Bookstores

I decided to spend some hard-earned money yesterday, so I went on a shopping-spree. Needless to say, I didn't buy not even a scrap of clothing or a pair of boots. I just went traipsing around the mall, shaking my head at the people (mostly women) carrying an assortment of bags in all shapes and sizes in all colors of the rainbow with different logos.

And to think the politicians are preaching about the economic crisis. Have they been in the mall lately? There wasn't anything remotely resembling an economic crisis in the mall yesterday.

Anyway, I was walking leisurely around the mall, took the escalator to the top floor of it...And walked into the bookstore.

It felt like walking home after a year abroad. My knees went weak and, oh so conveniently, there was a plush armchair nearby, so I could throw my wobbly self into it... The scent of paper assaulted my nostrils, the mellow song selection flowing down from the speakers was gentle and soothing, the lighting was just right to calm the eyes, and the conversation between the cashier and the woman buying a children's book for her niece was hushed to perfection to cause as little a distraction as possible...

It hit me then. I haven't seen the inside of a bookstore for too long. I can't even remember when I was last inside one. And I have no idea how that happened. I love books, I adore books, I'd kill for a good book...I'd take a book on a deserted island with me... Okay, I'd take a book and a hunk to try the hot scenes with, but that's another story.

I figure I rely too much on the Internet. Amazon is my home away from home, nowadays. I have a few of my favorite authors, read their series (they all write series, have you noticed that?), and I don't bother with discovering new voices in fiction.

That's what bookstores are for me. A place to explore the back-covers, brush your fingers over the cover art, read a chapter or two...I used to read the ending of books, luckily (or not) I overcome that nasty habit. But maybe it wasn't that nasty. It's quite a comfort knowing the book will have a desired ending before purchase. Oh, well, I grew out of it, and I'm sticking with the not-reading-the-ending part.

Bookstores are also those wondrous places where I could always discover new authors, that's how I became hooked on Sherrilyn Kenyon, Karen Marie Moning, Christine Feehan, and many, many, many more. So by not visiting the bookstores anymore I have neglected this aspect of my reading personality. I have no intention whatsoever of purchasing an "unknown" from Amazon or Barnes&Noble, I need to have the book in my hands to decide whether to buy it or not (if it's not from a known - and loved - author).

Yesterday, I discovered seven new authors (one book was an anthology) and I can't wait to read what they have to say. The blurbs looked promising enough...

And no, I didn't read the ending!