Sad is a generic word, but that's how I feel
The Middle Earth Book Shoppe has been here for more than 30 years. The owner has 60 days to get out. The new landlord has doubled the rent and he can't afford to stay.
My friend Maile introduced me to the Middle Earth Book Shoppe when she got a job there last year.
It's no Border's and that's why I liked it. Borders is brightly lit with big signs marking each section but it never fails to overwhelm and confuse me.
Middle Earth is dimly lit and the carpet inside is old and flattened by thousands of feet wandering across it. The lighting is horrible and the shelves form mazes you could get lost in for hours. The books are in no particular order. I can't tell you how many times I've watched Maile, finger on lip, try to remember where it was she'd seen that book the customer was now asking for.
Every evening, before closing, Maile would vacuum the floor and shout, "We're closing now! Everybody out if you don't want to be locked in!" Every now and then a charigned customer would scramble out clutching a cache of books they want to purchase.
Customers have spent hundreds of dollars in a single visit at the Middle Earth Book Shoppe.
Chris said he bought a dictionary there that cost more than a $100. His mom has frequented the store since it opened more than 30 years ago.
Back then, she said, it was nothing but a tourist shop. She told Bob, the owner, that he should concentrate more on the local clientele and expand his offerings. Then she bought a Roget's Thesaurus from him.
"You know what this is for?" he sassed.
"Yes, I know what it's for," she retored. "I can even pronounce it."
That's how Bob is with his customers.
When I stopped by after a two month hiatus, the first thing he said to me was, "Maile was right. You have gained weight."
Bob and I had only met once before, and very briefly.
"I can't believe he told you that," Maile said. "I told him to be nice to you. I told him, that if he'd gotten you to stay at least 15 minutes longer you would have bought something. You can always be convinced to buy something."
Maile called me the first day of the closing sale and told me to come right away.
"I can't come now," I said. "I'm at work."
Maile said she had a bunch of books set aside for me, books that would otherwise be tossed.
"You know that's tantamount to blackmail," I told her. "You know I can't let you toss those books."
So me and Andrea went. The free books were piled in two grocery carts. The top layer contained dictionaries and thesauruses, the middle layer erotica and romance and the bottom layer Shakespeare.
Maile says I should write a story about the closing. It's the end of an era, she said, and speaks of the social and economic changes going on in Kona.
It's also a story about Bob, who's losing his life's work.
When I visited Bob tonight, I asked him if he would let someone from the paper interview him if we did decide to do a story.
"Only if it's you," he said.
Now I'll have to find out if he was serious.
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