An Open Letter to The Last Bookstore
by Amy Lindorff
Dear The Last Bookstore,
Congratulations, you have achieved what I previously thought was impossible.
I have spent a lot of time in bookstores. They range from the usuals (Barnes and Noble, Borders, etc.) to the incredible (Powell’s, Smith Family, that one in Astoria whose name I can’t remember) to the stretches (Target isn’t really a bookstore, but I did buy Tina Fey’s book there so it did the job). Never have I ever been disappointed. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve spent less than twenty minutes in any bookstore and not bought anything.
Then I met you. I was excited to see you because I had heard good things and after almost eight months, still hadn’t found a good used bookstore in LA. So Jerry and I went with high hopes, ready to spend money we didn’t really have on books that (at least for me) would be coming in at number 156 on my to-read list. But there was nothing. You had some great ideas for sections, each with about 100 lame books that I had either already read or had no interest in. You also had a music section, with about a hundred CDs. One was by 98 Degrees (the one boy band no one listened to even when people listened to boy bands) and another was a spoken word album by Donald Trump.
You managed to be a bookstore that I ran out of things to peruse after approximately four minutes and had nothing that I wanted to buy. Impressive.