Borders: The End of the American Bookstore?

THE NEWS: The Borders Group plans to liquidate its remaining assets at 399 stores after failing to find anyone to purchase the bankrupt company.

THE PROVOCATION: You know all the hoopla we've been hearing for the past half-century or so about a "paperless society"? Well, it's finally coming to pass. The death of Borders and the continuing collapse of the newspaper industry make it clear that this fire has been more than Kindled. It has, in fact, become a roaring inferno.

Now we must ask ourselves: Is this really what we wanted?

Slowly, inexorably, we're losing our senses. The feel of a newspaper on our fingertips, so closely associated with the taste of our morning coffee and the smell of bacon as it wafts up from the stove top. The olfactory bliss of walking into a bookstore and not just perusing but inhaling the scent of so many printed pages. These experiences, so deeply ingrained in our collective psyche, are going the way of the phonograph and the corner drugstore.

I remember when I used to walk into a mall knowing my immediate destination. The bookstore. Or the record store. Whichever happened to be closer to the particular entrance that conveyed me to that retail smorgasbord. But no malls these days have record stores. Sure there's your occasional Sam Goody, but that outfit and others like it sell CDs, not records - and at obscene prices that make shopping there a self-defeating proposition when you can get what you want for a fraction of the cost online.

Then there are the bookstores. Once upon a time, every mall had a Pickwick Books (later B. Dalton Bookseller) or a Waldenbooks location. Now both of those venerable names are but memories. B. Dalton, which operated nearly 800 stores at its peak, was gobbled up by Barnes & Noble in 1987, and the few remaining locations under that nameplate finally closed last year. And Waldenbooks? It was purchased by - guess who - Borders, and many of its locations converted to Borders Express stores. Now those are closing, too.

Cody's Books, a gargantuan bookstore in Berkeley that I once drove 200 miles to visit, closed its doors three years ago after more than a half-century in business. Remember Brentano's? At one time, it was the largest privately owned bookstore chain in the United States, with 22 locations in the Chicago area alone. It went the way of the dinosaur in 1995.

Which leaves us with the aforementioned Barnes & Noble holding a virtual monopoly on the non-virtual literary marketplace. In other words, if you don't want to go cyber-rafting down the Amazon, Barnes & Noble is your only real alternative out here. If you live in certain parts of the country, you can visit something called Books-A-Million, which was in negotiations to purchase Borders before the deal fell through. But I'd never even heard of that outfit until it became involved in the Borders talks. Crown Books still operates in a few places, but it's not the same outfit it was a decade ago. Never among my favorites, it's now a knock-off operating under that name that buys overstocked books and tosses them haphazardly onto the shelves, hoping someone will buy them at bargain prices.

Don't get me wrong: I love Barnes & Noble - now, out of necessity, monogamously so. On Friday, those painfully spare and gaudy liquidation signs will go up at the Borders 15 minutes north of my home, and the vultures will begin to gather in search of no-refund, no-return bargains. For some, this will constitute a fleeting moment of opportunistic glee. For me, if I can even persuade myself to participate, it will be like attending a funeral.

Not long ago, another retail institution closed in our fair city, a regional department store called Gottschalks that was born here a century earlier and died an ignominious death of its own beneath those hideous yellow-and-red liquidation banners. I watched as the figures on this audaciously crass signage marched ever higher like some obscene and irreversible death march, rising from 20-30% to 40% to 50% and finally, in the store's death throes, 70-80% off. Often with an exclamation point at the end, as though this were somehow cause for celebration. I felt like incinerating the lot of them for having the temerity to gloat over the death of so hallowed an institution.

Perhaps for some these ghosts are soon forgotten, left behind in the ever-changing landscape of Americana. Not for me. For this particular writer, memories die hard. I still mourn the loss of a certain bookstore called The Upstart Crow, which operated in a mall hereabouts some three decades ago. Its fare consisted not simply of books, but of light snacks, coffees and an occasional string quartet serenading shoppers as they lingered at the shelves. It had character. Never a major player in the bookstore wars that would leave casualties strewn from coast to coast, the nine-store outfit all but vanished after declaring bankruptcy in 1987. Thankfully, an independent buyer came to the rescue for a single store in the chain, which still operates today under the Upstart Crow moniker in San Diego's Seaport Village. If only some like-minded messiah would swoop in and operate the soon-to-be shuttered Borders here in Fresno. But that's just wishful thinking.

While our government bails out bloated automakers and scheme-addicted bankers, the literary cornerstones of our culture - newspapers and bookstores - are allowed to fade quietly into oblivion. There's something fundamentally flawed with that way of doing business, but there's nothing we can do about it. That's how things work here in corporate America. The Upstart Crow was, after all, an upstart. And the establishment doesn't take kindly to such creatures.

We'll still have our morning coffee, not at home or at the Upstart Crow, and not accompanied by a newspaper or a good book. Our eyes will instead be glued to our iPad or Kindle at one of those 17,000 cookie-cutter Starbucks that pollute our landscape with their drive-through windows and $4.95 mochas, having long since vanquished the proverbial 25-cent cuppa joe. At least it's something, but it's not a bookstore. Nothing can ever truly replace a bookstore.

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Editor's Note: This article first appeared in my online newspaper, The Provocation. You can access the site at www.theprovocation.net.

When a Plural is not a Plural

When it comes to subject-verb agreement, some plurals just don't act like plurals. Here's an example I came across once:

Crawford said Brumbaugh's chest was covered with black powder and that 5 pounds of the powder were found taped to his abdomen. An additional 15 pounds of black powder were found in Brumbaugh's apartment, Crawford said.

This follows a convention many of us had drummed into us during grade school. We were told to ignore prepositional phrases wedged between the subject and verb when deciding what tense to use. Following this rule, it was natural to mentally delete "of the powder" and "of black powder" in deciding that the plural noun "pounds" should take "were" as its verb. But in this case, the rule doesn't apply. Sometimes, collective nouns represent a group of individual entities acting as a single unit. That's the case here. The correct construction would have been:

Crawford said Brumbaugh's chest was covered with black powder and that 5 pounds of the powder was found taped to his abdomen. An additional 15 pounds of black powder was found in Brumbaugh's apartment, Crawford said.

Here are some other examples:

• Eight pounds of explosive material was (not were) found in the bunker.
• Seven inches of yarn was (not were) rolled out.
• In all, 60 acres of land was (not were) sold to the city.
• The company said 7,000 gallons of gasoline was produced in the space of an hour.
• Six feet from the skunk wasn't far enough.

The key question to ask is this: Will the sentence still make sense if you remove the prepositional phrase? Here are some examples, with the prepositional phrases set off by brackets to illustrate the point:

• The knights [of the Round Table] were sworn to serve the king.
• The passengers [on the doomed flight] fought valiantly against the hijackers.
• The immigrants [from Costa Rica] were not deported.

But try the same trick with some of the previous sentences, and they no longer make sense:

• Eight pounds was/were found in the bunker.
• Seven inches was/were rolled out.
• The company said 7,000 gallons was/were produced in the space of an hour.

Pounds, inches and gallons by themselves aren't anything. They're simply units of measurement. Unless they are applied to some concrete noun, such as explosive material, yarn or gasoline, they don't exist. The material was found in the bunker; the pounds weren't. The yarn was rolled out; the inches weren't. The gasoline was produced; the gallons weren't. In such cases, it makes sense that the verb agree with the concrete noun, not the abstract measurement.

A quick aside: Measurements aren't the only examples of nouns that look plural but should be treated as singular. Organizations with plural names can fall into this category if they are, in fact, singular entities. For example, "Amvets is experiencing a decline in membership." But this can be tricky. It sounds pretty odd, for example, to say "The Beatles is playing at Shea Stadium," even though the sentence refers to a unit - the musical group. And no one would say, "The Bears is playing in the Super Bowl this year," despite the fact that "Bears" refers to a unit - a football team - rather than several large, furry mammals. If you're unsure about this one, the best way to go is to explicitly identify the group as a unit. For example, "The Boy Scouts youth program is lobbying Congress for a tax exemption."

And keep calling treating the Bears as plural.

10 Words That Must Go! Doh!

Ten words, in no particular order, that have outlived their usefulness in the popular lexicon:

• Swag. Didn't this used to be a kind of lamp popular back in the '60s? Or a dude who hung out by a billabong (obscure Australian folk music reference).
• Tony. As in "she owns a tony nightclub in Beverly Hills." Tony is a proper name or an awards show.
• Doh. Doh nut use this word unless you're a) Bambi looking for his mother or b) referring to the stuff they make pastries out of - dangling modifier alert!
• Whatever. Why not try saying, "I'm ambivalent." You'll shock your friends with your multisyllabic vocabulary.
• Bitch. Whatever happened to "complain"?
• Peeps. Sugar-coated, chick-shaped, diabetes-inducing marshmallow hell. Or people. Either way.
• Props. Yes, I'm aware that California allows peeps to put propositions on the ballot at election time. I won't give you any, though. Ask a theater company.
• Viral. Go bacterial. Or just go away. Please.
• Bling. Sounds like some inane noise made by a video game, which probably explains its popularity.
• Blog. Yes, blog. I absolutely loathe this word. Can anyone name another word in the English language that is formed from combining the last letter of one word with a second word? This is not a blog, thank you. It's a electronic publication. Or an ePub, if you prefer. Accessible on your iPad  right along with your email.

Its vs. It's

There's a lot of confusion about when to use one as opposed to the other. Here's an easy way to remember:

It's is a contraction. The apostrophe replaces a letter that has been dropped in the process of combining two words - it and is. The apostrophe replaces the "i" in is. Another useful memory tool involves replacing it's with that's.

Its is a possessive, like his, her and their. None of these contains an apostrophe, and neither should its.

Conquering "Weatherspeak"

Tip of the day: Avoid "weatherspeak." It's a malady commonly found on the TV news and, yes, even in the hallowed pages of print journalism.

Perhaps the most common example of weatherspeak involves describing temperatures. The simple rule of thumb is this:

Temperatures can be high or low
They cannot be warm or cool

You'll often see such statements as "temperatures will get warmer as the week progresses" or "a low-pressure system has produced freezing temperatures." One thing to remember: Temperatures are measurements; they're abstract concepts, so they can't freeze. Another memory tool involves substituting other adjectives in describing temperatures. No one would say, "Temperatures were windy (or blustery or calm or sunny) last week." If they can't be windy, they can't be hot or cold.

The air can be humid. Conditions can be windy. The skies can be cloudy. These are concrete things, not abstract concepts. This is just something to file away the next time you write about high temperatures or hot air - unless it's the kind that issues forth from politicians' mouths.

Legal Ease

During my career in newspaper journalism, questions arose from time to time about how I would handle certain legal issues. The question isn't limited to newspapers. It's relevant to any writer who might find him/herself in court on a libel, defamation or related charge.

I’ll start out by saying that it’s better to be safe than sorry – it’s better to be too careful and insert an “alleged” where it isn’t necessary than to omit it when it is. That said, it’s important to know when such qualifications are appropriate and when they’re not. Below are comments on several terms and concepts I saw used and misused in newspaper stories involving legal cases during my years in the business.

For – This is, hands-down, the most misused word in crime stories – and dangerously so. I can’t count the number of times I changed items that basically convicted people before trial by saying they were arrested for this or that. This construction should never be used. Saying a person has been arrested for something is the same as saying that person did it.

• Don’t say someone was arrested for tax fraud; say he was arrested in a tax-fraud case.
• Don’t say a woman is being held for embezzlement; say she is being held on suspicion of embezzlement. 
• Don’t write that a person was arrested for outstanding warrants, but on outstanding warrants. 

Charge, Charged, Charges – These words can be used in more than one sense, so care is needed to ensure that they are being used appropriately. Here are some of the possible variations.

• Informal. Anyone can level a charge against anyone else. This is the informal use of the word. “The panel member charged that his colleague was out of order.” No formal legal charge is being brought in this case. But it’s easier to simply use “said” in place of “charged,” while including the colleague’s response to the statement.
• Formal. “The defendant was charged with first-degree murder.” This indicates a formal charge has been filed against the defendant. If this is unclear by the context, the word “indict” is available. District attorneys and grand juries can bring indictments.

Confusion can develop here in the case of an arrest. It is often said that someone has been “arrested (or booked) on charges of. …” The difficulty here is that no formal charges have been filed at this time. In fact, a person generally can be held in custody for a certain amount of time before formal charges are filed. Though AP style indicates that “charges” is acceptable in such cases, I generally substitute “suspicion of” for “charges of” to avoid confusion. The best way to remember this is to remind yourself that police can’t file charges; the arrest is literally based on their suspicion that the
person involved has committed a crime.

Alleged – Allegations are basically informal charges. Anyone can allege anything; no formal legal action is necessary. Because allegations can be spewed forth willy-nilly, with or without any evidence, it’s important to safeguard the presumption of innocence. The word “alleged” is used to do just that. But there are some potential pitfalls to be aware of.

1. The word can be overused. Here, the AP Stylebook is instructive. It counsels against using “alleged” as a routine qualifier when such words as apparent, ostensible or reputed can suffice. It also warns against redundancy. It’s tempting to write that an alleged crime allegedly occurred in the evening. The goal is laudable: If the crime itself is in question, the timing must also be in question (after all, it may not have happened at all). This phrasing, however, is awkward and bogs down the reader. Give the reader some credit. The best way to resolve this problem is by attributing the allegation: Police say the incident occurred in the evening. This adds an important element, the source of the allegation. In this example, I also changed the word “crime” to “incident” in order to avoid the presumption that a crime had been committed.
2. Allegations that aren’t attributed lack credibility – and they can make it seem as though you're making them yourself. People should be able to face their accusers, in the courtroom and in print. If the accusation is being made by police, by a prosecuting attorney, by a neighbor or by a business rival, say so. Who's making the accusation? That can say a lot about the accusation itself; without that information, a vital piece of the puzzle is missing. Failure to identify an accuser results in an incomplete and potentially biased account. Sources speaking on condition of anonymity should be used sparingly in any case, and never when they are making serious accusations. 
3. The word, when used in some cases, can call the crime victim's veracity into question. If police report that a person’s home has been broken into, it’s pretty clear that the owner of the home is a victim. Describing him as such does not amount to accusing any specific individual of victimizing him. This is the key. As long as no specific person is being accused, there’s no need to refer to anyone as an “alleged victim.” The difficulty arises primarily in cases where the accused and the crime are closely linked – so closely that an allegation about the crime itself virtually implicates the accused. The best example of this is rape, in which one specific person often stands accused. In such cases, denying that this person is guilty of the crime basically amounts to denying that any crime was committed. The tendency is to resolve this by referring to the person making the accusation as an “alleged victim.” But if the word “alleged” safeguards presumption of innocence on the part of the accused, it has the opposite effect for the person on the other side. The connotation is something akin to, “We’re not really sure we believe you.” In protecting the alleged perpetrator, the writer also manages to call the woman’s account into question. Fortunately, it’s easy enough to write around this by referring to the woman not as the alleged victim, but as the accuser. There’s no question that she is an accuser; no judgment is being rendered on her word one way or the other.

Accused – Similar to alleged. Anyone can accuse anyone of anything. Attribution is important here, as well.

Reputed – This word is not a direct synonym for “accused” or “alleged.” One person can make an accusation or allegation. This word stands in contrast, as its etymological link to “reputation” makes clear. No one acquires a reputation based on a single accusation. A reputation is based on a generally agreed-upon idea about someone that develops over a period of time. Use “reputed” only in cases that meet this definition.

Claim – Avoid language such as this: “Police claim he was making up the story to provide himself with an alibi.” The use of this word introduces an element of doubt, so that the reader is liable to be biased against what’s being said. What’s communicated is something like this: “He’s claiming this, but it’s just his opinion.” The goal should be to eliminate bias such as this. Strive for neutrality, and write or edit in such a way that avoids introducing doubt or affirmation for such statements. The simple “said” is always a better alternative to “claim” in cases such as this.

Ostensibly – This indicates something that seems to be a certain way. Like “reputed,” it indicates that there’s some sort of general agreement about something. It’s not enough for one person to think things are a certain way. There has to be some sort of consensus.

Convicted – There’s no need to call someone a convicted murderer, convicted burglar, etc. If you are calling someone a murderer, the implication is that the person has been convicted. If he or she hasn’t been convicted and you’re using that label, it’s inaccurate – and a major problem.

Defense lawyer – This can be redundant, but I used to see it frequently. If Billy Bob Carlisle has been identified as a defendant in the story, there’s no need to refer to his or her lawyer as “Carlisle’s defense lawyer.” That’s redundant. “Carlisle’s lawyer” is sufficient. There’s certainly no other option on the table at this point: No one would write “Carlisle’s prosecution lawyer.” Prosecutors don’t represent any individual anyway; they act on behalf of the state.

Statute of limitations – Yes, it’s a statute. Not a statue. And yes, I’ve seen it written as “statue.”

Hollow Thinking

I'm pondering the imminent (not eminent) opening of Harry Potter VII and wondering how many people think it's subtitled The Deathly Hollows. It's actually, The Deathly Hallows, as in "hallowed be thy name."

Hallows are sacred objects. In this case, they refer to three fictional magical objects: the elder wand, the resurrection stone and the cloak of invisibility. The word also is associated with Halloween, also known as All Hallows' Eve. (Yes, the apostrophe should go after the "s" - it's a plural possessive.)

If you're among those who misunderstood the title, you're not alone. You might be considered a blasphemer against all things Harry Potteresque, but only if you happen to be on a visit to Hogwarts. Of course, Hogwarts doesn't exist (although I hear there's a reasonable facsimile in Orlando these days). I judge you're reasonably safe - unless you run into a particularly fanatical and violent fan in line waiting to see the film on opening night.