Vancouver, WA

In need of a few titles I headed out on one of my Powell’s Books Expeditions. Indeed, the largest used book store in the nation is expedition worthy and to prepare adequately I decided to tack on a stop at another classic destination in the surrounding district: Fuller’s diner on 9th and Davis.

Fuller’s has been a classic diner in a small space serving great homemade bread since 1947. One U-shaped counter made up the sitting space and dotting the counter’s periphery were around two dozen cushioned stools bolted to the floor. The stools were close to each other and close to the counter which made for cozy elbow room and a puzzle as to what to do with my knees. I wiggled in and set my elbows squarely on the counter top to mark out my territory and took up the single page laminated menu. I was not surprised to find the usual diner fare of omelets and hash browns, eggs done the way you like them. But I knew what I had come for: their homemade bread.

As I finished breakfast I couldn’t help feeling that I had just experienced something that has been experienced for over half a century: a ritual involving a simple cup of coffee, a great piece of toast and freshly delivered newspaper.

I was now ready to battle the jungle of books. Parking at Powell’s is adventure enough: the protocol is to honk and flash your lights as you approach the first parking level, if it’s clear you then must execute a three-point turn to get into the parking area and then recheck your parking lot number a few times before you realize that indeed you are expected to fit into that space that is behind the cement column and delicately maneuver around the other cement columns as you pull in.

Powell’s is one of the places I never allowed myself to go when I was in school because I don’t have the discipline to get back out in any reasonable timeframe. It is the place I go when I need a book that is not likely to be found on the limited shelves of chain bookstores. It is contained in a building that takes up a whole city block; it has color coded rooms, information stations, stairs that climb to the heavens and the good old smell of the printed page—and I swear there is a time suspending mechanism somewhere.

I was looking for a specific yet diverse set of works and found it necessary to create a strategy for navigating the stacks. I did a search in their computer catalogue and to equip myself with the room color, aisle number and book title before setting off my literary safari. One must always schedule a tea time in the coffee shop to revive the energy levels and thumb through potential purchases. I do this faithfully and find it the best way to avoid an impulse buy; it gives you a chance to either bond with the book or decide to check it out at the library. I entered the coffee shop with a precarious pile and left with a simplified stack.

Ah, Powell’s. Where else can you convince yourself that you need books on beer brewing, documentary film making and the physics of sailing and then be able to purchase them new or used on the premises? Like I said, I try not to go there too often.