There is a new bookstore in my neighborhood. It is called Bookworms. It has actually been open several weeks now but today was the first chance I had had to visit.
There are few things more hopeful than seeing a new bookstore opening up. It's a sign that someone has enough faith in the literacy and the culture of this area to risk their money, effort, time and dreams in such a venture. I wish them well.
The bookstore is small and it deals mostly in used books, although allegedly it carries new books as well. The only ones that I saw today all appeared to be used. It doesn't have a very varied stock, yet, and it has all its fiction together in one section, so lovers of specific genres have to wade through everything else to find what they want. Moreover, it has a lot of books by authors that I had never heard of, but it also had a good selection of books by some of my favorites and by others that I had been intending to read. I left the store with books by Anne Tyler, Louise Erdrich, Isabel Allende, and Margaret George. More rich fodder for my already bloated "to be read" list.
When the world gets to be too much and the news is all bad, as it has been this week, it's nice to spend some time with books. They are like old friends that always know how to comfort us. They say, "Come and sit with me. We'll laugh together. We'll cry together. We'll talk over old memories. And in the end you will feel better, and the world will slip back into its proper alignment once again."