The stores I’ve stopped in are all different, with their own stock and their own personalities. There are stores on tree-lined streets, and in urban centers, strip malls, old homes, and refurbished warehouses. Once, I pulled into a dirt parking area convinced I was lost, until I saw a bright awning confirming there was indeed a bookstore there. Yet no matter where I went or how far from home I traveled, I felt welcomed every time I stepped inside. I was reminded that I’m part of a community that transcends geography and countless divisions—a community of people who read. Regardless of our favorite books or chosen genres, we believe in the value of language, creativity, and communication.

At Bookery Cincy in Ohio, Sierra told me about an annual bookstore crawl across the city, and how what had started with just a few stores now has two dozen places participating. At Joy and Matt’s, also in Cincinnati, Joy and I swapped book recs (she told me to read Amor Towles, I said I couldn’t stop thinking about The Safekeep). At The Novel Neighbor in Webster Grove, Missouri, I discussed with three booksellers who should read Greenwich first, based on the shelves of staff picks (shout out to Haley—I hope the ARC got to you!). I talked horror with Stevie at Foxing in Louisville, and Liz Moore with Jessica at Subterranean Books in St. Louis.

At Skylark in Columbia, Missouri, I got to tell Matthew behind the register that my editor grew up nearby, and then check out her favorite childhood ice cream spot, Sparky’s. (It was eleven AM, raining, and sixty degrees, and no that didn’t stop me. Get the mango if you’re in town.) At Rainy Day Books in Fairway, Kansas, I felt the bookseller’s excitement when I said I was publishing my first novel. “You’re a real author!” Tom at Trident exclaimed once I’d made it to Boulder. Over and over, I had the thrill of hearing that my book was already in stock at some stores, and the excitement of introducing it to others. I took home notecards, T-shirts, novelty socks. I bought a lot of books. When I asked a pink-haired bookseller at Left Bank Books in St. Louis how long the store had been around, they proudly said it had been founded in 1969 by “hippies and queers,” and that today the store is keeping up the legacy. That’s what I kept thinking about after every mile and every new stop. This fight for free speech isn’t new, and independent bookstores have been fighting it for a long time.

Capitalism isn’t going to save us. But supporting independent bookstores isn’t just about personal consumer choice—it’s civic engagement. For every book that’s banned, and every library that loses its autonomy over curation, we’re going to need community action and mutual aid to get books into readers’ hands. Buy books from indie stores, gift books to those who can’t access them, show up at local meetings, and speak against censorship. None of us can afford to look away, even if it isn’t our library, our county, or our book that’s on the chopping block.