I&#x27;ve imagined this repeatedly. When you can buy any book you want online, physical bookstores become, in practice, galleries—and their clerks become salesmen.<p>In such times, there&#x27;s not much point to having a big store stuffed to the gunnels with anonymous tomes that the clerks don&#x27;t even know they have, let alone know anything about. Bookstores have none of the things that the book-buyer wants (discoverability, recommendation or &quot;match-making&quot;, knowledgeability); and, especially in the case of <i>used</i> book stores, the online copy is probably in better condition, too.<p>When you treat books, instead, like pieces in a commercial art gallery—curated and exhibited for effect, with well-trained staff who can tell you all about them, or guide you to a book that fits your desires, or call&#x2F;email you when a book you might like comes in—you get something from the physical store you don&#x27;t get online. And, therefore, you actually might buy your copy from the store—maybe even at premium—because you aren&#x27;t just paying for the book, but for the whole experience that led to you buying the book.