Nataliya's Reviews > The Bookshop: A History of the American Bookstore

Of course I wasn’t going to pass up a book that has both “Bookshop” and “Bookstore” in its title. Even if I’m more of a library aficionado, I’m still bibliotropic*.

* Case in point: a library book bag bought in an indie local bookstore 🥰.

“The right book put in the right hands at the right time could change the course of a life or many lives.”

Bookstores are magical. They are the repositories of nostalgia and quirkiness and that particular book smell that is impossible not to love. Some of my earliest memories are of trying to read as fast as four-year-old me could (so not very fast) while my mother was shopping in a bookstore because there were only so many books one could afford to buy. But they are first and foremost businesses that, despite the stereotype of a quirky bookseller who hates to part with the books, actually need to sell books if they want to survive and continue to delight us and not just turn into another food chain storefront (“The Old Corner helped launch American literature and the American bookstore. Now it’s a Chipotle.”)

“Bookstores also stimulate our senses. Being surrounded by books matters. Sociologists have found that just growing up in a home full of books—mere proximity—confers a lifetime of intellectual benefits.”

Evan Friss takes us on a tour of famous and historic US bookstores, many now out of business, all the way to Barnes & Noble and recent Amazon hegemony, as well as current small resurgence of indie bookstores (which we all should try to support if we can, because who wants to only enrich billionaires while local businesses wilt away?). From Benjamin Franklin’s printing adventures to traveling bookstores (not that successful, really), to street vendors and New York Book Row with the Strand being the leftover, to large department stores making room for books (Marshall Field’s in Chicago), to books becoming less of an elite purchase and more lowbrow via paperbacks sales, to offbeat stores serving as creativity hubs, to specialized stores by race, sexuality and even occasional Nazi leanings (how can one make a bookshop evil? Well, add Nazis to it.). He highlights the role of personalities in bookshops — the booksellers who give them heir uniqueness, and an occasional bookshop cat. Through the stories of each bookstore (apparently “bookshop” is more British which may be why it sounds a bit odd to me) we see different faces and facets of the book selling industry culture in the US, and even if it at times feels a bit like a jumble it’s still interesting.

“He understood that we are what we read. And that what we read is dictated by what authors choose to write, what publishers choose to publish, what printers choose to print, and what, where, and how booksellers choose to sell.”

I’m not sure how exactly Friss made the selection of the bookstores to be featured in his book. It’s very East Coast-centric — but it may be just because huge swaths of the US used to be true book deserts until the advent of the chain stores (actually something in favor of chain stores!). Or maybe it’s just where his interest lies - but I’m not the one to judge as I at least try to live my life according to what interests me. Maybe I would have preferred something a bit more chronological, generalized and focused instead of anecdotal and fragmented, and maybe a bit more geographical variety outside of the East Coast focus — but it’s still overall interesting and fun, even if not perfect. And terrifying to learn about the past existence of Aryan bookstore, the Nazi repository.

And all I know now is how hard it would be to try and be a bookstore owner. Rocket surgery may be easier, really.

“Whether independent or corporate, whether in New York or New Mexico, bookstores have been disappearing. If bookstores were animals, they'd be on the list of endangered species.”

3.5 stars that my bibliophile heart insists I round up.