When Did You Last Step Into A Bookstore?

Howard Fishman's comment published in The New Yorker on October 24, 2019 flagged a most interesting idea, 'Should We Pay to Enter Bookstores?' Bookstores have long struggled with serving a purpose, balancing the books (pun not intended) and their bottom lines. Nominal entry fees might just offset utility bills and keep a small bookstore afloat.

This isn't a new idea, although it's something that hasn't been implemented much, or at least it isn't compulsory. Many comic shops institute a 'reading charge', which means you could stay for the hour or two, and read all the comics you want without buying them, because we know, comics all come in a series and poor students can't afford that. Mainstream bookstores haven't fully done that yet. They do have plenty of options for book clubs or book subscriptions, the sorts.

While browsing a table of new books at the Strand and spotting one that I wanted to buy, I experienced a common, modern-day itch: Do I purchase the book there and then from the Strand without pause, thus supporting bookstores, publishers, authors, and everything that I believe in? Or do I drive myself crazy by pulling out my phone and checking how much money I would save were I to buy the book online?

It struck me that I haven't visited a bookstore in the longest time. I buy books online nowadays and borrow hard copies from friends. I love second-hand bookstores and happily contributed loads of money there because I get those books faster than from the library. Even those, have sadly gone out of business. When Kinokuniya closed its Liang Court store, that really killed my interest in bookstores. I didn't want to traipse to Ngee Ann City just to browse at its Orchard store. To me, that's a rather inconvenient location that gives me angst each time I navigate through the crowds. There's something magical about having the leisure to browse and pick out titles to buy. I enjoy that. But often, I simply don't have the time to do so.

There're local independent bookstores around to purchase items from. But if a hard copy is desired, I tend to buy it from their online portals. I don't bother shipping in books from overseas unless they're titles I can't find here.  Also, some independent bookstores really jack up the prices of regional and international books. While I don't mind paying a little more, I don't really want to do it for every book. I don't have a moral high ground on this one.

If the entry fee is kept at a nominal rate, I wouldn't mind paying at all. I would pay to browse. Hahahha. I read really fast. Flipping through the books would tell me if I want them on my bookshelf. I don't want to buy a book for the sake of buying a book. And if I leave the store empty-handed, then I won't feel so bad about not buying anything.

Bellamy was adamant that he does not want to rely on gimmicky revenue streams like coffee, tote bags, and notepads in order to stay afloat (“Anything but books,” he said, sardonically)—and certainly not an entrance fee. “I want to do it the traditional way,” he told me. “If the greatest city in the world can’t support me, I’m gonna close my doors and head up a country road,” he declared. Sarah McNally, the owner of the McNally Jackson chain, feels the same way. “Bookstores are havens,” she said. “They’re one of the few public spaces left. It’s my responsibility as a bookstore owner to figure out how to stay competitive. Charging admission?” she asked, incredulously. “What about children? What about teen-agers? Absolutely not,” she said. “I’d rather close.” 

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So, pay to walk in to the Strand, or McNally Jackson, or Spoonbill? I would, certainly, and I have a hunch that others would, too, especially if all bookstores (or even all physical stores) instituted the same policy. It may not serve to topple Goliath, but it may at least hold him at bay until we can figure out a better slingshot.