Commercialized treasure

hidden charm of powell’s city of books

Bookstores have always been a source of comfort and relaxation for me. Although not every store has a little reading corner with cozy seats to curl up in, something about the interiors makes me want to stay there for hours without needing to worry about feeling out of place.

Even though our group has a fully packed day in Portland, we are miraculously running ahead of schedule when we arrive at Powell’s City of Books. I have every intention of making the most of our time here — explore every corner of the store while making myself comfortable, figure out what makes the place special, and perhaps acquire a book in the process. Somehow, all three goals are more difficult than expected.

Entering into Powell’s City of Books, I am simultaneously awed by the store’s expansive interior and disappointed by its underwhelming initial impression. Wandering through the endless shelves of books, I face a maze of nearly identical rooms interrupted only by monotonous white walls and nondescript doorways. Fluorescent lights harshly illuminate the store, further contributing to the image of a factory building. Hardly the warm embrace I had come to expect from bookstores, and it’s almost overwhelming to just browse, let alone find any specific book.

My first instinct tells me that Powell’s Books is nothing more than an impressively large bookstore. Walking around, I have to wonder: what is it about Powell’s that places it on any list of must-visit places for Portland visitors? Why is this store so unanimously beloved by tourists and locals alike?

I begin to notice little details that make the interior feel more personalized. On almost every shelf hangs at least one handwritten description of a book recommended by an employee. Various displays of books and other knickknacks have been deliberately arranged by someone to showcase their favorite items. Scattered around the store are colorful blackboard signs with whimsical drawings surrounding block letters and cursive script that indicate the genres located on each shelf.

They offer a small glimpse into what makes Powell’s unique — a bookstore that, despite its commercialized nature, still holds remnants of its humble beginnings as a small, independent bookstore in Chicago. Even though we don’t get the chance to speak with any of the employees, we catch a glimpse into who they are through their recommendations, their handwriting, and their drawings.

Similarly, the store offers a hint of the people that have visited, both past and present. After what feels like my third time through the same room, I stumble upon a seemingly nondescript white pillar, its presence indicated only by a small golden sign reading “The Pillar of Signatude.” Like the name promises, it is adorned with marks left by visiting authors through the decades, wrapping around all four sides. Looking closer, I can see the signatures of writers that I recognize, some of them accompanied by a small, hand-drawn doodle.  

There is history here. Looking at the names, I could almost imagine the authors scrawling their names onto the pillar next to me. Were they there for an event? Simply browsing? How many of them were like me, coming in with one goal but then getting sidetracked by Powell’s hidden treasures? 

It’s easy to forget that tourist attractions often have ordinary histories and stories associated with them. I often regard bookstores as magical entities that simply appear, even though they operate like any other business. Given how big of a phenomenon the store has become, it’s no wonder that the reality fell short of my expectations going in.

To some extent, Powell’s fame works against it; being one of Portland’s top attractions is a large responsibility to shoulder. It creates an elusive reputation that one can never truly live up to.

Although I am fairly certain I missed at least one room in the store, even with a map in hand, and failed to find a new book for my reading list (it’s okay, at least I acquired some postcards), I have managed to discover something significant about this place.

On the surface, Powell’s is simply a large bookstore, but its interior holds glimpses of the lives of people who work in and pass through the store. Even though Powell’s is only one of many Portland attractions, without it, the city would undoubtedly be missing something: the stories of and around — not just within — the books.

Words: Nicole Ru

Photos: Niko Frost