In between my adventures with a sinus infection (a constant symphony of nose pyrotechnics) and realizing my dog has crazy eyes, I read an email from Borders tonight. An email declaring the end of Borders. You can read all the CRM sadness below.
I have mixed emotions about Borders closing. Granted, I’m not a proponent of ANY bookstore closing. As more and more of the e-readers flash their wonton wares in my face, the more I revere the creak of a hardback’s spine, the smell of fresh pages, and the weight of a good story. I’m surrounded by books. They make me feel at home. As I write this, I can’t help but glance past my laptop to the bookshelf in my corner. I wonder how many kids will grow up without knowing the joy I had reading Goosebumps and John Grisham (I was a complex kid) during long car rides to the beach or during “quiet time” in grade school.
To be fair, I wasn’t a loyal Borders shopper. I used them as overflow. Barnes and Noble has always been my one true book-love. BN is one of my sacred places that I run to when I need a moment of me. I’ve always felt collected there and relinquished from the drawstrings of outside. Borders always felt fragmented. I didn’t feel like I could discover my next great book affair while peering through the shelves.
Preferences aside, Borders’ passing is something to mark in our collective memory. It’s one of the signs of the Digital Apocalypse. As we forget the ways of printed books to make way for digital tablets, we’ll lose some of the enchantment. Can you imagine reading the Harry Potter series on a tablet?
Goodbye Borders. May the world not lose the magic of books. May you go into the night peacefully with a trail of well-worn prose trailing quietly behind.