I worked in various bookstores back in the late 80s, including the grand old Scribners on 5th Ave in New York, magnet to Hemmingway,
Patti Smith (my degree of separation from Patti: we both worked with Faith Cross), and Bob Dylan, who I almost bumped into while carrying a stack of
The Bonfire of the Vanities.
Most of those stores have since closed, victims of high rents and low profit margins. Scribners is now a Sephora. At least they also take
browsing seriously.
Today I popped into Forbidden Planet, that merger of sf and Hamleys. Dan Simmons's
Carrion Comfort looked good; I'd enjoyed his reimagining of the Franklin expedition in
The Terror. Unfortunately I couldn't fit it into my already full backpack. And so to Amazon, where a new copy was about half price, delivered, thus further reinforcing its place as the bookstorage which tends to get my money. Why do you do this to me Amazon?
PS. If Scribners was still around it would belong on
this list.