A Bookstore Tour Across the United States
By Morgan Baker
I was more than hesitant when my husband, Matt, suggested we drive across the continental United States after a year in Hawaii. I thought being stuck in a small car with him would become irritating, and I was angry about leaving Oahu after I had worked so hard to make a life for myself there.
We had moved for Matt’s career and it took a lot out of me. I don’t do change well, but I fell in love with Hawaii — the people, history, culture, weather, and myself. I became more independent and self-reliant.
I explored the island and visited my local bookstore, Book Ends, often. Books ground me, and bookstores are my sanctuaries, where my imagination can travel and no one can hold me back. I can spend hours wandering up and down the aisles, sometimes on a direct mission, sometimes just to see what’s there. Bookstores are safe, inspiring, and inviting. I’ve yet to meet an angry bookseller. They are eager to share their love of reading.
Sometimes I fantasize that one day I’ll have a book on a shelf too, but until then I slowly shift my eyes across the spines of memoirs, soaking in each title and author. Choosing which book to read next is challenging and fun.
Needless to say, I felt completely at home the first time I stepped into Book Ends in Kailua. However, Matt fell out of love with his job. His East Coast vibe didn’t mesh with the laid-back Hawaiian mentality. So, we were heading home.
I’m not known for my decision-making skills. I let other people pick the restaurant or what to watch on TV. I typically just acquiesce because it’s just easier.
But I didn’t want Matt to take control of the cross-country trip, leaving me even more resentful. Hawaii had taught me that I was more than a mother, wife, and teacher. I was someone who could move across the country and rebuild a meaningful life and someone who could speak her mind. It wasn’t easy and didn’t come without tears, but I found a groomer and trainer for our dog, and I made friends on the beach during sunrises.
On her last trip to Lanikai, our daughter, Maggie, sat with Matt on the big brown sectional couch to study cross-country maps on her laptop. I strolled in and out of the kitchen, feeling a desire to plan too.
“I know what I’ll do,” I said, as they looked up from the various routes from L.A. to Boston.
“I’ll buy a book at an independent bookstore at every stop,” I said.
“That’s cool,” said Maggie.
“I can take a picture of you in front of every store,” Matt added.
“I’ll Instagram it.” This trip could be fun after all. I even created hashtags: #independentbookstores, and then a hashtag with the name of each store.
Bookstores are safe, inspiring, and inviting. I’ve yet to meet an angry bookseller. They are eager to share their love of reading.
I didn’’t know it at the time, but I had already unofficially started this tour by visiting two bookstores in Hawaii. When we packed to move, I gave Book Ends several bags of books to sell, and on a one-day adventure to Kauai, Matt and I discovered Talk Story Bookstore, on the western side of the island. In tiny Hanapepe, was “the westernmost bookstore” in the United States. I bought a stack of books about Hawaii, and Matt took a photo of me in front of the store as if we knew what was ahead.
A few weeks later, Matt and I started our trip in the tiny black Ford EcoSport I had leased in Kailua and shipped to Long Beach, California, where our son-in-law, Jay, picked it up. Our first stop was with Maggie and Jay in L.A.
There, we visited the first bookstore on the mainland Diesel Books in Brentwood. I was looking for Hourglass by Dani Shapiro in the hopes that her memoir about her marriage might give me a few pointers. They didn’t have it, so I grabbed All Happy Families by Jeanne McCulloch instead.
Matt took a photo of me outside the shop. I looked a little unsure of myself and my mission.
That would change.
We stopped at eleven more bookstores on the way home. I bought a memoir at each one. Not only do I teach memoir, I read them voraciously. They share stories of how people overcome obstacles and move forward. They are inspirational.
As we traveled from L.A. to Salt Lake City to Santa Fe and then Boulder, I refined my guidelines. Matt pushed me up to the counter in Santa Fe’s Collected Works, to tell the sellers about my project. I subsequently introduced myself at every bookstore and asked for a memoir recommendation, ideally written by someone local. The sales staff was always eager to help.
At Sandmeyer’s in Chicago, the bookseller recommended Little Heathens by Mildred Armstrong Kalish. In Perrysburg, Ohio, I bought JELL-O Girls by Allie Rowbottom in the quaint store Gathering Volumes.
Each store had its own atmosphere. Some were tiny and some, like three-story Boulder Bookstore, were large. Before revising my strategy, I didn’t know what I would find. But every store greeted me warmly.
At Dolly’s in Park City, Utah, which also has an ice cream shop, I bought Once More We Saw Stars by Jayson Greene. In Beaverdale Books in Des Moines, Iowa, I bought When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi.
I walked away with three memoirs from A Room of One’s Own in Madison, Wisconsin, and at the Golden Notebook in Woodstock, New York, I bought two: Lucky Ones by Jenny Brown and Hats & Eyeglasses by Martha Frankel, both writers from that area. The backseat of our car was covered with two dozen books.
Matt’s photos showed a happy and proud woman pointing to bookshop signs. I even had a small following on Instagram.
Our last stop was at Porter Square Books in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where we came from. The store welcomed me home. I walked in, past the fiction and mystery aisles straight to memoir where I found Old in Art School by Nell Painter.
I visited this store regularly even during the pandemic, picking up books while masked and sanitized. To this day, I remember my adventure with Matt fondly. We made a good team.