week one: the journey begins.

Feb 27

For all joining this blog now, welcome—my name is Tushar. I’m an advertising student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, from Raleigh, NC. I’m so glad to pull back the curtains on my life this summer to share with you the journey of a lifetime.

Over the course of 11 weeks, I circulated the mainland United States to shoot a documentary I hope to release early this year about the irreplaceable value independent bookstores bring to their local communities, and how that value can’t be replicated by online or large corporate retailers. I interviewed 27 bookstores—and visited nearly 100—during this time and passed through a majority of the states, snatching moments with friends, old and new, along the way. I created this project with the support of friends, family, and the Burch Fellowship at UNC.

In the meantime, I’ll regularly be posting on this blog and social media, covering everything you won’t see in the documentary: how this project impacted me personally, behind-the-scenes photos/videos, my route, any hiccups along the way—everything. It’s important you know that I’m truly just some dude—I’m not an experienced documentarian or journalist. But I do like stepping out of my comfort zone and meeting new people. Thanks for following along, and I hope this blog inspires you to try something new sometime soon.

You can find my “Pre-departure” post here.

RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA. Sunday, May 15, 2022. This day had slowly been creeping into my field of view for months, although the frenzy from packing this past week had brought it forth much, much faster. It was finally time for me to get on the road for two-and-a-half months.

I had an early start to my day—early by my standards. There was a restlessness to the speed with which I got ready. I had crafted a very particular itinerary for this day and all the other days, and I intended to stick to it the best I could. Mumma made a filling breakfast for me when I came downstairs, although my mind was elsewhere. Is everything packed? Do I have my charger? Where’s my water bottle? I had packed most of my belongings into my car—a sporty red Prius with black rims I called Lola—the night before so I wouldn’t have to stress in the morning. Although, here I was—stressing. Once I had checked every item off my mental to-do list, I couldn’t describe feeling anything other than excitement. The actual thought of being on the road for 11 weeks hadn’t really sunk in yet. It was as if I was an elementary school student, ready for a big field trip to some far-off place. Papa ran through his spiel about “driving safely on the road” and “pulling over if I ever felt tired.” He had even installed a dashcam hung from my windshield so I would have some assurances in case I got into any trouble on the road. After embracing my family for a long time, I got in my car and I was off, my playlist already blasting through the speakers, my gas tank full. Of course, I would miss my family—I already felt bad about having to leave the day before my sister Nikki’s birthday. But they would call me every day, so I had that to look forward to.

My first stop was BOONE, NORTH CAROLINA. The westward drive to the mountains from Raleigh was very familiar. A year ago, I had lived in a cabin in Blowing Rock for a month when I took some time off from school. I had a fondness for the area because several of my friends went to college at Appalachian State University. I drove into the heart of Boone around noon. The last time I had been there, it had been cold and dry, so the summer experience threw me off a bit. As I always did when I drove into town, I went straight to Comeback Shack, a delicious burger and shake place where I had my lunch and read some of American Gods, by Neil Gaiman. My friend Daniel recommended the book to me a while ago, and I was enjoying it very much, having not read for pleasure in quite some time. I planned on finally finishing it early in the trip, thinking I would have ample time to read when I wasn’t driving or visiting bookstores. Little did I know that American Gods would last me most of the journey, as I would struggle to find little pockets of time, reading just a few pages a day. But there’s nothing wrong with just a few pages a day.

*A test shot of me at Foggy Pine Books. I know—not flattering.*

A short drive away, I met up with my friends Anabelle and Rainey, who were some of the most talented, creative friends I had. They were a formidable pair, and they could do anything from dance to photography. I admired their talent and kindness deeply and always jumped at the chance to see them. The sisters and I always gave each other something to laugh about. I found Rainey sprawled on a table on her stomach in preparation for a new tattoo she was getting at an endearing parlor. It also seemed to be a studio space for pottery, and beautiful artwork was scattered all over the shop. A large, dark dog acknowledged us but continued slumping on a couch as I looked around the place. Anabelle and I left Rainey and shuffled across the street to a boba tea truck that had caught our eyes. As we chatted over some much-needed tea, she said she would accompany me to my first interview, and I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather have joined me.

We drove separately to King St., which was populated with many small businesses and places to grab a coffee or a quick bite. I had forgotten how the tedious process of finding suitable parking stressed me out back home. I would be dealing with that all summer, in places I had never been before. Great. Foggy Pine Books looked closed. We peered into the cabin-like space, and through the book displays, I saw the figure of someone at a counter and waved at them to let me in. They must’ve seen me lugging around my equipment, expecting me. Anabelle could only stay long enough to help me set up my cameras and mic. It was already time for my first interview.

Foggy Pine Books

BOONE, NORTH CAROLINA

A general-interest bookstore located in the Appalachian Mountains, Foggy Pine Books is owned by Max Ruthless—an energetic, passionate lover of cats—in Boone, North Carolina. Max was kind enough to be very patient with me (as a sort of “guinea pig”) for my first interview.

Foggy Pine sells primarily news books (although they have some used books, as well), for an audience of all ages and backgrounds—from tourists to locals to college students at Appalachian State University.

The only general interest bookstore in the area, Foggy Pine fills several diverse needs of the community, priding itself on being an inclusive space for everyone, especially members of the LGBTQ+ community.

How would you describe this bookstore in one word?

“Um…the professional answer is welcoming. The real answer is gay.”

During the pandemic, Max started a program they still continue today called Free Books for Boone—a literacy program (without any barriers of accessibility, really) providing free books to the people of Watauga County. The store also works with mutual aid programs in the area to serve as a hub where people can find resources they might be struggling to find. Every October, for domestic violence awareness month, they work with a local domestic violence shelter—Oasis—to raise funds and resources. On top of all of that, especially before the pandemic, the store served as a safe meeting space for many nonbook-related groups, ranging from Dungeons & Dragons campaigns to political meetings.

Ultimately, Max emphasized to me that we should think about the kinds of businesses we want in our town. How do we want it to look? What kinds of places do we want to show our friends and family when they visit? Do we value a space where our kids feel welcome and safe? Those are the places to support with our dollars.

Those are the places to keep in business.

Max was reading…

I had more of a rocky start than I had anticipated, having left one of the attachments I needed to secure my main camera to the tripod at home. Typical. Fortunately, I figured out some elaborate, delicate way to position the camera on a different stand, but at some point during the interview, a cat had zipped by the camera and the angle had shifted a bit. I should’ve checked the cameras again, but I didn’t until after I had left. Poor Max’s forehead was partially cut-off. The perfectionist in me was distraught, but I got over it eventually. I didn’t make that mistake again.

That night, I stayed with my friend Taylor, and her partner, Taylor—or 2.0, as he was affectionately called. Taylor and I had become friends in school and I didn’t see her nearly often enough since she moved to Boone. I realized how exhausted I was, which unsettled me since it was still the first day of the trip. Instead of overextending myself by suggesting we go out to do anything, the three of us got cozy in front of the TV that night and I watched 9 to 5 for the first time. Occasionally, we’d peek outside to see if the lunar eclipse was visible, but we didn’t care too much; we were comfortable right where we were.

The following day, I said goodbye to Taylor and 2.0, and the kitties, already hoping to see my friend again very soon. I thought to pay a visit to BLOWING ROCK, NORTH CAROLINA, to stock up with anything I may need at the Blowing Rock Market. I grabbed some cheese and crackers and ate some breakfast on a bench at Memorial Park. There was a used book sale toward the back of Blowing Rock Library. I walked into a few boutiques and got a little bauble for a friend at Windwood Antiques. After a slow, leisurely start to my morning, I was off. A previously unplanned trip to ASHEVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA had fallen into place, where I was supposed to meet up with Anabelle, Rainey, and our friend Abby, along with some new friends, Dani, and Esther. It was my first time in Asheville, and everyone had told me to stop by Malaprop’s Bookstore if I could. It was an extremely warm and inviting space, with a coffee shop on the front side. I immediately understood its popularity when I walked in. The space wasn’t overwhelmingly large, yet I knew I could spend quite some time browsing and taking in the décor. There were a decent amount of out-of-towners there that day—I didn’t know for certain, of course, but the hats and sweaters with names and logos from other towns and the general tourist vibe were unmistakable. I took a chance and asked someone behind the check-out counter if they would be interested in sitting down with me for my project, for an impromptu interview. Of course, we weren’t able to figure something out for that day on short notice. but I would certainly have to return to Malaprop’s next time I was in Asheville. I spoke with Anabelle on the phone about our plans in the evening and happened to stumble into Dani and Esther, who were killing time in town too. We spent much of the day together, but all of us met for a joyous, wholesome dinner that evening at Thai Pearl, a delicious restaurant with a killer menu. I left my friends from a nearby Ingles parking lot, hoping to catch up with Rainey and Anabelle when they’d be in New York City later that summer. As I drove to my friend Alex’s apartment in Boone late that night, a random sprinkling of fireworks scattered across the dark sky for a few minutes. I couldn’t think of an occasion other than my sister’s birthday.

*Alex and friends, somewhere off the Blue Ridge Parkway, NC*

Alex took me to a breakfast place across the street the next morning called Mary’s Kitchen, which was aptly named so, as it looked like we had stepped into someone’s home kitchen. The hashbrowns did just what I needed that morning. I rarely did breakfast, finding it inconvenient to prepare most mornings. When I did, though, I never regretted it. Alex and I met up with his friends, Hannah and Sara, and before I had to leave for my next destination, we spent some time on the Blue Ridge Parkway. It’s funny how the beauty of the mountains and winding, open roads of the parkway managed to astound me every time. In all honesty, it was hard to focus on driving carefully when all I wanted to do was look out my window at the vast Appalachian range.

That morning also kicked off my National Park spree, something I had planned on incorporating into my trip from the beginning, as a chance to see our breathtaking outdoors when I wasn’t working on the project at hand. I wanted to fill up the National Parks Passport I had gotten with my friend Jamey with as many stamps as possible. After leaving Alex, I took my time driving down the parkway until I came across an open visitor’s center offering the stamp I needed. At that point, I was ready to move on to CHARLOTTE, NORTH CAROLINA. First, however, I took a convoluted detour to MARION, NORTH CAROLINA at the suggestion of my friend Kathryn—a friend who would join me on the project in Texas in a couple of weeks. She had recommended I stop at a bookstore she had visited a few days earlier in Little Switzerland. Although I didn’t regret adding a few hours to my trip for just thirty minutes at this bookstore, that was when I started telling myself,

“Hey. Cut it out. You’re not going to be able to visit every bookstore.”

I needed to remember not to stretch myself too thin, especially at the beginning. That being said, Little Switzerland Books & Beans was a charming bookstore, cafe, and gift shop in what was a very small, fascinating, random community. I don’t know about you, but I had never come across a “Little Switzerland” anywhere else in the country. Regardless, I was glad to be driving through its iconic tunnel into the village. If you ever get the chance to go, be prepared to be shocked at how big the bookstore is on the inside—and definitely try their baked goods.

After I arrived at my friend Will’s place in Charlotte, we spent the rest of the afternoon driving around the Queen City, first getting dinner, and then going out with two of his friends. I took the time to live in the present and enjoy the company of friendly faces in a city so close to home, yet so unfamiliar to me. I had only been to Charlotte a few times before, almost always on my way to IKEA with my family. So far, I’d managed to spend every night at a friend’s place, and I wanted to continue doing so for as long as I could—there was no better way to travel than with the company of friends, in my opinion. Will’s mom was also one of my freelance design clients and a debut author who had published her book Poster Girls recently. I was glad to borrow a copy to share her achievement with the dozens of bookstores I would be stopping at that summer.

The next morning, my friend Jennings arrived in Charlotte, via train. I had come to the station straight from Julia’s Café & Books, a used bookstore operated out of a local Habitat for Humanity ReStore—something I had never seen before and desperately wanted to see more of. I was giddy with excitement that one of my closest friends was joining me on my journey—that I would have someone to share some of the experiences, sights, stores, foods, and feelings with. I immediately felt my energy spike with an increased determination to make the most out of my time with him. We promptly left Charlotte and stopped in COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA, for lunch at Beezer’s Gourmet Sandwich Shop—a place our friend Alex had recommended. We strolled around the University of South Carolina campus, evaluating it. Judging it. I preferred my Carolina—the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. We quickly found ourselves en route to the next destination. Although I didn’t care much for Columbia, CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA was something else. We parked near a hotel and found our way to King St.—Here, I had my second interview, with Blue Bicycle Books.

Blue Bicycle Books

CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA

Located on King Street, Blue Bicycle Books seems like a very narrow store from the outside but expands into a much larger space upon entry. Offering new and used, vintage and rare, Blue Bicycle is the perfect place to stop and find a book to help you wind down during a relaxing weekend in Charleston. The owner, Jonathan Sanchez—quite funny when you get him talking—radiates a passion for the store he’s thoughtfully curated.

Jonathan has created such a visually interesting space—a very clean design spotted with photos and artifacts that recount the history of the store and his time with it. Walking out of this bookstore, I was reminded how interesting bookpeople were—and how busy. I was just so grateful that he had taken the time out of his day to sit down and just chat with me.

How would you describe this bookstore in one word?

“Uh… accessible… um, sexy? One of those two.”

“I’d like it to be sexy,” Jonathan elaborated, “but in a—like, when I was in the newspaper business, you know, when I was first starting out, I wrote something about spiders or something. And my editor was like ‘you need a sexier headline,’ and I was like, ‘what are you talking about?’ He just meant… you know… more interesting. That’s all.”

“So, sexy in an interesting way?” I asked, seeking confirmation.

“Yeah, not, like, literally, like, involving people being risqué.”

Blue Bicycle Books is known for its literary festival, Y’allFest, which has nurtured many young writers over the past two decades. The festival consists of a takeover of the surrounding streets and offers panels and signings, and giveaways. It’s a celebration sure to grab the attention of anyone and everyone in the vicinity.

“On Friday afternoon, we do book signings at different shops called the Y’all Crawl,” Jonathan said. “So, that’s just… you know, it’s crazy, people are like, ‘what’s going on?’ Like any sort of cult culture, where you have people that are really passionate about something, you might have another, you know, who, that is not a household name, draw 400 people to our line.”

What I walked away with from Jonathan at Blue Bicycle Books was the way he discussed the experience of purchasing a book at a brick-and-mortar store. The way one creates a memory encapsulating the place they were in and how they felt when they stumbled upon a book that ends up being a gem—a memory they associate with the book that perhaps adds value to it for them. There’s just something about picking up a physical book that feels better than a Kindle or shopping online—and that’s precisely the point of why stores like Blue Bicycle Books exist.

Jonathan was reading…

*Jennings on King and Market in Charleston, SC*

I thoroughly enjoyed the vibe of Charleston. Some of the colorful homes on the few cobblestoned streets reminded me of my evenings in Europe a few years ago. Primarily, there was that southern charm I had grown up loving, beautiful buildings, and the presence of the ocean, making it a wonderful area to just walk around in, not knowing what to expect at each twist and turn. In fact, I stumbled upon a small, indie bookstore called Buxton Books which I visited again in the evening and the next day in hopes of an impromptu interview. I wasn’t able to make it happen at the time, but maybe I’ll be able to try again someday. The rest of that first evening in Charleston, Jennings and I strolled around the streets, peeking our heads into little haberdasheries or bars, discreetly taking photos of houses we thought looked fabulous until we made our way to the Pineapple Fountain and the Waterfront Pier. There were families huddled around the magnificent water feature, eating ice cream. As we got closer to the water, I let myself focus on its sound as we looked at the sleek Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge across the water.

The next morning saw us stop at a Waffle House in SUMMERVILLE, SOUTH CAROLINA, a town outside Charleston where we had stayed in an Airbnb. We spent a few more hours in Charleston, stopping at the Fort Sumter National Monument before we continued with our route. We stopped in TUCKER, GEORGIA, for the night, with no energy to do anything other than grab dinner at Jason’s Deli.

The next day, we spent most of our time in ATLANTA, GEORGIA. A much later addition on our route, I hadn’t had much time to research bookstores in Atlanta, but I found some a short ways outside of the city proper to visit in the evening. After a thrilling morning at the World of Coca-Cola, which resulted in me having to visit the bathroom maybe three times within an hour because of my rapid consumption of too many Coke flavors from around the world, I dropped Jennings back off at our hotel in Tucker so he could rest. I then made my way to what turned out to be a real gem—DECATUR, GEORGIA. A highly walkable town buzzing with activity and families enjoying the summer day, I was instantly enchanted with Decatur’s charm and walked into a children’s bookstore called Little Shop of Stories. The space instantly took me back to the days of the elementary school Scholastic Book Fairs. Part of me missed combing through the vibrant, hopeful covers of children’s books at the library when I was a kid. I always took stacks home with me, and I was always back the next week for more. It was nice to see that magic replicated in a more permanent home at Little Shop of Stories. I particularly liked the extent to which they had decorated the store—from the hanging ornaments to the posters above the bookshelves to the large frog sitting on a chair in the corner. A section of the floor was entirely tiled with pennies, and they had used a combination of light and dark coins to spell “read” on the floor. The children of Decatur were very lucky.

As I walked through the elegant Agnes Scott College nearby, I stumbled across a feminist bookstore called Charis Books & More. I was unfortunately there very close to their closing time, but it had a very familiar feeling to it. I could see a bookstore like Charis in my college town of Chapel Hill, or somewhere close, like Durham or Carrboro. The fact that the store looked like a residential property already gave it a very cozy, intimate atmosphere. The books were arranged nicely among little cards and gift items. Before the pandemic, this was probably an important hub for many different types of people nearby. I told Jennings all about my time in Decatur over dinner at Pho 24.

The next morning, we grabbed Chick-fil-A before I planned on sleeping in the car for a few hours. I always enjoy seeing the spelling errors fast food workers make when I get my food. This time, I was receiving a lemonade and a spicy sandwich for a Tushat. Lovely. I never really slept comfortably in moving cars, but I hadn’t slept entirely well the previous night. As I slipped in and out of my snoozefest, I noticed brief spurts of green woods and fields in a mountainous landscape. Hoping to reach Tennessee by the evening, Jennings had wanted to take a detour through HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA. Huntsville definitely had its charms—the barbeque was delicious, and the banana pudding at Moe’s Original Bar B Que was inexplicably dreamy. As we drove to NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE, I thought about when we stopped at Harrison Brothers Hardware to browse some crafts and gift items. The historic store seemed like a good place to ask about the local book scene. According to a lady that worked there, there were no independent bookstores downtown.

Maybe one day there would be.

This week’s food for thought

“Amazon has devalued literature. People don’t think that they should have to spend more than $7 when in reality it takes almost that much to print the book itself, like cost of paper, and ink, and as far as, like, paying the editor, and paying the authors, paying the marketing team… Like, there’s so much that goes into it. That cost of the book that Amazon is selling, it hurts more than just indie bookstores; it hurts artists, it hurts authors, it hurts editors, and it hurts publishing companies.”