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Elliott Bay Book Company: Choosing People Over Platforms

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by Scott Lambridis

The first thing I noticed walking into Elliott Bay Book Company was the sense of openness. For such a large bookstore, it’s surprisingly easy to see the whole thing at once. Tables sprawl, tall shelves circle the room, and a wide wall of staff picks rises like a monument, a collective conversation among serious readers. It feels less like a store than a public reading room. 

Near the front, another section draws its own attention: a rotating display of local authors, a reminder that the literary world Elliott Bay supports isn’t abstract, but rooted in the city around it.  That feeling fits the neighborhood. Elliott Bay sits in Seattle’s Capitol Hill district, one of the city’s most eclectic and politically engaged areas: queer, artistic, multilingual, full of street life and independent culture. The bookstore feels entirely at home there. 

That sense of openness has been part of Elliott Bay from the beginning. Founded in 1973 in Pioneer Square, the store set out simply to be a great general bookstore, a place where anyone could find a book. “From the beginning it was meant to be this very large bookstore,” events manager Sofia Brekkan told me, “for everyone and anyone.”

That commitment to breadth has never changed. Elliott Bay carries the big titles, but their shelves are full of small-press books, literature in translation, and authors whose work rarely appears in chain-store displays. It’s refreshing to see a store that’s chosen depth over dominance. “If I have any goal here,” Sofia explained, “it’s to bring up voices who aren’t traditionally centered—queer authors, trans authors, writers of color, writers from other countries.”

The real infrastructure behind that mission, though, isn’t the books. It’s the people. Elliott Bay is famous for its long-tenured staff. Some employees have worked there for decades. One bookseller named Rick has been with the store for more than fifty years. He isn’t an owner, but within the literary world his presence is legendary. Publishers, authors, and longtime readers still come to Elliott Bay partly because Rick is there.

Events are where that network comes alive. When I spoke with Sofia, we sat in the downstairs event space, rows of chairs facing a simple lectern. On any given night, it might hold a debut novelist, a local poet, or a major literary voice. The store hosts 400 to 500 author events each year, sometimes several in a single day. Debut writers, local poets, major literary figures—all pass through. 

Some nights the room fills; others draw smaller crowds. But the scale is less important than the consistency. The expectation is that something is always happening, that the conversation between writers and readers is ongoing. “Authors are the heart of bookstores,” one bookseller told me. “They’re the reason any of this exists.” That commitment feels especially meaningful given Elliott Bay’s location: Seattle, the hometown of Amazon. It survives by offering what the algorithm can’t. “People come in and say, ‘I want to shop where there are real humans,’” Sofia said.

Inside the store, those humans form smaller circles within the larger one. Some book clubs have been meeting for so long that members now spend holidays together. Readers return not just for the books, but for the people they’ve met. At a moment when reading competes with endless digital distraction, Elliott Bay continues to make a simple promise. The door is open. Come in, browse, and stay awhile.

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 

Books Inc.: Choosing Survival

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by Scott Lambridis

Books Inc. has survived by reinventing itself for 175 years.

Founded in 1851 in the Gold Rush town of Shasta City, the bookstore eventually migrated to San Francisco, survived the 1906 earthquake and fire, changed owners several times, and even published Mark Twain in its literary journal Overland Monthly. Today it’s recognized as the oldest bookstore west of the Mississippi—older than Wells Fargo.

But its most consequential reinvention may have happened just last year.

When I spoke with Anita Levin, Senior Marketing and Events Manager, she was still processing the news: after filing for Chapter 11 bankruptcy in 2025, Books Inc. had been acquired by Barnes & Noble.

For a bookstore that had long been synonymous with Bay Area independence, it was not an easy decision. Independence matters deeply to readers and booksellers alike. But survival matters too. The deal allowed Books Inc. to keep its leadership, staff, and identity intact while gaining something brick-and-mortar bookstores increasingly need: back-end support. Greater flexibility with sales, pricing, and buying power made it possible to keep the doors open. “Really very little has changed,” Levin told me. “We’re just really, really happy to still be here.”

That sense of persistence runs through the company’s history. Over nearly two centuries, Books Inc. has repeatedly reshaped itself around the communities it serves.

Like the Bay Area itself, each location develops its own microclimate. In San Francisco, children’s titles dominate. In Mountain View, romance is huge. In the South Bay, business and tech titles move fastest. The stores reflect their neighborhoods as much as any centralized merchandising strategy.

The atmosphere follows the same philosophy. Staff recommendation cards cover the shelves. Handmade signage and displays lean into what Levin jokingly calls a “DIY, punk-rock ethos.” The goal is to create a space where human enthusiasm replaces algorithmic recommendations.

“Bookstores are a place to escape an algorithm,” she said. “It’s people loving something and showing you they love something.”

That spirit extends to community programs. Junior Booksellers initiatives introduce middle-school volunteers to the trade. Author events and book clubs draw readers together in physical space. Bookstores have to remind people to seek out that kind of IRL togetherness again after the pandemic, Levin says. “You can’t undersell the impact of Amazon,” she said plainly. Fixed book prices, thin margins, and expectations of fast shipping have transformed the economics of the industry. But Books Inc.’s response has always been the same: stubbornness. “We’re just not willing to see it end,” Levin said. “That kind of wasn’t an option.”

Which means the bookstore will keep adapting—throwing parties, hosting authors, curating shelves, and inviting readers back into the room. After 175 years, survival isn’t just the story. It’s part of the brand.

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 

Village Books: A Community That Happens to Sell Books

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By Scott Lambridis

At first glance, Village Books seems to be doing a little too much. When I first moved to Bellingham, Village Books was one of the first places I discovered, and it immediately felt like something special. Set on a busy corner in Fairhaven, the city’s historic sister district, it feels less like a single storefront and more like the center of a small literary village.

The store anchors a lively corner of Fairhaven, with Paper Dreams next door, its companion shop of gifts, crafts, and small curiosities, and the Colophon Café downstairs, a longtime partner just steps away. Behind the building, a wide-open village green unfolds, hosting summer film nights, craft fairs, and community gatherings that feel, in practice, like part of the bookstore itself. A statue of Mark Twain stands just outside, as if keeping watch over it all.

The bookstore itself spreads across multiple floors: an event space downstairs with rows of chairs and a lectern; the large, open Next Chapter Café upstairs, nestled beside the Writers Corner and balcony; an open path into the adjoining gifts and crafts shop. There’s also dedicated space highlighting book clubs, writing groups, a publishing program, and partnerships with local nonprofits and schools.

Most bookstores would see this kind of expansion as dilution. Village Books sees it as the point. 

When I spoke with co-owner Sarah Hutton, one principle surfaced again and again. “The mission, from the beginning, has been building community,” Sarah said. “It becomes less of a transaction and more of building, strengthening that.”

Community is not a branding or a programming choice, but infrastructure for Village Books. And once you notice it, you start to see it everywhere in the store. The café invites people to stay longer than a typical retail space might encourage. Square footage that could easily hold more books instead holds chairs, tables, and room to gather. When I bring my family, I often get lost in the shelves, chasing down staff picks, while my daughter slips into Paper Dreams to find treasures of her own. It can be hard to tell where one space ends and the next begins.

Community isn’t singular for the store either. Village Books talks about many communities, layered together. “Our staff is our community. Our customers are our community,” the team explained. Beyond that are the neighborhoods the store serves—Fairhaven and Lynden—as well as schools, libraries, nonprofits, and other local businesses.

Staff aren’t just employees here; they are the primary stewards of the store’s culture, shaping what’s on the shelves, how people are welcomed, and the feel of the space. That long view becomes especially clear over time. Village Books has been operating for forty-five years, long enough to watch entire generations of readers pass through, “The kid who was rummaging around in board books is now looking at grown-up books,” said Sarah. “Watching that is so nourishing.”

Writers are part of that cycle too. Village Books hosts an extensive network of book clubs and writing groups, runs a small publishing program, and supports emerging authors through initiatives like Chanticleer Reviews. The path from reader to writer is not abstract here—it’s visible, local, and ongoing.  “Those are the future authors who are going to stand at this lectern,” said Sarah.

None of this is particularly efficient in the traditional retail sense. Event spaces sit empty between readings. New writers don’t always sell out rooms. Partnerships take time. But Village Books treats those choices as investments rather than inefficiencies. The effect is recursive. Each group feeds the others, reinforcing a system that’s larger than any single part.

The bookstore’s longevity suggests the strategy works. After forty-five years, Village Books hasn’t survived by optimizing transactions. It has survived by cultivating relationships between readers, writers, staff, and the wider community that gathers around it. In the end, that’s the store’s quiet secret: Village Books isn’t a bookstore with a community. It’s a community that happens to sell books.

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 

Henderson Books: A Marriage Built Out of Books

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by Scott Lambridis

Henderson Books in Bellingham is the best used bookstore I’ve ever encountered, full stop. The volume and selection are unmatched. I’ve never made it through the fiction stacks in a single visit. On my last trip, I lingered far too long among the largest collection of Fay Weldon books I’ve ever seen, and it’s one of the only places I’ve been able to slowly piece together the hilariously philosophical Grooks volumes by Danish poet Piet Hein. A friend in the Bay Area once flew up to Bellingham on a pilgrimage, only to find the store closed for vacation—possibly for the first time in a decade.

But if you were to linger after hours and overhear a conversation between the owners, you’d likely see Robert, who founded the store, looking around at the towering shelves and saying something he’s apparently been saying for decades. “Let’s just quit.”

His wife Barbara—his partner in the store and in life—answers the way she always has. “No quitting.”

It sounds like a joke, but it’s also the operating philosophy behind one of the most remarkable used bookstores in the Pacific Northwest: a labyrinth of some 350,000 used books, stacked floor to ceiling in narrow aisles that feel both carefully negotiated and slightly contested.

“He wanted the aisles narrower,” she once said. “I wanted them wider. I got my way, mostly.”

Their partnership is written directly into the store.

Before Henderson Books existed, Robert lived something closer to a wandering reader’s life. In the 1950s and ’60s he drifted around the country, sometimes riding freight trains, rarely staying anywhere long. He never finished school, but he read constantly, buying books at garage sales because they were the only thing he could afford.

One day he sold a book back to a store and was startled by how much they paid him. The realization stuck: you could make a life out of books.

For years he followed a pattern: working for a while, saving money, quitting, reading, and occasionally opening small used bookstores that would last until a landlord or neighborhood change pushed him somewhere else. Bellingham was not supposed to be permanent. When he arrived in the mid-1980s, he brought what he called “the best fifty boxes” from a closing shop in Seattle and opened a small used bookstore downtown. Then a woman walked in. She was looking for a book.

They married around 1990. She kept her job at the post office for a time, but eventually joined him full time in the store. When Henderson Books moved into its current building in 1994, they built the shelves together with help from woodworking friends who practically lived in the space for months. The boards all still show their planer marks.

The design philosophy has remained simple: let the books create the atmosphere. There are no reading couches, no coffee bars, no decorative flourishes competing for attention.

Just books. A lot of them.

Running a used bookstore that size is not romantic work. Inventory arrives in unpredictable waves. Sections expand and contract. Entire walls slowly migrate outward as the collection grows. Through all of it, their roles have remained remarkably consistent. Robert brings the instinct of a lifelong reader. His rule is simple: never assume a book is valuable (or worthless) until you’ve looked closely.

His wife brings something else: steadiness. Over the years, whenever Robert has suggested closing the shop, she has answered the same way. “No quitting.”

Which is why Henderson Books still stands today, forty years after it began, less a business plan than a long-running conversation between two people who built a life, and an extraordinary store, out of the same stubborn promise, a promise, thankfully, still being kept.

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 

Gramercy Books and the Quiet Revival of Columbus Bookselling

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By Scott Lambridis

I lived in Columbus for six years after college. It’s where I met my wife, where I played in a band, and where I first got serious about writing—serious enough to start a small press of my own. So when I spoke with Linda Kass of Gramercy Books, I assumed I knew what kind of bookstore landscape she was describing. 

I didn’t.

Gramercy opened in 2016, long after I’d left town, in Bexley, an inner-ring suburb just east of downtown Columbus. Kass, a writer herself, had spent nine years running a community reading program that brought national authors to the area. When a new building went up on Main Street, directly across from the Bexley Public Library, she saw the opportunity clearly: a bookstore shaped by her own sense of what a literary space could be. A woman-owned store in a community that hadn’t had a bookstore since 1978.

outside view of Gramercy Books

Listening to Kass, I realized Gramercy is part of something larger: not the decline of bookstore culture—the story we’ve all been told for years—but a local revival. 

As Kass put it, “We have this corner where we celebrate reading.”  

When Gramercy opened, Columbus already had one famous holdout, The Book Loft in German Village, with its thirty-odd rooms and cultish following. But now, Kass said, there are around fifteen bookstores in the greater Central Ohio area, each serving a different community. She sees that not as competition, but as evidence that something real is happening. “That should be celebrated,” she said. “That means people are reading.”

Gramercy’s own contribution to that revival is deliberate. The store feels elegant but welcoming: dark wood shelves, strong signage, a bright white children’s room that makes up nearly a third of both the store’s footprint and sales. Next door, a bakery and coffee shop shares the space through barn doors, encouraging customers to drift between books and conversation. The pairing was intentional. Kass had seen similar models work elsewhere—bookstores creating small ecosystems of complementary businesses—and wanted to build that kind of cross-traffic into Gramercy.

Gramercy Books

What gives the place its energy, though, is its events program. Gramercy hosts about one event a week, sometimes in-store, sometimes off-site when crowds grow beyond the shop’s sixty-seat capacity. Kass curates a mix that ranges widely: haiku poets, romance discussions, national novelists, music-and-book pairings, even large events at an indie film theater or live music venue nearby. For her, the point is connection. Author events, she said, create a “far deeper relationship” between books, writers, and readers.

That sense of relationship shows up everywhere. The staff, Kass said, are “the heart of the store.” They’re knowledgeable, welcoming, and attentive enough to call customers when a book comes in they know they’ll love. In a low-margin business, that kind of care doesn’t come easily. Gramercy now offers health and retirement benefits, something Kass took pride in building toward over time. 

Asked what explains the store’s success, she gave a simple answer: “We just try to do everything well.”

That may also describe what’s happening across Columbus right now. Not flashy, not nostalgic, and not accidental. Just a growing network of stores, each rooted in its own corner, suggesting that the old narrative of literary decline was never the only one.

When I returned to Columbus this summer after nearly twenty years away, I could sense some of that shift—not just in bookstores, but in the city itself, in its pockets of creative space and unexpected gems. Something more confident, more self-defined. Gramercy feels like part of that story now. 

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 

The Raven Book Store: Literary Bastion of the Enduring Free State Fortress

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by Steve Heller

How does one measure the success of an independent bookstore? One obvious criterion is size. The world’s largest independent bookstore, Powell’s City of Books in Portland, Oregon, boasts more than a million titles, with a full city block’s worth of floorspace in which to peruse them. The Strand in New York City claims to house “18 miles of books” on its shelves.

Most notable independents are considerably smaller. City Lights in San Francisco, the USA’s first all-paperback bookstore, houses 34,000 books in 2,100 square feet. Its namesake, Prairie Lights in Iowa City, home of the Iowa Writers Workshop, occupied only half as much space when it opened in 1978. Since both smaller stores continue to flourish in an economy dominated by conglomerates and the world’s largest online retailer, Amazon.com, size clearly isn’t the only consideration.

Every indie bookstore owner I’ve spoken with has maintained there is one factor above all others that determines survival: the ability to connect with the community the store serves. No indie bookstore anywhere illustrates this principle more than the Raven in Lawrence, Kansas.

To know the Raven is to know Lawrence: its culture, politics, and history, all of which are reflected in the books on the shelves inside, as well as in the character of the patrons, employees, and co-owners who move through its aisles.

Politically, I think of the Lawrence of today as a bright blue dot on a blood red prairie. However, that flyover metaphor captures neither the sacrifices of its origin story in the period known as “Bleeding Kansas” (1854-61) and the American Civil War that followed, nor the significance of its endurance as a beacon for civil rights and social justice to this day. Lawrence is named after an abolitionist from Massachusetts, Amos A. Lawrence, who supported the settling of the town through the New England Emigrant Aid Company. The settlers became known as “Free-Staters” and Lawrence itself as the “Free State Fortress” to prevent the Territory of Kansas from being admitted to the Union as a slave state.

Although Lawrence has endured, the Fortress has never been impregnable, as tragically illustrated by the Lawrence Massacre of 1863 by the Confederate irregulars know as Quantrill’s Raiders, which took the lives of 150-200 men and boys. Nor has the Fortress been unassailable from within. Today, Massachusetts Street, the heart of downtown Lawrence, is often the site of protests and demonstrations, often against state and national policies on race, gender, or economic inequities. These are mostly unpopular with locals, but sometimes protests reflect divisions on these same issues within the community itself.

The Raven Facade, photo by Danny Caine

In the heart of the heart of the community, in the 800 block of Massachusetts Street, sits the Raven.

The Raven was founded in 1987 by Pat Kehde and Mary Lou Wright, who established its identity as an indie specializing in mystery novels. Over time, it became known as a general interest bookstore that included fiction, poetry, and history. The original location was on 7th Street between Massachusetts and New Hampshire Streets, in a small, crowded space next to Liberty Hall, around the corner from Free State Brewery. Once one of several independent bookstores downtown, in 1997 the Raven experienced what must have felt at the time like the ultimate existential challenge: Borders Books opened a store right across the street.

Former Kansas Poet Laureate Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg, a longtime Lawrence resident, explains how the book-buying community helped the Raven survive: “We were very nervous about Borders, which was a half block away, but many people like me used Borders to find books, then went to the Raven to order them. My three kids used Borders as a living room, hanging out there to read and get fancy sodas, then we ordered whatever books they loved at the Raven.”

Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg and Hutchinson poet Bill Sheldon chat with the audience at the Raven, March 26, 2026

What engendered this kind of loyalty? According to Mirriam-Goldberg, “What the Raven excels at – and has since ‘87 – is curating the right books for our community and our time along with supporting local authors. Since my first book came out in 2000, I could walk into the store, talk to whoever was working there at the time – sometimes nervously, hoping the store could host a reading – and find a welcoming response.”

L-R Back Row: Kelly Barth, Hannah Reidell, Chris Luxem, Sarah Young.  L-R Front: Nikita Imafidon, Mary Wahlmeier Bracciano, Jack Hawthorn, Danny Caine Photo of the original employee owners by Adam Smith

Mirriam-Goldberg added: “The Raven survived also by being nimble, flexible, and innovative in its ownership. When Danny Caine, owner from 2017 – 2022, needed to move from the area, he brilliantly cooked up an employee ownership model that allowed the store to continue and flourish. Today, the Raven is owned by three people, all former employees who know the store and this community.”

In the end, the Raven (like Papillon) survived, while Borders (like Devil’s Island) did not. The entire corporation declared bankruptcy in 2011, having notoriously failed to adjust to changing public preferences, such as for digital content (streaming) over physical content (CDs and DVDs) for music and films. It also invested too heavily in large high-rent store properties. However, Border’s ultimate undoing was the way it adapted to e-commerce for books, outsourcing its online commerce to what has proven to be the most enduring threat to all indie bookstores everywhere: Amazon.com.

“The Raven Is Moving Here” photo by Nathan Woodward

By the time the Raven moved to its current, larger-but-still-affordable location on Massachusetts Street in August 2021, the COVID pandemic had required not only expansion of e-commerce but innovation in the ways books could be delivered to customers with minimal in-person contact. By the time COVID faded, the new space gave the Raven more flexibility in terms of what it could offer the community, including the return of on-site literary events. In the meantime, many indie bookstores across the nation had closed while Amazon grew even more voracious.

Danny Caine (far right in the above group photo) is the owner who developed the strategy to successfully resist the most rapacious consumer of small businesses since Wal-Mart: educate the book-buying public about the true cost of tax-subsidized corporations such as Amazon, as well as the true value of face-to-face service in community-based bookstores such as the Raven. I could go on and on about this stance, but the best source on the subject is Caine himself. His article/became a viral e-zine/became a book/became a national anthem: How to Resist Amazon and Why: The Fight for Local Economies, Data Privacy, Fair Labor, Independent Bookstores, and a People-Powered Future:

The attention generated by the viral e-zine and popular book, along with Casey Cep’s profile in The New Yorker, preceded the Raven’s 2022 selection by Publisher’s Weekly as the Best Bookstore in the USA.

That same year, Caine sold his 51% interest in the Raven to three of the seven other previous co-owners/employees: Kelly Barth (back row, far left of the group photo), Chris Luxem, and Mary Walmeier Bracciano (front, second from left). Caine moved back to his native Cleveland, Ohio to take his struggle with corporate America to the next level, working for the Institute of Local Self-Reliance, an advocacy organization that supports local retailers against big-box stores and other corporations.

When I asked Chris Luxem how his own responsibilities have evolved since becoming a co-owner, he replied, “I started working at the Raven in 2014. I definitely understand the misconception that an owner is making all the decisions regarding the store, but as long as I have worked here it’s been an extremely collaborative experience. Heidi Raak was the owner when I was hired and she led the store with a forthrightness that started the mission of the Raven to be as inclusive as possible and equitable between booksellers and owner, allowing Danny Caine to purchase the store in 2017. Danny Caine made me and six other employees minority owners in 2021.”

Luxem went on to further stress the necessity of collaboration: “I definitely have learned a lot more about the backend aspects of the business. Kelly, Mary, and I all do different roles. I’m essentially the General Manager and Finances Manager. I do the accounting and also help a lot on the sales floor during the days to make sure everything is running smoothly. In terms of three people making decisions, we all have very different reading tastes and management styles, so we can help fill in the gaps when necessary and offer perspective to the other two that may not be as obvious for any number of reasons. We’ve continued the collaboration with booksellers because we know certain reading styles will help fill the gaps even more where we might not be in tune. For example, Romance and Romantsy (Romance+Fantasy) have been an ever-growing section in the store and continue to evolve thanks to dedicated Romance-reading booksellers.”

Interior of the Raven facing Massachusetts Street. Photo by Carlos Moreno

The Raven is known for hosting numerous readings, signings, lectures, and other literary events. Co-owner Kelly Barth, who has worked at the Raven for almost 30 years, says the biggest problem with in-store events is making sure the event features the right writer(s). “Big names are a good draw, of course,” Barth says, “but local authors are very important in terms of attracting an audience.”

Chris Luxem added: “Hosting visiting authors as well as local authors is essentially about continuing the community building that a space like ours can offer. We’ve had a litany of world-famous authors come through our doors as well as self-published one-time authors. All of their works have immense value to increase the visibility of the store, but also just love for literature. We get a lot of requests and much of the decision making is put to a group vote, but also some are just too good to pass up, or are very topical in terms of current events, or local interest. It’s nice to offer a lot of different types of events for the community because you never know what will resonate with people. We also sell at a lot of off-site events with authors at the Lawrence Public Library, Liberty Hall, Watkins Museum, Lied Center, even the Bowlus Fine Arts Center in Iola, KS have had us attend events as booksellers.”

Raven T-shirt photo by Amanda Wilson

Denise Low-Weso, another former Poet Laureate of Kansas, lived in Lawrence for decades and read at many events hosted by the Raven. Low-Weso, who has retired to the wine country of Sonoma County, California, still returns to Kansas for literary events at the Raven and other venues. “When my husband Tom Weso’s book, Good Seeds, came out, Restaurant 715 hosted a happy hour that featured recipes from his book. Afterwards, brushing crumbs from our mouths, we walked in a cold wind the entire block to The Raven for a lovely reading. And I launched a breakthrough book, Melange Block, there in 2014. I had friends each read a poem from it and then a poem of their own. There was a full house and I sold 50 books—of poetry!”

The Raven’s website states that the books sold in the store are “intentionally curated to represent voices that have long been under-represented, especially those in the queer community.” A casual visit to the store easily confirms that. Like all bookstores, shelf space at the Raven is limited. I asked Chris Luxem how he and his fellow co-owners and booksellers determine which books are placed on the shelves.

“Essentially,” Luxem replied, “we all have different reading tastes and also different cultural influences. I help curate a lot of the essay, music, philosophy, short stories, political science selections. Mary curates the entire Children’s section and also does the restock ordering for the entire store, so she has an idea of the books we need multiple copies of at all times. Kelly does the ordering for Adult titles that have yet to be released (Frontlist titles) but also specializes in Mysteries, Science, and Literary Fiction titles. We have a bookseller who is an art historian so she curates our art books. We have a science fiction specialist who helps curate both unreleased and classic Science Fiction titles for the store. I mentioned the Romance reader. We have a lot of folks on staff who love Fiction, which is our biggest section, so we all kind of add different choices to the fiction shelves over the months.”

Raven interior, Vermont St. side

In her record four years as Poet Laureate, Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg gave readings and talks throughout the state. I asked her about the Raven’s reputation across Kansas:

“I’ve had the honor of connecting with many independent bookstores in Kansas, including Eighth Day Books in Wichita, Flint Hills Books in Council Grove, and Middle Ground Books in Emporia, and I’ve seen the evolution and continuation of these and other stores as centers of hospitality, literacy, and the transformative power of language – just like the Raven. The owners of some of these stores have shared with me that they find inspiration in and guidance from the Raven.”

Mission-driven, community-oriented, employee-owned and operated, the Raven serves as an exemplar for the most passionate advocates of literary culture, social justice, and freedom of expression.

The Raven Book Store is located at 809 Massachusetts Street, in Lawrence, KS 66049. Find the Raven at ravenbookstore.com.

Steve Heller is an award-winning novelist and short story writer and past President of The Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP).  His latest novel, Return of the Ghost Killer, is forthcoming from Regal House Publishing on January 19, 2027.  He lives in Lawrence, Kansas.

Dog Eared Books: The Store That Always Has the Right Book

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By Scott Lambridis

Around 2005, a young kid named Cassius tried to steal a graphic novel from Dog Eared Books in San Francisco’s Mission District. He slipped the book under his jacket and headed for the door, but a bookseller caught him. The kid burst into tears. Ryan, who has worked at the store for more than twenty years, still remembers the moment. They scolded the kid. They made it clear he couldn’t do that. And then they gave him the book.

These days Cassius is grown—“a tall, handsome adult,” Ryan told me—but he still drops by the shop when he visits his mom. It’s a small story, but it says a lot about Dog Eared Books, a small store, packed tightly into a corner of Valencia Street. It’s warm, human, a little chaotic, and inseparable from its neighborhood. That reflection of the neighborhood is why they always seem to have exactly the right book. 

For a few years, I took part in a monthly book club devoted to NYRB Classics, hosted by Dog Eared. They always had a dedicated shelf to the Classics series, but more than that, the shelves always held unexpected delights: European novellas, lost modernists, odd little translations that felt unlikely to be found anywhere else. Ryan explained the secret:  “The books we have on the shelves reflect the community.”

Most of Dog Eared’s used inventory comes directly from the Mission’s readers, people bringing in the books they’ve finished or no longer have room for. The result is a kind of literary ecosystem. The neighborhood supplies the raw material. The booksellers shape it. Dog Eared has always leaned into that treasure-hunting culture. From the beginning, the store blended used books with new titles and remainders—publisher overstock discovered through the kinds of scavenger hunts booksellers love. “You have to enjoy looking for treasure if you work at a used bookstore,” Ryan said.

But the real work is curation. With such a small footprint, nearly every book has to earn its place. “Ninety percent of the job is picking the right books,” Ryan told me. Luckily, San Francisco gives them the freedom to take risks. “It’s a literate city. Thank goodness.” Just as important, the store avoids the trap that sinks many used bookstores: snobbery. “We’ve done a pretty good job not being jerks,” Ryan said with a laugh.

The result is a place that’s tidy enough to browse, adventurous enough to surprise you, and welcoming enough that even a kid caught stealing comes back, year after year after year. Our NYRB Classics book club has since gone online as members moved to other locales, and the store has changed owners, but whenever I’m in San Francisco, Dog Eared is still the first place I go. It’ll no doubt have exactly the book I didn’t know I was looking for.

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 

Borderlands Books: The Store Its Readers Refused to Lose

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by Scott Lambridis

For years, a man named Michael came into Borderlands Books in San Francisco. He lived in residential hotels and worked occasionally as a book scout, finding used books to sell around the city. He loved science fiction, especially Fritz Leiber, and he liked to talk about it. Sometimes at length.

Jeremy Lassen, who has worked at Borderlands for nearly three decades, remembers Michael clearly. The store’s cat would often curl into his lap while he sat reading quietly in the corner.

Then one day a letter arrived. Michael had moved to Florida and learned he had a brain tumor. In the letter he apologized if he had ever behaved strangely in the store. But mostly he wanted to say thank you. Being able to sit in Borderlands with a book and a cat in his lap, he wrote, had been one of the most important things in his life during that time.

Before Borderlands was a bookstore people rallied to save, it was a place that made room for people like Michael. The store began in 1997 when Alan Beatts, a lifelong science fiction reader, looked around the Bay Area and decided the genre deserved a better kind of bookstore. Many independents at the time still carried the cluttered aesthetic of the 1970s: dim lighting, dusty shelves, books stacked wherever they would fit.

Beatts imagined something else: a clean, well-lit, carefully organized bookstore devoted entirely to science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Jeremy met him while working at another indie bookstore in the Bay Area. After months of showing up every Sunday as a customer, Beatts finally told him, “You’re in here all the time anyway—want a job?”

He’s been there ever since.

From the beginning, Borderlands made a few deliberate choices. The store would stay focused on books. No figurines, toys, or novelty merchandise competing for shelf space. It would skip media tie-ins and franchise novels entirely. If a book didn’t stand on its own as literature, it didn’t belong.

“That shelf space could be more books,” Jeremy told me.

The store’s atmosphere reflects the same philosophy. Wooden fixtures, vintage rugs, and refinished hardwood floors give it a quiet, crafted feel with much of the work done by Beatts himself. The effect is welcoming but serious, a place designed for readers rather than collectors of memorabilia.

But survival in San Francisco has required more than good taste. Borderlands has been forced to move several times as landlords changed and rents rose. At one point, a minimum wage increase threatened to close the store entirely. When Beatts explained the numbers, customers responded with a simple question: could they help? They could. A few hundred patrons began contributing a few hundred dollars a year. It became enough to sustain the store for the next decade.

More recently, the community helped again. After years of lease instability, Borderlands borrowed the money to purchase its own building, not from a commercial bank but from readers who wanted the store to remain. It’s fitting that their logo is the ouroboros. Like the snake eating its own tail, there’s a recursive continuity at Borderlands, where customers sustain the store that, in turn, sustains them in a perpetual cycle of renewal. It also makes Michael’s story feel less like an anecdote than an explanation. A bookstore that gives people a place to belong will eventually find that it belongs to them, too.

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