Shopkeeping

Some books teach you something. Others remind you what you already know deep down but had forgotten in the noise. Shopkeeping does both.

Peter Miller has spent decades tending to his bookstore in Seattle, and in this slim, beautiful volume, he invites you behind the counter—not to sell you something, but to tell you what it means to keep a space alive. Not just open, but alive. There's no romance here about overnight success or perfectly staged shelves. It's about the quieter, older kind of stewardship: putting out fresh water for flowers, changing lightbulbs, knowing which regular likes The New Yorker and which one just wants to talk.

This book is full of practical advice but is more a meditation on time, care, and the kinds of labor that make a shop into something sacred. He writes about the feeling of unlocking the door in the morning and turning on the lights like you're waking something up. About how small rituals build trust. About how to make a place that stays.

It's not really just for shopkeepers—it's for anyone who wants to make something lasting, with their hands and their heart and their attention.

This is a book about how to love a space into being. It's very good company.

‍