Bookstores are always my favorite places and the source of many souvenirs when I travel. Big stores, little stores, new and used bookstores and especially the ones with shop cats are all my favorites for different reasons.

I seek them out in my travels and never hesitate to support a local bookstore when given the chance. Each one has a different vibe, a unique personality. I like the used shops where I can expect to find the unexpected like some out of print novel with a gem of a cover. I also like the new ones with their comfy couches, carefully controlled lighting and selection of new books just waiting to be discovered.

Wheatberry in Chillicothe, Ohio is my closest bookstore and I always try to stop in if I’m in downtown. They focus on new books with just a small shelf of used in the backroom. It’s like whoever does their ordering knows exactly the kind of fiction and nonfiction I like and they always have the best selection of seasonal works to peruse.

My favorite regional chain is Tattered Cover in the Denver area. The fact I don’t live close enough to shop there regularly is one of life’s great disappointments. Their staff picks include a note card that describes why they like the book and the selection is divine. Maria’s in Durango, Colorado and Beyond Bedtime Books in Pittsburgh are favorites. There’s one called Little Switzerland Books and Beans that we stumbled into just off the Blue Ridge Parkway, convincing me that I can sniff out a bookstore nearly anywhere.

I could go on and on with recommendations.

That’s why it’s rare for me to leave one empty handed or to be annoyed in a bookstore. So far, I have found just two that I despise. Both make me claustrophobic and one was in Philadelphia during this last adventure.

It was a used bookstore with extremely tight walkways between shelves that was so cluttered with stacks of boxes, walking was difficult. Some rows were completely blocked by boxes stacked no less than three feet high. To make things harder, it was busy and passing a person in an aisle wasn’t possible in places so you just had to wait for people to move.

The place is a hoarder’s paradise. Actually, it looks like a book hoarder lost control of their obsession and hung out a shingle. The guy running the place reminded me of a little kid sitting in a fort made of books. 

It is not an exaggeration to say that I had a physical reaction to this place. My stomach turned continuous somersaults and I broke out into a sweat. I could hardly breathe even when the door was in sight. . To add insult to injury, prices written inside the covers were nearly illegible so it was hard to know if you were about to pay a dollar or seven or maybe a hundred. Who knew? 

The one redeeming quality here was the shop cat. I saw it once, luxuriating in a patch of sunlight. I knew I was struggling when I didn’t even stop to speak to the cat. I literally just scooted past and looked for the exit. 

I feel my blood pressure rising just telling you this crazy story because bookstores are supposed to feel like a vacation from the rest of the world rather than a reflection of the messy, terrible problems that lie beyond their front door. 

Also, I would like to note that in all the junk stores, antique malls and tiny shops in all the places I have been, none has brought on such a reaction. The other store I don’t like is in Columbus and it also makes me claustrophobic but I can usually hang in there long enough to find a book or two to bring home. In other words, it doesn’t make me want to puke!

We left this store and found ourselves walking past Christ Church. This was exactly the respite that I needed to recover and be ready to face the rest of the day. Come back in a couple of days and I’ll tell you all about this place that felt so steeped in history and so sacred, I could barely speak.