“Bargain Books …Greatly Reduced …An Extra 10% for Members”. The signs are magnetic forces pulling customers inexorably toward the imposing displays. Men and women pick up over-sized books, fondle them, feel the smooth pages, linger over the images. They choose a few and sit by the windows where the sunlight illuminates the pages. Or they take them to the café where they sit over cups of cappuccino enjoying the prose while the sweet aroma of cinnamon and chocolate surrounds them.

Take a closer look.

Watch the people drawn to other places, wild spaces near the towering Rocky Mountains with valleys down below. They taste the wild strawberries, hear the rushing water, smell the honeysuckles, feel the soft meadow grass underfoot.

There a newborn fawn is lying on the ground as the doe gently raises him on wobbly legs to taste his mother’s milk. They hear majestic lions roar. They touch the lamb’s furry shawl. They smell the cedars in the swamp.

Then, they look at the prices, sigh, but take these treasures home to be placed on shelves to join other books of a wondrous world full of untouched places and fantastic animals. They may never look at the pictures again, but those images are theirs to keep.

A different breed of buyers arrives. They gravitate to the games and jigsaw puzzles, Black Belt Sudoku, and NY Times Crossword Puzzle books. They rummage through the shelves looking for any new Anacrostics which are almost never there.

The gamesters don’t sit and savor their finds. They hide them under some great classic. “Pride and Prejudice”, “Chaucer’s Tales,” “The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire.” Each teetering stack moves to checkout and the customer blushes when the cashier examines each item one by one.

The gift shoppers! Should it be journals, or calendars? Perhaps a cookbook or scented candles? Do they really need fancy matching wrappings and shopping bags? Don’t forget the birthday card, anniversary card, get well card. Maybe it’s time for the grandchildren’s gifts. “Babar” or “Pinkalicious” or “Curious George” for the little ones. “Harry Potter” or “Goosebumps” for the older kids. Maybe the Beatles or Madonna for the teenagers. Whatever they choose, they rush out the door so as not to miss the festivities.

Here come the truly elite, the crème de la crème. First come the music aficionados who strut to the rear in search of CDs. On their heels come the movie lovers rushing to the DVDs. Both are content with great works of art. The music lovers shiver with delight to find something that somehow was lost over time. Bernstein conducting his own “Requiem” or Benjamin Britain’s “Ceremony of Carols”. Film buffs look for original versions of classic movies. “Psycho” with Anthony Hopkins or “Sleuth” with Laurence Olivier and Michael Caine. Orson Welles’ tawny Othello. Both shoppers walk out looking disdainfully at the ordinary folks wandering aimlessly through the aisles. As they leave, they guard their purchases as if they were relics from a distant and better culture.

Of course, there are the people who still remember that Barnes and Noble was always, first and foremost, a bookstore. Each person has a special interest, a unique taste. Some choose mystery and romance. Some like fiction and memoirs. Others choose poetry, religion, history, biography, science, psychology or self-help. One shopper will only look at the hard covers while the man next to him will only examine the trade paperbacks so he can conserve space in his own library.

So they stare at the countless variety of books, each book vying for the perfect space to catch a book lover’s eye. And the overjoyed, perplexed readers stand amazed, mouth agape, eyes scanning the row upon row of shelves, from the first book too high to reach to the last title too low to read.

In the end, piles of secret treasures move out the door to be lovingly placed on shelves and coffee tables and end tables and night tables and stacks on the floor. The contented Barnes & Nobel shoppers smile. They are happiest in the midst of all their own special clutter.