Another One Bites the Dust

News reaches us this morning that radical St. Paul bookstore Ruminator Books is finally closing. After years of sketchy financial performance and poor business decisions by its owner Dave Unowsky, the lease holder, Macalaster College, pulled the plug on it this week.

I've written previously (here and here) on the efforts by DFL City Councilman Jay Benanav to channel tax dollars into this floundering enterprise. I'm happy to read that his ill conceived scheme to publicly subsidize a failing business never came to fruition:

St. Paul City Council members earmarked a $50,000 grant in March to help the store continue to attract national writers for readings. Council Member Jay Benanav planned to funnel another $25,000 of city money allocated to his ward to help. But none of that money has been spent, city officials said.

"It's sad," Benanav said. "It's more than just a bookstore. It's part of the community. And there are fewer and fewer places in the community to get together. It's pretty hard to gather at Wal-Mart."

Actually Jay, people do gather at Wal-Mart. I see them doing it every day, hundreds of them at the Stillwater branch, near where I work. And you know why? Because Wal-Mart sells things people actually want to buy. That was the missing ingredient, the fatal flaw, in the Ruminator Books business plan. If only they would have seen it sooner!

Sadly, some folks still don't see it. This comment from alleged author Carol Bly:

"If America hadn't gone totally junk culture, totally commercial, bookstores like Ruminator wouldn't have any trouble at all," Bly added. "David would have done just fine at the tail end of the 19th century. You can't sell Shakespeare to someone who comes in looking for a discount paperback copy of 'Reagan's OK, You're OK.' "

Like it or not Carol, if the people want to buy a discount paperback on Reagan, the Ruminator should have considered selling that to them. Because, it was a book store, not the ministry of high culture.

I guess I can understand Carol Bly's hostility to success. Her latest page turner is called "My Lord Bag of Rice." Nice title, sounds like a profile of a cult devoted to worshipping Uncle Ben. Which would be a far more interesting topic than what Ms. Bly actually penned:

eleven exquisitely observed stories about sharp-eyed characters who stand a little apart from their peers, nurturing a hardy sense of self-worth in a mostly mediocre world.

Ugh. I just about lapsed into a coma cutting and pasting that description, I can't imagine the torture of actually trying to read that awful crap. But, believe it or not, Carol Bly is an author whose books the Ruminator carried. Carried them right to its grave. Or did Carol Bly and her kind carry the Ruminator to its grave? (Yes, that last part sounds right.)