Rest in peace, Borders Books. Last Wednesday, Borders Group filed for bankruptcy protection under Chapter 11, which spurred the imminent closing of one of Evanston’s two behemoth bookstores. If you’ve read any of my columns, you’d probably guess that I’m about to spend the next 450 words waxing poetic about the death of bookstores, but I’m not. Well, not entirely. Not after I finish my short eulogy.
Borders, I once knew ye. Growing up, my house lost power every time the wind blew. In lieu of buying a generator, my parents would pack up my sisters and me and drive over to Borders because it always had power. It wasn’t necessarily close or convenient, but it was the only large bookstore nearby.
It’s pretty hard to believe now, with mammoth Barnes & Nobles sprawling over multiple city blocks in every town larger than Peoria, but 15 years ago, Borders held its ground. Offering little other than books and magazines, it entertained for hours while we waited for what felt like days for our power to return.
Within a few years, we started going to the newer, closer Barnes & Noble, and that was the end of Borders for me. No more sitting in the aisles of the book-stuffed shelves reading Arthur and Franklin books with my sisters or poking through Babysitter’s Club titles. Barnes & Noble was subtly more flashy and well-equipped for the future. It became ubiquitous.
This may just be my nostalgically-skewed perception of one mega bookstore versus another. I’m not remembering the quaint corner book shop that was driven out of town by the big, bad corporation. After all, Borders is newer than Barnes & Noble and superficially quite similar. But Borders is a victim of clinging too closely to the struggling book industry. It would be wrong to look at Borders’ bankruptcy as the dying breath of books because it’s more a case of a company that just didn’t adapt quickly enough.
Amazon debuted its first Kindle in late 2007. Barnes & Noble released Nook, their e-reader, a full two years later. Borders’ entry in the e-book field, the Kobo, came out last year in May. Borders was late on the trend because of their joint online bookstore with Amazon that lasted until 2008. The Kindle wasn’t the first e-reader, but it was the first one that made people wake up and smell the coffee. A bookstore that truly wished to remain relevant had to buck up and digitize. Borders was maybe just too late. My sister and I saw a Kobo in a Borders recently and marveled at its peculiar name, exorbitant price and the overall feeling that it was just missing the mark.
People may bemoan the death of books at the feet of e-readers, but I don’t. Books are changing and diminishing in importance for sure, but they’ll always be around. Think about how often you prefer a tangible textbook to an online reader. E-books are great for consolidation and space economy, but nothing compares to a full bookshelf to flaunt an often-superficial intelligence. Curling up in the corner of a couch with an e-reader on a cold night isn’t the same as opening a book, smelling the pages, reading the distinctive font.
Books have morphed into a symbol, a martyr, a rallying cry. It’s the battered, weathered icon of a fading tradition that once seemed impenetrable. It’s become quaint and nostalgic, a physical time-out from everything else digital in the world. Borders is a victim of e-readers’ crime, but don’t expect bookstores as a whole to disappear. I may no longer have a refuge when my power goes out at home, but at least I can borrow my dad’s Kindle.
Terri Pous is a Medill junior. She can be reached at [email protected].
