Bookstores Are Lonely Forts, Spilling Light Onto the Sidewalks
They civilize their neighborhoods
I think the love affair with bookstores began during my middle school years, although I was anything but a prolific reader back then.
There was a bookstore located in the Old Town shopping center of Los Gatos, California called Walden Pond Books. My mother sometimes took me there during grocery trips and errands. She prowled the bookstore’s fiction and non-fiction aisles, and I explored the art books.
Occasionally, I discovered a new Frank Frazetta fantasy art book, and I’d plead with my mother to buy it for me.
Over time, I ventured beyond the art book section. I gravitated towards non-fiction titles, often thumbing through their contents and fastening on various ideas, phrases, photos, and memorable lines.
There was something magic about our local bookstore.
I loved the welcoming atmosphere, the smell of the books, and the thrill of discovery—so many shelves and titles and subjects to investigate. My Mom and I would compare finds, and afterward visit a nearby cafe to discuss the books and ideas.
My intellectual curiosity blossomed in high school, because I drew political cartoons for the school newspaper, and I needed to learn…
