Bookstore Explorer: The Strand, New York City
Books cover the walls of a three-story building on the corner of East 12th and Broadway. The red awning reads: “Strand Bookstore 18 Miles of Books.” The windows have red banners saying, “Largest used book store in the world; new, old, and rare books.” Books welcome visitors before they enter the shop; carts upon carts of $1 treasures line the sides of the building. Whenever I push open the glass door, it always hits me: the smell of books unopened, spines waiting to be cracked.
Visitors inevitably walk past the tables of (incredible) Strand themed merchandise. I always catch myself smiling when I see someone carrying a Strand tote bag, especially somewhere outside New York City. I know the bag’s owner has experienced the magic that is perusing this iconic bookstore and loved enough to bring home a souvenir. I personally own five Strand tote bags completely shamelessly.
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The sight of so many books is arresting if you’re not used to it. One of the best things about the Strand is that readers get the diversity of a large, chain bookstore while benefiting from the thoughtful curation that makes independent bookstores special. I am a huge fan of boutique bookstores, but their selection can be more limited.
The books at the Strand rest on shelves that go from floor to ceiling. They’re often packed so tightly that when I pull one off the shelf, the two that were sandwiching it give way and close the gap. Books are piled high on tables, too. My favorite is labeled Staff Picks, where, during this visit, I pick up Severance by Ling Ma. A table in the basement has a placard that reads, “Real Books that Cost Less Than E-Books,” consisting of thin paperbacks that no one’s heard of before.
The Strand is a New York City institution. It was established as a used book store in 1927 by a 25-year-old man (with $600 in his pocket) named Ben Bass, whose family has run the store ever since. The store sat on a stretch of Fourth Avenue called “Book Row,” a group of 6 city blocks that was home to 48 bookstores. Today, only the Strand remains. It moved to its current location on 12th Street and Broadway in 1957.
The Strand is a piece of history that has somehow escaped time’s cruelties. Just as pieces of the lost worlds of Victorian England or ancient Egypt and the fantasy worlds of Hogwarts or Westeros are preserved in the pages of the books that reside in this store, the Strand has been preserved in a world where books have been replaced for many by screens.
I stumbled into the Strand for the first time in the early months of my freshman year at NYU. I don’t remember much about that first visit, but I must have been captivated because I spent countless hours at the Strand during my college years. Time for a new book? Go to the Strand. Some free time before class? Go to the Strand. Friend in town? Go to the Strand. Bad day? Go to the Strand.
I loved my time in New York, in an “I’m extremely overwhelmed but this is awesome” sort of way. When I visit the city now, I always make a point to stop by the places that comforted me while I experienced the feelings that came with being 18 and alone in Manhattan. The Strand is at the top of the list. The stacks are are tall, narrow, and plenty. Walking through them always felt like getting a hug from a trusted friend. It was always a delight to turn pages, passing time.
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The stacks at the Strand are pleasingly organized, but the nooks seem to almost bleed into one another at the same time. Years ago, I spoke with a woman who said she’d found a book on children’s yoga in the Strand children’s section. She loved that it was with the kids’ stuff rather than in the exercise or parenting section. I remember her saying, “It’s almost like they actually want you to slow down and discover something new.” It may be a marketing ploy, but it’s worked on me, and I’m not mad about it!
Because the Strand is both iconic and encyclopedic in its collection, people often visit with a specific mission. Perhaps they’re trying to find the perfect present. Perhaps they’re picking up the next selection for their book club or something they heard was on the New York Times Best Seller List. They’ve come with intention. Or perhaps they come to discover, perhaps that’s why they come to the Strand rather than go to the Union Square Barnes & Noble a couple of blocks away. They’ve come to peruse the shelves, to weave between the stacks, and to feel their hearts calling to a particular text. They may seem to lack intention, but their intention is just different. It’s self-discovery.