My favorite local used bookstore is in an older building across one of the large irrigation canals that snake through Phoenix. A family runs the store and they do an excellent job of keeping the books in order so you don't find a volume by Trollope next to one by Bellow.
I feel obligated to support the place and so shop there more than necessity would dictate but my motives are not entirely altruistic. A bookstore is a good place to sort out your thoughts, to decompress, and a used bookstore does that especially well. The odds of finding a book you both like and can afford are high.
For anyone who writes, it is also an exercise in humility. Shelves are filled with the works of unknown authors, people who never gained fame, and yet many of those books are pretty darned good. A few of the authors were well-known in their day but later faded. Does anyone read John O'Hara, Thomas Costain, Kenneth Roberts or Gwyn Griffin anymore? They should.
I'm working on some management classes today but at some point the bookstore will beckon. I don't really need a book but I do need a bookstore.
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