Tag Archives: Powell’s City of Books

Reader in Residence

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If I had a nickel for every time I’ve asked myself, “Goodness, Bryan, couldn’t you just live in a bookstore,” I’d finally be able to afford that immersion therapy to get over my fear of nickels.

Well, I am pleased to announce that this is no longer a hypothetical musing. What started as a surprise weekend trip to Portland, Oregon has turned into (surprise!) a bid to establish residency inside Powell’s, the legendary independent bookstore. There it is, right down there.

All photos by Carolyn Kraft

And there I am, just prior to never leaving the store again.

Who needs the outdoors?

Now, don’t worry about me, I’ve got all my basic needs covered.

I take my breakfast in the Blue Room
And my lunch in the cafe
Snack time in the Rose Room!
Dinner at the window in the Gold Room

And for the times I start to lose faith in my mission, a little inspiration….

Oh, I hadn’t thought of it that way…

And just an FYI, I always brush between meals.

I think someone else tried establishing residency here–whatever happened to that guy?


Okay, well, wish me luck! According to Oregon law I only have 364 more days before I’m declared a legal resident of the store. I also could be making that up completely.

No joke, though, I am bushed after all that eating! Guess I’ll bed down right here in the Pearl Room. Good night for now.

Who hasn’t dreamed of sleeping under an SQL guidebook?

Ed. Note: Feel free to send cards, pleas for reason, and bail money to Powell’s City of Books, Attn: Guy Doing His Best To Keep Portland Weird, Blue Room, 1005 W. Burnside St., Portland, OR 97209.  

Obligatory Halloween Blog Post

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Fahrenheit 451

Fahrenheit 451

I love books. As in actual, tangible, printed books. And recently I had the privilege of roaming a particular bookstore spanning an entire city block, a literary mecca four floors high teeming with over a million books standing strong on twelve foot shelves.

Powell’s City of Books, Portland, Oregon. So nice to see you again.

And now, (commencing obligatory Halloween portion) I imagine for a moment this mighty vessel of ideas empty, a dusty, ghostly warehouse where bumps in the night compete with hot, hissing rat droppings; or worse, a space where imagination and creativity once ruled transmogrified into an Urban Home or Duvets Unlimited or wherever the undead mass-consumers converge these days.

Because, apparently, there’s a spooky future out there where the printed book is extinct.

Okay, okay, it’s hyperbole, maybe, but reading this article from Publisher’s Weekly about major publishers rethinking their commitment to printed books took me to a dark place.

As a writer trying to get published traditionally, as in an analog Bryan Hilson book on the shelf in a bricks-and-mortar store, this is not welcome news. There are financial implications as well, which the above article gets into, but here I’m going to approach the issue as a reader.

I’m no technophobe, I’ve got a Nook (and a Kindle, egads!) but to me there are few greater pleasures than losing one’s self inside a bookstore, encountering, picking up, and flipping through paper pages, not your computer/tablet/smart phone’s best approximation of such. Seriously, browsing on the internet is not even close to a real shopping experience. Even at Duvets Unlimited.

How do you feel about this, fellow readers? Are you okay with physical bookstores (and maybe even libraries?) becoming a thing of the past? Do you accept that all things media inevitably will exist solely as digitized goods? Or are you ready to raise up your hardcovers and reading lights in defense of these invaluable institutions?

Some scary things to consider, my friends. Happy Halloween.