Books are a door to the past. A bookstore is then a collection of different pasts, all that offer you a handle to turn that opens into a different world. This is why I love reading old books because it makes me think about what it was like to live in the world when that book was written. It also helps me see that there are certain human experiences that link us to all people, regardless of how different the world was when they lived in it.

Listen to Virgil, writing just a couple decades after Jesus, describe a certain kind of dream that is instantly recognizable to us still:

"Just as in dreams
When the nightly spell of sleep falls heavy on our eyes
And we seem entranced by longing to keep on racing on,
No use, in the midst of one last burst of speed
We sink down, consumed, our tongue won't work,
And tried and true, the power that filled our body
Fails--we strain but the voice and words won't follow . . ."

Or listen to a character in Shakespeare's "Hamlet" describe the strange feeling one gets on the edge of cliffs or bridges (the brackets are mine, added for clarification):

"The very place [a cliff's edge] puts toys [whims or fancies] of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain
That looks so many fathoms to the sea
And hears it roar beneath."

Today we have a name for this feeling: the call of the void.

The discovery that we are not alone in what we are feeling, and that people have been feeling similar things for a long time, is a comforting one. Once recognized, this comfort can be felt without having to open a book--you can simply walk into a bookstore and know it.

Used bookstores offer a second layer. There are two worlds that exist within a used book: the world of the writer, and the world of the previous owner of the book. My favorite used books are those that have copious notes in them, even if it makes the words harder to read. It allows me to think about the previous reader of the book the same way I think about the author: as a window to the world, they inhabited. What did the previous owner of this book think about it? Who were they? How did this book affect them? Were they young when they read it, or old?

There is another service that used bookstores provide us. They remind us that monetary value is an estimation of a thing's value, not its actual value. Used books are often dirt cheap, but the potential value to be gained from them is immense.

There's a tiny used bookstore close to my parents' cabin on the shore of Lake Superior. It was there I bought a book for 2 dollars, the pages yellow, cover falling apart--I soon had to use tape to secure the cover to the pages--with copious notes on nearly every page. This book had little value by conventional standards. But conventional standards are irrelevant here because that book reminds me of the bookstore, the cabin, and the lake every time I read from it. It has a priceless value to me, and it cost 2 dollars. What a remarkable thing.

Used bookstores are one of those rare places where certain limitations seem to break down: time, distance, monetary value, and so on. Next time you have an open weekend, try out your local used bookstore. Spend some time wandering around and see what catches your eye. It could be the most productive half hour you've ever wasted.