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Monday, March 17, 2008

Opinion: Loss of bookstore still grieved

posted by BOFarrell at 9h48

by BILL YOUNG

It was a cruel January morning when I first heard the news, and cruel news it was.

An east wind was pounding over the ice-bound waters of Lake of Two Mountains. Malevolent snow devils spun like dervishes across Main Road, bucking cars and sending shivers down the spine. Every exposed surface in Hudson was coated with ice and rime.

It was a good day to stay home.

And for some of us who ventured forth it wasn't about to get any better.

The mandatory stops came first. The bank and Medi-Centre, the IGA - and then the payoff, a de rigueur courtesy call at Livres Acorn Books.

Set deep within the interior of a local shopping centre, Acorn is (or more accurately, was) a rare gem, a throwback to an age when the quirky independent book shop was a staple of every small town.

You knew something was wrong as soon as you walked through the doors. The chronically ebullient owner, Karen Franklin, was anything but.

"I have something to tell you," she whispered, moving me off to one side where we would not be overheard. Her tone was ominously flat.

"I'm going to be closing the shop in a couple of weeks."

Fighting back tears, she explained.

"Christmas sales were terrible - down almost 40 per cent from what they usually are. I'm not going to be able to continue."

The news was enough to spoil even the most delightful summer's day, but in the cold and gloom of January, it was shattering.

We chatted a bit further, but what was there to say. Franklin's words carried such weight of finality that protestations, however well-meaning, were futile.

Today, the bookstore is indeed no more. Acorn is dead.

All you see now when you walk past the space it once occupied is an unseemly void - a grotesque gash, a cicatrix in waiting.

Retail can be a tough business in a village like ours, and the past year has taken its toll. Several shops have called it quits. And because the merchants are our friends and neighbours, every time one of them puts up the shutters, it hurts.

Acorn was more than just a books emporium. Its selections helped tell us who we were. It offered a warm and welcoming haven where browsing was encouraged, and provided a gathering place where one found greater things to talk about than taxes, sewer installations and the weather.

And it hosted Scrabble, for heaven's sake, served up with tea and cookies every Sunday afternoon.

Acorn was also a tremendous boon to local authors, of which Hudson claims more than a few. Franklin always found ways to promote their works, displaying their books prominently.

"She is the reason we sold so many copies," said local historian Rod Hodgson, speaking about the Hudson Historical Society's enviable publications program. "She always found a place for us."

Some will say that in these modern times the notion of an independent bookstore surviving in a small town is foolishly anachronistic.

Perhaps so. But this just makes the adventure that much more heroic and our local booksellers heroes all.

On our behalf, these redoubtable knights do daily battle with big box stores and the Internet, tirelessly jousting with discounted bestsellers and unfeeling distributors. Their quest, someone once wrote, is "the perfect book for that person and the perfect home for that book."

We, in Hudson, were blessed that Livres Acorn Books and its predecessor, Village Bookstore, both stayed around as long as they did. But, of course, that only deepens our sorrow, our sense of loss.

So let this be a cautionary tale. If you are fortunate enough to have an independent bookstore in your community, hold it close. And remember, it is never a good idea to buy the latest bestseller elsewhere just because somebody has marked it down. Never.

Bill Young is a Hudson writer who will be forever grateful for the kind reception his book, Remembering the Montreal Expos, co-authored with Danny Gallagher, received at Livres Acorn Books.