A good bookshop stokes the imagination in more ways than one. Add these literary gems to your list of places to stalk.
When it comes to blending design and literature, L.A. wins top honors. Arcana—with its focus on art books and glossy aesthetic—exemplifies this best. When the store moved into Culver City’s Helms Bakery District in 2012, the owners hired a design firm to create a bright space that wouldn’t sacrifice the inventory’s integrity (books are famously sensitive to sunlight). The result is a sleek, 4,500-square-foot literary gallery with towers of metal shelves that guard a range of signed coffee table stunners, museum exhibition catalogues, and artist biographies. Shoppers might find themselves rubbing elbows with painters, curators, and starlets that frequent Arcana to find inspiration in the stock of hard-to-find magazines or to acquire obscure titles for their collections.
You might think a place focused on math and science would be stuffy, but you’d be dead wrong. Ada’s—named for the first computer programmer—is a geek-sleek, light-filled wonderland where even the most science-averse will be drawn to texts on coding, engineering, astronomy, chemistry, and all things tech. And that’s because the literature is just part of the equation. At the original location, housed in a 1920s home, there’s a handsome café where bistro tables double as exhibits with glass-enclosed collections of compasses, butterflies, and star charts; a Victorian lab-like event space, anchored by a big periodic table; and a coworking attic where big thinkers can collaborate. Basically, it’s the kind of joint every town needs.
Powell’s may be Portland’s largest and most famous bookstore, but in-the-know literati book it to Mother Foucault’s—a fiercely indie bookshop that feels like a 1900s renaissance man’s personal library. Named after a French postmodernist (Michel Foucault) and a union activist (Mother Jones), the South Morrison Street hideaway takes its books seriously (think: 20th-century fiction, continental philosophy, foreign language poetry—and no cellphones). And yet, there’s nothing standoffish about the vibe. With its salvaged wood, sliding ladders, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the locale is almost homey. Owner Craig Florence, who worked at Shakespeare and Company in Paris and approves every book in the store, prides himself on cultivating a community spirit. On any given day, it’s not uncommon to find a Polish poetry reading, letter-writing club meeting, jazz lectures, sci-fi readings, or a rock show.
Fearlessness breeds magic, and that’s what you get when you step into The Last Bookstore in Downtown L.A.: pure magic. Opened in 2005 by Josh Spencer after a life-changing accident, this 22,000-square-foot emporium is everything a book-nerd could hope for and more. The lofty ground floor is tidy and warm, dotted with leather armchairs and shelves housing hundreds of thousands of reads, as well as records and Last Bookstore merch. Upstairs, things progress into the whimsical realm with a labyrinth comprised of tunnels made of books and secret rooms stocked with rare titles, niche genres (like the “Horror Vault”), and literary-themed art installations. Spring Arts Collective has studios up there too, so expect to stumble onto covetable works from artists such as Andrea Bogdan and David Lovejoy.
Macdonald is a textbook classic charmer—right down to the friendly staff and creaky, old floors. Before Estes Park was even established as a town, Ed Macdonald set up his book post in a small corner of the general store he ran out of his home. Now, 110 years later, all the rooms of the family cabin are filled with books and magazines by national and niche publishers. Locals and travelers alike frequent the downtown spot for everything from the New York Times Sunday paper to Rocky Mountain field guides to indulgent crime and romance novels. Exit through the back door to follow wooden steps and a stone path onto the town’s tree-lined Riverwalk.
Anyone who has a kitchen counter or cupboard filled with sticky, earmarked, flagged cookbooks knows these texts offer more than recipes. Cookbooks hold the story and heart behind dishes and ingredients. Also, they’re flat-out fun—just like the turquoise-splashed Book Larder. The Fremont cookbook shop unites two of the best things to linger over: food and books. White shelves show off everything from Chrissy Teigen’s newest indulge-fest to a 1940s Woman’s Home Companion Cookbook, while a community kitchen hosts cooking classes, secret suppers, and demos with heavyweight culinary talent.
Founded by Jim Munro and the Nobel Prize-winning Alice Munro in 1963, this store has been a mainstay in Victoria since day one (in its early days, Munro’s was the first Canadian bookstore to sell works from San Francisco beatnik haven City Lights). But, Munro’s design stock shot up in 1984 when it expanded into a 20th-century Royal Bank of Canada building, and Jim Munro restored the architectural gem to reveal its marble floors and lofty ceiling modeled after an ancient Roman library. It’s a stunning backdrop for the nearly 75,000-book collection, which emphasizes Canadian authors.
Even if El Péndulo’s flagship in the trendy Polanco neighborhood didn’t carry a generous assortment of English-language books, it would still be worth a stop for its darling café and stylish digs. With its spiral staircase, turquoise walls, arched doorways, and hanging plants, the locale honors the spirit of the 1940s house it occupies while embodying modern-day, artsy Mexico City. While there’s no bad seat in the house, we recommend snagging a table on the second floor, where you get a bird’s-eye view of Péndulo and its parade of well-heeled patrons.
The founders of the locally revered Bess Press publishing house debuted this pretty locale in March 2018 to fill a gap in Honolulu’s literary landscape. A third of da Shop is devoted to stories on Hawaii and Oceania, and the bookshop regularly host events with local authors and artists. Publishers themselves, the owners appreciate the entire book process, including graphics, which is why books are staged on attractive, uncluttered shelves that allow coverwork to stand out.
Framed by skyscraping redwoods, the Henry Miller Memorial Library is neither static like a memorial, nor quiet like a library. When the racy author moved to Big Sur in the forties, beatniks and cult-seekers followed, establishing the town as a counterculture harbor. The pilgrimages continue, lured by this ever-evolving cabin that gathers creatives and wayfarers from all walks. Inside, you’ll shop Miller books and works with ties to the influential writer or Big Sur (from a biography on Dylan to Kerouac’s Big Sur). Outside, people lounge on the lawn reading archival letters Miller sent to friends, flipping through books on California, and, some evenings, catching a show or talk under the stars. Every nook is covered with relics, like foreign bills left behind by visitors, posters of bands who have played here (Arcade Fire, The Pixies, Ty Segall), Henry Miller watercolors and photographs, and writing knick-knacks.
Whether it’s set against bluebird skies or the white snowbanks that pile up in Anchorage, The Writer’s Block’s monochromatic orange siding pops. The square building—a shape chosen as a play on the store name and a prevalent dilemma for writers—took over the space of an adults-only store, where the team spent two years building before opening in 2018. There is a big focus on Alaska authors (as there should be; one of the owners has an indie publishing house), but the selection spans far beyond books at this locale that has quickly become a community gathering spot. On a visit you might snap up some of the locally-made jewelry and paintings that line the walls, post a pic of your fresh avocado toast and perfectly foamy cappuccino, and then live-stream a knockout set by the city’s next breakout songstress.
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