This is the dream. There is no bookstore finer than this, the prices, unmarked, as if it were an insult to put a value on knowledge, the bookstore, this bookstore, a river of thought, the sum of human knowledge and experience, it's stock overflowing, there is everything you could want to read, and if you don't find it today, try again next week. There are the attempts at categorization - Philosophy, Travel, Religion, Magik, History, Fiction, The Sciences - Biology through Geology and Astronomy, autobiographies and biographies oppose one another across an angry aisle, shelves evolve, moving throughout the store as if on their own accord, today Poetry, overflowing, may find itself inexplicably moving a shelf up or down or to the left or the right by the time you visit again next week.
Know the impossibility of categorizing everything, a book can be 1/3 philosophy, 2/3 religion and 100% fiction and complete and utter rubbish, usually it's own shelf, outside the store on a table marked free.
It's lit with Edison bulbs, in most instances the glow from the filament enough for you to read the cover, but not so well the contents - this is, after all, a bookstore, not a library.
The sections overflow with books, the shelves, full, books behind books, there are books on top of books, there are stacks of books piled up upon the floor in front of the shelf they would be on, if there were room left upon the shelf. There are a great many books.
The sections, marked, not labeled, geology for example, is indicated with a few sliced geodes, some larger crystals of quartz or amethyst, Cartography, if it's a section, with an beautifully illustrated atlas open upon a shelf, a sextant or old brass ships compass in a lacquered box, art books, oversized, beneath a painting that changes weekly, artists pay to hang their work here, who wouldn't? And so it goes, you discover through exploring, moving towers of books to discover more towers of books, to see the titles under glass, to - as is the custom - peruse.
So there are of course times where you will speak with the proprietor, interrupt him, he is reading - always - he's genial, and will tell you where, point you in the general direction, advise you of where last he spotted what it is that you are looking for. And - in my own experience, and others, he knows everything, if not pointing he'll take you there and help you rummage in person, only - he's not rummaging, he looks quick, picks it out of the stack and hands it to you. And this is not the extraordinary part. No, the extraordinary part is when he offers you up some quote or intelligent criticism of it, refers you to another author that pairs with this, or that doesn't at all - but - "You should read them both.". That he has read them all, it is impossible, but -
And there are the books. The moderns, you know, but the dusty antique tomes everywhere, the first editions, Illustrations by Gustave Doré, Oversized Antique books of even more antique maps, there are rarities and literary curiosities, you can get carried away in here, there are the true first and only editions, written in the authors own hand before taking his life off such-and-such bridge, before marrying, before becoming a journalist or noteworthy painter, there are the journals of the Polar, Amazonian, African Explorers, there are moleskin journals filled with illustrations, colored in with watercolor or felt marker, all of these - as is natural - will be substantially more expensive - you expect this, you know - there are small recipe card cabinets filled with antique postcards, lacy valentines and others of a substantially racier tone, there are photographs of people a hundred years since dead, there are albums of stamps, baseball cards, ephemera of every imagining, bound up editions of old newspapers, there are bundles of letters, correspondence - these - no, they cannot be broken up, and no - they are deeply personal. They are to be bought sight unseen, you can have the joy of opening each letter for yourself, the envelopes and handwriting slight clues as to their contents.
There is the smell of old books, like cognac or fine cigars, something intoxicating in the decaying paper, that could keep you here for hours...
Not always what you're looking for, but always what you need. If you can't find what you're looking for ask for the recommendation. He will ask you a few questions, recent books, the impression they made, your review, never critical, merely curious, helpful. And then he'll find it, place it in your hands, the price - well, variable - pay it - it doesn't have to be cheap, although often it is, you get what you pay for, and - always, without fail, indubitably, you will be elevated. It will be the sum of the last 3 books you loved +1. You will have fallen in love with a new place, county, country, person, a new adventure or planet - whatever - to your taste - and where does he find time to read all this? To know his inventory so thoroughly?.
She is there, in the bookstore, browsing now...
My god do I miss you.