“You don’t want to go to Borders right now,” my friend told me with an eye-roll a couple weeks ago. “It’s a madhouse. It’s all yellow and black and red signs and everything is just thrown all over the place. Seriously, don’t waste your time.”
I must be an easy sell, because I never did venture down to the Borders on Wisconsin Avenue before it closed its doors for good.
And that’s really not like me, to miss a book blowout sale simply because the store was a mess. Alas, that’s exactly what I did: I never said farewell to downtown Milwaukee’s only book superstore.
My justification lies in my lack of attachment to Borders, although I’m not sure why that attachment isn’t there. It could be the high prices, or the fact that Borders is almost exclusively responsible for putting small, independent bookstores across the nation out of business. But these past few years, I’ve accepted these brutal drawbacks every time I emptied my wallet at the register; I was a loyal customer throughout my adolescence. And still, I can’t even be sad that it closed? What’s wrong with me?
I love books, and always have. I know I’m not alone in that. So, fellow book-lovers, I’m begging the question: why aren’t we fighting to save our own personal heaven?
I’m not just talking about Borders — I’m talking about every bookstore whose once booming business has come to a standstill, and there is no shortage of them.
A few weeks ago, my poetry teacher offered our class extra credit to attend a poetry reading at Woodland Pattern, a non-profit, small-press bookstore with shelves upon shelves of poetry books in Milwaukee’s Riverwest neighborhood.
“You can’t graduate as an English major without checking this place out,” he warned us, and after one visit there, I wholeheartedly agree. No student, regardless of their major, should miss this place: it’s like something from a movie, with local art on the walls and a staff that feels like a family.
But you might have to miss it, as Woodland Pattern is at risk of losing all its funding under Gov. Walker’s budget repair bill. This plotline is becoming a little repetitive in Wisconsin, right?
I’ve always thought it takes one wild imagination to believe a single individual is capable of having an impact in situations like today’s, where an entire state’s population is voiceless against the government’s heavy hand.
Now, I think it’s just the opposite.
I’m not saying that I could’ve revitalized Borders with one visit and one swipe of the credit card — my head’s not that far in the clouds. I just seem to have forgotten that sometimes the most important part of taking action is not the immediate results, but the message it delivers.
What’s the message? That our interests are as essential to us as calcium, and that’s not going to change, no matter who goes out of business or who makes our laws.
Sure, we’re going to have to adapt to the changes being made, but we don’t have to sacrifice because of those changes.
Sadly, I’m seeing more of the latter.
Perhaps I’ve simply been lazy about demonstrating my love of books, because for so long, it’s remained unthreatened. Now, not only are bookstores closing across the globe, but the practicality of books themselves is under question.
I have quite a few opinions, but almost none are as concrete as my belief that Kindles are stupid. I’ll refrain from a full-fledged rant, but I would like to know: do Kindles smell like new books? Does any one person really need 10,000 books at their immediate disposal? Are Kindles affordable, and can you lend them to your friends? Isn’t that the whole point of books the paradox of individuality and community that they offer?
This is what I mean about adapting versus sacrificing. Circumstances are changing, so find a new bookstore and don’t jump ship at the first sight of a “going out of business” sign.