Market Street Afternoons

A Goodbye to Book No Further

“Petticoat. a. Feminine. Womanly. Huh, that works.”

“You need to do a video series where you haul that thing around, randomly open to a page, and throw a word at a stranger” she said.

Later, I walked down the street to another shop. It would be a travesty to buy coffee at a chain store after…all this. Two guys bickered. I eyed them, but kept walking. They cooled down, and looked my way.

“Love the T-shirt, brother” he said. Bring Joy.

Glad it didn’t say Huge nerd. I guess it didn’t need to. The giant dictionary under my arm did. Don’t make me bop you.

***

And so, a page turns, and a chapter closes. Book No Further in Roanoke is closing doors. Too many people buy from The Death Star. Maybe it’ll reopen under new management, maybe it’ll stay online. I sure will miss it.

Swade (a pal now) almost got me to fight him the first time I walked in. That’s a good sign. I like things that challenge.

“How’s that science, man?” I snarled suddenly in response to a political statement from a book I didn’t like but he did.

“Oh, I thought you were looking for an American Classic.” I had been, and science, and then we started with words like capitalism and finally Doloris walked out from the little cubby under the stairs and said “can I help you?” with a boys please air, and man, did she.

I learned so much about books, the industry, the local literary scene, and having friends to keep one in line. Look what they did with their front window two years ago. Thanks to them, Cities launched.

Lisa and Maddie and Stacey all put up with my ramblings, too. A year later, Maddie stunned with a mixed-media interpretation of it for the Reading into Art show. (It hangs proudly on my wall. Thanks, Dad!)

I bought some good books there, and they sold a ton of mine, with care and consideration and recommendation. “This one’s signed.” (I still can’t believe I get to sign books…!)

A little tangerine-peel Bible sat on the “take one with donation” cart, so I snagged the little buddy, paid, and popped it in my pocket. “Hey man, got my concealed carry in Roanoke” I’ll say, whipping it out with an orange flourish.

For their friendship, advice, patience, true open-mindedness, and generosity, I’ll be forever grateful. I stopped by with some pizza the other day, sat in an extra chair, and haunted the store one last time. We talked about life and markets and some guy came in who was touring the munitions factory. “Good thing we didn’t walk into a cloud of acid on the morning tour.” Two goth kids bought a horror book.

I wanted one more thing. The 1983 Webster’s New Universal Unabridged Dictionary seemed fitting.

The time to say goodbye arrived as quietly and predictably as any of the other 59 seconds, so I waved, read off some word I forget from the yellowing pages of the glorious blue book, and went out into the Roanoke afternoon. The streets pulled me along past old stone buildings, and empty railroad tracks called west under a baby sky. There are things to do, but the places been, well, that’s worth remembering. I sure will miss those Roanoke afternoons on Market Street.

Yeah, it’s easier to buy off Amazon.

But can you almost fight Jeff Bezos?

–Josh