This weekend I went on a long jaunt out to the Richmond in San Francisco to visit Green Apple Books, an independent bookstore that has been around since 1967. The store has both an annex featuring used and new fiction, and a main bookstore. Having walked to the outer lands of SF with the fog rolling in and the wind picking up, I had high hopes of a warm, inviting, cozy space in which to warm up and browse.
While unassuming from the outside, I came under Green Apple's spell as soon as I set foot inside. What I found inside were hardwood floors, warm lighting, lots of handwritten recommendations, and a playful atmosphere. I wandered into the "red delicious room" and spotted the rather intimidating "shoplifters will be nailed" sign. I particularly liked their unique shelving categories which included such delightful sections as "big fat reads," "the bicycle," and" just because you're old and unhappy doesn't mean you can't read children's books." The store was abundant and bountiful, a place to get lost in for hours. It reminded me of Elliot Bay Books in Seattle. The only downsides were that there was nowhere to sit and the staff were not as friendly as they could have been.
To me, the mark of a good bookstore is one that humbles me. One that reminds me of the endless number of books I have yet to read. I can't wait to go back!
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