Author: Mark Bautista
It was Black Friday 2019 when I heard the news. My friends and I had driven to the Northgate Barnes and Noble for a Blu-Ray I was looking for; the website had said the Pacific Place location didn’t have it. Unfortunately, Northgate didn’t have it. When I asked the Northgate cashier to help me find the movie at another B&N location, she made an off-hand comment while scrolling through the computer, “Oh, Pacific Place probably wouldn’t restock it; they’re closing soon.” Life-altering news, straight from the source. I was shook (and I never use this word).
But alas, it was true. The Barnes and Noble in Pacific Place closed its doors for the last time on January 18, and I feel like I need to reflect on this sudden change to Downtown Seattle. This sounds a bit more facetious than I’m intending, but this particular B&N was truly very special to me.
In a statement that’s surprising to no one, moving away from home can be an intimidating endeavor. In 2016, I left my hometown of Denver to attend SU and while the excitement of being in a new environment kept me buzzed for a couple weeks, the homesickness eventually hit hard. So, I spent the gross amount of free time I had walking up and down Madison, Pike, or Pine, just trying to make Seattle more familiar to me.
More striking than the 50º incline of Seattle’s streets (Denver’s downtown is pretty flat in comparison) was the fact that I was walking around a pretty adult world. I was living the city life. I had never been so close to so many nightclubs like Q, music venues like Neumos, or independent coffee shops like Victrola. I obviously didn’t get out much in Denver (I’m from the suburbs), so walking around Seattle was like being “out” all the time. It was an overload of the new and unfamiliar. That is, until I found the Pacific Place Barnes and Noble, right there at the intersection of 6th and Pine.
I’m not loyal to many stores or brands, and, in fact, there are really only four stores I really like; Barnes and Noble is one of them. So seeing this Pacific Place B&N was like seeing an old friend (as clichéd as that sounds). Of course, with their white, green and tan style, all Barnes and Noble stores look pretty much the same, but that was why I was drawn to this store—it was familiar. Seattle, at least a part of it, was less intimidating.
I spent a lot of my freshman year walking down to that B&N and plopping myself down in a wooden chair underneath the escalator. There was something about the lighting in that particular spot that held my concentration for an abnormally long time. It was definitely more comfortable than reading in my cramped dorm room and, because of this, I cranked through so many reading assignments for my college courses in that particular chair. Plus, it was right next to the graphic novel section, so you know I was reading some Spider-Man from time to time.
I know that the reminiscing of a former corporate structure probably isn’t befitting of the indie aesthetic that Seattle prides itself on, but this Barnes and Noble offered me comfort when I needed it. So while many of my freshman anxieties have been assuaged, and while I hadn’t visited it as much recently, Pacific Place’s bookstore did a lot for me; I’ll think back on it fondly.
Mark Bautista | Peanut Butter Enthusiast | KXSU Arts Reporter