A Bookstore in Wisconsin/Minnesota Needs Our Help

We all know that independent bookstores are riding a dangerous wave in today’s economy: some dance; some drown.

There’s a nice bookshop in Hudson, Wisconsin, called Chapter2Books. It’s at 422 Second Street, on the bank of the St. Croix River, at the border with Minnesota. And all 842 square feet of it is struggling.

Sue and her husband Brian set up shop in Summer 2011, after Brian lost his job managing a credit union because of a merger with a larger firm. They launched their little bookstore with high hopes and higher rents.

chapter 2 booksAnd now, as Sue puts it, the economy is kicking their butts.

Sue understands that people think Amazon is cheaper, but, as she says,”Cheap is not cheap. Cheap books=no indies=no story hour for the babies at the shop=no support for local authors=no writing groups=no forum for national authors to come to town=no special, hand picked books, just bestsellers you can find anywhere=noone to personally make a connection with your reluctant reader=no indie store participating in chamber and town events, etc. etc. etc. Is that download on Amazon really worth it?”

“I’ve realized in the last few weeks that I have become a curator of books,” Sue said. “It actually is an important function to help people, whether they’re looking for a gift book or expanding what their kids are reading.”

For his part, Brian opened the doors to local authors: self published, house published, prospective writers and all. Not only did they set up a writing group, but when self-published authors came to do book talks, if the turnout was low, Brian slipped a $20 here or there from his own dwindling wallet and went to merchants up and down the street, suggesting they stop in, listen a few minutes, and buy the book.

That kind of human touch doesn’t come from cyber-deals.

sue and brian“This bookshop was our prayer to the universe,” Sue said. “Brian spent 30 years in banking, and then we got to do this. We advise customers and listen to their needs and all the things you talk about in your book, Wendy, and yet, now….I’m mad, I’m sad, I’m frustrated, I’m devastated, I’m heartbroken, I’m terrified.”

Can we afford to lose another small town store–a BOOKstore–folks? Do we really want another one to bite the dust?

Perhaps we can help. Could you repost this information – whole blog, condensed piece, whatever you can. Here are some basics: The shop is open from 10-5. Mon-Wed and Saturday, 10-7 Thurs and Fri, and 11-5 Sundays. Their website is http://www.chapter2books.com/. Thanks for doing what you can. Sue and Brian support their community. They could use some nice email (Brian@chapter2books.com; Sue@chapter2books.com), Tweets @chapter2books, and LIKEs on Facebook to boost morale–and spread the word that they’re standing, ready, to serve booklovers along the St. Croix River. Thanks!

The Water of Human Kindness

I think I blogged about this a few months ago, but when you run an independent bookshop, people bring you stuff.

Last night I came home to a small pile of laundry on a chair in our shop’s front room. We try (and fail) to keep personal clutter upstairs, out of the shop zone, so Jack followed my displeased look and smiled.

“That wasn’t me,” he said. “J and D were in, and she said I looked cold, and went out to her car, and brought me this spiffy hoodie.” He held up a dark blue, thick and new-looking jacket. “And she said she bought those two undershirts for her husband, but they were too small so she thought of me.” Jack donned the jacket and instantly looked like a Scotsman in a hoodie (aka silly).

Awhile ago, a friend walked in and presented us with a door mat. On it a kitten slumbered atop a book pile. “Saw it in a catalog, knew you had to have it here.” She wouldn’t take any money for it.

Last Sunday, just as Quaker meeting was breaking up, the father of a hunting duo–no matter what season, they come in camo, deer jackets and ammo-logo-bearing ball caps–appeared with a sagging plastic bag in his hand and a smile beaming from his face. The smile faded as he saw the quiet, dignified people just getting up from the worship circle, and he tucked the bag behind his back.

I ran over to him. “Hi! It’s ok. We just finished. Come join us for lunch.”

Shaking his head, he held out the bag. Something dripped onto the floor. “This is what I brung Jack. Jus’ tell ‘im I brung ’em.” He held out the bag–which my hand seized in Quaker compassion before my brain recoiled in squeamish girly squeals and off he went.

Inside? Five whole trout, still in river water. We feasted that night, with fresh asparagus from another friend’s largesse.

It happens all the time: “made brownies and thought y’all would like some”; “my mama loved this baby doll but I just don’t have a place to display it and it’ll look nice on top of a book shelf”; and Jack’s personal favorite “me and the boys just finished the latest batch. Label this so nobody mistakes it for water.”

That not-water came in pretty handy about a month ago when I was going down with a sore-throat, watermelon-head thing. A gargle each morning, three days running, and I was right as rain. Water. Which that was not.

We love running a community bookstore.

Jack and Wendy leave Tuesday for Istanbul. While they’re away, members of the proud and secretive GGG organizations will be writing the blog. When Jack and Wendy return, there will be pictures and travel stories and silliness, oh my, but while the Guerrilla Grammar Girls have control, there will be side-splitting, coffee-spitting guffaws of laughter. Enjoy!