News — Audra Figgins

Step in through the door, a little bell tinkles above you, dust swirls visibly through the thin shafts of light that peek through old windows. Books frame the walls on floor-to-ceiling shelves, pile up in haphazard stacks and cover every available surface. There’s a faint hint of vanilla in the air and it’s quiet—the only sound the smooth flick of someone turning a page in the next aisle or the muted, reverent whispering that’s required around stacks of books.

 

You’re in a bookstore, that most magical...