A typical independent bookstore, in my mind, is like the record store in Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity: a lair of connoisseurs communing and clashing over matters of taste. And of course, the occasional shoplifter skulks nearby. But even thieves have their canon, a former bookstore employee explains in the Stranger. The most aggravating aspect of shoplifting for independent sellers is the mindset of their thieves, the “self-satisfied young white men, the kind who love to stick it to the man,” who confuse independent stores with said man—and abscond with hundreds of dollars worth of graphic novels, Beat poetry, and Philip K. Dick stories.
(Thanks, Arts & Letters Daily.)