It Happened Here
Hole in the Wall Books and Comics
Capitol Hill Books
Spotlight on Independent Bookstores: Used Bookstores, a Disappearing Treasure
By Sarah White, WIW Member
There are many reasons, I suppose one could argue, why we don’t need used bookstores. We have Amazon.com, giving us the convenience of ordering books online, and we have Barnes & Noble and Borders, with their spacious structures, attractive books, nice lighting and coffee lounges. Why would we want to enter a cramped used bookstore to dig through piles of musty smelling books, only to encounter an inevitable reader who’s chosen to stand in front of the “D” section where you know that famous translation of Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment lurks?
For all of those reasons, I suppose. Used bookstores have always catered to the bibliophile and writer. They contain the throwbacks. You know the expression: One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. While it may be an extreme analogy to use about the used book—for who could ever consider a book trash? It does, in a way, ring true. Part of the fun is that you are never sure what you are going to find. Perhaps it will be a literary magazine from the 1930’s containing excerpts of one of James Joyce’s early novels. Maybe it will be an autographed copy of J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye. Whatever it is, writers and book lovers come to these stores with a vague notion of what they want and are willing to dig through a wide selection of books to find it. Whenever I go, I typically come out with something interesting and obscure like Iris Murdoch’s The Sovereignity of Good. And I feel no guilt if I don’t get around to reading it because it only cost me $3.50.
Today, there are few “used independents” that have survived the boom of the internet and the bionic bookstore. I gave myself the task of finding three in the Washington area.
Hole in the Wall Books and Comics
Edie Nally and her husband co-own Hole in the Wall Books and Comics. Located in Falls Church, Va., their bright blue cottage of a store sits on a small plot of gravelly earth. It has been there for a surprising 29 years and houses a collection of used books that span the typical range of categories: literature, nonfiction, romance, history, and science fiction and fantasy. One thing that immediately communicates this store’s individuality, aside from the fact that it’s painted blue, is the giant glowing superman symbol beaming in the front window. A sign that says, without saying, comics sold here. And true enough, smack dab in the middle of the store, near the oversized Kermit the frog that hangs from a beam on a nearby bookshelf are large bins of orderly filed comics.
As for the general feel of the place, it’s rather cozy. Placed throughout the store are red oriental rugs, giving it an unexpected warmth and feeling of antiquity. The many bookshelves aligning the three rooms are light wood, which adds brightness to an otherwise dark interior. Thermometers resting on bookshelves next to signs saying do not touch, illustrate the care that goes into preserving the books. And the famous witticisms strewn about the store about the importance of reading, by the likes of Groucho Marx, serve as reminders of why you came here in the first place.
Riverby Books
Located on East Capitol close to 4th Street, Riverby Books is co-owned by Steve Cymrot and his son Paul and has been around for 16 years. The building itself is an antiquated row house painted a lemon meringue. Visitors are greeted by a kind unobtrusive staff member at a low slung desk at the front of the store. Dark wood bookshelves line the walls and range in height from 7 to 12 feet tall. Riverby has roughly 25,000 used books. Their focus is politics, Washingtonia, history, philosophy and religion. They also have a small selection of fiction at the back of the store. The basement contains children’s books, specialty books and mysteries. Riverby has a boutique feel. A lot of time and care has obviously been put into the look of the place and the result is inviting. Large shafts of light filter in through the windows, accommodated by high ceilings. A long wall of exposed brick adds extra warmth. In the back of the store is a chair made entirely of Louisville Slugger baseball bats, making its own statement about uniqueness and rarity. Riverby has the feel of a library but enough character to remind you that you don’t really have to whisper, you’re among friends.
Capitol Hill Books
Capitol Hill Books has been around for 16 years. Bill Kerr, a former Washington Post writer, opened the store in 1991. Sadly, he died of a heart attack in 1995. Jim Toole bought the store that same year and has since filled it with roughly 19,000 books. To say that this store is filled with books would be an understatement. Every room in this three-story row house is stacked to the ceiling with books. There are bookshelves, to be sure, but many are hard to see because they’re hidden behind multiple layers of paperback and hardback books. The effect is overwhelming but in a wow-this-place-has-everything sort of way. You get the sense that you could leave this store with an empty wallet, no matter how cheap the books. If you want to use the stairs to reach the Fiction Room, you’ll have to wait your turn; a second wall of books makes the stairwell just wide enough for one. The business books are in the business closet, the cultural books, in the cultural closet, and the cookbooks are located in, where else, the kitchen.
Jim, the salty owner, beckons potential customers in with a wave and a bark. And he always has something to say even if you don’t. He and his trusty crew are a large part of the store’s charm.
While you do have to wander through tall hedgerows of books to find what you’re searching for, the store is highly organized, and you can even browse their selections online. But please don’t. You have got to see this store to believe it.
Much like the people in the stories we love, these places have personalities all of their own, and that is something chain stores like Barnes & Noble and Borders will never be able to replace. That independent used bookstores are a dying breed, begs the larger question of how this shrinking individuality impacts on our culture. But, I suppose, that’s another story.