By Garrison Frost

Bookstores are boring.

There it is. I've said it. I can't take it back now. But then, why would I? Sure, there might be some blowback, but what really do I have to fear from people who find bookstores really exciting?

Nonetheless, admitting that I find bookstores boring isn't easy. I am an avid reader and like to consider myself something of an intellectual. Hell, I've even written a few books (which aren't coming to any bookstore anytime soon). One would think that bookstores would be a home away from home for me. But it's just not true. When I walk into your typical bookstore, usually the first place I go is the magazine section. In another minute or so, I usually realize I have to go to the bathroom and quickly head back to my car. There is something odd about bookstores that seems to make me have to go to the bathroom. It doesn't even matter if I go right before I leave for the bookstore. Once I'm there, I just gotta go. Some of the new chain bookstores (which are the only kind of stores I go to these days) have nice bathrooms, so perhaps because their marketing people identified that their stores have this effect on people. Worth looking into.

Years ago, when I lived in a tiny one-bedroom without a television near downtown Hermosa Beach, I would often drift down to the now legendary Either/Or Bookstore just to sift through the shelves in search of something interesting. Usually, I would only find myself bored, wandering from room to room, occasionally playing with the cat and trying to figure out how long I needed to stay in order to justify the visit. Or how long I could stay before having to go to the bathroom. I used to blame Either/Or for being so uninviting every time, but now I realize that the depleted shelves the store became known for in later years was only part of the problem.

The problem is that I like reading books that interest me. What I don't like is flipping through dozens upon dozens of books that don't interest me in search of one or two that do. And this is my biggest problem as my searching takes me to places such as Borders and Barnes & Noble. These places have a lot of books I couldn't give a shit about – political diatribes by talk radio hosts, celebrity biographies, emotional histories of family pain, examinations of the Civil War, the list goes on and on. My tastes, just like everyone else's, are eclectic, but I don't read everything for Christ's sake.

Another reason the new mega-bookstores bore me is that they're stores, and I like reading at home. Who are all these people who say they like to spend hours wandering through bookstores? Who are these people who stand there and read books they know they won't buy or otherwise finish? And why would I want to buy books from a place that encourages random people to paw through their best stuff for as long as they want.? When I start a book I like to finish it – and I like to do that sitting down ... at home. Bookstores sell things, which means that if I do see a book I want to read at home, I must pay for it – and pay a lot. Have you seen how much books cost these days? I'm amazed that anyone buys books at all.

Bookstore owners go out of their way to make them more comfortable. They provide comfy chairs and cool music and coffee shops and fireplaces – and, of course, clean bathrooms. And all this makes bookstores more inviting than, say, Abertson's and the Department of Motor Vehicles, but not so much more that I'm going to start blowing all my free time there.

This is Southern California. Why not read outside?

(Dec. 2, 2004)

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