McClure's Bookshop

A while back, I did a blog post about my favorite bookstores, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t mention any by name (because I wanted to be able to go back to those places without running the risk that something I may have said about any of them, however innocent or not meant as critical, might be perceived as such. Yelp and other online resources of rating places of business aside, I think we run the risk of doing so much online critiquing that we forget the very human faces behind the counter, the ones who didn’t know that we’d been judging them all along so that we could tell people later to go there or not go there). I’m going to mention one by name now, specifically because I learned that they’re closing soon. That place is McClure’s Bookstore, in downtown Clemson.

I went in on Saturday, after a less-than-satisfactory trip to the library, just on a whim (I believe the object of my perusal was the possibility of a Philip Larkin poetry collection being there. I’ve been reading James Wolcott’s “Critical Mass,” which sparked my interest in Larkin. Books have a funny way of leading you to other books like that). When I saw the sign on the door saying that McClure’s would be closing on October 18, I felt awful. It was a bit like a death in the family, albeit a slow and prolonged one, during which you were encouraged to rummage through the soon-to-be-departed loved one’s belongings. Everything was on sale, marked down considerably from its normal price. I picked up four books, paid what would be the usual cost of two together (it’s a used bookstore, so most of their inventory is in the four- to five-dollar range), and opined rather awkwardly that the place had been something of a second home for me. I’m sure the lady behind the counter (whose job would be kaput in a little over a month) felt it even more than I could imagine; I remember when the Winn-Dixie in West Union was shutting its doors in 2005, I jumped ship to the Ingles across the street and seeing the shelves of my former workplace decimated by bargain shoppers in W-D’s last days. I’ll never forget the remorse I felt when the Circuit City in Anderson was closing and I went by to be a bit of a vulture, looking to pick up CDs or DVDs on the cheap. The sight of those employees who were still there, their mixture of grudging acceptance of their fate and some ill-will towards the bastards hassling them over the price of a phone charger, it put me off the whole endeavor, and I left without making a purchase.

A bookstore is a refuge for me, always has been. I don’t remember when I first heard about McClure’s, or when it opened, or my first visit, but I have been there and often since at least the time I got my undergrad degree. I couldn’t list all the books I’ve bought there over the years, some read and loved and kept, others unread and donated elsewhere or read, appreciated, but not really for me and so falling into someone else’s hands through borrowing or donation (I could probably pick out the ones I donated to my local library, as most of them ended up on the hands of the “Friends of the Library,” and I see them in the book sale they hold every month). If anything, I can probably list some of the ones that I haven’t gotten to yet, because every bibliophile has that collection of books he or she just hasn’t gotten to around yet. But when we get the time, oh boy:

The Broom of the System (David Foster Wallace), Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself (David Lipsky) – both are DFW-related (the first, of course, by Wallace, and a damn sight skinnier than Infinite Jest, the second a biography of sorts about him).

Nowhere to Run (Gerri Hirshey) – All about the rise of soul music and R&B. I am a sucker for music books.

Little Big Man (Thomas Berger) – Talk about coincidence: Berger died recently, so I picked up the book both because of that and also because repeated viewings of the movie over the years made me want to check it out.

The Confessions of Nat Turner (William Styron) – I read Sophie’s Choice in June or July, and thought I was ready to dip into another Styron. Not yet, though I have it and Lie Down In Darkness (bought at one of those library sales) waiting in the wings when I do.

The Eden Express (Mark Vonnegut) – Hearing this mentioned by Kurt Vonnegut (the father) and by Kurt’s biographer made me curious enough to pick it up.

At any rate, you get the idea: McClure’s has done a lot to add to the sagging of my bookshelves. I forgot to mention Suttree, by Cormac McCarthy, but I’m not sure I can get to the “no quotation marks around dialogue” in the novel. Not yet anyway. And there’s the four I bought today: a memoir by Beatles recording engineer Geoff Emerick, a Samuel Beckett novel (never read him before), George Orwell’s “Why I Write,” and a book compiling examples of bad imitation Faulkner.

I imagine I’ll be back before the store closes, though the selections will naturally slim down as time wears on and my fellow bibliophiles come to mourn and also gnaw at the remains. It’s a shame, really, because McClure’s was a fantastic excuse to stop downtown whenever I wasn’t at work or school and needed to kill some time aimlessly wandering the aisles. One of the things that gets lost in this rush to turn everything into an online emporium is the simple pleasure of wandering the aisles, waiting to see if anything catches your eye (and the surprises that sometimes do; I came across “Love In the Ruins” at McClure’s, read it in a day, and became a Walker Percy fan for life). I’ve come across so many things that I never thought I’d find, or books that I never thought I’d have any interest in reading, at McClure’s and other bookstores like, the small independent ones that don’t get the foot traffic of the big chain stores but which have their loyal customers. As always when a business that I loved is shutting its doors, the temptation to ask “could I have done more” crops up. I brought in books for store credit; suppose I hadn’t been so stingy and actually paid for some of the books I got on store credit?

But of course it’s not about that: Kathy and Ken (the owners) have their reasons for shutting down, and I respect that. I hate it, but I respect it. After they’re gone, downtown will be a bunch of bars, fast-food places, and sunglass stores (or at least one sunglass store). There’ll be clothing stores (including the one I used to work in), and did I mention the bars? (As a non-drinker, I see no joy in the idea of downtown being bar-centric, but I could social-drink just to avoid being rude.)

I will miss McClure’s, deeply. I have spent many hours there not just looking for a book, but looking. Not to get into an anti-internet rant here, but you can’t browse the shelves of an online bookstore, not like you could for real. Bing prompts you to search for something specific; suppose I don’t know what I want to search for, until I find it? Someday the bulk of our retail experience will be online (I’ve already had to buy two books for classes online, because they weren’t available at the one bookstore on-campus). It’ll be more convenient, but it won’t be as fun. Not for the browsers in the audience.

So if you’re in Clemson over the next month or so, drop by McClure’s and pick up a book or two, or three. Take a minute to remember the time you found that book you’d given up on, or discovered an author you’d never heard of who became your favorite. Don’t be shy about that collection of Hunter S. Thompson articles, you might not get another chance. And even if the history of the War of 1812 isn’t your thing, you might know someone for whom it is. Just take a minute to appreciate something beautiful, because it will be gone soon. And goddam it, what a loss.