To say that the fall of 2004 was a transitional time for me is an understatement.
And while all of this was going on, a new bookstore moved in, right next door to my grocery store, a five-minute walk from my new apartment.
Porter Square Books would be there for me over the next fifteen years, even as I moved incrementally further away from Porter Square as my life changed. So many random winter afternoons and summer mornings; always the first or second stop on Indie Bookstore Day because they opened so early. Heck, so many books I would buy from them on release day because with their 7 am opening time, I could pick them up on my way to the T in the morning! I've written often in these pages about how Harvard Square Books is where I'd end my nights, in the cozy basement as the snow fell outside; maybe when they closed at 11 pm, I'd scurry up the street and grab an ice cream cone before catching the T home. Porter Square Books is its early-bird complement, where I'd grab a book from them and tea and a pastry from Cafe Zing in-house. (Zing is still looking for their next partner; I harbor secret fantasies about a performance venue.)
When I made the biggest move of all, moving home to California just before the pandemic hit, they would endure through the early pandemic years. Living proof that local independent bookstores help stitch a community together, they continued to grow, and thrive. And eventually, outgrow their current space.
When I was in Cambridge last month, of course I stopped by 25 White Street one last time, picked up one last book from Porter Square Books, White St Edition. (Ali Hazelwood's Bride, for book club.) Gazed around the familiar warm, brightly-lit space filled with books and people, people reading their purchases in the seats by the windows while munching on summer rolls; soaked the nostalgia in amid the memories of so many hours browsing and buying books there. (And then hung out at![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
noghri's house with him and his family and our friends later that evening. Growth and change and transformation I couldn't see in October 2004, but hoped for, long come to fruition.)
My first year in Boston, the fall of 2000, I lived near Porter Square then, too, and I frequented the Porter Exchange where Porter Square Books is moving. Affordable onigiri for dinner from Kotobukiya upstairs, and then I would wander into the infinitesimally tiny Barnes and Noble in the basement and browse for what few books they had (because it primarily functioned as a place to sell Lesley University merch), and think that, as much as I loved bookstores, the neighborhood deserved a much better one.
And now, there will once again be a bookstore in the Porter Ex, one I love, like there always should have been. They kicked things off with a chain of several hundred patrons helping to move the romance section 1000 feet across the square, and I wish I could have been there. I can't wait to see what they do with the place; hopefully I'll be back to visit in the spring!
Welcome home, Porter Square Books.
- I moved out of the Fenway, back to Porter Square
- noghri and I broke up
- I got my traditional breakup haircut (as much as people knock the concept, it has always come out AMAZING for me)
- I quit my awful job
- I fled to Hong Kong to visit my brother and recuperate from the trifecta of knockout punches
- I stopped checking the internet because every time I did the Yankees kept beating the Red Sox and I was convinced it was because I had abandoned my beloved studio in the Fenway, not even because I'd had the audacity to date a Yankees fan for the entire year previous!
- I checked the internet for the first time in a week on my way back from Hong Kong and the Sox had MADE A COMEBACK and a very nice Cubs fan ticket agent who understood got me on an earlier connection back to Boston
- The Sox REVERSED THE CURSE
And while all of this was going on, a new bookstore moved in, right next door to my grocery store, a five-minute walk from my new apartment.
Porter Square Books would be there for me over the next fifteen years, even as I moved incrementally further away from Porter Square as my life changed. So many random winter afternoons and summer mornings; always the first or second stop on Indie Bookstore Day because they opened so early. Heck, so many books I would buy from them on release day because with their 7 am opening time, I could pick them up on my way to the T in the morning! I've written often in these pages about how Harvard Square Books is where I'd end my nights, in the cozy basement as the snow fell outside; maybe when they closed at 11 pm, I'd scurry up the street and grab an ice cream cone before catching the T home. Porter Square Books is its early-bird complement, where I'd grab a book from them and tea and a pastry from Cafe Zing in-house. (Zing is still looking for their next partner; I harbor secret fantasies about a performance venue.)
When I made the biggest move of all, moving home to California just before the pandemic hit, they would endure through the early pandemic years. Living proof that local independent bookstores help stitch a community together, they continued to grow, and thrive. And eventually, outgrow their current space.
When I was in Cambridge last month, of course I stopped by 25 White Street one last time, picked up one last book from Porter Square Books, White St Edition. (Ali Hazelwood's Bride, for book club.) Gazed around the familiar warm, brightly-lit space filled with books and people, people reading their purchases in the seats by the windows while munching on summer rolls; soaked the nostalgia in amid the memories of so many hours browsing and buying books there. (And then hung out at
noghri's house with him and his family and our friends later that evening. Growth and change and transformation I couldn't see in October 2004, but hoped for, long come to fruition.)My first year in Boston, the fall of 2000, I lived near Porter Square then, too, and I frequented the Porter Exchange where Porter Square Books is moving. Affordable onigiri for dinner from Kotobukiya upstairs, and then I would wander into the infinitesimally tiny Barnes and Noble in the basement and browse for what few books they had (because it primarily functioned as a place to sell Lesley University merch), and think that, as much as I loved bookstores, the neighborhood deserved a much better one.
And now, there will once again be a bookstore in the Porter Ex, one I love, like there always should have been. They kicked things off with a chain of several hundred patrons helping to move the romance section 1000 feet across the square, and I wish I could have been there. I can't wait to see what they do with the place; hopefully I'll be back to visit in the spring!
Welcome home, Porter Square Books.
