Fond Bookstore Memories

A link sent out by Tobias Buckell on his Twitter feed talked about B&N closing the last of their B. Dalton bookstores.

As a kid I was an avid reader going through a book a day, sometimes. The summer I turned 11 we moved and I was allowed two new books with the assurance I could unpack my books in a couple of days after the move. I chose two Nancy Drews, promising myself I'd make them last. A week later I still couldn't unpack the book boxes in my room, tantalizing me with their booky burdens. Those poor Nancy Drews got read three times each. I never read another Nancy Drew book after that.

That same summer I graduated from buying books at Toys R Us to buying them at B. Dalton. The first time my mother took me there I couldn't believe there was a store dedicated to nothing but books. It was better than a toy store. I drifted between the shelves, afraid to touch the books because they looked so clean and perfect.

I loved that B. Dalton. The floor was a creaky, crackly wood parquet. The smell of fresh printed paper filled the air with possibility. The shelves seemed to reach to the ceiling, an endless supply of reading material.

My mom knew she could leave me in B. Dalton by myself and I wouldn't wander anywhere else, captivated by the dragon horde of books. B. Dalton is where I learned to love Ellery Queen Katherine Kurtz, Anne McCaffrey, Ursula Le Guin and Patricia McKilip among many other authors.

Up until I went to college and discovered independent bookstores I faithfully patronized that B. Dalton. It was my gateway to a wider world, my own personal wardrobe leading me to magical lands more interesting and exciting than the one I inhabited.

To this day the smell of a brand new book takes me back the thrill of being let loose in B. Dalton with five dollar in my pocket*.

Goodbye B. Dalton. Thank you for all the lovely books and memories.

*Dating myself, here. I remember when books were .99¢.