Latest News

A Place You Can't Find

Category: Uncategorised

Published Date

Written by Thom Ring

"There is a great deal of difference between an eager man who wants to read a book and the tired man who wants a book to read."

Can't one be both?

That's the question I'd have for G. K. Chesterton, whom I'm quoting here. I'm always eager to read any book I can get my hands on. My home is overflowing with books that neither my wife Jan nor I can bear to get rid of. Many have yet to be read by either of us, and still a week doesn't go by that the collection doesn't grow by at least a book or two.

One of our favorite activities is visiting bookstores. We head to a favorite place and camp out, flopping into the most comfortable chairs we can find with a stack of books in our laps and a favorite beverage by our side. We sit and we read, browsing our way to a purchase or two but more importantly simply enjoying the experience of letting the world go by while we engage our minds in some adventure or learning experience.

This is an activity that seems somewhat immune from the constant pressure to commodify every product or experience. Perhaps that's because the brave new world is busy writing off the written word entirely, at least as it's applied to paper. Even within the walls of the modern monoliths of book sales, Barnes & Noble and Borders, the buying experience remains at least a bit mom 'n poppy.

But the undisputed champion among Mom 'n Pop bookstores is the Book Mill. I mean, how more mom 'n poppy can you get than to bill yourself as having "Books you don't need in a place you can't find?" If that isn't scaring patrons away it's only because it's so inaccurate. Yes, the Book Mill is off the beaten path in the rural western Massachusetts town of Montague. But plenty of people find it, and once they've been there many return again and again to buy books they don't need in a place that feels like home.

The building the Book Mill occupies started life as the town's grist mill in the mid-1800s. Years after that mode of commerce was killed by progress the mill was converted to a river-driven machine shop that produced machines for stamping serial numbers and other info into wood and steel parts. The names of famous ballplayers reportedly were stamped into Louisville Slugger bats using machines produced here.

In 1987 the mill, once again suffering at the hands of time, was purchased and renovated, this time to serve in its present incarnation, or, one should say, "incarnations." It's more than just a used bookstore. It's a complex presently hosting a café, restaurant, antiques store, CD/record store (Aah, records!), and a painter's studio and gallery.

But I don't mean to make this sound like a little shopper's mall. It's much too informal for that. The Lady Killigrew Café can be reached through its own entrance but also through a door in the book store. You can sit in the café with a beer and a sandwich and gaze through a window in front of you at bookstore customers browsing. Paintings from various artists decorate the walls. The music store, downstairs from the artist's studio and the antiques store, is across a fieldstone pathway in a separate little building. The last time Jan and I visited, musicians played on a patio at the end of the pathway.

Even the word "customer" fits awkwardly at best many of the people enjoying their time at the mill. Each of the mill-building's many gables and other nooks features a comfortable sitting area. Often you can find a cozy spot and curl up with your hoard of books in relative seclusion, particularly on the mill's top floor. On our last visit, though, all the spots seemed to be occupied by day-trekkers from nearby UMass or Smith College, equipped with their own little laptop- based worlds. A few were sleeping. Evidently none of them wanted a book to read. More for us, of course.

The choicest spots are at windows looking out on the rushing river that used to power the mill. One time we drove out on a snowy day and settled into chairs overlooking the frothing water and swirling snow. Despite the equally snow-driven ride we still faced, over narrow roads that curved along the river, we were in no hurry to leave. We both recognized a special moment when we saw one.

The Book Mill is located on the Sawmill River near the village center of Montague, at 440 Greenfield Road, not far from Interstate 91.