Let Us Celebrate Independent Booksellers

The new addition to our home, in tribute to local booksellers. I have no idea why the “p” is not lighted, but that’s consistent with the state of things around here. Art by Ela Constance Molina, age 6.

Finally, I’ve packed away the lighted Christmas village. Over the years, it has grown into a burgeoning city development in our living room, and it adds so much light in the darkest days of winter. I couldn’t part with the most recent building in that collection, so it’s been relocated to another neighborhood.

The bookshop is now perched on the mantel in our family room, where it will stay all year. As you can see in the above photo, it sits next to a tree that has never lost its autumn splendor. The magic never ends in this joint, thanks to the young artists in our lives.

I’m working on another essay for Hopefully Yours to post this week, and will spend much of today editing dozens of student columns from my Opinion Writing class. Reading and writing. Could I have a more perfect Monday? I am filled with gratitude, which is why I want to start the week with this tribute to independent booksellers. They’ve been on my mind.

Last week I attended the Winter Institute’s author reception, hosted by the American Booksellers Association. More than 800 booksellers attended this four-day conference in Cincinnati. I was one of the lucky authors invited to meet hundreds of them who were kind enough to meet me and ask about my new children’s book, Lola and the Troll.

It was a heady experience, meeting so many people whose dream of owning a bookstore became a dream come true for so many in their communities. I had the chance to ask all my questions about their bookstores. How did they come up with the names? How long have they owned them? Who are their favorite customers? (This is an edited list.)

Also, I could finally say to them in person what I’ve been holding in my heart for four years. Over and over, I thanked them for championing my first novel, The Daughters of Erietown, during the scariest days of the pandemic. They kept my dream alive.  

My novel was launched into the world in early June 2020. By then, my entire book tour had already been cancelled. We had such ambitious plans for the rollout, and then--poof!—they were gone. My novel was destined to disappear.  

Or so I thought.

Almost immediately, bookstores started reaching out with plans of their own. Over the course of the next few weeks, and then months, I participated in dozens of online book talks. Many of these were booksellers’ first online events, and we learned together. They ramped up their websites, too, and showcased new books as they were released.

Isn’t this map glorious? Thank you to Larry Law of the Great Lakes Independent Booksellers Association for saving one for me. I plan to frame it, at which point it will hang in an even line on our wall. Unlike now, to state the obvious.

Over the next year or so, I joined online bookstore events for other authors, too, often interviewing when it was their turn to promote a new book. I said yes to panel discussions, too, and happily signed more than a thousand hardcover books thanks to efforts by independent bookstores in Cleveland and Columbus. One bookseller asked a mutual friend to drive two hours to deliver hundreds of books for me to sign on our back deck. Another bookseller invited me into an empty store where we opened windows and wore masks so that I could sign more than 500 copies in a single morning.

Readers found my book after all. It debuted on the New York Times bestseller list, and this would never have happened without the efforts of so many booksellers.

It is not a coincidence that, in my children’s book, Lola rediscovers her many strengths and talents after spending time in her favorite bookstore with the owner, Ms. Sneesby. We all know the transformative power of books. I saw this in my children.

My son’s favorite reward for a job well done was a trip to a local bookstore, where one employee was always on the lookout for new books in Andy’s favorite genre. During my decade as a single mother, the local independent bookstore near our rented house in Shaker Heights, Ohio, was a second home for my daughter and me. The bookstore staff always greeted Caitlin as a returning hero, and what child doesn’t need that?

What started with my own children is now a family tradition with our eight grandchildren. Sometimes, a visit to the bookstore is the remedy for whatever ails us. Recently, for example, a favorite bookstore became a sanctuary for our heartbroken 9-year-old granddaughter. She was devastated by the death of her pet hamster. I won’t always be able to mend her broken heart, but in that moment, I knew what to do.

We made plans. I picked her up after school and off we went to a favorite local bookseller. We walked through the door, and someone yelled, “Welcome!”

“I’ve had a bad few days,” our granddaughter said to no one in particular. “I need a book.”

She didn’t have to say another word. Much like Lola’s Ms. Sneesby, one of the staff members swooped in and focused on our girl. He introduced himself, answered her every question and asked a few, too. Together, they roamed the aisles, pulling out a book here, another book there. In this kindness and care, I watched our granddaughter start to relax. The first time I heard her laugh, I wanted to hug this man who knew a child’s heart.   

We bought a stack of books and then sat for a while in the store’s reading area. We talked about why she had picked each title, and with each description she grew more animated.

“It’s good to see you smiling,” I said, grabbing her hand.

She nodded and looked around at the bookcases surrounding us.

“You know, Grandma,” she said, “when you’re in a bookstore, it’s impossible to stay sad.”

I end this with a request: Please share stories about your favorite bookstores. What are their names and locations? What do you like about them? How have booksellers come through for you?

I am so looking forward to reading your stories in the comments thread.