The Strand

Bookstore located at 828 Broadway NYC, NY
Review written and edited by Peter Buller

Walking into The Strand feels similar to walking into Powell's Books in Portland; immediately one is surrounded by books and their lovers. Shelves lined with volumes of various shapes and sizes tower over customers as they peruse The Strand's impressive collection. The scent of old texts and dusty tomes lingers in the air, especially so in the basement floor, where some sections of books resemble forgotten alleyways. Although often compared to its bigger cousin--Powell's Books, the world's largest independent bookstore--The Strand maintains its own status as the definitive independent bookstore of New York.

Used books on sale for tantalizing prices entice customers inside, while newer titles help keep them there. Indeed, it is difficult to leave once inside, for The Strand displays many works on distinct, artistic covers. A beautiful hardcover copy of Brandon Stanton's Humans of New York particularly stood out, its colourful collage of photographs replicating those found within. However, if indeed one should not judge books by their covers, The Strand has some explaining to do. Most of its works on display are popular titles and best-sellers. Ghost-written biographies, the latest and greatest thrillers, and young-adult fiction populate the main book stacks; yet the decision strikes more of desires for financial success than proliferating books of every kind. Nothing could have proved this more than The Strand's disparity of used books. Powell's nestles its used works with newer ones as a beneficial gesture to customers. While seeking out Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse and Herman Melville's Moby Dick, I encountered several editions at varying prices--some affordable, others not as much; yet the prices accorded to the peculiarities of each edition. Older hardcover cost more than worn reprints. To contrast, used books in The Strand are of a quality that matches their new counterparts to the extent that they bear the same price. All the copies of To the Lighthouse and Moby Dick were the same edition. Although the quality and price of used books in The Strand is almost irresistible, the universality on its shelves says nothing positive about its intentions.

Perhaps more concerning is The Strand's poor dedication to independent publishers. A search on its online catalog excited me with four pages of Archipelago books; yet the only book of theirs to be found was the fourth volume of Karl Ove Knausgaard's My Struggle. Coming across New Directions editions in their store was similarly difficult. Roberto Bolaño's Between Parentheses was among the few ND books in The Strand's main stacks, most of them tucked away in the back section. Other independent publishers like Coffee House Press possess few titles amidst the works of commercial publishers which occupy most of The Strand's shelf space. Compared to the several corridors of massive shelves in Powell's, or the pleasing section dedicated to independent publishers in Community Bookstore, The Strand's lesser dedication to poetry and fiction feels grievous. Its section of kitsch souvenirs takes more space than its few shelves of poetry. Staff recommendations feel less compassionate than those of Powell's, which speckled every section of the bookstore with detailed praise for elevated titles. The Strand offers this treatment only to popular, established works; yet what pours salt in this wound was a snide remark on Martin Heidegger's Being and Time, "that if you had more than one life you would certainly also read [this book] but unfortunately your days are numbered." Though it admittedly garners attention, tongue-in-cheek judgments of other's literary tastes should never occur in a bookstore, of all places.

Nevertheless, The Strand piques one's bookish interests once inside. NYC's biggest bookstore should appeal to any lover of books, and intrigues customers to seek out more obscure independent bookstores. One wonders if this is due to a shared passion for books or a response to financial troubles; though the former is more likely, it will take time until The Strand matches the prowess of Portland's City of Books.