by Michael Finley
Copyright © 1997 by Michael Finley

I think Longfellow best summed up the way we think about bookstores: "The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, and all the sweet serenity of books."

But now, we look about and what do we see? Bookstore wars. It's true. The hum of sweet serenity has been replaced by the high whine of book-bitching:

Independent bookstores have been distressed for years that national warehouse bookstores like Barnes & Noble and Borders are moving in and setting up discount shop, Wal-Mart style, across the street from them. These bookstores feel they provide a level of service and customer intimacy the big stores can't match. Problem is, they can't compete on volume and prices.

The biggest nationwide bookstore, Barnes & Noble, has been offended that new online counterpart Amazon.com has been calling itself the world's largest bookstore, with 3 million books online. Amazon did revolutionize book-buying by remembering customers and suggesting related titles. But B&N sells vastly more books.

And Amazon, last year's Wall Street wonder, was dealt a mighty blow when Barnes & Noble created its own online entity this summer. Worse yet, the burly newcomer had forged partnerships like the one with the online New York Times Review of Books. Each reviewed book offers a hotlink to purchase the book -- but only from Barnes & Noble.

Meanwhile, new and unlikely players are getting into the act. Best Buy, the computer and refrigerator store, is going into book-selling. If you have ever tried to get detailed information about Microsoft Windows from a Best Buy sales person, imagine getting one of the blue shirts to help you find the perfect book for Uncle Al. Circuit City, hearing that Best Buy was going into the book business, nearly shot milk out its nose.

Across the country, onetime bookworms are up in arms over the changes in the industry. Say something nice online about Barnes & Noble, and you will be assailed by people whose deep allegiance is to the mom 'n pop bookshops. Bring back the old days, these people are saying. But the old days appear unrecallable.

Despite everything you hear about declining literacy in the U.S., people are buying books like never before. Over three months time, six of ten American adults buy books, to the tune of 1.7 billion books a year. Superstores like Barnes & Noble deserve some of the credit, for creating comfortable stores where people can browse to their heart's content, even sitting to copy a recipe from a book.

But the surface health of the book industry belies some disturbing trends. Though the number of published titles continues to rise, the percentage of profitable titles has been plummeting. A relative handful of celebrity books ("Garfields and Grishams") do well; the rest, forget it.

And the big stores now run publishing, much as Wal-Mart runs much of manufacturing. Observers blamed Barnes & Noble this summer when HarperCollins, the biggest trade publisher, canceled 100 "midlist" books scheduled for 1998. So one price of big bookstores is fewer and dumber titles, more likely written by RuPaul than Rupert Brooks. (Looking for interesting celebrity books, I found something by 6'2" drag queen RuPaul at BarnesandNoble.com called "Lettin' It Disp," costing $119.70, available in 4-6 weeks.)

I have sympathy for the small stores. They are in the business more from love than greed. In low volume, books are not big moneymakers. But small booksellers are in the same position as small retailers of every other product, from pet food to hardware, who are getting blown away by superstore competitors. I don't feel more sorry for a bookstore than I do for the corner coffeeshop getting blown out of the water by Starbucks. In America, no one has the right to stay in business. Insert non-smiley corporate face here.

And I confess I enjoy the wide-open feeling at Barnes & Noble and Borders. To me, the people who work there seem no less professional, and to love books just as much as people at smaller shops.

But lately I have become a volume buyer with Amazon.com. If you want to find every book on a topic, use the online search engine. Last week I wanted books on dog psychology, and I got a list of 50 in-print titles, with mini-reviews and suggestions of slightly different topics, like the history of dogs. So many sounded good, I wound up buying eight.

The only problem was, I was unable to hold them in my hand before purchasing, and leaf through. When the package arrived, six titles delighted me. But a couple, within one second of sensory examination, I regretted buying. The cover on one was shellacked and the type was just a wee bit big. The book was aimed at adolescents. The other was written in the dull style bad books have boasted since "Areopagitica." It was aimed at no one.

But it's caveat emptor in the wide world of books. Here's urging all of you to turn off that TV, prop up those feet, and take a chance on a book from the booknook, megastore, or online provider of your choice, and feast on the sweet serenity therein.

RuPaul, give me what you got.

Michael Finley is co-author with Harvey Robbins of THE NEW WHY TEAMS DON'T WORK.Visit Michael Finley at his home page, or e-mail him at mfinley@mfinley.com