Singing Wind Bookshop, Benson, AZ

This past November my partner kindly donated some of his hard-won aeroplan points to me so that I could travel with him to a conference he was attending in Phoenix and celebrate my thirtieth birthday in the desert. Mostly I celebrated in airports and on airplanes, but by sunset I was parked on the patio of our hotel room, shoes off, beer in hand, and a couple of monster cacti within reach.

On the last day of our trip, we drove an hour or so east of Tucson to the town of Benson, and then down a long dirt road, over a cattle guard, and past a fierce Dalmatian to visit Singing Wind Bookshop, "Headquarters for Books about the Southwest." The shop had been recommended by a family friend, and I doubt we would have found it otherwise.

I have several favourite bookstores, some dead, some still living: J. W. Doull here in Halifax, Duthies in Vancouver, Pages in Toronto, Elliott Bay Books in Seattle, and the monument that is Powell's in Portland, Oregon. Singing Wind is of a different ilk, but may be my new number one. And it might well be the only bookstore situated in the middle of a cattle ranch. Its owner, Winifred Bundy, welcomed us with a tour of the store that I wish I could quote more of here. I do remember that it included mention of short and tall Californians--referring to the height of the books, not the authors (cue pause for acknowledgement of the joke--we were happy to provide).

Bundy doesn't have an online store, and she only accepts cash or cheque. We were the only customers in the store, but there was a sense that things were thriving. We were invited to a fiesta in celebration of a local author, taking place the following afternoon (refreshments and valet parking provided). There are a handful of times in my life when I've seriously considered skipping a return flight, and this is one of them. I wanted to buy the closest property for sale and spend the next ten years reading whatever Bundy told me to. Or working my way through the store shelves, which I think would amount to more or less the same thing.

What did we buy? I'll preface this short list by reminding you of the cash-only situation. Many a volume was carted around the store and then reluctantly returned to its shelf. However: Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey, Islands of Books by Lawrence Clark Powell (for a good, though now slightly dated, introduction to Southwest literature, check out his Books: South Southwest) and a trio of lectures given by Powell, recorded by members of the band Calexico, and released by Singing Wind itself. Dear reader, three words: Benson. Go. Now.