The narrative that bookstores are a dying business is not new. For centuries, booksellers have feared existential threats, from public libraries in the 19th century to radio, movies, TV, and paperbacks in the 20th. The belief that the industry is imperiled has always been a staple of the business.
Shoppers are approximately twice as likely to leave a brick-and-mortar bookstore with an unexpected purchase than if they had browsed online. The sensory experience and trusted recommendations from human booksellers create an environment for genuine discovery that algorithms, focused on past behavior, cannot replicate.
While artifacts show what ancient people built, literature reveals how they thought and felt. It operates in a fourth dimension—time—allowing us to connect directly with the consciousness of individuals from vastly different eras, like ancient Egyptians or Aztecs, and understand their worldview from the inside.
Authors like Persian poet Farid Uddin Attar and novelist Virginia Woolf process deep personal and societal trauma not by creating grim sagas, but by embedding their grief within dazzling, life-affirming narratives. This act of transformation turns profound suffering into lasting works of power and beauty.
From Benjamin Franklin's revolutionary press to modern anti-racist and LGBTQ+ shops, bookstores have long served as powerful agents shaping culture and identity. These spaces often prioritize a mission—be it abolition, gay rights, or community organizing—over pure profit, acting as centers for political change.
Contrary to being escapist, the best fantasy literature, from Tolkien to L'Engle, uses imaginary worlds to explore complex real-world issues like war, environmentalism, and social conformity. This fictional distance allows authors to make profound statements and challenge readers' assumptions without being preachy.