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Gladstone Hotel (2), Marc Glassman, Pages Bookstore (3)The man in black stood, slightly hunched, at the front of the stage. His remarkably steady hand held a folded piece of paper, his sober tone intermittently threatened by the ambush of tears.
“Today I cleared out my office. There’s dust, and broken tables, and empty bookcases everywhere. Ghosts are emerging from the walls. Our time has passed – bookshops and repertory cinemas and record shops – gone forever, your local cultural pub.”
Many in attendance, overflowing from the Gladstone Hotel ballroom, burst into tears as owner Marc Glassman spoke candidly about his final days at Pages Books and Magazines, eulogizing the store he opened 30 years ago as well as the cultural significance and artistic freedom that it and, indeed, the neighbourhood, once represented.
“It’s ironic because stores like Pages made [Queen West] the cool, hip place to be and then everyone moved in on it and charged high rent until coolness and hip couldn’t exist,” said Dave Starr, the store’s final manager.
Pages Books and Magazines, touted by many as Canada’s best independent bookstore and a staple of Queen Street West for three decades, closed at the end of August due to the cost of a doubled rent. Chris Reed, who runs the popular This Is Not A Reading Series with Glassman, helped organize last night’s event, called Afterword: A Celebration of 30 Years.
“This is not the funeral,” Reed said. “It’s more like a memorial, with people coming out to pay respect to the store.”
“It’s awful to think that it’s closed,” said Lawrence Hill, author of The Book of Negroes, of one of the only stores that carried his debut novel years ago. “It was incredibly important for developing writers to have Pages.”
“The bookstore was, and is, one of the most important literary bookshops in the world to authors and serious readers,” echoed writer and literary historian Greg Gatenby.
“What’s great about it is that it acted as a community centre,” said Matthew Blackett, editor of Spacing magazine. “It wasn’t just a bookstore. It was a landmark.”
Councillor Adam Vaughn made an unexpected appearance, a weary and disappointed sight as he recollected his efforts to help keep Pages in business.
“Nothing I have done I have failed at so badly,” Vaughn told a sympathetic crowd.
Glassman’s daughter, Rachael, admitted her struggle accepting that the store she virtually grew up in is gone.
“It’s been eight days since they’ve closed, and I find myself talking in the present tense,” Rachael said. “It’s very hard for me to make the shift because it’s not a person, but it feels so much like a person.”
Even the evening’s host, Jack Bloom, touched on the frustration felt by many in an impassioned opening address.
“Pages should not have had to close,” Bloom said. “And the fact that it did close, and was forced to close, tells us something about this world we’re living in and about the fight we have ahead of us to preserve the special places of community where we come together to exchange all of the ideas and thoughts and art that we want to – that we need to.”
Despite the reason for the gathering, Pages’ send-off saw many upbeat moments, courtesy of Canadian improv troupe Monkey Toast as well as tributes from the guest speakers. And despite the rumours and rumblings about a possible resurrection of the store in a different location, Reed says that capturing the same magic the original had would be a near impossible task.
“You can’t recreate it,” Reed said. “It’s like asking the Beatles to get back together. It’s never the same.”
So while many hold onto the hope of a second coming, Bloom reflected on the current fate of one of the city’s most beloved literary haunts.
“What is it that actually goes to book heaven when a bookstore closes?” Bloom asked. “Is it the store? Is it the walls? I don’t know, but if there is a book heaven then Pages certainly has a window seat.”