I'm still swooning. On February 10th, I was one of eighty-some-odd authors who had the great good fortune to appear at the American Booksellers Association's Annual Winter Institute. That evening, I tucked into the table that had been prepared for me and, seated next to a stack of my galleys, watched as the doors to the massive hotel ballroom opened and the coolest people in the world came pouring in: independent booksellers. 

If you love books, could you love anyone more? If you are a writer, could you need anyone more?

These are not the indifferent, I-might-as-well-be-selling-toaster-ovens employees of Barnes & Noble (I know there are a few gems, but there are very few), who respond to your inquiry about the new translation of Anna Karenina with the same blank look and tap of their keyboards (having no clue what it is, it is necessary for them to look it up) that they employ in answering your question about the location of the ladies' bathroom. Instead, these are the men and women who know more about books than you do, and who, upon hearing what you like, can lead you to what you have never heard of but suddenly discover you can't live without. My table was not the most trafficked--I'm a virtual unknown, unlike writers like TC Boyle and Kelly Link, who had long lines at their tables--but, with the openness and curiosity typical of their profession, plenty of independent booksellers stopped by to hear my pitch and pick up a book anyway. I loved that every one of them was lugging an enormous bag, or dragging a hand truck, to aid them in transporting their beautiful addictions. Clearly, these were my people. I was once lucky enough to attend the National Book Awards dinner with a friend, and on each table, as a centerpiece, were all the nominated books. At the end of the evening, as we were leaving the room, I saw that most of the books still sat there untouched. Wha? I stuffed my bag and loaded up my arms with as many as I could carry. Leave no good book behind--that's my motto. And from the throngs of indie book buyers throwing caution, and back pain, to the wind, at this year's Winter Institute, it was clear that this is the motto of every indie bookseller, too.

Best of all? The mood in the room was buoyant. Why? Since 2012, every trend shows that indies are back. 

In the nineties and into the aughts, word on the street was that big chain bookstores like Barnes & Noble and Borders, as well as superstores like Walmart and Target, would destroy the independent bookstore. (Remember You've Got Mail?) This was not a theory: in the 1990s, there were around 4,000 independent bookstores in the US; by 2009, the number had plummeted to 1,651. But things have changed. Borders is gone. Barnes & Noble, forced to compete with Amazon not only in the scale of its business but in the nature of it, introduced the Nook at a cost in the billions that saddled the company with heavy losses; it's still struggling to recover from it. And since 2009, the number of independent bookstores in the US has grown to 2,094. Many attribute this resurgence to a growing "buy local" movement spearheaded by consumers turned off by the faceless and solitary transactions of online shopping. The local independent bookstore, perhaps more than any other store in a town, provides character and community that consumers miss, and crave. I know I don't feel I truly know a place until I have perused the shelves of its local indie bookstore, and I was starstruck by more than a few of the booksellers who stopped by my table. Prairie Lights! Tattered Cover! Community Bookstore! Brilliant Books, my favorite Traverse City spot! The Twig, the indie mainstay of San Antonio, Texas, my hometown! Wow.

I have loved them, loved them all--and of course I hope they will love me and my book, too. But more than anything I am glad they are there, and that they are thriving. Hear, hear for the independent bookstore! If you feel me, share this. And tell me what your favorite indie is, too.