photograph by anna traverse
Burke's Book Store
The rain had been coming down for three days with no signs of stopping. The basement sump pump was making obscene, house-juddering noises, and the oak tree in the backyard was catapulting wet chunks of itself onto the deck. I needed a change of scenery, but it was too late on a Sunday for a museum trip, too wet for a park walk, and I was too caffeinated to justify a coffee-shop outing.
What I needed was a well-lit and cozy place where I might see fellow humans without being obligated to any of them, and where I could engage my curiosity without feeling like I was at work. What I needed was a bookstore. Luckily for me, Novel is a 12-minute drive from home, and that afternoon, browsing their shelves for 40 minutes or so turned a dreary, soggy Sunday into a peaceful and pleasant one.
You know Novel, surely? It’s the independent bookstore in the space in Laurelwood longtime locals likely still think of as Davis-Kidd. Walking in, you’ll find tables of books by local and regional authors, many of whom have done book-signings there. You’ll find thoughtful little gift items — candles, pottery, locally made treats and teas, book-nerd socks and T-shirts (surely someone in your life needs a pair of socks emblazoned with Edgar Allen Poe’s face in a repeated, polka-dot pattern: Poe-ka dots).
In Memphis, we are fortunate to have multiple independent bookstores still providing the opportunity to shop free of algorithmic support.
You’ll find new releases and old favorites, and throughout the store, you’ll find handwritten tags offering brief notes about particular books. Some of the notes are written by the booksellers on staff, others by guests, and all offer a personal touch, like a friend beckoning you over to tell you about a title they read recently and think you might love. The experience of browsing here is very, very human.
Anna Traverse
In Memphis, we are fortunate to have multiple independent bookstores still providing the opportunity to shop free of algorithmic support. Venture into Cooper-Young, and Burke’s will welcome you for an hour or two of quiet thumbing through new and used books. With personal recommendations galore and quirky and clever book-art window displays courtesy of Cheryl Mesler, who co-owns the shop with her husband, prolific author Corey Mesler, Burke’s feels like a neighborhood bookshop from a different era, in the best way. And, literally, Burke’s is from a different era, having been in business since 1875(!). Even John Grisham is a longtime fan.
Novel and Burke’s are two of the biggest draws for book lovers locally, but they aren’t our only options. For a city of Memphis’ size and economy, we are rich in independent, local bookstores. DeMoir Books & Things, a millennial- and Black-owned shop that opened downtown earlier this year, offers an impressive selection of titles by minority and LGBTQ+ authors, as well as comic books. I never walk away empty-handed when venturing into Book Juggler, also downtown. If you love the library but struggle to return books on time, consider a visit to Second Editions, the used bookshop nestled within the main library’s first floor.
If you’re reading this, I’d bet you’re someone who already understands the value of a great local bookstore. But in our busyness and distraction, most of us still find ourselves ordering books online from time to time, or simply scrolling on our phones and not cracking the spine of a book at all. I know I feel more content when my nightstand is well stocked: my current read, the book I’m kinda-sorta also reading, plus the two or three I intend to open next.
And I feel even better when those books are ones I selected by hand, after skimming the first few pages; even better if I wasn’t aware of them before walking into the bookstore. Sure, I can always find a suggestion online that’s perfectly tailored to my past reads, my likes and dislikes, but that’s a joyless process. The various algorithms woven into our lives do a good job at providing more of what we already know, but a terrible job of waking us up, startling us, moving us. For that, we need books, and the bookstores that lead us into new worlds. (Plus, bookstores almost always smell good.)
On that recent, rainy Sunday, I came home with one book I had been meaning to read, and another I’d never heard of. That’s the beauty of browsing, not scrolling: We get to be surprised by what we find. Next time you’re at loose ends, I suggest doing the same. I’ve regretted many an hour spent staring at my phone. I can’t imagine ever regretting an hour spent in a bookstore.
