Growing up I was always the child with a book in her hand. I’m now the grown up with a book, Kindle or iPad in my hand. I can’t get enough of books. I always carry something to read and I still love bookstores. Although bookstores here in the U.S. don’t have that cramped and stuffed feeling like they do in Europe, I still love them. Deeply.
My case for bookstores started when I was a young girl. My dad and I had a weekly routine of visiting our local Waldenbooks. He would limit me to two books because I was such a fast reader. It was the most magical time. Uninterrupted father-daughter bonding time. We would leave the bookstore and head to Prince’s for burgers and fries. Now, as an adult it’s hard for me to walk into a bookstore and not think of my father.
Bookstores center me, make me smile, and inspire me to continue a legacy of reading. Although I buy books online, I always buy a book from a brick-and-mortar bookstore each month. There isn’t anything better than walking into one of my favorite independent bookstores, flipping through the stacks, reading the book jackets, and deciding on a purchase. Bookstores connect me with my deceased father. Always and forever, daddy’s little girl.
Disclosure: This post was inspired by the novel The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George, where Monsieur Perdu–a literary apothecary–finally searches for the woman who left him many years ago.. Join From Left to Write on October 8th as we discuss The Little Paris Bookshop. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.