Shopping for Books, circa-1965
Posted by Andie Ryan Blog at 7/15/2009 9:27 PM 
Categories: Writing Life
Tags: Hink's independent bookstores Berkeley
Categories: Writing Life
Tags: Hink's independent bookstores Berkeley
If you've become accustomed to the homogeneous environments of the chain and warehouse stores, you should find your local independent bookseller if only to breathe the air and remember, or get a feel for, how book-buying used to be.
Each store has its own design and feel, its own specialties, and a crew that's not only plugged in to what's getting read that's not on the bestseller lists or the award tables, but available to tell you about selections that will surprise you.
Growing up in Berkeley, independent neighborhood stores -- not necessarily bookstores -- were pretty much all we had as book sources other than libraries: Mr. Mopp's, also a toy store, still in Berkeley, a stone's throw from our family home; Cody's, and Moe's Books, near the UC Berkeley campus; and the old Hink's Department Store on Shattuck Avenue, back when department stores, especially independent family-owned department stores, had book sections. We would be deposited there under the watchful eye of the bookseller (no candy allowed -- drinks were out of the question) while Mom shopped or paid the bill. Books were on the second floor at the top of a winding banistered staircase near the accounting and credit windows, and there was an old-fashioned gumball machine that usually got our business on the way out. There was no gum allowed on the bookseller's watch, either -- she knew us better than we knew ourselves.
Anybody remember stores like this? Anybody remember Hink's? Before Hink's?
Dad was a bigger pushover than Mom when it came to buying books, so we always wanted to go with him when he shopped at White Front, one of the early discount chains in the Western US -- now Target, through a decades-old series of buyouts. White Front carried Nancy Drew mysteries for a dollar or two -- new and in hardcover -- across from the washing machines. We had no idea this was a foreshadowing of what was to come. We just knew we'd get the books if we shopped with Dad.
Then came malls and B. Dalton's and Waldenbooks. Independent bookstore closings. No more book departments.
Independent bookstores are endangered, but entering one now is like stepping back in time -- floor-to-ceiling books, old first editions behind glass cases, real-wood shelves, hand-picked recommendations, and personalized attention. They can order nearly anything you want. There's a love for story in these places, and a long memory where authors are concerned. They're like private libraries, with couches and comfy chairs, area rugs and low tables, people standing in front of the shelves, talking in hushed tones.
If you like books and reading, try to find a couple of hours to escape if you haven't explored an independent bookstore in a while. You'll rediscover yourself.
Each store has its own design and feel, its own specialties, and a crew that's not only plugged in to what's getting read that's not on the bestseller lists or the award tables, but available to tell you about selections that will surprise you.
Growing up in Berkeley, independent neighborhood stores -- not necessarily bookstores -- were pretty much all we had as book sources other than libraries: Mr. Mopp's, also a toy store, still in Berkeley, a stone's throw from our family home; Cody's, and Moe's Books, near the UC Berkeley campus; and the old Hink's Department Store on Shattuck Avenue, back when department stores, especially independent family-owned department stores, had book sections. We would be deposited there under the watchful eye of the bookseller (no candy allowed -- drinks were out of the question) while Mom shopped or paid the bill. Books were on the second floor at the top of a winding banistered staircase near the accounting and credit windows, and there was an old-fashioned gumball machine that usually got our business on the way out. There was no gum allowed on the bookseller's watch, either -- she knew us better than we knew ourselves.
Anybody remember stores like this? Anybody remember Hink's? Before Hink's?
Dad was a bigger pushover than Mom when it came to buying books, so we always wanted to go with him when he shopped at White Front, one of the early discount chains in the Western US -- now Target, through a decades-old series of buyouts. White Front carried Nancy Drew mysteries for a dollar or two -- new and in hardcover -- across from the washing machines. We had no idea this was a foreshadowing of what was to come. We just knew we'd get the books if we shopped with Dad.
Then came malls and B. Dalton's and Waldenbooks. Independent bookstore closings. No more book departments.
Independent bookstores are endangered, but entering one now is like stepping back in time -- floor-to-ceiling books, old first editions behind glass cases, real-wood shelves, hand-picked recommendations, and personalized attention. They can order nearly anything you want. There's a love for story in these places, and a long memory where authors are concerned. They're like private libraries, with couches and comfy chairs, area rugs and low tables, people standing in front of the shelves, talking in hushed tones.
If you like books and reading, try to find a couple of hours to escape if you haven't explored an independent bookstore in a while. You'll rediscover yourself.
Comments