Edible Road Trip
I’ve been driving down I-26 most of my life. Back and forth to Columbia. Back and forth to Charleston. I clock my travel by exits: I know once I reach the Clinton exit, I’m usually halfway to my destination (or conversely, almost home). I associate the middle-of-the-interstate rest stop with the Laurens/Gray Court exit. And the Newberry exit… well, I know I am almost to Columbia, somewhere wedged between Jalapa and Prosperity (two exits I’ve never taken).
It dawned on me only recently that for whatever reason, I’d never actually been to Newberry. Sure, I’d long been aware of its Opera House. And who hasn’t heard tales of ghosts haunting various parts of the town-from the campus of Newberry College to the old cemeteries to the streets whose homes have withstood time itself? So, I headed out on I-26 and took the Newberry exit into town, having no idea what lie ahead.
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First Stop: Books on Main
Y’all, I am a bookophile, a book freak-I’m that person who will never use a Kindle or tablet, who has an intimate, tactile connection with a real, printed book. And, yes, I dog-ear pages, write in margins, scribble on back covers. I am that person (to my husband’s chagrin). So, when I first made my way onto Main Street and saw a bookstore, I was immediately called to my first stop.
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I found parallel parking with ease and snapped a few shots of the historic Ritz Theater before pushing through the door of a most unique bookstore: Books on Main. It’s really what you imagine an old bookstore to be: (almost) floor-to-ceiling shelves of books upon books upon books, a juxtaposition of textures and colors and smells. New and used, tattered and pristine, all living together in uneven, imperfect stacks and rows. Heaven. Books on Main has Southern Literature, WWII history, classics, almanacs, Irish Literature, and plenty of poetry. Looking for a book on bullfighting? Books on Main has a dedicated section. Seriously. How could you not love a place like this?
I knew I couldn’t spend all day here (although my natural inclination was to do just that), so I tore myself from the bookstore’s clutches back into the overcast afternoon light.
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