Auntie's Has Moved So You Don't Have To
No, no. We know you're terribly busy and awfully tired. Don't worry about putting any additional miles on your mobility scooter. There's now an Auntie's location in River Park Square. You can nip in once you're done stocking up on bedsheets at Macy's or hat stands at Restoration Hardware; no need to trek those many, many — okay, three — blocks to buy Eat Pray Love in paperback because Oprah told you to.
In all sincerity, though, I was skeptical of Auntie's decision during such straitened economic times to branch out into the exact same spot where a previous bookstore had failed, but I remain supportive, even if I can't suppress the sarcasm altogether. So I popped in yesterday to check out their grand opening celebrations and marvel at what's supposed to be a "microcosm" of the iconic standalone store. Plus I had a Groupon burning a hole in my pocket, and even better, Jess Walter (along with, though not alongside, Patrick McManus) was going to be there signing books.
There isn't a heck of a lot to say about Auntie's at the Square other than that it's a bookstore. It's painted darkish yellow and there are, as you'd hope and even expect, books on the blue-gray shelves. Kids' stuff in the back, some magazines on the side, bestsellers and new releases stacked or propped on tables in the front. No place to sit. No charm, nothing distinguishing. In a word, nondescript.
So nondescript, in fact, that seeing the store brought me right back to the question I posed indirectly some weeks back: What's the point of Auntie's at the Square?
The trio of staff, though polite and good natured, regarded my inquiries along these lines with increasing suspicion. Or irritation. I was told they're going after a "totally different demographic" — that demographic being (in a paraphrasing that is wholly my own) the lazy shopper/casual reader who can't or won't hoof it a couple of yards to the main store to pick up a new fart book. Auntie's was also given "a great deal" on the location and, according to one staff member, the bookstore's presence was one of the most requested in River Park Square (I didn't ask by whom).
This exchange took all of ninety seconds, but by the end of it, I felt as though I were making my own presence in River Park Square especially unwelcome. Which wasn't altogether desirable: I hadn't even had the chance to get my autographed copy of The Financial Lives of the Poets yet.
When Walter arrived promptly at 4pm, a small cluster of about ten folks formed. I was anticipating the proceedings to be elbow-to-elbow, which is why I got there a few minutes early, but there was almost no one in the store when I arrived and, once the hit-and-run autograph crowd dissipated, there weren't many shoppers left.
At checkout I asked the staff member I hadn't bothered earlier whether or not the opening day had been busy. I got a nod and a noncommittal yes. These gestures were accompanied by a split-second glance around the store that seemed to acknowledge that the evidence at that particular moment in time might not be entirely supportive of that assertion.
This, incidentally, isn't too far from what that split-second glance might have encountered:
Still, maybe I shouldn't be surprised that the joint wasn't exactly hopping during the half-hour that I was there. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon on which the Garland Street Fair and the American Legion World Series were taking place across town, and Auntie's at the Square is, after all, a bookstore offshoot. How many people — even die-hard book fans — go nuts over offshoot bookstore openings? Yet I was nevertheless disappointed by both the overall and specific turnout (incidental question on that note: did Auntie's do enough to get the word out about the book signings?), as well as the lack of palpable excitement over the fact that the loss of Children's Corner didn't lead to a complete literary void, even if it's hard to imagine making a trip to such a bland bookstore for any reason other than its coincidental proximity.
Perhaps the mistake I'm making here is to expect the general public to match my enthusiasm and curiosity toward this sort of thing. But then, isn't the general public the store's target demographic? Isn't it the general public who Auntie's at the Square is expecting to keep it afloat? Here's hoping such concerns are unfounded.
The absence of a living novelist's mug from the front of one of the most widely read and influential American news magazines on speaks to a topic I've 
Just noticed — thanks to the heads-up given by 