Book Shops on a Maine Highway--Route 1

"Book" is the new "Silk"

Of course we're all familiar with the famed and legendary "Silk Road," but perhaps less familiar with the not-so-famous or legendary "Book Road." Then again, this road may be famous inside the state of Maine, but not outside. Nonetheless, even if the locals have not officially named Route 1 along the state's coast "Book Road," I will give it that distinction. The interesting thing about this road is that it goes through some very pretty country, but is still in some parts rather rural. Yet, it has developed a book culture along its thoroughfares. Here is why this is interesting, and why I think some sociological speculation must come into play here for a few moments: in all of my travels around this country, I've rarely--if ever--seen a stretch of highway that boasted so many book shops or book sellers as Route 1. So what could be the reason?

Background: Once again, I was out driving back from a trip this summer, when I came through Bar Harbor. My schedule was tight and I was attempting to get back to NY within the course of one day (which, by the way, such a trip is a bit of a hike, and ended up taking me nearly 12 hours.) So pulling out of Bar Harbor and heading southwest on Route 1, I drove down the highway and passed through some lovely little old towns and villages. But every so often I would pass by a sign that read "books." And here is where the biggest irony or paradox came--here I am, the great book lover and searcher of off-the-beaten path book shops, and because of my crunched schedule, I couldn't stop at almost any! But it's no problem, because a) I can always go back, and in fact, make a trip of just that "book trail," and b) I have too many books as it is!--oh, and c) I'm a librarian for goodness sake!--what do I need more books for!?

Okay, so back onto Route 1: it's a splendid road, with some great views, especially the architecturally fabulous bridge near Fort Knox State Park, in Bucksport, ME. As I drive onward, with my nose and stomach fixed on finding "Maine's Biggest Lobster Role," which each successive road side shack and seafood restaurant was boasting, I began to realize that there weren't just "a few little bookshops" along Route 1--there were legions of them! Something wasn't quite right here...or maybe it was TOO right! I was both surprised and delighted to find this new "book highway" (perhaps the old fashioned version of the "information superhighway," except this was Route 1, and the houses and Queen-Anne's Lace were nicer than the internet.) This "bookway" then had me thinking--why on earth are there so many book shops here? Usually there'd be lots of antique shops, but book shops?

I then realized that the answer might just be found in looking at the demographics of the area--what is Maine, after all, especially in the summer and on the coast...but a tourist destination for New Englanders, especially Bostonians.

To explain this phenomenon a bit further, let me go back to some of my earlier bookish peregrinations. A few years ago, I was living in Chicago, and decided to visit Macinac Island (pronounced "MACK-in-aw") in northern Michigan. The distance between Chicago and northern Michigan is quite long--about 400 miles on the highways (one way!), and about 450 on the back roads, especially those along the western shores of the state overlooking Lake Michigan. Of course, on the way up, I took those back roads, mostly Route 31 north to Traverse City. The curious observation I made on this trip through Michigan, up to Macninac, was in the antique and book shops that I visited.

There were several antique shops, which I certainly found interesting, but also some curious book shops (one of the best was in a tool shed, off some side road, that I found while driving back to Chicago--and I bought a reasonably priced copy of Capote's "In Cold Blood" for ~$3). The thing I found odd about all of the book shops I visited in western Michigan was that a) the quality of books was rather low or average--and by "low or average," I mean the books were either romance novels or run-of-the-mill pulp, fiction and self-help books. Almost nothing in classic literature, no best sellers in non-fiction, or anything that gave a hint of the odd, the interesting, or even the foreign. There were no books in other languages or even translated from other languages. It was mostly bland fare. Now the other thing b) was that many of these books were way, way overpriced...as if the dealers and book shop owners thought their books (especially old books) had some intrinsic value based on their antiquity--even with mold and other things growing on them!

I would have thought this a fluke, to be seen at just one antique shop with its book stalls. But as the trip through Michigan went on, I consistently found that book stalls in antique shops and book stores were all pricing their books very, very high. I remember finding some grimy and stained old volumes of some Churchill histories running for near $30 a volume! And they weren't even close to half that in actual value. Perhaps the best part of the biblio-adventure was the discovery of a book sale at the public library located on the quaint and old fashioned, but rather well-to-do Mackinac Island. The residents, presumably of some means, as well as the visitors, some of whom shell out more than $600 a night to stay at the island's more posh hotels, would also have some interesting reading tastes, that might reflect their stations in life. Curiously, again, though there were some better books to be found in the Mackinac library--I bought McCullough's "Truman" (a beastly size, but good read) and Galsworthy's "Forsyte Saga" for mere change...probably a couple of dollars--the interesting thing was that the majority of the books I found were not exceptional or out-of-the-ordinary. It was more of a "Nora Roberts Library." Nothing against Nora Roberts, of course. I think the tone, though, was "power suits, in--Pickwick, out."

After that great Macinac trip, I thought for a long time about this: how come the quality of the books was so "average?" Perhaps the only other great find on that trip was at another library book sale. I don't remember the town that it was in, but I do remember that the best book at the sale--probably containing a few thousand books on its sale tables--was a Jane Smiley novel! (And I bought it!) Back to Maine, now. Driving down Route 1, and suddenly realizing the proliferation of book shops on this highway made me think back to that Michigan trip. But my thoughts about Michigan and about Route 1 in Maine were thoughts of contrast. Back in Michigan, the western shores of the state are, for many, a getaway from both Chicago and Detroit--and probably some other large midwestern cities. Many of those who go to these places are wealthy, or have to be, in order to afford some of the magnificent waterfront homes and condos that line the shores. In short, people come here to "chill out" and "relax," and not necessarily to read. But does that explain it completely?

Not really. I think it goes back to the locations of these places, and the culture of reading that exists in these two locales. Maine is and has traditionally been a place of refuge for New Englanders and Bostonians, groups who have a long history of intellectualism, historical memory, and family lineages. I'm sure there is more to it than simply these three things, but that academic culture seems to carry itself north in the summer. If you have droves of professors and university-level professionals running to the craggy banks of the Atlantic coast in Maine each year, they are bound to be carrying the newest, best, most classic texts with them, but also wanting to leave some behind, as well as find a few more books to read. And since Route 1 is "the" road of access to many of the greatest ocean vistas and summer rentals, it only makes sense that a culture of reading, books, book shops, and well-funded public libraries would emerge, grow, be fostered, and prosper in these hills leading to the sea.

The midwest's history is not as old in these terms...in fact New England has a good 200 year lead. And the culture is noticeably different when we look at book shops and libraries, what they carry, hold, sell... . These places are microcosms of the towns, states, and regions they are in. If you ever want to see if a place is a good fit for you to live, check out the libraries and book stores. I guarantee that you'll get a better sense of the place once you've visited one.

New Brunswick Library, Books--And the Longest Covered Bridge in the World

Books and a Really Long Bridge!

On a drive last summer through the wilds of New Brunswick, I happened to read a sign that said "World's Longest Covered Bridge." Of course, how could I resist this!? Finding my way through some small Canadian towns and back country roads, following signs that read "Bridge This Way!"...I eventually came down to a river crossing and the one-lane covered bridge, which spanned it.
The bridge is found in the town of Hartland, NB, and crosses the Saint John River. In order to cross the river (and go through/over the bridge!) you need to wait for a light, because it is only one lane. You must turn your lights on and cruise across the rickety structure for more than 1,200 feet! It is surely an experience not to be forgotten. On the opposite side, there is a visitor center, which is packed with regional information, moose, hockey, and maple leaf trinkets (like magnets, shot glasses, and bottle openers), and bottles of maple syrup. There are also lots of tourists...and a fair number of books for sale on regional interests--cooking, local history, and ghost stories. I bought a book on the history of the bridge and some books on New Brunswick place names and their origins.

On the opposite side of the road, just a few hundred yards from the tourist shop, there was a grand old building that had been turned into a library-- the Dr. Walter Chestnut Public Library. It wasn't open, but I did take a few photos of it. I'd say that this was a good find--out in search of the world's longest covered bridge, I was able to buy a few regional books (one of my favorite activities), stock up on surely needed maple sweets for the drive, and photograph a stately old building-turned-public library (which even had a clock in its tower!) What more could I have asked for?

Mary Jane Books -- Cobleskill, NY

Books in the Attic?

Perhaps one of the little known secrets about book shops is that some of the best, and I mean very best book shops are not to be found in the big cities...but out in the countryside. Now, I know there will be some folks that will say, "but the Strand is the best!" Okay, NYC book shops can be behemoth in size, but places like the Strand (which I like), are often way over priced. The point of going to book shops, especially "used" book shops or any other second-hand store that sells books is that you can find great deals. If you don't want deals or the joy of the book hunt, well, then go to Amazon, aLibris, or your local Walmart. But if you are up for some bibliographic fun, and are simply entertained by the peregrination factor involved in searching for bookish places, then the country book shop is for you.

The added element of these country book shops is that they all have their unique flavor--their shops have some sort of curiosity, flare, and personality. From the proprietor and/or owner, to the cats perched up on window sills, or Labradors curled into wintery warm fur pillows on knitted rugs. I'm also a fan of book shops, which have couches and lounge chairs--as long as they're not covered with dust mites or bed bugs or too much cat hair! But back to more pleasant topics: these local book shops can be great, and pleasant finds. A few months back I was driving through Cobleskill, NY...on my way to Brooks BBQ in Oneonta--which if you haven't tried it, you must! But back in Cobleskill, there is an old book shop that I just adore, called Catnap Books, on 574 Main Street. I've been going there for years, and have found some excellent books there at very good prices.

This time through, I discovered a new place called Mary Jane Books, which apparently has other "branches," even though it's a used book shop. (I should say that there are some other notable examples, such as Powell's Books in Chicago, which is a used shop--and probably my all time favorite book shop--but has several branches). Mary Jane Books may not have the variety or even gravitas of Catnap, but it is a fun little place, and is located at 509 W. Main Street, just down the street. I think, as I have been visiting and reviewing the book shop culture for some time now, that these shops do best where there are colleges and universities--for obvious reasons. And I think that anyone interested in this sort of business would be wise to start up such an enterprise in just such an area.

The link to Mary Jane Books can be found here:

http://www.maryjanebooks.com/

The Cobleskill branch is small, and is located in a space, which looked to be above a garage...in what felt like an attic! But there was plenty of parking and the interior was pleasant and inviting for readers. And there was ample light (natural and otherwise) for sitting and going through a few volumes. There were some deals to be had here, for sure. So if you're in the Cobleskill area, stop off and visit these great little book shops.

Oblong Books--Millerton, NY

Bookshop on the "Borders"

I've often wondered where the name "Borders" came from (as in "Borders Books"), and simply considered it had something to do with the "limits of our imagination." No such luck. In fact, it turns out that "Borders" was simply the last name of the brothers, Tom and Louis, who started the first "Borders" book shop back in 1971 in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Though nowadays, with the corporate amalgamation that this humble shop became, Borders Group, in fast decline and bankruptcy, the only borders we may speak of are the old ones which limit time and space. This came to mind recently, when I went to visit the small, yet delightfully old fashioned town of Millerton, NY, which has a great number of specialty shops and eateries (somewhat like Woodstock, NY--but slightly different). Millerton is on the "border" of New York State and Connecticut, and among its featured businesses is Oblong Books (see above), which also has a branch in Rhinebeck, NY. This family owned business sells mostly new books, but still has the flavor of a locally brewed book joint, with affable and knowledgeable staff. They seem to promote community in various ways, including hosting readings and other events on a pretty regular basis. So if you're ever in town--Millerton or Rhinebeck--stop by one of these shops and take a look!

Woodstock, NY Bookshop

Just Passing By...

Occasionally, I'll find a bookshop worth mentioning, and offer it up for readers--without much commentary. I discovered this shop in Woodstock, NY a few months ago, nestled between the other interesting shops of the town. There are many curious places to see in the area, both in terms of retail shops and cultural activities. There are also quite a few good eateries in town. As usual, check it out!

Another Closing: Remembering Merritt Books in Redhook

How Many More...!?

It seems like every time we turn a corner, another book store closes. I know that over the last few years, as I've been exploring book shops, libraries, and other bookish things, I've covered or reported on the closing of a handful of such locales--the Mercury Cafe Lending Library in Chicago, the Theological Library in the Chicago Convent, the Barnes and Noble in Lincoln Center, the majestic seminary library of Mt. Saint Alphonsus, and others. This story is now about a year old, as it was probably last January or so when I came across this book shop, Merritt Books, in Redhook, NY--not far from Rhinebeck, NY, where Oblong Books still survives. As I drove by the store, I saw signs that read something like "Going Out of Business," so I went in and inquired.

And so, it was true. And what I found were mostly empty shelves--shelves which once held hundreds, maybe thousands of books. And though it had not closed completely yet, they were now selling off their shelving units, at varying prices, but somewhere in the area of $100-$400. There were still some items left, but not many. The shop itself closed just a few weeks after my visit. Luckily, it was only this location that closed, I later found out. There is now a Merritt Books in Millbrook (not Millerton, where Oblong is). As the market for bookshops tightens with online book shopping, there is a hope that they may find a specific niche, which will help them flourish. And there book shops that ARE flourishing. We just need to keep visiting them.

Forgotten and Other Seminaries (Part 3): Catholics and Unificationists

Interesting Histories: From Private Estate to Religious Institutions

The small hamlet of Barrytown, NY, is bound on one side by the great Hudson river, and lies squarely within the historically rich confines of a once immense land grant owned by the Livingston family, on the eastern shores of the river. For centuries, literally, this land was held by the Livingston family, gradually broken up into smaller parcels. So, in usual fashion, one share of this land went to a Livingston descendent, who decided to build a fine estate. As we find in one Dutchess County local history account about John R. Livingston:

"In 1797 he built a marvelously elegant mansion, called Massena after one of Napoleon's great generals. (Massena House, today part of Unification Seminary, stands on the site of the original 18th-century mansion.) Its central feature was a splendid glass-domed library. Perhaps in later life he had time to read the books in his excellent collection, but for the next 25 years, as in the preceding 25 years, he scrambled for money so fast and furiously that it is hard to imagine him sitting quietly for more than a thumb-through." (Full Article)

That said, he and his descendants lived in the Massena House for the next century, until the death of its last owner around 1903. In fact, there are two images below, which show the Massena House as it looked at the turn of the twentieth century, in an ad for its sale (note there is an expansive lawn from which the image was taken), and another photo, which I took just recently, from inside of the present seminary.

Between 1903 and ca. 1930, the house was owned and inhabited by other parties, of which I have yet not identified. But it is clear that, probably in the late 1920s, the owners of the estate sold the property to the Catholic Church (unless it was acquired by the church at a much earlier time--this would have to be researched further). In 1930, the St. Joseph Juniorate and Novitiate in Barrytown, operated by the Lasallian Christian Brothers, opened. This Novitiate, run by Lasallians (often indicated by FSB

-- Fratres Scholarum Christianarum--after their names), was an educational institution, which ran until 1973, and within two years was sold to another religious organization. The original building structure is still in use, by its successive property owners, the Unification Church of Sun Myung Moon, and was made into the church's seminary.

The day I visited, it was in great part by accident. I had been visiting a nearby town, and was driving near Barrytown. I saw a sign on the road for the Unification Theological Seminary, and had recalled various unclear visions of the so-called "Moonies" (a term which is pejorative, and not used in any positive way), whom I'd come in contact with as a child in the late 70s and early 80s--a time which was probably the height of their Public Relations battles. Nonetheless, I'd always been intrigued by the seminary, which I'd never visited. And so, on this cold winter day, I decided to venture in and see what I could find.

Entering through the front gate--which was now empty, and boasted a cutout of Santa Claus--, I first drove around the estate, which has both paved and dirt roads, and wends through the hilly terrain of the old Livingston estate. Regal barns and other out-buildings still dot the landscape amid oaks, pines, and locust trees, bending down to the earth like old men with canes, who'd been there for countless generations, watching children play and grow in the grassy fields. Coming back toward the front of the seminary, across from the old Massena House, I curiously found a woman and some children doing garden work--in the cold of the December weekend.

I pulled in and parked, and got out to speak with the woman. I asked her about the seminary and if there was a chapel that I could see. She told me to enter a side door, and take a look for myself. So I did. It was still a bit cold inside, and somewhat castle-like. When I finally found where I was going, I discovered a marvelous old chapel, that in some ways had been reduced in size--at least by its chairs. There were no pews, just a few rows of chairs, a grand piano, and some instruments along with sound amplification hardware. Symbolic flags hung from either side of the chapel, and off to the right, in a corner, there was an alter, with a Bible to one side, framed squarely with the famed photo of Rev. and Mrs. Moon--he standing and smiling, she regal in her golden imperial dress.

I walked around a bit more, still rather cold. The sound of youngsters ricocheted through the corridors, and soon I saw a handful of kids, probably between 9 and 15 year olds, running down the hallways and into the chapel. They came in and started playing songs on the piano, as I made my way out. In one hallway, I discovered some display cases of books--"New Arrivals at the UTS Bookstore" a placard read. There were books, but also mugs reading "UTS" on them. Behind another door, which led down an interior hallway, I found a door and a sign that read "Bookstore," but there was no indication that it was open or even operable any longer. Especially since the institution's main facility is now in Manhattan, according to both the people I spoke with at the seminary that day and their website, it seemed likely that the operations of the Barrytown location were winding down.

As I walked around a bit more, this realization became ever more apparent, when I cam upon another display--this one of images accompanied by evocations of religious profession by the Rev. Moon. It showed the Reverend with congregants reliving biblically imagined fishing expeditions in the Hudson River, right off the property to the west, down a slight and rolling hillside. The images are extraordinary, in many ways, not in the least that they convey a time and a place in the religious explorations of the 1970s, that were somehow almost impervious to the mass suspicion that technology and communications of today bring to religious claims. In some ways, that period still allowed myth making or king making or religion making in a way that would be almost impossible today.

The great curiosity of this intriguing band of religionists is still enshrined in this weathered temple of theological education and its surrounding buildings. And four-decade-old remnants are still here to be found, for now--with kind, quiet, and pleasant people living and working here.

From what I understand, the library no longer operates, and the main library and book center, for curricular needs has shifted south to NYC.

Heading out, that morning, I drove around the estate-turned-campus, with a slight sense of melancholy. With a sense that religious institutions have always gone through transitions, but with more issue and trouble in the last hundred years; and even more in the last twenty years. Technology has moved us away from the physical school, the physical realm of education in many ways, to a sphere of all-information, all over the place, all of the time.

We could just imagine some young novices, during the old Lasallian days, wandering from one statue to the next, one station of the cross to the next, in these magnificent old Livingstonian fields, with the warm breeze of spring, and the flight of some robins nearby. Each young learner imbibing the majesty of place and the power of nature.

Now, we might wonder if place even matters any more--at least in our quest for understanding education, especially theological education.