it on a park bench, am I stabbing myself in the back with the flagpole that hoists the banner of reading?

Perhaps used bookstores and online sellers should not sell used hardcover books until six months after their release date (maybe less for paperbacks, and one month for category romances). That would eliminate the dilemma of going to the Amazon page of a certain book I’m looking for and seeing this:

$23.00 list price
$15.64 Amazon price
80 used and new from $3.25

I see the mass-market paperback in the Barnes and Noble today. I think I’ll get that instead.

Farewell to an old friend – for good

The first Borders bookstore in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Alas, I never got to go there.

Earlier this year, I lamented the loss of two local Borders stores. This week, the shoe has fallen off the other foot.

Borders Stores was unable to find a new investor, and so it will liquidate its assets and go out of business altogether by September 30th.

No more the joy of finding Rewards coupons in my e-mail: 20, 33, or even 40% off regular prices. (Those coupons were why I was able to afford new books, including hardcovers, relatively often.) No more the excitement of dropping by non-local Borders in Mission Valley and Santa Barbara and Westwood and Las Vegas, it was the cherry on top of the sundae called travel. No more the search at the kiosk for my new favorite book. (It’s not always easy to go up to an employee and ask for directions.) How many of the books in my collection were purchased at Borders? I remember every one.

When a small independent bookstore goes out of business, it’s like the fall of a single tree in the forest – a loss to be sure, but the other trees keep the forest strong. Now, a mighty chain – once 1200+ stores strong – is going to disappear. This says something about how we’re reading now.

Last year for my birthday, I received an Amazon Kindle. It has changed my attitude towards books. I have to say that unless a book has color pages (an exception that might go away when I get my iPad), or is unavailable on Kindle, I will probably be spending many more of my book dollars on e-books – perhaps the majority of them. When the independent stores went away, it forced readers to the chains; when the chains go away, more people will choose e-books.

I will never stop reading, of course. The loss of Borders, however, closes the door to a gateway to the magic world of books. That is worth mourning.

Farewell to a good friend (part 2)

When I went to the Tustin Borders last month, it had still not started its liquidation process, and thus still looked neat inside. When I went to the Orange Borders (at the Block), those dreaded “Everything Must Go” signs were already in the window – and I should have known what that meant.



The store was all but gutted inside. Whole shelves were denuded of books, the magazine section had nothing left but the ones people don’t want (including Grit – it’s been decades since I’ve seen an issue of Grit), and the once-charming Paperchase section felt more like an abandoned ghetto.








I remember watching with eager eyes as this store rose from the ashes of the old City Shopping Center. I passed by it to and from work, hoping that the store would open soon so I would have a more convenient book-buying experience. And once the store opened, it was great to stop after work, especially when it was after nine p.m. and I wanted to reward myself after a hard day. (Books or not, I never want to commute after 9 p.m. again.) The Block had other places to enjoy, such as the now-closed Hilo Hattie, the now-closed Virgin Megastore, the AMC movie theater, Café Tu Tu Tango, and Koji’s Shabu Shabu restaurant. But it was the Borders which kept me coming.

It was a downer of a shopping experience. I did not find what I was looking for, most notably the March/April 2011 issue of Writer’s Digest, which had some important freelance information. The one thing I might have purchased was this exercise video, “The Flat Belly Workout”:



But at the time, it was that or the Writer’s Digest issue, and the Writer’s Digest would potentially lead me to hundreds if not thousands of dollars of income, so…I went to the nearest Barnes & Noble to purchase it.

Now, Barnes & Noble is not having stores liquidated. It is still a functioning bookstore, and coming there after leaving the Borders was like seeing the difference between the Getty Museum and the average Greyhound station. If you don’t believe me, go into the closest B&N. Especially if you live in Glendale. The three-story B&N at The Americana at Brand is a book palace, worth saving to shop in.

I used to think that it was a poor marketing practice for B&N to charge $25 per year for its rewards card, while the one for Borders was free. Now I think this is just another case of “you get what you pay for.”

I can still shop at Borders – the one at South Coast Plaza is now the nearest one to me, and I can always go online as well. But without the stores in Orange and Tustin, it will no longer be as convenient.

P.S. I went back to the Orange Borders when I had money to pay for the “Flat Belly Workout,” and it was gone. It bothered me more than it should have. I did want to buy one last thing here, but I could not think of anything else I wanted here, and the store was even more empty than it was the last time. So I walked out of the doors, most likely for the very last time.



I think of the old saying, “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.” I am fortunate to have had the opportunity to buy so many great books at these two stores, even as I know that because of my Amazon Kindle (and the iPad I plan to get), my book-buying habits are going to be different from now on. I see myself buying more e-books and less physical books, even in functioning B&Ns. My bookshelves will be full of old favorites and books that don’t translate well in e-form (such as art books), while everything else hides in my e-readers.

Books will always be with us, just as music will. It’s only how we connect with books that will change. And that’s OK.

Farewell to a good friend (part 1)

Ever since I was a small child, going to a bookstore was more exciting than going to Disneyland. From the living-room sized, fluorescently lit boxes in suburban malls to the double- and sometimes triple-deck stores of the booming 90s, I have spent many a happy moment meandering around bookstores – even when I couldn’t buy that day.

Borders is one of my favorite bookstores – “one of” standing proudly in a long row of favorite bookstores of all kinds, from chain to independent to used. (I like bookstores that contain books I want to read.) I feel special pride when I have the opportunity to purchase from an independent bookstore like Latitude 33 in Laguna Beach or Small World Books in Venice, CA. However, these two stores are not conveniently close to me. It also helps that Borders has a free discount card (the Barnes and Noble card costs $25 per year) with which one can receive discounts of up to 40% off.

This week, Borders announced its bankruptcy and will close about one-third of its U.S. stores, including two that are close to home – the one in Tustin District (which opened not too long ago, in August 2007) and the one at the Block in Orange (I saw it being built on the way to and from work in 1998).

I feel melancholy about these closings. Even though these are not the only two Borders close to me, I believe I spent more time in these two. I can see a book on my shelves and remember (for the most part) exactly where I bought it. Many of my books came from the shelves of the Tustin and Orange Borders stores.

I also feel guilty. For the past couple of years, I haven’t been buying books at Borders as much as I used to – mostly due to financial reasons, but also because of my Amazon Kindle. These days, when I am able to buy a book, Kindle is my first choice – unless a book has colorful illustrations. (That may change when I get my iPad.)

Recently, I visited the Tustin store with a buy one paperback, get one more at 50% off coupon. As I walked toward the storefront, I expected gigantic red and white signs screaming STORE CLOSING, but they weren’t there (yet).



Inside, it looked normal for a weekday afternoon – not that many customers, shelves full of current books and magazines. I looked for the book The Anti-9-to-5 Guide by Michelle Goodman, but it wasn’t there. (A store fails, if only a tiny bit, when it doesn’t have what you want.) I did find Hell’s Angels by Hunter S. Thompson. I have a semi-official rule not to buy new books by deceased authors (because they get no royalties), but I couldn’t find it at the library and it’s not available on the Kindle, either. (I think this is the kind of book that needs to be read on paper in Times Roman font anyways, just like it appeared in 1966.)



Now for one more paperback to satisfy the coupon requirements. I had a hard time with this. I looked for a useful book, one about the Chicago Style of writing, but the one in the computer was a.) not in the store, b.) not in paperback, and c.) cost $65.00. I looked in a few of my favorite sections, Biography, Self-Help, and Sociology. (Notice the multiple books about food in the Sociology section.)



Then I scanned Literature, and was about to take home a small paperback copy of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus (which, again, is hard to find in the library – and redundant because we have not one but two complete volumes of Shakespeare, but they’re hidden in our storage space), when I turned into the Spiritual section and found Creating Money by Sanaya Roman and Duane Packer. I remembered this title because SARK had talked about it in a radio interview with “Mary in the Morning”. It was not the kind of book I’d thought I’d find at Borders – but I was grateful for the miracle, as it were.



In the next few weeks, I will visit the Borders in Orange and buy something (and take pictures, too). Life goes on, and sometimes things and places you love just aren’t there anymore – you know this, Flex shampoo fans. But somehow, you’ll still find what you essentially need.