Gluten Freebird

This is primarily a blog about living with gluten, but right now, it’s a tribute to living without another special must-have. I won’t go all cheeseball and suggest that this place nourished my soul, but Dutton’s Brentwood Books in L.A. is a special part of me and it closes today after 25-someodd years of business. For those who don’t know Dutton’s, this may not mean a lot, but it’s a universal blow to bookworms.

Dutton’s was not just a bookstore. It was a culture, a community dedicated to the love of books. At Dutton’s, it was ok (encouraged, even!) to spend hours wandering the aisles, comparing translations or digging to see if there could possibly be a first edition of Heaney’s “Beowulf” tucked into the stacks.

When I landed my first job there, it was like winning the literary lottery. How many of my lunch breaks were spent in the courtyard with my nose in a new book? I spent many hours guiding people through high-brow titles, but my favorite customers were less than academic. I recommended beach reads to a pregnant Cindy Crawford, helped a middle-aged man find sex manuals for his octogenarian parents and, of course, offered up dozens (hundreds?) of substitutes for Harry Potter. If you’re wondering, my favorite is Rushdie’s “Haroun and the Sea of Stories.”

And when Harry Potter (this was back in the days of book 4) debuted, I was there — dressed as a witch next to Doug Dutton’s believable Dumbledore — to unveil the copies at midnight. The rooms of Dutton’s were packed to capacity with wizards and pulsing with magic.

Dutton’s reached book-lovers of every age. It was my first job. It fostered my love of reading and launched my interest in writing. Best of all, it made me proud to be bookish. It’s the kind of community you can’t replace, but I won’t give up hope that it can be resurrected.

I’ll miss you, Dutton’s.