The
nice thing about
large general bookstores, in addition to comfy chairs and other amenities, is
that they’re huge — you can get anything there. Larger focus means more
customers, which in turn means higher revenue and the kind of financial clout
that can mean better prices on the books you like to read. But the thing about
large bookstores is also that they are just that — large. It’s hard to develop
a personal relationship with a three-story building, as lovely and well-stocked
as it may be.
Specialty bookstores, on the other hand, are an entirely different kettle of
fish. Being a reading town (with five universities in and around the city, how
could it not be?), and one with a special spot in its heart for the odd and
unusual, Austin has its fair share of specialty stores. Want adult comics and
graphic novels? African-American, Native American, Latin American,
Chicana-lesbian fiction, science fiction? Whatever it is, somewhere in Austin
is a store that carries it and only books of its type. These stores have a
particular advantage over the behemoths: They feel like home. There is a trem- endous sense of community among aficionados of science fiction, horror, and
fantasy. John Barton, manager at Adventures in Crime and Space (609 W. Sixth),
says, “The loyalty is just tremendous.” Since its opening in November 1994,
Adventures in Crime and Space has given fans no reason to place their loyalty
elsewhere. Stocking over 17,000 titles of sci-fi, mystery, and horror, many of
them autographed, plus magazines, comics, trading cards, and three rooms of
used books, the store feels no pinch from stores like Barnes and Noble. Barton
says, “We get calls from [the larger stores] quite often. They can’t find
something; they know we have it.”
Adventures in Crime and Space keeps in touch with the Austin sci-fi/mystery
community through newsletters, e-mail, and a Web page (address
www.eden.com/~acs). The Fandom Association of Central Texas sponsors a monthly
in-store science fiction reading group. Since specialty stores often can’t
compete with general stores in terms of price, contacts made through
newsletters and loyalty built through discussion groups are of high importance
to owner Willie Siros. “We can’t afford to discount like Bookstop, so what we
depend on is the service we can offer and our expertise.”
Bookwoman (918 W. 12th) began in owner Susan Post’s living room 20 years ago.
The store now stocks over 6,000 fiction and nonfiction titles, in addition to
cards and T-shirts. But perhaps the store’s most appreciated commodity is the
support and advice that can be had at its counter. “We really provide a lot of
contacts and information to the lesbian community,” Alex Barron says. “People
come in asking where’s a good bed and breakfast where my lover and I will be
comfortable, that sort of thing.” Barron believes that one of the advantages
that Bookwoman can offer its customers is specific knowledge. “We know the
stock, if someone comes in asking for a book on recovery from abuse, we can
give them a title that we think is good. Plus we can offer sympathy and
support.” Post was recently able to move the store from its old location on
Sixth St. to a new, more spacious home on 12th. With the larger space,
Bookwoman is finding ways to serve the women’s and lesbian communities that go
beyond books and over-the-counter information. Bookwoman has in the past been
able to draw speakers such as author Gloria Steinem and poet Sandra Cisneros
for booksignings; those will be supplemented now with poetry readings by local
authors. Bookwoman is also considering opening its space to Austin groups; last
summer, the store hosted the Freedom Alliance Benefit.
Back in 1992, says Rosalind Oliphant, “You had to go to a lot of trouble to
find African-American titles.” Oliphant’s love of reading sired Folktales, an
African-American book kiosk in Highland Mall. By 1994, the cart operation had
grown into the little yellow-and-blue house at 1806 Nueces Street. Folktales
feels very personal. From its main room, with its fireplace and shelves of
books (about 1,000 titles) and cushions on the floor, to the back conference
and study rooms, the house has the feel of a home in which good talk and good
thought are encouraged. Owner Oliphant herself is usually behind the counter,
and willing to talk at length about what goes on in the store. It was a natural
progression, she says, from selling books to hosting structured discussions in
the store. “People were always coming into the store, wanting to talk about
books. Customers would call me with comments.” Folktales sponsors an adult
reading club, a women’s adult reading club, and monthly free forums on subjects
ranging from African-American entrepreneurship to the problems of
African-American youth. Children’s story hour occurs on the first Saturday of
every month. “Anytime you get people together to talk, it can’t help but be a
benefit,” Oliphant says.
By all rights, Resistencia (2210 S. First) should be defunct. It’s a store
with the slightly shabby, preoccupied air of a woman just too busy to fix her
nails or do her hair: a location barely visible from the street, harsh
fluorescent lighting, no soft chairs, and if you want coffee, better walk down
the street to the tamale house and hope it’s fresh. And yet Resistencia has
been open in Austin for over 15 years. Resistencia stocks about 2,000 titles by
Native American, Chicano, and African-American authors, plus gifts and art. The
rest of the space in the small store is reserved for Red Salmon Press, an
independent publishing house, and the open mikes, readings, and political
meetings that the store has become known for.
Owner Ra�l Salinas runs the store and its numerous community programs
on a nearly nonexistent budget. Manager Jennifer Parzer says that all money
from sales is plowed back into programs such as Save Our Youth, a project
targeted at “at-risk” children in the South Austin area, and the Resistencia
Literary Project, which brings local and national poets, writers, performance,
and visual artists together in Austin. As yet, the store receives only minimal
public funding; Parzer says that all support is “totally grassroots.” The level
of community involvement, especially for such a small store, is unparalleled
and even somewhat inexplicable — try fitting a project like Prisoners Rights
Support Network, which specializes in providing books to prisons, into any
average CEO’s cost-benefit analysis, and it just doesn’t fly. “We’re here for
the use of the community,” Parzer states emphatically.
Do bigger stores threaten
smaller stores? Ted Lanier, co-owner of New Age Books and Tapes (see sidebar)
fears that with the influx of larger stores into Austin, “the reading public is
going to have to make a choice. Do they want big bookstores or do they want the
guidance that a small specialty store can offer?” But Arlene Abraham, events
coordinator for Toad Hall Children’s Books (1206 W. 38th), feels that specialty
stores don’t compete with larger stores: “Our customers are the ones who come
in and say `I want the book about the butterfly who makes friends with the
polliwog, and I don’t remember the title but it has a purple cover.’ They know
we can usually find it.”
The trend in bookstores today is toward in-store cafes and reading chairs —
the homey feel. The co-existence of small bookstores and their corporate
cousins is hard evidence that the written word is nowhere near death. But
specialty stores offer a unique brand of comfort and support to their patrons,
one that can’t be duplicated. Because of this, they are ideal watering holes
for that rare creature (said to be almost extinct in some parts), community. In
Resistencia, or in Folktales, cultural barriers disappear; in Adventures in
Crime and Space, there is no need to make excuses for spending half your
paycheck on books; and when you open the door of Bookwoman, there is the lovely
feeling that somebody cared enough about who you are and what you need to know
to stock a whole store with it. When you feel comfortable, you tend to talk. If
you like the store, you come back. You start to see the same people. You talk
more. What do you talk about? Perhaps you talk about the problems in the
schools. Perhaps you talk about the upcoming elections, or just the weather. It
doesn’t matter, because sooner or later you will all come back. Sooner or
later, you will talk about what lies closest to your hearts. n
This article appears in February 23 • 1996 and February 23 • 1996 (Cover).