Dead Poet brought a lot of life to many

The sentimental melodies of the Mills Brothers stroll along just inside the front door of Dead Poet Books.

By the time you pass the free table, the delightfully earthy scent of aging ink on paper fills you with a sense of nostalgia. This place is a little slice of heaven for book lovers, who filter in throughout the day to peruse the shelves and exchange pleasantries with the owner in an atmosphere that’s gone decidedly out of style in the age of Kindle and Amazon.

Forgive Linda Piediscalzi if she feels a little sentimental herself these days as the used book store at 937 S. Rainbow Blvd. that she and husband Rich created more than a decade ago prepares to close. Signs in the windows shout of sales, but one look at the depleted shelves and the deflated expression on Piediscalzi’s face tells you the end of a long struggle is near.

The Piediscalzis bucked a recession, a hard-hearted landlord and dramatic changes in reader tastes and technology, but some health challenges and flat sales have pushed them past the point of diminishing returns. And so it’s time to close.

In addition to being a bookstore bon vivant, gray-haired Linda is also a breast cancer survivor who has endured a double mastectomy, severe neuropathy and the deep chasm of chemotherapy-related exhaustion — all without losing her ebullient spirit.

You get into the used book trade for love, not money, but you hope to generate enough income to cover expenses. And in most cases, to support a hard-core reading habit.

As a girl growing up in Illinois, Linda would sneak into the attic and read from the stacks of books relatives had left behind. The love of reading became a healthy obsession with books after moving to Las Vegas and taking a job in the cage at the Flamingo.

It was there she met and befriended the original Mills Brothers, who headlined in the lounge. When she was diagnosed with cancer the first time, the group came to the hospital and sang for her.

On this day, the mellow Mills frame a mood that can’t help being a little melancholy. The Dead Poet has been more than a place for cheap paperbacks, she says.

There have been poetry readings and writers group meetings, meditation gatherings and metaphysical discussions. The store’s chess boards have introduced dozens of young people to the game.

“My goal all along has been to try to help create a sense of community, to make it a gathering place,” she says. “That’s what I hoped for.”

In my family, she’ll always be known as “Bookstore Linda.” We’ve spent many hours amid the shelves and genres. She’s a cherished friend, but there are many like us.

She fields a few phone calls and commiserates with a couple of customers. She knows her regulars and their children not only by name, but by reading tastes as well. She’s watched many of those young ones grow up and move from the kiddie corner and young adult section to the paperback novels and nonfiction.

When asked whether pouring money into a business as out of date as a used book store has been worth it, she seems surprised by the question. She admits it certainly would have been simpler to remain an avid reader instead of a book seller in the Internet age.

“It really would have been easier, I guess, but you know what?” she asks. “I would have missed out on a helluva experience. It’s been, as they said, a great ride.”

She pauses amid the stacks and adds, “That’s the key for a lot of things in life. I didn’t choose cancer, either, but it taught me a lot of lessons. It made me appreciate a lot of things.”

Among them, the power of a small shop to provide, no matter how small, a sense of community in a tough desert town.

“I’d hate to see all the book stores going by the wayside, but we’re a society of convenience,” she says. “The sad part about that is you don’t stumble across other things that interest you.”

Like new books and the people who cherish them.

She doesn’t know exactly when the Dead Poet will close. Some potential buyers have been poking around, but there isn’t a big market for used book stores these days. Bookstore Linda tries to keep the inevitable change in perspective.

“I think life is full of hellos and goodbyes, beginnings and endings,” she says. “This is one of those things. But there are people I’ve met here who will never be out of my life.”

The Dead Poet has kindled a sense of community. Its owner has taught us a lesson in living.

John L. Smith’s column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Email him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call 702-383-0295. Follow him on Twitter @jlnevadasmith.