Mom first told me about this bookstore that she had seen during one of her many walks. It was almost three months later when I finally visited this bookstore mom so raved about. The paved streets and the pedestrian overpass were gray with old cement. It had rained that morning and there were still murky rainwater puddles here and there. Swinging my umbrella in one hand, I padded through the street with a slight grimace until I saw a shiny blue shop right in between many gray ones. It wasn't shiny, in fact it looked rather old in faded graying blue. But to me, it seemed like Christmas. As I pushed open the door I heard the sound of gentle bells as breathed in the smell of coffee. On the right of the entrance were small tables and cushy chairs where a few people were drinking coffee out of mix-matched mugs and eating tiny sandwiches while they read. As I looked around with wide eyes, I slowly came to the realization that this wasn't any regular bookstore, it was a secondhand one. It was my first time in a secondhand store of anything and I could feel the excitement creeping in as I forced myself to calm down. A skinny old man with a scruffy beard in a flannel shirt and faded jeans greeted me with a smile. There were shelves of weathered books lining every inch of the walls. At the back of the shop there was a staircase that led towards a second floor. There were stacks of children's books on every step and I could smell wood and the staleness of books when I arrived on the second floor. It wasn't big - the entire bookstore wasn't, but books were stacked from floor to ceiling and towers of stacked books that had nowhere to go were on the floor. I was careful as I toed my way to the back on the creaking wood floors to not topple over any of them. There was a huge circular window that was hidden behind a shelf. The sunlight was shining through the shelves and created a patch of bright warmth onto the dark wooden floors and the shelves. In the sunlight, I could see dust floating through the air. Time seemed to have stopped and I felt strangely at ease as my heart bubbled up with contentment.
It was at this bookstore that I bought volumes one and two of much battered Anna Karenina and a browning Les Misérables that was slightly torn at the edges. It quickly became my favorite bookstore and I bought brand new books only if this secondhand store didn't have them in stock.
I liked how you described the man that greeted you in the bookstore; I can just clearly have an image of the man in my head as I read along your writing. The place was described fairly clearly, but it would have been better if you had described how you first realized that the bookstore was not a normal kind, but a secondhand bookstore. I liked how you depicted the smell of the wood in the bookstore and the sound it made as you toed on the floor. Moreover, I guess the atmosphere of the bookstore would had been somewhat dark calm and quiet, with old book smell filled in the air and this place must have had made you read more books as it became one of the favorites. For further improvement of your essay, I would like to suggest you to elaborate on what it felt like to skim through shelves to find the book that you wanted to read. However, I enjoyed having a peek on your favorite bookstore indirectly through your writing piece!
ReplyDelete201503676 Hong Chae-ryoung
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ReplyDeleteI enjoyed reading your description of bookstore in general. I could clearly picture the old, yet somewhat comfortable atmosphere of the bookstore, and how you were excited to visit it while I read your writing. However, I had a difficult time understanding your reference of Christmas. I also am curious of what kind of people were in the bookstore- I've never been to a secondhand book store cafe. I really loved your description of the smell of coffee that came to you when you walked into the store. I also loved the description of the old man with the "scruffy" beard that greeted you when you walked in. It helped me picture the place a little more clearly. (Maybe he's the reason why you were reminded of Christmas?)
ReplyDeleteI would say that the atmosphere of this place is very relaxed in general.The kind of atmosphere that you would find in a Starbucks coffee shop, maybe, aside from the fact that your book store will not be as loud. I thought that you wrote about this place because it was a very special place to you, and also because it was the first of any secondhand stores you have visited that left a good impression on you. I would have written about such a place as well had my first experience with a secondhand store was as pleasant as yours :) I think your writing will be even better with more information about perhaps when you visited! I guessed that this was in your childhood, judging by the way you swung your umbrella, but I couldn't be sure. Loved reading your writing! :D
201501855 Jung Aa Ahn
The Second-hand Bookstore
ReplyDeleteI was in middle school and mom was the one who first told me about a particular bookstore she had seen on one of her many afternoon walks. It was almost three months later when I finally visited this bookstore mom so raved about. It was nearby house so I decided to walk to the bookstore. The paved streets and the pedestrian overpass were gray with old cement. It had rained that morning and there were still murky rainwater puddles here and there. Swinging my folded umbrella in one hand, I padded through the street with a slight grimace until I saw a shiny blue shop in between a street full of many gray ones. As I pushed open the door, I heard the sound of gentle bells announcing my entrance. As I stepped in, I breathed in the smell of coffee. On the right of the entrance were small tables and cushy chairs where a few people were drinking coffee out of mix-matched mugs and eating tiny sandwiches while they read. To the left of the entrance, there were shelves of weathered books lining every inch of the walls.
As I looked around with wide eyes, I slowly came to the realization that this wasn’t any regular bookstore, it was a secondhand one. It was my first time in a secondhand store of anything and I could feel the excitement creeping in as I forced myself to calm down. A skinny old man with a scruffy beard in a flannel shirt and faded jeans greeted me with a smile. He was stooped over behind the counter, stirring a cup of coffee for another customer. At the back of the shop there was a staircase that wound up towards a second floor. There were stacks of children's books on every step and as I walked up the smell of wood and the staleness of books grew stronger as I reached the second floor. It wasn't spacious and the books were stacked from floor to ceiling and on the floor were towers of stacked books that had nowhere go. I was careful not to topple over any of them as I toed my way on the creaking wooden floors. I picked up a book but unable to concentrate from the excitement, my eyes kept flitting around the shop. The lights were dim but there was sunlight coming through and I looked around to find where it was coming from. Then I found the huge circular window that was hidden behind a shelf. Sunlight was shining through the shelves and created a patch of bright warmth onto the dark wooden floors. My head was light from the excitement and I stood mesmerized in the patch of sunlight. In the sunlight, I could see dust gently floating through the air. Time seemed to have stopped and I felt strangely at ease as my heart bubbled up with content.
After what felt like hours, I emerged rather reluctantly from the second floor of the bookstore. It felt like a private attic that was filled with treasures that I had only read about in books. I felt transported as though the world outside this bookstore didn’t exist. I didn’t think I would ever be ready to leave that bookstore but it was soon dinnertime. I didn’t need a book as I already had unfinished ones I started at home but I somehow felt entitled to buying something to bring and to remind me of before leaving this bookstore. After pondering long and hard on what goods to bring home, I finally settled on volumes one and two of a much battered Anna Karenina and a browning Les Misérables that was slightly torn at the edges. I left the bookstore feeling joyful and even full, as though I had a good meal. This bookstore quickly became my favorite place to go. Even after almost seven years since I last been, I can remember that first day at the bookstore as clearly as though I’ve been there everyday since.