Surviving the lack of bookstores

There are no bookstores where I live. The nearest one is about 1000 km. I live in an island. Here, I find lots of natural history books, field guides, or the few-and-far between natural history children’s book. You get the picture.

Whenever I go out - into civilization, I must stop in a book store. 

I go in and a take big breath. To get that smell of book in high quantities, so it will last. I survey the area and the heights of the bookshelves. I go and check the new bestsellers; what is new in the kid’s department; browse through the travel section to learn about some distant place that I would love to go; pass by the stationary and notebook section where I dream of all the thousands of words I will eventually write on soft pages and leather bound notebooks . I dream I live of my writing.

I cherish the vast array of magazines. And read the last page of ‘that’ well-known one. I go back and check the new editions of well-loved books. I breath books. I test the knowledge of the bookstore attendants. They win testing mine. I remember good friends and their book suggestions. I dream of owning (or even working in) one.

I compare the different stores with what one has to offer against the other. Their taste on design and practicality. The carpet vs. the floor. The accessibility of books. I envy the woman sitting in a comfy arm chair mesmerized in a book. I wish I could be her. I applaud the parents with small children in the kid’s book section. I wish I had mine with me then.

I miss a bookstore. Even a tiny wee one would do. I envy you meeting new ones.*

*Written as a comment to "Saying Hello to a New Bookstore" in http://bookriot.com/2013/04/16/saying-hello-to-a-new-bookstore/