In “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” Alice tumbles down the rabbit hole, she emerges into a world entirely new where people with anthropomorphic creatures whose strange habits are difficult to understand existed. This is what I felt when inside a bookstore.
I love reading and I love spending time in bookstores curled up in a comfy chair, with the smell of new books all round and slipping away in my mind on crazy adventures to far away places or chasing killers through the pages of a racy thriller. But most importantly, I love used book stores. They have an allure that new book stores just don’t have. There’s a particular feel to the air and a familiar musty smell that hints of the presence of the souls of the authors whose work haphazardly fills the shelves. I love browsing through the shelves and feel all giddy when I find little gems. The feeling is so surreal.
Some books have notes in them that make wonder about the previous owners. “Dear Kimmy, This book changed my life. I hope it changes yours, too. Love, Cera” How did this book change Cera’s life? Did Kimmy read it? Did she love it like Cera did? How did it end up here? Are they still alive? Did this book change their relationship? These are two women I will never meet, but we are connected at this moment by this book in my hand. I decide to take the book with me and read it, and now we are connected by ideas that span time and space, and I feel I know a little something about Cera now.
I could honestly live inside a bookstore. Not the big box corporate kind, but the old and antique ones.