A wave of new owners brings fresh energy to independent bookselling
NEW YORK (AP) — Amber Salazar is the kind of idealist you just knew would end up running a bookstore — a lifelong reader who felt angered 'to the core' as she learned of book bans around the country.
A resident of Colorado Springs, Colorado, Salazar last year opened Banned Wagon Books, a pop-up store she sets up everywhere from wineries to coffee shops, featuring such frequently censored works as Maia Kobabe's 'Gender Queer,' Angie Thomas' 'The Hate U Give' and Toni Morrison's 'Beloved.'
'I decided that no matter what it looked like, I was going to open a bookstore so that I could contribute in some small way and stand up for intellectual freedom in the U.S.,' explains Salazar, 33, who donates 5% of her profits to the American Library Association and other organizations opposing bans. 'Since we were coming out of the pandemic at that time, I started thinking about ways to combine my love of literature and passion for intellectual freedom with my appreciation for the small businesses in my city who weathered some difficult storms through shutdowns and supply chain concerns.'
Salazar is among a wave of new — and, often, younger — owners who have helped the independent book community dramatically expand, intensify and diversify. Independent bookselling is not a field for fortune seekers: Most local stores, whether run by retirees, bookworms or those switching careers in middle age, have some sense of higher purpose. But for many who opened in recent years, it's an especially critical mission. Narrative in Somerville, Massachusetts, identifies as 'proudly immigrant-woman owned & operated, with an emphasis on amplifying marginalized voices & experiences.' In Chicago, Call & Response places 'the voices of Black and other authors of color at the center of our work.'
Independent stores will likely never recover their power of 50 years ago, before the rise of Barnes & Noble superstores and the online giant Amazon.com. But the days of industry predictions of their demise seem well behind. In 2016, there were 1,244 members in the American Booksellers Association trade group, at 1,749 locations. As of this month, the ABA has 2,863 individual members, at 3,281 locations. And more than 200 stores are in the process of opening.
'It's incredible, this kind of energy,' says association CEO Allison Hill, remembering how, during the pandemic, she feared that the ABA could lose up to a quarter of its membership. 'I don't think any of us would have predicted this a few years ago.'
Hill and others acknowledge that even during an era of growth, booksellers remain vulnerable to political and economic challenges. Costs of supplies remain high and could grow higher because of President Donald Trump's tariffs. ABA President Cynthia Compton, who runs two stores in the Indianapolis area, says that sales to schools are down because censorship laws have made educators more cautious about what they purchase.
The ABA's own website advises: 'Passion and knowledge have to be combined with business acumen if your bookstore is to succeed.'
Salazar herself is part of an Instagram chat group, Bookstores Helping Bookstores, with such like-minded sellers as the owners of The Crafty Bookstore in Bloomington, Indiana, 'specializing in Indie books & custom bookish accessories,' and the Florida-based Chapter Bound, an online store with a calling 'to connect great books with great people — at prices everyone can afford.'
'In the age of social media, people are craving genuine connection and community,' Salazar says. 'And books often provide a catalyst to that feeling of community.'
Stephen Sparks, who is 47 and since 2017 has owned Point Reyes Books northwest of San Francisco, believes that the pandemic gave sellers of all ages a heightened sense of their role in the community and that the return of Trump to the White House added new urgency. Sales are up 20% this year, he says, if only because 'during tough times, people come to bookstores.'
The younger owners bring with them a wide range of prior experience. Salazar had worked in retail management for nine years, switched to property and casualty insurance sales 'in search of advancement opportunity' and, right before she launched her store, was a business process owner, 'a blend of project management, customer and employee experience management.'
Courtney Bledsoe, owner of Call & Response, had been a corporate attorney before undertaking a 'full career shift' and risking a substantial drop in income. The 30-year-old held no illusions that owning a store meant 'pouring a cup of coffee and reading all day.' Calling herself 'risk averse,' she researched the book retail business as if preparing for a trial, before committing herself and launching Call & Response in May 2024.
'This endeavor is probably the hardest thing I have ever done in my life,' she says, acknowledging it could take a couple of years before she can even pay herself a salary. 'We're just doing this to serve the community, doing something we love to do, providing people with great events, great reading. It's been a real joy.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles

Hypebeast
35 minutes ago
- Hypebeast
Ryan Coogler's 'Sinners' Receives Max Streaming Premiere Date
Summary Ryan Coogler'sSinnersofficially received aMaxstreaming date for at-home viewers. TheMichael B. Jordan-led feature hits the streamer on July 4, followed by anHBOpremiere on July 5 and physical copies on July 8. Sinners sees Jordan portray a set of identical twins, Stack and Smoke, who return to their hometown of Clarksdale, Missisipi after a tenure for the Chicago Outfit. They, along with their cousin and preacher's son Sammie, open a juke joint for the local Black community, but are haunted by the supernatural on opening night. Joining Jordan in the cast are Hailee Steinfeld, Miles Caton, Jack O'Connell, Wunmi Mosaku, Li Jun Li, Yao, Jayme Lawson, Omar Miller and Delroy Lindo. Sinnershas since grossed a total of $363.8 million USD in the global box office since its release and was met with critical and commercial acclaim. Sinnershits Max July 4, and premieres on HBO on July 5.

Associated Press
2 hours ago
- Associated Press
Photos of Milan Fashion Week's menswear collections for Spring-Summer 2026
MILAN (AP) — Milan Fashion Week kicked off on June 20 and is held until June 24, with multiple runway shows. This is a photo gallery curated by AP photo editors.


Black America Web
3 hours ago
- Black America Web
Bring Back Boredom: A Requiem For Black Gen X Summers
Source: iantfoto / Getty There used to be a thing called boredom. Not the kind you complain about with Wi-Fi and seven streaming platforms within reach. I'm talking about real boredom; staring-at-the-ceiling, watching-ants-on-the-sidewalk, 'ain't-nothing-on-but-soap-operas-after-The-Price-Is-Right' boredom. And as a Black Gen X dad who grew up in the era of Jheri curls, tube socks, and universal latchkey kid protocol (see: 'Don't you let nobody in this house.'), I say this without a hint of irony: boredom might have been the most important part of summer vacation. It was in that boredom that we got creative. We built worlds with nothing but imagination, bike tires, and the occasional giant cardboard box that was a clubhouse, a breakdance pad, or an art canvas, respectively. We passed long hours playing Uno or freeze tag or making up ridiculous games with equally ridiculous names. Some days were filled with activity, but just as many were left to the elements of whatever came our way. And that was the magic of it. The freedom. The chaos. The possibility. Fast forward to now, and it feels like summer, at least the kind that shaped us, is dead. We didn't kill it. Hyper-competitive parenting did. Today's kids have schedules tighter than a Silicon Valley CEO. Between travel sports, enrichment camps, accelerated reading lists, and STEM programs, we've programmed the summer to death. What was once a break has now become the offseason grind. A warm-weather bootcamp for future scholarship recipients, Google interns, and startup founders. But in all that hustle, we've stolen something essential. Summer used to be about the absence of structure. Now it's about maintaining control in a different font. Look, I get it. As a Black parent (especially a single Black father) I'm acutely aware of what the world wants to deny my kids. So we push. We prepare. We polish them up and present them as exceptional, because we know they have to be. But damn if it isn't exhausting. For them and for us. My Glee-obsessed 13-year-old daughter is starting to come into her own artistic and dramatic potential. She's in theater camp this summer, and I'm glad she has a place to explore her passion. But I'm also kind of sad. Because theater camp is scheduled. Structured. Supervised. She'll grow as a performer, sure. But will she learn how to do nothing and be okay with it? Will she know how to entertain herself with a cardboard box and a Sharpie? Will she ever just roam? My summers were a beautiful blur of spontaneity and slight danger. From the public pool to the basketball courts to random treks to corner stores with no particular purpose, our summers were self-directed chaos. Even when we were enrolled in day camp, it was mostly a teenage-led survival exercise with dodgeballs and boxed lunches. There were rules, sure. But there were also long stretches of unsupervised time. Time to be curious. Time to fail. Time to try things that might not go anywhere but still taught us something. We learned how to read people, how to handle conflict, and how to entertain ourselves and others. And we did it all without a single app. What those summers gave us was adaptability. Resilience. The ability to walk into a room with strangers and figure out what game was being played and its random rules, and then figure out how to win. They gave us improvisational skills for life. They taught us how to make lemonade from warm tap water and two sugar packets. Today's kids? They're brilliant. But some of them can't hold a conversation without checking a screen. And it's not their fault; it's the culture we've built around them. A culture that values productivity over presence, structure over soul, and outcomes over experiences. The pressure to be excellent all the time has trickled down from Wall Street to the jungle gym. And as Black dads, we often feel that pressure more acutely. We want our kids to succeed not just for themselves, but for the generations they represent. And in our fear of their marginalization, we push them toward perfection. But what happens when we forget to teach them how to sit still? To just be ? You can't push creativity on a schedule. You can't over-prepare for discovery. You have to make room for it. You have to leave space in the summer for the kind of moments that don't show up on a résumé but shape a life. Like wandering around the neighborhood for no reason. Or figuring out how to turn a laundry basket into a roller-coaster on the stairs. Or learning how to read the vibes at the basketball court before deciding whether or not to shoot your shot (metaphorically or literally) and call 'next'. I'm not anti-camp. I'm not against organized activity. But I am against the idea that kids should never be idle. That every second of every day must be accounted for, optimized, branded, and captured. I want my daughter to know that freedom isn't just something we talk about on Juneteenth—it's something you feel on a Tuesday in July with nothing to do but ride your bike and follow your thoughts wherever they lead. So I'm trying to build in blank space. Days where there's no itinerary. Where she gets to decide how the day unfolds, even if that means doing nothing at all. Because that, too, is a skill. One that too many of us are forgetting to pass down. We're raising kids in this world that moves too fast and expects too much. A world that commodifies every interest and gamifies every interaction. But if we want to raise humans, not just high-performing outputs of our parental anxiety, we have to give them time to be human. Summers are supposed to be messy and weird and wonderfully unproductive. They're supposed to be the seasons of origin stories, when kids figure out who they are outside the classroom, outside their parents' gaze, outside the grind. We figured it out because we were left to our own devices. Not the digital kind; the real ones. Our guts. Our instincts. Our imaginations. My daughter may never know the feeling of getting on her bike and riding until the streetlights come on. But she can still have the kind of summer that isn't about achievements. A summer that feels like hers, not something planned for her. A summer where her mind can wander and her soul can breathe. So yes, let her go to theater camp. Let her find her voice. But let her be bored too. Let her be curious. Let her figure it out. Because one day, when she's older, I want her to smile at the memory of the summer where nothing much happened—but everything changed. She'll have the rest of her life to run the rat race. I just hope she gets one summer to ride a bike down a steep hill. SEE ALSO: This Was Supposed To Be A Review Of 'Forever,' But It's Not The Uncomfortable Realities Of Middle-Aged Black Manhood SEE ALSO Bring Back Boredom: A Requiem For Black Gen X Summers was originally published on Black America Web Featured Video CLOSE