There’s a great piece up on Green Apple Core, the blog of San Francisco’s wonderful Green Apple Books, about book stores, of the real and browsable variety, crotchety proprietors, dusty shelves, and all; and about a certain revered Parisian bookstore where you might find yourself spending the night, in exchange for a few hours shelving books.

In that desolate nether region of the state, cut off from the civilized world by the Pine Barrens and, well, the rest of New Jersey, used bookstores were few and far between, so this particular one – I’ve forgotten the name – was a dusty and cluttered haven. Never during any of my visits did I encounter another browser; I was left to think, a bit wistfully, that I was the only person who shopped here. The owner, a frail old man whose look belied his pugnacity, seemed reluctant to engage with his customer(s) and only did so with a sort of shuffling and begrudging respect.

Read the post here.

Learn how to spend the night in a fine old bookstore here.

Shop Green Apple books here.