Quote of the Day (Christopher Caldwell, on the Decline of Borders)

“Borders became one of the hottest corporate chains of the 1990s because it didn’t do things by halves. Its bookstores were of an unheard-of size and sophistication. They stretched not just from coast to coast but around the world. Since it filed for U.S. bankruptcy protection in mid-February, it has shown the same thoroughness in dismantling its empire that it did in building it. The Borders bookstore down the block from my Washington office, where I have browsed almost weekly for the past decade and a half, looks gutted, sacked. At least 200 of Borders’ 642 stores are to close. Those that remain will continue the chain’s drift away from books, and towards cat calendars and stationery.”—Christopher Caldwell, “A Fate Written in the Stores,” Financial Times, March 5, 2011

I took the accompanying photo of the Borders Books and Music store in Fort Lee, N.J., only a few miles from where I live. Once, this Borders possessed every bit—and more—of the vitality that Caldwell mentioned in his piece—not just brimming with all sorts of books, CDs and DVDs, but also hosting author appearances and all kinds of groups (including a writers’ group to which I belonged).

But the last few years, as digitization cut into the market for CDs and DVDs, the shelves devoted to these became depopulated and the store had far more space than it could afford. The coup de grace came with the onset of the e-book, for which the chain was not prepared.

In the weeks since the closing announcement, the Fort Lee location—at least on the weekends—has been filled with people hoping for great bargains—lines I hadn’t even seen the past Christmas or two.

Undoubtedly, many former independent bookstore owners are shedding no tears over the fate of Borders. That megastore, along with archrival Barnes & Noble, knocked off numerous smaller stores that couldn’t compete, in much the same way that former behemoth Blockbuster (until last year, in the same shopping center as the Fort Lee Borders) had crushed mom-and-pop video outlets.

But I felt a sense of sadness at the closure. Borders provided a place to come to--not just a vast bookselling emporium, but also a spot to meet others--authors, fellow bibliophiles, friends. (Even up to the last weeks before the closing announcement, you couldn’t get a seat in the Borders coffeeshop. Too bad more of those kids weren’t using the space to read books and magazines instead of making it a de facto homework hangout.) I’m not sure that the loss of such a space compensates for the greater convenience afforded by digitization.

In this case, digitization might only lead to the further atomization of a society that doesn’t need to be broken down any more than it has already into small, solitary units.