I have not always been such a great reader. For most of my adolescence and (embarrassingly), well into my twenties, I read…non-challenging books. I remember showing one old boyfriend, a real reader, the book I had just bought. His eyes popped at the bright pink cover. “Sweetie Baby Cookie Honey?” he read. I could see him re-evaluating our entire relationship (and in retrospect he should have!)
A few years later, I bought my first hardcover (Spartina, by John Casey, for no reason I can remember now) and it sat in a prominent, GROWN UP, spot on my bookshelf. Then I got a job at Shakespeare & Company and set myself on a new trajectory, one of hoarding and obsession, one in which our house has bookshelves in nearly every room and before an upcoming renovation, I had to ward off a panic attack at the prospect of losing one of the larger shelves.
As my buying habits continue unabated, I have noticed a shift in how I shop. In the early days of the internet, I was getting constant deliveries (while continuing to patronize my local stores). Lately though, I don’t shop online. I window shop, but somehow the ability to buy anything I want whenever I wanted took the thrill out of it. It reminded me of when my brother used to collect coins and got a manic look in his eye when he stumbled across a new one.
We are lucky enough to have not one but three fantastic used bookstores within a forty-five minute drive of our house. This has always felt like a gluttony of riches, but then it only got better last weekend, when we discovered the seasonal barn next door to one of them.
Shaker Mill Books in West Stockbridge is, in all seasons, a really good store with a great selection of used books and some new. The owner, Eric Wilska, is clearly an obsessive in the best sense of the word. In the winter, the enormous barn next door to the shop is a place to store inventory, but in the summer he opens it up to the public. It’s like nothing else. It’s full of book art (shelves and pillars and furniture constructed entirely from books, a dress made of pages of an encyclopedia) and incredible books you never knew existed (or imagined could exist): magnum size limited edition books which accompanied exhibits, including a David Hockney (signed by Hockney) and a Rolling Stones book full of candid pictures and signed by every member of the band. Wilska himself is extremely friendly and happy to offer background on some of the more surprising features of the store.
I’ve been thinking about why I’m gravitating to used bookstores, and will write about it later. But first I have to do some more research.
Kate Staples 