Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Tatnuck Booksellers, in Worcester, MA, closed. It's just wrong. I loved that store. I loved the creaky wooden floors of the converted old mill building. I loved the way the high windows let in the light but shut out the noise of the city. I loved being able to wander around for hours, picking and choosing what books I wanted to buy that day. I loved the sofas and seating areas scattered throughout the store. I loved that everyone who worked there knew and loved books just as much as I did. I loved that they published local authors. I loved that they had booksignings by small authors as well as the famous ones. I loved the restaurant. I loved the sweet potato fries. I loved that I could get a book and a glass of wine and sit there and read.
I'm so upset by this. I was just there! There was no indication that they were in trouble. The parking lot was packed, the restaurant had lots of people eating and there was a line at the register.
This was the only independent bookseller in Worcester. The only place now to get books is Barnes and fucking Noble. Soul-less, corporate devil that compounds its Wal-mart-esqueness by having a fucking Starbucks in every location. Bastards.
This blows sweaty, hairy donkey balls.