Powell's Books in downtown provides UP students with an opportunity to meet people as diverse as the books they read
By Anna Walters
This city is arranged by color. Red, orange, purple, rose, green, pearl, blue, coffee, and gold. Ask any stationed clerk and he or she will tell you, easily enough, that Harriet Beecher Stowe is in blue, Superman in gold, and abnormal psychology in red. But there are others, not officially designated of course, transitory beings that wander through the colored plots, although as Shawn Aldridge, 33, a Powell's help desk employee points out, "Some just come looking for the bathroom."
Portland's iconic Powell's Books, the largest independent new and used book store in the United States, is a beacon for diversity of folk. The four-story "city of books" supports a diverse literary milieu all contained neatly within the 12-foot book shelves; but perhaps the thing more important to a bookstore than the books themselves is the patrons who frequent the place. Tourists and locals. Children and grown-ups. Formal college students and scholars of the world. Millionaires and street urchins. More than a seller of books, Powell's is an encapsulated New World where people of many different characterizations are drawn.
Powell's nine different rooms group related subjects together. Each room is assigned a different color and a sign above each entryway is inscribed with directions to help a patron navigate the city. A directional arrow accompanies the words "Gold Room" and "Coffee Shop" that hang on one such sign positioned above the Purple Room's carved out entrance. The different colors charm different people. Those enthralled by the masterpieces of the Impressionist movement will be found in the third floor scouring the art section of the Pearl Room. People with a penchant for cooking make their way to the Orange Room. And students with their laptops in tow follow the arrows leading to the coffee shop with the intention with the intention of writing a philosophy paper over a warm mug during the course of a Saturday afternoon.
BLUE
The blue room, the space where fiction resides, is crowded this particular Saturday afternoon, and a white-haired gentleman is musing over a selection of Fernando Pessoa's poetry. Lee VanDemrr, 62, currently lives in Tuscan, Ariz., but his love of Powell's began nearly 35 years ago in a small bookstore on a dingy Portland corner.
"Powell's was a tiny little store only open for a week ... Walter Powell was standing there looking at the door waiting for a customer to come through," he says. Less than two months later, Powell was able to pay back the $3,000 start-up loan and move out of his small shop.
Jason Novak, 27, cites "obsession" as his motive today.
"There isn't a section that I haven't browsed through or maybe examined book by book," he says as his eyes peruse the contents of a shelf.
Lately Novak has been reading Edith Wharton's "The Writing of Fiction." He explains how Wharton thought the new stream of consciousness style to be a dead end and that the classics of the 19th century were infallible.
Cecilia Hamlin, 15, caught the bus to Powell's. Atop her head she sports a blue and white polka-dotted head scarf, and when she speaks a red flush creeps over her neck and disappears in the collar of her shirt. She turns away shyly as she explains that Powell's has the best selection of small press poetry and she's in the market for the $0.50 books she can find here.
PURPLE
Purple is the color of philosophy, politics, and ethnic studies. There is an unexplained air of secrecy shared by the purple people today.
A man in his mid-fifties, who wishes to be known not by name, but as a "ludite" is browsing the military section today. Ludite was against England's 18th century mechanization due to the Industrial Revolution and this ludite shares the same consternation today in a world dominated by computers. He is also a retired professional cyclist and a Zen student.
"The best time in my life was when I was practicing Zen and feeling fit with cycling," he says before he is lost on a tangent about the corruption of the media.
Another man is perched on a square seat in a quiet corner of the room. Like the ludite, he doesn't give his name, only his situation: He recently sold his record production company and is planning a trip to Columbia for the purpose of "fundamental investment things," and adds as an endnote that he is not in the business of buying and selling drugs; that's not what his trip is about. A spread of Columbian travel books in his lap reinforces this alibi.
Further down in the women studies section, two recent Lewis and Clark grads are browsing. It comes as no surprise that Heather Wilkinson, 23, is working as a political economist. Her hair is drawn up in a tight professional bun and the seriousness of her manner is reinforced by the square frames in front of her eyes. Her friend, Sonya Carlson, 25, has a peaceful smile and figures "you have to have a book for every room" of the house.
Wilkinson just finished reading a book by Diane Wilson entitled "Shrimper Politicos" about a woman who sunk a shrimping vessel off the coast to try to save the bay. "It's interesting-," begins Wilkinson, "but very poorly written?" Carlson asks, finishing Wilkinson's sentence. "Poorly written? Oh yeah," the former exclaims then continues with her original point, "...if you're interested in-" "Shrimping?" Carlson interjects. "No, being really pissed off at corporations, then you should read this book." Wilkinson continues her critique of Wilson's book as the day beings to wan with the approach of night.
ROSE
In the back corner of the Rose Room, one will stumble upon an alcove distinguished by miniature furniture and a brightly colored carpet. Mike Sinclair leans over to his daughter, who is sprawled on the carpet with a book under her nose. "Didn't you just check this one out at the library? I mean you've got like 100 books." Alexis Sinclair is too absorbed in "Summer School: What Genius Thought That Up?" to pay much notice to her father's inquiries.
In the children's section, parents have to squat or sit on the floor to have access to books that are positioned at a child's height. Rachel Davis, mother of two adopted Asian girls is seated on the floor with a book in hand trying to find a book suitable for a Russian adoptee; it's a gift for a friend. One book that she just finished reading with her daughters is "Ruby's Wish" by Shirin Yim Bridges about a Chinese girl who feels it is unfair that girls are not allowed to go to school. She ends up being the first female in her family to attend school.
Obviously it's Powell's vast collection of literature that entices all sorts of people to walk through her doors. But books in a store cannot stand alone. People are quite necessary in comprising the personality of any space and in this case, Powell's diversity of books matches her diversity of patronage.
