When I was a small boy, too small to understand the complex and sinister machinations of the free market, I came across the Books-A-Million in Trenholm Plaza, where everything was great and not horrible. I distinctly remember playing around in the cheap plastic playhouse in the patented “distract-the-kids-and-shop” area. It was awesome.
I came across the same bookstore when I was a slightly older boy, deep into the not-really-caring final year of high school. By this time, I liked reading books. So, I went in, ordered a $2 coffee and bought a book. I would go there almost every day for three months.
Over that time, I met Butler E. Brewton, an accomplished English professor straight out of the ’70s, with black mutton chops and a straight, white goatee. We’d play chess and talk about books. I met Jim, a homeless guy who’d gently talk about astrology to whoever would listen. I met the circle of elders, octogenarians who would gather round the café and shoot the wind.
I read more books in those months than I had in the past year. It was awesome.
It must have been around February when I heard that the store was being closed. Now, we know it will be gutted, bisected and turned into a couple of posh clothing stores. I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t. Many people enjoy dressing themselves up in nice clothes. They like having other people see them in nice clothes. This is an understandable impulse.
Comparatively, not as many people like reading books. The few who do read have Amazon.
Remember those complex and sinister machinations of the free market? They killed Books-A-Million. It’s the reason there isn’t room for bookstores anymore. The last one left in that area, Richland Mall’s Barnes & Noble, is on its way too. (The Happy Bookseller is long gone, for those of you who missed it.) The Russell House Bookstore has an extensive catalogue, nestled into the corner, hidden behind sweaters, carbohydrates and coffee.
The last few weeks at BAM were the most depressing. With chasmal prices, customers flocked like carrion, picking up books for the deals. The circle of elders wore going-away party hats and gave out cake to the regulars. In red icing: “Thanks for the memories, BAM.” Last I heard, they were moving over to the nearby Bi-Lo.
I know that this is the way things are going generally, and there’s no use complaining. This is the free market, directed by big people making big decisions in well-lit rooms, deciding that we need more variety in clothing more than we need books. It’s nobody’s fault, not really.
Still, without getting any more sentimental, I think people should realize that we lost something valuable. At least we’ll have more clothes, though, right?