"It's just a band," John Lennon stated after the breakup of the Beatles. "Life goes on; it's over." By the same token, Ruminator was "just" a bookstore. And now that the doors of the old Hungry Mind are closed for good, people who just popped in the Grand Avenue store to buy a book can probably find that same title over at Barnes & Noble on Ford Parkway. Heck, I hear Wal-Mart has a decent paperback romance collection.

Many of us, though, saw Ruminator as a meeting ground, a sort of temple of literature where readers, writers, language and ideas crossed paths. Of course they had the best selection of poetry and literary fiction, almost to the end. And the books they had out on the front tables as you came in—they were always the best new books, the things worth reading; they weren’t up front because the publisher paid extra. But for me the magic was in the readings. Being one of perhaps fifteen to hear Laura Kasischke read the devastating opener to The Life Before Her Eyes, then say, so modestly, "Are there any questions? No? Okay... The reading is over now... Bye." Being there to discover that Margaret George, whose mythical Autobiography of Henry VIII consumed two whole weeks of my Junior year of college, was actually one of us mortals, a quiet, plain-looking woman with a genteel Virginia accent. Walking in one evening to find Paul Theroux, or actually just the voice of Paul Theroux, because the store was so packed I never saw the man. And being there to witness all the pretentiousness of the literary world of course—New York writers like Jonathan Safran Foer, who spent thirty minutes listing all the stupid questions he had been asked at other readings, and then read for eighty seconds.

I have to admit I was not shocked at the announcement that Ruminator was going under. When they started auctioning off writers’ pens and other memorabilia, it was obvious the End was near. And let’s be honest—there was more to the downfall of Ruminator than the nebulous "chain book store phenomenon". In retrospect, changing the Hungry Mind name was probably not such a great idea, even if it gave owner Dave Unowsky the needed capital to open a Minneapolis Ruminator at the Open Book. Speaking of which—a book store on that sparsely traveled stretch of Washington avenue? Of course it failed. In the end Unowsky could only afford to keep a skeleton’s library of books, and in spite of valiant efforts by writers and door-knockers the customers stopped coming. Macalester comes away looking like the villain, but its students aren’t paying those ultra-high tuitions to subsidize a private book enterprise. Right then, enough of that unpleasantness. At the end of the day, Unowsky kept his shop in business for thirty-four years, and he deserves our gratitude. And we need to get to the second part of that Lennon quote.

There are plenty of top-notch book stores still left in the Twin Cities, and the spirit of the Hungry Mind, Baxter Books, and other late greats lives on in them. Micawbers, for example, is now owned by former Ruminator employees. Our New Book Store Tour in this issue is a salute to them and a reminder of what a lot we still have going for us in this town. We also have a wonderful debut story from writer Laurie Suomala, more irreverence from Justin Teerlinck, a new regular feature called "Backyard Writer", a new comic strip by the artist/writer team of AJ and JK Mason, and much more. Oh, and stop by and see us at the Book Fair October 16th.

- Joel Van Valin