Books for the end of the world

If you are ever in downtown Hamilton, Ontario, walking through the central historic business district on James Street North, you may find your eyes drawn to a shop with a stunning art piece in the place of a storefront sign. There’s a mouse with his nose in a book, a knight with a sword drawn, an oxen, a rabbit and dozens of other creatures all embraced within the open wings of a haloed pelican.

Alongside the entryway in bold vertical lettering, you read: “BOOKS.” You walk in, baffled and curious. As you peruse the new and used titles, you ask yourself, “Why, in today’s world, a newly-opened bookstore?”

This is the right question to ask. When I sat down at Last Supper Books with shop founder and owner, Matt Carson, I told him the truth. “I want to support your bookstore more, Matt, but I love my e-reader and find buying digital books so convenient. It’s hard to convince myself to walk over and look through what you have here.”

Just like that, the book-lined shop became a confessional booth. “I get it,” he said. “I myself use Amazon Prime on the regular.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony.

I got serious quickly, though, aware that beneath the irony, there’s a gravity to what’s at stake if we collectively continue to choose fast one-day shipping instead of independent local shops like this one. “So why an indie bookstore, filled with real, physical books, in this day and age?”

Books enrich us

Matt took a deep breath. “People are starting to see the flaw of getting whatever they want whenever they want. They’re noticing that always choosing what’s easiest isn’t good for them.”

His fresh take has backing in the real world. Corporate American bookseller Barnes & Noble is in the midst of opening 70 new stores this year, evidence that even in our distracted age, people are still buying books. Interestingly, Barnes & Noble’s strategy for growth is not to mimic massive online stores like Amazon or Temu but to emulate a local, independent bookstore flavour by allowing staff at the stores to choose which titles get shelved and, to quote one executive, by “changing the atmosphere and bringing back that idea of community and how books enrich our lives.”

The idea of community was central to Matt’s vision for Last Supper Books when he opened in late 2024. “People are lonely,” Matt mused, which is why in addition to selling books, the shop works to be a thirdspace, hosting regular book clubs, clothing swaps, small concerts and monthly movie nights. The bookstore even has a membership ($20 per year) and members are welcome to come to Matt anytime with ideas they have for events they can host at the store. Dozens of people have been organically woven into the social fabric that’s forming around the shop.

Community-weaving is Matt’s background. “Everything I do is exploratory,” he told me, and as someone who’s known Matt a while, I knew exactly what he meant. He’s worked in non-profit and for-profit settings doing marketing and event planning, always encouraging creativity and a can-do attitude. Five years ago, Matt serendipitously founded Try Me Again Later, a grassroots collective that fosters community-driven outdoor experiences, which served as a source of joy to many otherwise locked-down Hamiltonians during the pandemic, and still thrives today.

Under the shelter of the pelican

Last Supper Books wasn’t only born from Matt’s resume, though. It also came about from his own winding life path. After losing his job a few years ago and experiencing personal loss, Matt returned after a long hiatus to his roots in the Christian tradition, finding solace in the good news of grace.

Hence, the haloed pelican. Often used in religious imagery to symbolize God’s mercy, it’s the perfect animal to perch above this space that seeks to be a haven in the midst of a fast-paced, ever-changing world.

While you can find a sizable selection of faith-based reads at the shop, the hope isn’t necessarily to propagate culturally Christian material. The store’s tag line is “books for the end of the world.” It’s intended to be a signpost that an end to today’s digitized, convenience-driven society is possible and an alternative can still be found. The shop seeks to exist away from the clamour of distracted living, shielded from the rat race of same-day drone-delivery, freed from the malaise of loneliness. The hope is that a taste of a different Way can be found under the shelter of the pelican.

It’s not quite the end of the world for my reading habits. I haven’t given up on my e-reader just yet, but I see the way that getting my books at the click of a button and scrolling through the text like a social media feed might not do me as much good as a physical hardcover from an indie bookstore. Next time I’m looking for a new book, I plan to walk over to the shop.