by Rachel Baker
The battling smells of dumplings, snicker doodles, and marijuana waft down the market alley, men in suits brush by carrying tulips, and the whirr and hiss of coffee machines make their own place in the conversations of passersby. Mt. Rainier looks painted into the sky and the Olympic Mountains draw my attention from the skyline to the sound as the neon red sign begins to buzz on a rare clear night. There is a coffee shop and a bookstore on every corner. You can find them under polished signs or tucked into dark allies, big and small, national chains and indie. If you do not like coffee or books, you probably should leave Seattle immediately.
Seattle is known as the city of Amazon and Starbucks, but less notably they are bidding to become a UNESCO City of Literature. Both sides of my family live in the Carolinas, and I have only been to the west coast twice. If it were not for this week in Seattle I would have never known that such a rich literary community existed here. Sure there’re stereotypes. I believed Seattle to be artsy, outdoorsy, and quirky, but I suddenly realized that standing in Pikes Place market I am at a literary crossroads, standing somewhere between old and new, in the transition from print to digital, a witness to the fight to stay local in the face of giants.
There is an intimacy to bookstores and coffee shops that I do not believe the public is ready to let go of. The fact that independent stores are still flourishing in Seattle is a testament to the community’s support of literature. Signs for readings, book signings, and writer’s workshops are plastered on every window. I passed four independent bookstores on one street, all apparently unfazed by the digital trend. But then again I do not see their bank accounts. Amazon.com recently launched their first bookstore in Seattle. It seems odd to me that the online empire would expand to bricks and mortar when the national trend is to go digital. Amazon certainty does not need a bookstore to be successful, nor does it need one in order to compete with the independent booksellers in Seattle. However, their move to a physical store says something about what readers are longing for. A bookstore creates a sense of community that a website cannot. A bookstore is a place where people can meet, rest, read, discover, and hang out. Wherever you look you can see that green, Starbucks mermaid, staring at you from a window, but people still gravitate towards the cozy coffee shops that will draw hearts in your latte. Like local coffee shops, there is an intimacy to bookstores that I do not believe the public is ready to let go of. Bookstores provide an experience along with a book. The Elliott Bay Book Company is one of the largest and most successful 
independent booksellers in Seattle, and their store is filled with handwritten notes and recommendations from the staff. Your experience seems personalized, and an anonymous review online is not able to create that same connection. There something about an independent bookstore that you do not get from anywhere else, and that’s coming from someone who has a Kindle.
I got my love of reading from my mother. She used to take me to our public library where I would check out 20 books at a time. I believe I probably read every children’s chapter book in our library. My mom gave me my first Kindle when I was in middle school. The concept was crazy to me, but before long, Amazon replaced my public library. Before I go on a trip I’ll buy an arsenal of novels that I can hold in the palm of my hand. However, I still love physical books. I like thumbing the pages as I read, I love the smell, I love dog-earing the pages. I’ve had to draw a separation in my mind, balancing my love of books with the convenience and low price that a Kindle brings. Books I care about sit on my bookshelf, while books I will only read once sit in my Kindle.
Juggling pixels and paperbacks is not uncommon for today’s readers. It was once predicted that e-books would overtake print by 2015, but instead, digital sales have slowed. A recent Nielsen survey shows that people who read primarily on e-books dropped from 50 percent in the first quarter of 2012 to 32 percent in 2014.
Seattle’s literary community is so strong because it lies between the old and the new, managing to stay a step above outdated while hanging onto the intimacy and charm of mom and pop bookstores. Literature is not a passive art. For it to flourish, there needs to be a strong dialogue between artists and readers, and I found that in Seattle.