Sadness yesterday. Frog Hollow Books locked its doors for good. I’d been trying to go in there for two weeks to say goodbye, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. Managed to get my act together ten minutes before closing. Went in and had a good cry with Heidi, drank canned wine from a Tim Horton’s cup, bought three books I don’t even know what they are, just to buy them, cried some more, and got the hell out. I will miss that place, and I wish I’d thought to go in there every single week to spend thirty bucks. If there’s an independent bookstore where you live, go there. It makes a difference. My book was always on the shelf at Frog Hollow, but I’ve never seen a single copy in Chapters. At Frog Hollow, they read my book, they loved my book, they put my book in the hands of hundreds and hundreds of readers. At Chapters, I’m just someone who might spend eight bucks on a roll of wrapping paper.
Update: Stephanie writes: “Outside the Lines on Quinpool is left. They’re pretty good.”