If you were born in Humboldt County and find yourself there in your 20s, gazing out the window of your workplace at carefree wayfarers passing a joint in the alley, it’s easy to wonder if there’s more to life than this. Have I been too risk-averse? There are adventures to be had beyond the Shire. Surely there’s a better way to see the world than pretending to like Phish. So maybe one day you leave like a classic song, pedal to the metal, engine roaring in a Springsteen fury. Never look back, baby! But if you do, beware. Years later, if that view was out the window of Northtown Books, as mine was, you’ll often wonder if you were looking the wrong way.

Portrait of the author as a young change-maker.

For eight years, I had the privilege to work at Northtown Books. I still don’t know why Dante hired me. Besides being able to count back change, I’m pretty sure I flunked the pre-interview quiz. I was intimidated by all the books filled with more knowledge than I could ever cram into my skull. With the job came a kind of local prestige I didn’t deserve. Over time, I learned more from that carefully curated library than I did in the halls of academia. I never would have met my wife if it weren’t for Northtown. What I gained from Northtown Books followed me to the war-torn edges of Syria, the steps of the U.N. and into the lectures I later gave. It gave me the eye through which my camera now clicks.

I’m grateful for the life I’ve had since moving away, but I regularly dream of being back at that counter. I miss them all: the freshmen looking for 1984, asking where to find “1983”; the city clerk collecting books about cats; the backyard gardener seeking the right time of year to plant peas; the children who grew up shopping there and now bring their own kids; the hippies and punks; poets and artists; the woman with dementia making her weekly call to ask if we have any books on Howard Hughes; the Pelican Bay detainee who sent a thank you letter because a book taught him to forgive; the well-known local author secretly addicted to Game of Thrones novels, saying, “The writing is awful! But I never know when someone’s gonna die”; the Marxists and entrepreneurs; historians and conspiracy nuts; spiritualists and atheists; the guy who can’t remember the book’s title or author, or what it’s even about, but is confident the cover is blue; even the man on my first day who asked if we had Michael Savage’s Liberalism is a Mental Disorder — and when I said no, he calmly replied, “faggot.”

Most of all, I miss working with Monika, Dante and Jay. They’re my friends and mentors, each possessing unique knowledge honed through decades of dedication to the art of bibliophilia. Monika is an expert in young adult literature. She’s also the first person to put The Heart is a Lonely Hunter in my hands and soul. We spent hours browsing cookbooks and taking notes, though I could never bake a pie as good as hers for Northtown’s Pie Nights. Dante introduced me to everything from noir classics like Double Indemnity to the dark, mordant humor of Great Granny Webster and the artistry of Leigh Bowery. He also showed me that to truly scare trick-or-treaters, don’t wear anything they might recognize. Jay turned me on to John Kennedy Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces, Thomas Pynchon, Cormac McCarthy and Lydia Millet. He also schooled me on albums as we engaged in fraternal debates at all the Plaza’s record stores. These experiences are not unique to me.

For decades, along with other wonderful staff members, Northtown Books has humbly served its community. You can tell a lot about people from the books on their shelves. The crew at Northtown knows a lot about you and has helped many learn more about themselves. Amazon may deliver a book to your doorstep in 24 hours, but it will never bring a community together like Northtown Books.

The recent fire has been devastating. My heart goes out to everyone directly impacted by this tragedy and to a town in mourning. There is a dark, ancient symbolism in the burning of books—a reminder that our collective memory is more fragile than we care to admit. In an era where misinformation is abundant and community feels scarce, the loss of a vital institution like Northtown is a gut punch. I don’t know what the future holds for Northtown Books. What I do know is that I’m not the protagonist in this story — the bookstore is. I hope that, after fearing the worst, when this page is turned, the next chapter begins… “Dantès, although stunned and almost suffocated…”

If you would like to support Northtown Books, you can purchase books to be shipped to your home from their website at northtownbooks.com or donate at giveahand.com

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Deric Mendes
Substack: Emergency-Powers.com
Insta: @dericmendes