TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=89TT2808> <title> Oct. 23, 1989: Rattling The Chains </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1989 Oct. 23, 1989 Is Government Dead? </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> BOOKS, Page 95 Rattling The Chains </hdr><body> Mom-and-pop shops lure the ambiance chasers The customer at Politics & Prose, a busy bookstore in Chevy Chase, Md., is mightily perplexed. There is this book, she tells the manager, something about the impending economic disaster, written by a Chinese. At most chain bookstores, the personnel might be equally baffled. But the staffer at Politics & Prose thinks for a moment, and then, from among the shop's 20,000 titles, quickly produces a copy of The Great Depression of 1990 by Ravi Batra -- not a Chinese, to be sure, but the right book nonetheless. Sold. That kind of encyclopedic knowledge, combined with personal attention, is one reason why the nation's independent book shops, once a vanishing institution, are flourishing as if they were the newest wrinkle in the retail business. They are prospering despite the fact that the 3,000 outlets of major chains like Barnes & Noble, B. Dalton and Waldenbooks account for about $2.5 billion in book merchandising, or 40% of U.S. sales. Still, the majority of book buyers are ignoring the lure of cheaper prices offered by some chains and are purchasing the remaining 60% from the nation's 6,000 privately owned shops. The independents, says Edward Morrow, president of the American Booksellers Association, "have never been stronger or healthier." It is not simply speedy service and knowledgeable staff that have brought on such robust health. Variety of stock is another major factor. For example, a reader can find John Irving's latest novel, A Prayer for Owen Meany, among the 15,000 or so titles typically carried by a chain store, but in all likelihood will not locate Irving's earlier books. Chain stores need fast turnover; they have little space for backlisted books. By contrast, a shop like Manhattan's Shakespeare & Co., which carries 64,000 titles, will stock practically the entire Irving oeuvre. Buyers also like the idea of the specialty shop. Bodhi Tree Bookstore, the shop in Los Angeles that was featured in Out on a Limb, the TV-movie version of Shirley MacLaine's autobiography, is a pit stop for New Age readers who find that titles like Where Are You Going? help them get in touch with their feelings. The National Intelligence Book Center, which only the most persistent sleuth can find (in an appropriately nondescript Washington building), confines itself to publications on spies and spying; the customers, insists director Elizabeth Bancroft, are mostly professional spooks, who practically need a password to get in and who are asked to leave their parcels -- including, presumably, minicameras -- in lockers that sport the flags of different countries. What seems to satisfy mom-and-pop customers most is a quality that the chains, with their reliance on self-service, rarely provide: the warm ambiance of the hometown library. Buyers prefer to talk to booksellers, not to supermarket-style check-out clerks. They like to attend readings by authors or slip off their shoes in a homey shop, settle into an armchair and browse for an hour. Many of these stores provide coffee and other refreshments; Atlanta's Oxford Books (115,000 titles) has a lunch counter and stays open until 2 a.m. on weekends. Says owner Rupert LeCraw: "We've built a following of regular customers who don't even go into chain stores." Stuart Brent, 70, whose Chicago store has been a bastion of intellectual taste for about 40 years, says, "You have people (those who run chain stores) today who think that life is the bottom line. But the great principle of being an independent is to become passionate about books." Among the more notable book havens where the passion pays off: Cody's Books (75,000 titles; Berkeley). The nation's premier student bookstore caters to an eclectic clientele of intellectuals, street people and nerds with volumes on subjects ranging from Asian philosophy to Brazilian literature. "Look at this!" exults owner Andy Ross, demonstrating the proper passion. "We carry Thomas Mann! We have all of Dickens!" Ross sued two mass-market publishers who, he claimed, discriminated against him by giving unfair discounts to chains. He won an out-of-court settlement but still argues that chains, with their narrow stock of titles and widespread outlets, "limit the availability of ideas in our culture." The Mysterious Bookshop (20,000; New York City). The biggest mystery is how this unassuming little Manhattan shop managed to sell $1 million worth of crime and detective fiction last year despite the presence, within easy walking distance, of five chain outlets. The solution: Mysterious carries hard-to-find whodunits that mystery buffs crave. Says customer Steve Ritterman: "There's much more depth here than in a regular bookstore -- authors you can't find elsewhere." Owner Otto Penzler concedes that he does not do smash business with best sellers by the likes of Robert Parker or Robert Ludlum. "B. Dalton," he says, "has them in the window at 30% off. I can't do that." A Likely Story (20,000; Miami). Strictly for kids, this store was established by three mothers who were concerned that their children were watching too much TV. Decorated like an old rural library, the cozy shop draws customers with classics like Pat the Bunny, a section for teens and toys for prereaders. Special events have included an appearance by popular kiddie author Jack Prelutsky, who read his poem Tyrannosaurus Was a Beast to an SRO crowd. "I love it here," says shopper Aida Littauer. "I tell them what I want, and they pick out the books for me." Season to Taste Books (3,000; Chicago). To an out-of-towner, the shadow of Wrigley Field may seem an odd place to find one of the nation's best cookbook stores, but Season has scored in the now fashionable neighborhood with butcher-block decor and tomes on food and drink, including esoteric offerings such as one on Transylvanian cuisine. Everyone seems hungry for the stock. "Some people collect cookbooks as art," says co-owner Barry Bluestein. "Some see them as sociological studies of what people were eating in different times and places, and some just ask, `Is this a good read?'" Square Books (25,000; Oxford, Miss.). This charming store in a Reconstruction-era building carries a full range of titles and offers tomato-basil pie in a second-floor cafe. Owner Richard Howorth maintains a local flavor with a section devoted to Oxford's best-known citizen, William Faulkner. A small sign above the stack of copies of the 8 1/2-lb. Encyclopedia of Southern Culture reads, $5.98 PER LB. SAME AS CATFISH FILLETS. The Tattered Cover (110,000; Denver). Owner Joyce Meskis says, "We wanted to maintain an ambiance of an old, comfortable slipper." Some slipper. All the books, along with 190 employees and inviting armchairs, are packed into this former department store, making the Tattered perhaps the largest and best independent book outlet in the U.S. But success has brought an unexpected plot twist. Meskis has received offers from several people who want to franchise the operation. So far, she has resisted the temptation. Now the independents have reason to worry about a different kind of temptation. It is called The Reader's Catalog, a large-format, 1,382-page paperback ($24.95) describing more than 40,000 books in print, covering 208 categories ranging from Egyptian literature to sports. Readers can order selections by mail, toll-free telephone or even fax machine. The Catalog is the brainchild of Jason Epstein, editorial director of Random House, who is publishing it privately. The idea, says Epstein, arose out of his own frustration: "There wasn't enough shelf space in the stores." He is counting on the convenience of mail-order shopping, and may have hit on a winning enterprise. Still, the thriving independents hope that buying a book from your armchair catalog won't be so satisfying as browsing through a volume in an armchair at your local mom-and-pop shop. </body></article> </text>