Bookstore remainder tables

The place where over hyped mystery novels, under-appreciated coffee table books about trees, and encyclopedias about serial killers go to die. There aren't as many bookstores today as there were ten years ago, so there aren't as many remainder tables either. Which of course just makes the extant ones that much sweeter.

Of course, now that you can buy books online for a penny a piece plus shipping, remainder tables no longer offer the jaw-dropping deals they once did. Also, price creep is in effect too. At Borders the other day, I saw many, many volumes on the remainder table for $9.99 and up and really, if you're gonna pay that much for a book, why not just go see a movie?

On the other hand, who says remainder tables are for actually buying books?

Like a great movie, a great remainder table can incite a whole range of emotions. When I see a book by a stupid author, I give silent prayers of thanks to videogames, Internet porn, and everything else in the world that has cut into the book-reading time of the masses. When I see something by an author I like, I am saddened by the fact that most of my friends, whom I might potentially offer the tome to as a surprise gift, would rather eat a dozen tubes of poisonous Chinese toothpaste than read a book.

If I see a book that looks interesting and it's $6.99 or less, I buy it. Sure, I could probably get it cheaper through Amazon.com, Alibris.com, or Ebay. But who wants to wait for a book to arrive in the mail?

Welcome to one of the most interesting paradoxes of the online age. While the Internet has helped destroy the bricks-and-mortar sector of the bookselling industry, it has also helped destroy our patience and attention span.

For me, finding a book on a bookstore remainder table is like finding a perfectly ripe peach at a farmer's market. I don't go to the farmer's market in search of peaches. I don't even like peaches. (I go to farmer's markets mostly for the artisanal barbecue sauce.) But sometimes, I come across a peach so delicious-looking, I have to have it. When that happens, I don't make a note of the peach in question, and then later look online to see if I can get it for a better price. I buy it right there. I eat it right there.

And it's pretty much the same way with remaindered books. Their ripeness (or at least your perception of their ripeness) is fleeting. You might suddenly find yourself interested in, say,a book like 40 Days and 40 Nights: Darwin, Intelligent Design, God, OxyContin, and Other Oddities on Trial in Pennsylvania. But will your interest last a week, or three days, or even three hours? Buy it at a bookstore, and you'll at least have a legitimate shot at reading the first few pages. Buy it online, and you may be dumping it along with the Lands End and Pottery Barn catalog by the time it arrives in your mailbox.