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Fabulosa Books: The Castro’s Living Room

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by Scott Lambridis

A young man from Texas walked into Fabulosa Books, looked at the wall of queer titles, and started crying. “Is this all gay stuff?” he asked. When an employee named Becka told him yes, the young man asked if he could hug her. Moments like that, owner Alvin Orloff says, are why the bookstore exists. “People are traumatized,” he told me. “It’s really important for them to be able to buy queer stuff in public and see it all there.” 

Fabulosa Books sits on Castro Street, in the space once occupied by A Different Light, the legendary queer bookstore that helped anchor the neighborhood through the AIDS crisis. When that store closed in 2011, the Castro went five years without a bookstore at all.

Orloff had been working for years at Dog Eared Books on Valencia Street, one of San Francisco’s beloved literary hubs. I first met him there when he hosted a monthly NYRB Classics book club I was part of. In 2016 he helped open a Dog Eared branch in the old A Different Light location, bringing a bookstore back to the Castro—and bringing with it the kind of literary curation he loved: small presses, forgotten classics, and books that would never appear in an airport kiosk. 

Then, in 2019, at the release party for Orloff’s own memoir, his boss leaned over and made an offer. Did he want to buy the store? Orloff said yes. Then the pandemic shut everything down. “I was leaving the house to go file the papers,” he said, laughing. “And City Hall closed.”

For a while, the idea stalled. Castro Street, he says, was “dead, dead, dead.” But two years later, staring down his 60th birthday, he decided to go for it. “Now or never,” he said. “I’ve got to become a bookstore magnate.”

In 2021 he bought the store and renamed it Fabulosa Books. At first, the shop wasn’t especially LGBTQ-focused. But after the 2016 election and a noticeable shift in national rhetoric, Orloff began expanding the store’s queer inventory. What started as maybe 10 or 15 percent of the stock grew to more than half.

“The more homophobic society becomes,” he said, “the more people circle the wagons and reclaim their identities.” Today, the store’s identity is unmistakable. The LGBTQ section greets visitors right at the front door. The space itself is bright and airy—more open than Dog Eared’s famously packed Valencia shop—with local art on the walls and a small corner of stickers, buttons, and postcards for tourists or anyone who wants a keepsake they can slip into a carry-on.

Fabulosa has to wear two hats at once: the Castro’s queer bookstore and its only general neighborhood bookstore. That means stocking everything from queer memoirs to popular fiction to obscure literary gems. Orloff doesn’t mind the balancing act. “You can’t take your parents to the gay bar,” he said. “But you can bring them to the bookstore.” Couples wander in on dates. Tourists make pilgrimages after reading Tales of the City. Parents sometimes bring newly out kids. “They come in slightly freaked out,” he said, “and leave slightly less freaked out.” 

That moment between Becka and the young man from Texas helped spur her to start Books Not Bans, a nonprofit hosted by Fabulosa that sends banned books to LGBTQ+ organizations in conservative areas.

The business realities remain challenging—rents, online shopping, the shrinking culture of public literary events—but Orloff approaches it with both realism and humor. “I’m not in charge of whether people want a robust literary culture,” he said. “What I can do is make this bookstore as appealing as I possibly can.”

Some things carry forward. “We still do NYRB Classics,” he told me. “We’ve got a shelf.” It’s one of those quiet throughlines from the book club I knew at Dog Eared to the store he runs now.

In a neighborhood built on visibility, Fabulosa has become exactly what the Castro has always needed.  Like it was for that young man from Texas, it’s more than a shop. It’s a place where you can browse, talk books, and maybe recognize someone else who understands why it matters.

Scott Lambridis

Scott Lambridis is a novelist based in Bellingham, Washington. A former indie press founder, performance series organizer, olive farmer, and progressive rocker, he studied neurobiology at the University of Virginia, earned an MFA from San Francisco State University, and read a book from every country in the world. His debut novel, St. Ulphia’s Dead, is forthcoming from Regal House Publishing on July 7, 2026. Learn more at scottlambridis.com 

Tsunami Books — A Beloved Bookstore Moves to Buy the Building

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by Amalia Gladhart

Over the course of thirty years, Tsunami Books in Eugene, Oregon, has hosted thousands of readings, theater revues, writers’ workshops, and concerts. The eclectic stock includes new and used books, with a strong selection of local authors; anything you can’t find, they’ll gladly order. It’s my neighborhood bookstore. I’ve attended readings, listened to music, and read from the stage myself.

Murals, sale racks, and a glorious fig tree frame the entrance. Inside, the light is warm and comfortable. There’s a welcoming quiet, the scent of beeswax from a shelf of candles, the up and down hum of conversation among browsers and staff. Kept afloat by a talented, hardworking crew of worker-owners, Tsunami has enjoyed unusual community support and investment. Now, in addition to a full calendar of music and book events and publication projects, co-founder and general manager Scott Landfield is leading an effort to buy the building.

Scott and I sat down on the stage—built, like the surrounding shelves, from gorgeous recycled lumber—to talk about Tsunami past and present. It’s been thirty years. It’s been a struggle, every month, scrapping for rent. At the start, they occupied only the front of the building. In 1998, they were told they had to take over the whole building or move out. The back half, a former grocery warehouse with two inches of standing water on the floor, needed extensive remodeling.

The recycled lumber used to build the shelves and stage is a clear point of pride for Scott. Schools and colleges across Oregon and Washington were pulling out their wooden gymnasium bleachers, replacing them with plastic or aluminum. Wood from some thirty-five schools is incorporated, as well as Lane County native wood.

There’s a lot to be proud of. Over 5000 events and activities. Musicians who come praise the acoustics. Scott has been active in making the street more pedestrian friendly and hospitable to business, convincing the city to install a traffic light and reduce the speed limit. Tsunami Press has published a couple of books. Their second book, Bookstore Clerks and Significant Others, got a starred review from Kirkus, and Kirkus picked it one of the top 100 indie press books of 2024. They’ve hosted a lot of wakes, Scott told me, including a living wake for a man in his nineties; they had to bring in a hospital bed. They’ve hosted three weddings.

And the community. “The thing about this place is the way the community has stepped up, so many times,” Scott said. The first round came in 2005. Burnt out and considering bankruptcy, Tsunami announced a going out of business sale, aiming to sell everything and get out of debt. Instead, a trio of community members offered a $35,000 stake if they’d keep the store open. At that point, Tsunami established a Neighborhood Shareholder Corporation. Shares were limited, with consensus required to move any shares. When the building owner later decided to sell, giving Scott thirty days to come up with the purchase price, a local developer stepped in at the last minute to buy the property, allowing the store to continue for two years on a handshake agreement. When it came time to sign a new lease, however, Scott didn’t own a house he could put up as collateral—a standard requirement—so he was asked to place $302,000 in an escrow account. That led to the second big fundraising push. Scott created a form of local crowdfunding that quickly raised more than was needed (the overage immediately returned to donors).

Why try to buy the building now? There are a few reasons. After thirty years, they’ve paid almost two million in rent. It feels like time. They’ve been able to hire and retain a skilled and imaginative staff, yet the crew, despite earning a respectable hourly rate, lack health insurance; none of them are homeowners. Scott takes home less than minimum wage. The current building owner has been decent, has made accommodations, but rent is still a stretch. A new partnership with the Eugene Foundation, supporting the store’s arts events (not rent or payroll), got people thinking about the possibility of a nonprofit ownership structure. [https://www.eugeneparksfoundation.org]

Most of all, the initiative is a response to hard times, to war and frustration; it’s a move to do something proactive. Last year was difficult. When Scott wrote an article in the Eugene Weekly about buying local during hard times, supporting your favorite local businesses, business took off for about two months. That’s when the Parks Foundation came in.

Scott choked up when he talked about being in the store the Saturday after the war in Iran broke out, grappling with the senseless deaths of so many girls when their school was bombed. It hit him hard. And at the same time, the store was packed. Scott told me it was like COVID, as if people got a notice: time to get some groceries, get some books, and hang out at home for a while. It was three days of worried customers looking for books and some kind of reassurance. People needed to be together, needed to laugh. He described it as a weird form of hysteria: on the one hand, his grief and anger at the war; on the other, the urge to comfort people, put them in a good mood. “It’s best if hysteria leads to hysterical laughter,” he said. “Some of the best one liners I’ve ever had in my life, and not about the system, not about the war, none of that stuff. So there was a lot of laughter in the building.” But after three days—three days of record sales— it was too much. What could we do? he asked himself. Tsunami had to do something.

Scott announced his intention to buy the building. He got permission from the other bookstore owners. The goal: keep a key place of property in music and arts. Then he built a tip box. The plan was to put out the tip box for thirty days while they figured out what to do next. To buy the building, Tsunami would need to raise a million dollars.

The box, built using wood scraps from six different sets of grade school bleachers, raised $14,000 in thirty days. The idea caught on—now people come into the store excited, asking how the purchase effort is going. They want to take part, join in.

The next step is a GoFundMe, slated to go live on May 1. Scott hopes to bring in $5 or $10 each from a hundred thousand people. If they can raise a solid chunk in small donations, he’s optimistic he can find a few larger donors. A successful purchase will include a legal covenant, one that will keep the property in books, music, and the arts in perpetuity. If it changes hands, the covenant goes with it. Nothing will come out of the GoFundMe until it’s clear a deal is going forward—if they can’t raise enough, everything will be refunded.

Why might readers beyond Eugene be moved to contribute? Because of that promise. Because of community, art, survival. Worker-owners. Laughter in the face of grief and frustration. Musicians from twenty-five countries playing their songs and telling their stories. Poets reading their poems.

What’s Scott looking forward to? Reasons to stay active for another ten years. Staffer Emily Poole’s book is coming out in September and they plan to fill the building with artwork. She’s also working on the cover for a second Tsunami anthology. There’s a secret stash of unpublished Ken Kesey work, other local treasures Scott has an eye on.

“We wanted to come up with a big idea,” Scott told me, “but the big idea came up with us. We have built a country where we can rest on our laurels very well. Very well. But we need to be proactive. You don’t create world peace by creating a department of war. Keeping a key piece of property in simple arts, in music and books, is what we can do here.”

He concludes, “It’s a counter-offensive. I’m not using the term war. It’s not a battle. It’s just people getting by in the world.” He thinks, ultimately, that’s what a great many people are looking for. People who want to read books, hear music, and go home to a roof over their heads.

Amalia Gladhart is a writer and translator in Oregon. A former bookseller—both new and used—she is always on the lookout for a good indie bookstore. Her novel, Edge Pieces, is forthcoming from Regal House in spring, 2028. Learn more and subscribe to her newsletter at amaliagladhart.com.

Kepler’s Books: Building a Bookstore Around Its People

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by Scott Lambridis

Kepler’s Books in Menlo Park has the reputation of an institution. Founded in the 1950s by peace activist Roy Kepler, it was once a gathering place for Beat thinkers, Stanford students, and even early performances by the Grateful Dead.

But when I sat down with Community Engagement Officer (CEO) Praveen Madan last year, that history wasn’t what stayed with me most. What stood out was a simple idea: Kepler’s isn’t trying to build the best bookstore around books. It’s trying to build the best bookstore around its people.

When Praveen first became involved with Kepler’s, he came from the corporate world and had never run a bookstore before. The store had faced closure before—most dramatically in 2005, when news of the shutdown sparked protests and drew thousands into the plaza outside.

By the time Praveen arrived in late 2011, the situation was quieter but no less urgent. The board had again decided to close the store, this time before the news had spread publicly. What followed wasn’t a public outcry, but months of behind-the-scenes work: restructuring debts, raising funds, and reimagining what the bookstore could be. The message, even then, was clear: this place mattered.

Soon Praveen found himself stepping into the vacuum of leadership. “There wasn’t really an owner,” he told me. “They just expected me to run it.”

What followed was less a rescue than a reinvention.

Praveen believes the real competitive advantage of an independent bookstore isn’t price, inventory size, or logistics. It’s the staff. “Our biggest asset is our people,” he explained. The booksellers are the first line of curation—the people who decide what appears on the shelves and what gets recommended to readers.

And at Kepler’s, that curation shows. Though the store itself isn’t enormous, almost every shelf intrigues: literature in translation, unusual small-press titles, books about nonviolence or sustainability, unexpected staff picks.

Praveen described a constant gravitational pull in bookselling. If you’re not careful, the catalogs of the biggest publishers can quietly take over your shelves. “They have the big sales teams, the big titles,” he said. “If you’re not paying attention, the Big Five will consume your store.” Kepler’s fights that gravity intentionally, highlighting independent presses, diverse voices, and books that might otherwise be overlooked.

One bookseller, Jasmine, described their approach this way: they feature “not the sparkly famous person book for kids, the beautiful one that you’ll love in 50 years.”

They pay attention to what people want, but also to what they believe people might need. A good bookstore finds the balance between both. Each year they even publish a holiday list of 80 staff recommendations, a customer favorite.

But building a staff capable of that kind of curation requires something bookstores have historically struggled to offer: decent wages.

So Kepler’s made an unusual decision. Instead of maximizing profit, they decided to maximize wages. The store aims to devote roughly 35% of its revenue to staff compensation, far higher than the industry norm.

To make that work, they experimented with creative solutions: a voluntary living-wage surcharge, a membership program, and perhaps most significantly, a structural innovation. Kepler’s spun off its extensive author-events program into a nonprofit—the Kepler’s Literary Foundation—so the bookstore itself wouldn’t have to subsidize those events with retail profits.

The result is a hybrid model that has drawn attention from bookstores across the country, and the Reimagine Bookstores campaign, which Praveen helps lead.

Standing in the store, watching customers browse shelves curated by booksellers who love what they do and feel well-supported, the logic seems obvious. If you want a great bookstore, you start by taking care of its people. 

Scott Lambridis

Scott Lambridis is a novelist based in Bellingham, Washington. A former indie press founder, performance series organizer, olive farmer, and progressive rocker, he studied neurobiology at the University of Virginia, earned an MFA from San Francisco State University, and read a book from every country in the world. His debut novel, St. Ulphia’s Dead, is forthcoming from Regal House Publishing on July 7, 2026. Learn more at scottlambridis.com 

Green Apple Books: A Thousand Small Improvements

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by Scott Lambridis

I arrived at Green Apple Books as they were opening for the day. Staff were rolling carts of sale books onto Clement Street, those irresistible sidewalk stacks I had to convince myself to ignore. 

Inside, the store feels a little like an oversized San Francisco apartment that somehow kept expanding over the years. The floors change beneath your feet. Hallways narrow and widen. Odd-sized stairs appear and disappear. The layout twists and turns in multiple dimensions, unified only by the bookshelves and, perched high on top, a dizzying array of art and strange artifacts. There’s a sense that if you turned away for a moment, something might shift.

Pete Mulvihill, one of the store’s owners, led me through the maze. We settled into a pair of chairs upstairs in the philosophy section, appropriately under reconstruction. Green Apple is, at its core, the result of steady adaptation. 

The original owner opened the shop while working for United Airlines, running it only on weekends at first. “This used to be an apartment,” Pete told me. “He just gutted it and put in bookshelves. Cut a hole in the wall.” Over time, the store expanded into neighboring spaces, something that would be far harder to do today. 

From the beginning, the philosophy was to respond to readers. “Sell more of what’s selling,” Pete said, recalling the founder’s advice. 

But that instinct has always been in tension with something else: curation.

“Bad books hide good books,” he said.

Green Apple is legendary among hardcore readers for its collection. Every time I visit, the shelves overflow with titles from my to-read list, and even the briefest of browsing yields new gems. Featured sections like Customer Favorites, the Green Apple Hall of Fame, and 50 Years of Green Apple show the glory of not just their lineage but the taste of the curators. 

That’s the point. If you have to sift through noise to find something worthwhile, the whole experience breaks down. 

That balance between responsiveness and discernment is shaped as much by economics as by taste.

Books have fixed prices. Margins are thin. Rent and labor costs in San Francisco are a constant challenge. “If publishers gave us five percent more,” Pete said, “there’d be twice as many bookstores.” And Amazon, of course, is always there, training customers to expect speed and discounts that independent stores simply can’t match. 

So survival comes down to all the other decisions. 

Used books help, though they require more labor, each one bought, evaluated, and priced by hand. Staff curate deeply, sometimes sourcing titles from overseas or working directly with tiny publishers. “We’ll go out of our way for something special,” Pete said. “Even if I have to put it on a credit card.” 

The store also thinks beyond the transaction. Pete helped found San Francisco’s “Local First” initiative, built around a simple idea: shopping locally keeps money circulating locally. Studies showed that roughly 62% of a bookstore purchase stays in the community—compared to effectively none with Amazon. Green Apple has leaned into that ethos, supporting neighborhood events, street improvements, and the kind of independent commercial fabric that Clement Street still manages to sustain.

And then there are the thousand small experiments. 

Some are subtle, such as shifting shelf space, refining sections, adjusting inventory. Others are more direct. Pete described one recent success: “a staff member suggested ‘dad-style’ baseball caps, and they sold so quickly that we ended up ordering 1,000. It’s fun spotting them out in the world.”

Events are another piece of the equation. While the Clement Street store hosts smaller readings, much of Green Apple’s programming now happens at its second location across Golden Gate Park, a space designed to hold larger crowds. For even bigger events, they’ll even go offsite. As a result, the store can host everything from intimate conversations to major literary events such as a feature with Ocean Vuong. Sometimes things get weirder. Pete told me about one appearance by Dave Eggers, who once offered relationship advice from a booth. On another occasion, he gave haircuts to a couple of brave volunteers.

“That big event pays for the little poetry reading where two people buy a book,” Pete said.

It’s all part of the same system: a store constantly adjusting, constantly redistributing energy from one part of the business to another.

“It’s the opposite of death by a thousand cuts,” Pete said. “It’s a thousand little improvements.”

It’s the perfect description. Not just of how Green Apple survives, but of how it feels to walk through it. 

Scott Lambridis is a novelist based in Bellingham, Washington. A former indie press founder, performance series organizer, olive farmer, and progressive rocker, he studied neurobiology at the University of Virginia, earned an MFA from San Francisco State University, and read a book from every country in the world. His debut novel, St. Ulphia’s Dead, is forthcoming from Regal House Publishing on July 7, 2026. Learn more at scottlambridis.com 

Interview with Jenny Shima, owner of The Literary

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by Brett Ashley Kaplan

The Literary has become a central hub in downtown Champaign, Illinois, since it opened in 2021. Champaign-Urbana is a micro-urban college town about one hundred and thirty miles south of Chicago. I’ve lived here for 23 years. At first, it was a struggle—it’s safe to say that Champaign is significantly quieter than my native New York. Over the years, I have developed a deep appreciation for the community, for the town, and of course, for the University of Illinois, where I have served on the faculty as a Professor of Comparative and World Literature and the Director of the Initiative in Holocaust, Genocide, Memory Studies. The Literary has done a lot to enrich our community!

When Jaynie asked us to pick a local bookstore and interview the owner for BookBound, I immediately thought of The Literary! It’s not just a bookstore: it’s a café, a wine bar, a meeting place. They host book launches, knitting circles, children’s reading hour, and book clubs (and more!). I’ve had many writing group meetings at The Literary wherein we all discussed each other’s work whilst sipping wine or kombucha. I’ve spent many hours there with a cappuccino and my laptop, wrestling with my fiction or answering endless streams of email. There are couches, comfy chairs, stools, and proper tables so you can pick your spot. They also satisfy the urges of notebook addicts like me and my daughters, and we’ve often purchased sturdy blank ones or mugs or silly earrings. The Literary hosted the book launch for my first novel, Rare Stuff, during which I had the great pleasure to be in conversation with the inimitable Deke Weaver. The joint was bursting at the seams, and everyone enjoyed a glass or wine or other beverage as we chatted. It was a memorable evening for which I am super grateful!

On 5 February 2026, I sat down with Jenny Shima, The Literary’s owner. This interview has been edited for clarity.

Is there a connection with the community centered bakery and coffee shop, Hopscotch?

I started The Literary in 2021, when we thought the pandemic was over the first time and it was really exciting. I wanted to create it because I’d lived here for a few years and thanks to the pandemic, hadn’t made any friends. So I figured if I build it they will come, you know? We all had such a desperate need to learn how to reconnect again after that isolating experience, and I wanted to create the opportunity to share community again. When we opened our doors, we were under the impression that the pandemic was dying down and of course, three days after we opened our doors they said, ‘Just kidding Delta is now in existence and we’re going back to masks.’ Somehow we made it through, but when we opened, it was with Hopscotch Bakery. I’d never met the owner before and sort of impulsively I was like, ‘Hey, you’ve got a cute place. You’re doing good stuff. Let’s get together,’ and we did! They were with us providing coffee and food for a little under two years and then the owner moved to Boise and we started our own kitchen and café in their absence. I had never set out to open a restaurant, it just wasn’t in my life plan, but here we are and it turns out it’s really fun.

What kind of vibe were you seeking and maybe not finding in extant bookshops in the city?

I designed The Literary like my own home and with inspiration from places that I admire; I wanted this space to be warm. I wanted it to be comfortable. One of the gripes I have about the big box bookstores was that they have no place to sit and read the books, which is probably strategic because they want you to purchase and then leave. I wanted a place for people to soak up the books, to find out if it’s a match, before you take it home with you. Maybe while you’re here somebody else is reading a similar book and you strike up a conversation. It was also important to me that we had a lot of art in here to spark imagination and make sure that we’re representing a lot of different kinds of people and a lot of different experiences of reading.

Do you ever showcase local artists?

We do! Not as much as I would like to because we just don’t have a lot of space—our walls are covered in books for the most part!—but we do a tiny art show every year on our large wall in the café. We have an original mural by Leslie Kimble on that wall now and she did a great job. It’s not much, but that’s what we’re able to do with our space and it’s a lovely way to bring art and books together.

Awesome! What kind of books do you like?

Oh my gosh, I have historically loved capital L literature but I have more recently fallen in love with fantasy books. Most recently, I’ve loved Brandon Sanderson’s Stormlight Archive series. Each book is about one thousand pages and it reads forever which I love. There’s no such thing a book that’s too big in my opinion. I also loved the My Brilliant Friend series by Elena Ferrante—I’ve never read writing like hers. What is the magic behind her pen? Every sentence is just impactful, incredible. I lived in Louisville when I was reading that series and I read the first book while I was very, very pregnant during a rare snowstorm. When I finished the first book I put on my boots—I couldn’t drive because it was too snowy—and walked to the independent bookstore, Carmichaels, and got the second book because I couldn’t wait. I had to read it right away! I’ve also made a point of trying to read outside my genre and I surprised myself with a Western, Lonesome Dove, that I absolutely fell in love with. It was such a beautiful story, it’s well written and the characters have incredible development. I’m reading Ronald Takaki’s Strangers from a Different Shore right now, I’m only just beginning—it’s a big book!

Are there any book clubs that The Literary hosts?

Oh yes, we have a lot of book clubs—our booksellers each host a book club every month and they choose any book they like. Some book clubs are interest-based, for example, we have a science fiction/fantasy book club that always reads a different title in that genre. It’s a lot of fun. We have a book buyer here whose name is Cale, and their job title is Book Wizard; they choose all the books that we have. This used to be my role but I’m really happy to pass the torch because they have a lot more time to dedicate to curating our collection. We try hard to respond to what the community is looking for when we choose books and we also rely on our special orders. We have a lot of people who order books that we don’t have in the shop and that’s how we meet a lot of cool new books that were not our radar. Many of them end up on our shelves!

Good to know! I’ve special ordered a couple of books through The Literary because I decided a long time ago that I would never use a certain big online retailer again. I closed my account completely. So, I special order often, but I didn’t realize that it could impact the choices an independent bookstore makes. Readers, take note! Your choices matter!

When we pick up a special order we are often like, ‘Oh my God, this looks amazing!’ So, our community is actively curating our collection as well, which is really kind of great.

Yes, that’s really awesome! So, then my next question is about Champaign: do you feel like The Literary is very specific to this town or is it a sort of recipe that could be exported anywhere? Or does it thrive on its interface with this community?

I don’t know. I will know more if we open a second store—we are not thinking of doing anything right now; I think my instinct is that we’ve become very specific to Champaign, our collection is reflective of our community and we do so much with our local organizations and nonprofits that I’d imagine we’re quite Champaign specific at this point. I’d imagine the reading tastes would be different in another place; it’s something I’m curious about. For example, the advice when you open a new bookstore is to have a huge romance section because romance readers keep your doors open and that’s what I did when I opened, but it didn’t move that well. Turns out sci-fi/fantasy is the section that resonates with so many people in Champaign-Urbana—that is one of our biggest sections.

I am seeing lots of people here at all your book launches and book talks; recently I came to Gus Woods’ launch of Class Warfare in Black Atlanta and I could barely fit in the door! It’s amazing when you draw such a big crowd—that was lovely to see people really coming out for those things!

They do! We try really hard to support local authors as well as we can. We’re always trying to iterate and get better at everything we do and we have a dedicated events person who runs all of our events.

All the ones I’ve been to have been absolutely great. OK, next topic! How do you see the literary world with the idea floating around that people aren’t reading or that people’s attention spans are atrophying. I feel like I see the opposite, especially with bookstores like this. People are turning away from big online shopping outlets. People are in local stores. I’ve been living here for 23 years but I’m from New York City, and when I go to the Strand or McNally Jackson they are packed with people looking, browsing, reading, and I’m just curious what do you think? Are you seeing a ballooning of reading?

That is such an interesting question; I think both can be true. I think that in general, our attention spans are a whole lot shorter than they were in the ’90s. This change is by necessity and how we live our lives and the technology with which we interface. But I think it’s also true that there has been a massive shift to exactly what we’re talking about: supporting small businesses, buying things that are aligned with our values, and having an intentionality about what you’re reading and what you’re exposing yourself to and the choices that you’re making. Purchasing is resistance and choosing where your money goes is a political thing and I think it’s a really positive change. It gives me a lot of hope for the counter measures that are happening against our very centralized monopolistic economy and culture. For example, Indie Bookstore Day has usually been a nice day for us, but it’s not been tremendously remarkable, but last year was huge. I mean, our Book Wizard and our General Manager and I spent the whole day crying because of the incredible turnout we had that day. Our community came out and supported us and bought a ton of books and it was a direct reaction to an online retailer having their major book sale during Indie Bookstore Day. It was a very meaningful act of resistance and investment in something that belongs to this community.

Is there anything else you’d like to share about The Literary? Maybe what you’re hoping for in the future?

I’ve been feeling a lot of deep gratitude for this community. It’s hard to run a bookstore—bookstores operate on 10% smaller margins than any other retailer just right off the bat; it’s the only industry where the prices of the product are printed on the back. Your margins are decided not by you, but by the publisher. The fact that we’re still here in spite of that is huge and all thanks to our community. And then when you have instances like when SNAP Benefits were canceled and we decided to donate meals to people who were suffering—we invited the community to join us and they raised nearly $20,000 in two weeks—I never ever dreamed that was possible. When the community shows up for each other it’s the thread of hope that we all need. It continues to happen over and over again: there’s so much goodness that I see in the people who come here. It’s those lovely people who are not only helping us choose our books through their special orders, they’re also shaping this little shop into what they want it to be. It’s been fun to watch it evolve, I also love how little control I have had over how it grows and what it becomes. It’s been incredible. I can’t wait to see what happens next and my hands are off the wheel. We are just here responding.

It’s February, Black History month, and I see a Frederick Douglass biography prominently displayed along several other books that resonate. You’re responding.

I’m just grateful for this community and you know we’re in turbulent times, but there is a very strong counterculture out there that’s thriving.

Yes!

So, you have another novel coming out?

Yes! It’s called Epiphany’s Lament and it will be out next year (2027) with Regal House Publishing—I’m very excited! It tells the story of a woman whose mother survived a Kindertransport so she has all sorts of shadows behind her; at the start of the novel Poppy is living in New York, scraping by as a piano refinisher, when she gets a phone call from her grandmother, in England. Poppy returns to her hometown which is near a former Vietnamese Refugee Center where she and her mother and grandmother had volunteered and she begins to search for a painting of an enslaved man that had been looted from her mother’s family. The painting may (or may not!) be hidden in the Refugee Center and the main plot revolves around Poppy and the FBI Art Crime Agent, Max (who naturally is quite cute), searching for the painting and encountering buried histories along the way.

Oh wow, you’ve piqued my interest and I look forward to reading it!

Thank you and thank you so much for this wonderful conversation!

Brett Ashley Kaplan directs the Initiative in Holocaust, Genocide, Memory Studies and is a Professor of Comparative and World Literature at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. Her novel, Epiphany’s Lament, is forthcoming with Regal House Press in 2027. Please find more at brettashleykaplan.com

The Bookworm: Special Home to a New Jersey Community’s Reading Life

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by Donna Baier Stein

Some bookstores sell books. Some bookstores embody history.

The Bookworm does both.

Tucked into the heart of Bernardsville, New Jersey, this independent bookstore is far more than a retail space. It’s a community thread spanning generations of readers, families, and stories. And its continued thriving life is no accident; it’s the result of loyalty, commitment, and a deeply intuitive understanding of the people who walk through its teal painted door.

The shop started out as the Bedminster Bookshop before being moved to its current home on Claremont Avenue more than four decades ago. In 1985 it was sold to Mary Ann Donaghy, When she passed away, the future of the bookstore was uncertain — it might simply have disappeared.

Instead, Vera Marowitz, who had worked as a bookseller alongside Mary Ann, volunteered to buy it, determined that the store — and what it meant to Bernardsville — would be preserved. This wasn’t a job change. It was a continuation of a life-long love of books.

Residents of Bernardsville responded with relief and gratitude.

A Fourth-Generation Bookstore

When I asked Vera about the store’s relationship with the community, the answer was immediate: really good.

One local family has even shopped there for four generations — grandmother, daughter, granddaughter, and now great-grandchildren. That kind of loyalty doesn’t come from sale prices or algorithms. It comes from trust that you and your book preferences are known. From booksellers like Vera who remember what you loved last year — and what you might love next.

It’s easy to see why this is the heart of the store’s success and longevity. Staff like Jessica Sarlin pride themselves on understanding readers’ tastes—and will sometimes steer customers away from books that won’t be enjoyed. The fact that that level of candor is more important than simply ringing up another sale has led to a loyal, long-time customer base.

The Importance of Quiet

As soon as you step inside the store, you’ll experience a welcome calm and quiet.

There’s no noise from an in-house café, no piped-in music. Years ago, classical music from WQXR played softly, but when the station changed format, the store let the sound go. The quiet remains, making the Bookworm a lovely space for browsing.

Authors, Schools, and the Wider Literary World

The Bookworm doesn’t host many in-store author events, largely because of space and the unpredictability of attendance — an all-too-real challenge for small bookstores. Instead, they partner with venues and organizations throughout the state.

They regularly sell books for authors appearing at the Mayo Performing Arts Center, including frequent appearances by David Sedaris. They also provide books for author visits to schools in many towns. Authors appearing at the annual Junior League luncheon and the Bernardsville Public Library benefit from the store’s support as well.

Today’s Bookstore Challenges

Like every independent bookseller, The Bookworm faces the pressures of online retail, ebooks, and audiobooks. One solution is their partnerships with Libro.fm, which allows customers to support the store even when purchasing audiobooks.

But the greatest challenge may be less visible to anyone walking into the store: selection. Each season brings thousands of new titles from publishers. Choosing what to stock requires hours of from Vera as well as her intimate knowledge of what her clientele want.

The Secret to Success

Talking with Vera, it’s easy to see what matters most to her as an indie bookstore owner: her relationships with her customers and being able to choose the books they will most want to read.

The staff read widely, write reviews, and offer guidance based on reading the books themselves.

The Bookworm proves that an indie bookstore can still thrive — not by competing with algorithms, but by offering what they cannot: memory, conversation, discernment, and human connection.

It’s a place where someone might remember the book you loved ten years ago. Where a reader can grow up — and grow old — alongside the same shelves.

And that is a story well worth keeping in print.

Donna Baier Stein is an award-winning novelist, short story writer, poet, and playwright whose work has been featured on NPR, PBS, Washingtonian, Saturday Evening Post, and O Magazine. She is the author of The Silver Baron’s Wife, Sympathetic People, Letting Rain Have Its Say, Scenes from the Heartland, and Courtesan to the Buddha, forthcoming from RHP in Summer 2027. She was a Founding Editor of Bellevue Literary Review and founded and publishes Tiferet Journal. 

Plot Twist Books: A curated collection, engaging events, and a space to connect

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By Gina Linko

Owner Jacquelyn Martin didn’t set out to open a just a bookstore. The dream was always much bigger than that. Martin conjured ideas of a community-focused hub of comfort and escape, where people could slow down, connect, and feel at home. Martin’s dream really came into focus through her gatherings with several book clubs, and she saw how much people relished getting together, being with each other, and she knew that an independent bookstore could serve these needs, not just as a place to buy books, but a place to be. A place to linger.

Martin’s newly opened Plot Twist Books in Lockport, IL, achieves that dream and more, with its cozy, inviting, magical feel. Complete with its modern, stylish décor, warm lighting, and dark-wood bookshelves flanking all sides, Plot Twist calls to the book lover in all of us. Its flexible workshop space, cozy nooks and comfy, inviting seating beckon you to stay and use the space. Want to work on a jigsaw puzzle? Have a cup of coffee and chit-chat? Browse and read?

Plot Twist has room for all of that and more. You can also sign up for any of the many community activities: mommy & me crafts, book-of-the-month club, candle-making, and more. Plot Twist is especially engaged in the community, actively seeking partnerships with local schools, organizations, and artists.

Martin’s favorite customers are the ones who wander in without a plan and leave with a stack of books they didn’t know they needed. She loves curious readers and people who love talking about what they’ve read. Plot Twist has something for everyone. They not only offer a large array of new books, but also a whole section of gently used books, for both adults and children. And if you don’t know what you might like to read, Martin herself would love to chat and help you decide. Or you can purchase a mystery box! Or a blind date with a book!

Plot Twist is an author’s best friend as well. Hosting events, working as a partner, Plot Twist wants to create events that are inclusive and welcoming. Martin says, “The best events feel personal and fun, not stiff or formal. When authors are comfortable, engaging, and excited to be there, readers feel it. Good communication, promotion, and creating an experience whether that’s a reading, conversation, or Q&A really help turn an event into something memorable.”

You can visit Plot Twist Books in Lockport, IL, as well as at https://plotstorebooks.com.

Gina Linko lives in a south suburb of Chicago with her husband, three kids, and two spoiled cats. She edits textbooks by day, stays up way too late writing by night, and is an eternal optimist, i.e. roots for the Cubs.

Dockside Books: An Up North Haven for Thinkers, Adventurers, and Creatives

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By Linda K. Sienkiewicz

I brake for bookstores. Literally. So when my husband and I were driving through Charlevoix in northern Michigan, hunting for fall color, and I spotted Dockside Books tucked among the town’s boutique shops, I knew I had to stop.

Before I stepped inside, I was greeted by the owner, laughing, as she tried to sweep fallen leaves away from the open door. That friendly warmth carried through as I browsed her gorgeous shop and chatted with her.

The bookshop feels like a 1920s parlor designed for lingering. A soda-fountain table and chairs sit in the bay window overlooking Main Street. Two green velvet couches face the large arched window with views of the bridge and harbor. Old leather chairs nestle in a back corner, and the children’s room features seats crafted from dock pilings. Every nook invites you to stay awhile.

Shoppers can sip complimentary coffee while browsing books, art supplies, vinyl records, magazines, and creative odds and ends. “Great books, like great music or art of any medium, have the ability to change our hearts and weave themselves into the fabric of who we are,” owner Julie Bergmann told me. “They make us better humans.”

I think I swooned.

What surprised me most was learning that owning a bookstore had never been part of Julie’s plan. She was finishing her Ph.D. in educational leadership when she heard the town’s only bookstore was closing. Julie’s roots run five generations deep in Charlevoix, and the loss of a bookstore felt personal. The community had given so much to her and her husband over the years, and they began wondering… What if?

A succession of serendipitous events followed that she likens to Santiago’s journey in The Alchemist, where the shepherd boy is searching for hidden treasure only to find something entirely different than the one he was seeking. Julie was retiring from a career in education, her children were grown, and she and her husband had been discussing the importance of a thriving downtown that attracts and supports young professionals and creatives.

And then the perfect space opened in a 1917 building with an original tin ceiling, rich trim, and an enormous brick-lined arched window overlooking the drawbridge, harbor, and park. “Almost instantly,” Julie said, “I could see people enjoying books and coffee on couches in front of that window and tall, cigar-stained bookshelves along the walls. We signed on the line in a hurry.”

Even the shop’s name carries a lovely history. Dockside Books pays homage to the late Bill Ratigan, a beloved Charlevoix local and steamboat captain turned journalist and novelist. Ratigan operated a small used bookstore in a fish shanty called The Dockside Press from the fifties through the Seventies. In the seventies and eighties, Dockside Pharmacy was serving middle and high school students phosphates and milkshakes at its soda fountain counter during open-campus lunch.

Ratigan’s family was honored when Julie and her husband approached them about using the Dockside name. Today, glossy black-and-white photos of both the press and the pharmacy hang on the walls of Dockside Books. The bookstore sits directly in front of Bridge St. Tap Room, and Julie keeps the back door open so patrons can wander freely from “books to beer,” creating an easy neighborhood camaraderie.

Inside the shop, a chalkboard behind the register caught my eye: Classroom Donations, with grade levels and tally marks. A sign beside it read: Ask me about this program! $10 = 1 free book for a child.

As a former teacher and school administrator, Julie is especially passionate about getting books into children’s hands. She works with the local school district to supply low-cost books, but she knows that during school book fairs, some students quietly stand aside because their families can’t afford to purchase a book.

“I wanted every child to have the experience of coming to the bookstore and picking out any book they like, for free,” Julie said. She put up the colorful $10 chalkboard, hoping the community might respond. They set a goal to support every Pre-K through 6th grade classroom and ended up raising enough for more than 350 donated books.

“The gratitude we have for every person who donates is beyond measure,” Julie said. “I wish they could see the expressions on the children’s faces. They simply cannot believe that someone who doesn’t even know them cared that much. This is just another way that independent bookstores are unique—giving back to their local community in ways that make an immediate impact.”

Her customer-centered approach delighted me. Independent booksellers have a better “algorithm” than anything online. Tell them what you love, or what you’re in the mood for, and they’ll hand you something startlingly perfect because they actually know the books. Julie did exactly that for me. Dockside also carries limited editions, signed copies, and special titles you won’t find at chain stores.

Though Dockside Books has been open only six months, the numbers are astonishing. “We’re a 1,200-square-foot store,” Julie said, “and we’ve already put over 11,000 books in customers’ hands. We’re incredibly grateful for the support and warm welcome.”

With their “eyes and nose finally above water,” Julie and her husband are now focusing on building Dockside into a true gathering space—a hub for author events, dialogue, ideas, and creativity. Early events like mahjong classes, author signings, and book clubs have already been a hit.

For Julie, the best part is the daily reminder of how deeply books matter to people. That’s what fuels Dockside Books: reaching out, extending their best selves, and listening to every person who walks through the door.

Find Dockside Books: 204 Bridge St., Charlevoix, MI, United States

Michigan Website: Dockside Books Bookshop

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Linda K. Sienkiewicz is a poet and author whose work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. Her debut novel, In the Context of Love, was a finalist for multiple awards including the Hoffer Award and Sarton Women’s Fiction Award. She has five poetry chapbooks and a children’s picture book. Her novel Love and Other Incurable Ailments is forthcoming from Regal House October 27, 2026. Linda volunteers at Neighborhood House, a local nonprofit in Michigan.