The viper's nest of a society that turns antibacterial hand wash into a necessity and finds redemption in leering over the intimate details of Britney Spears' so-called life has conspired to close a quiet, 30-year old Cleveland artifact.

In other words: Be sad, folks, because times have changed and the Bookstore on West 25th Street is closing its doors on June 30, 2008. Sure, there are still other bookstores in Cleveland: chain and independent, new and used. But none with the enchanted bookstore triumvirate of cat, dust and gentle man.

The Bookstore on West 25th — "A Friendly Bookstore" it reads across the façade — opened in 1976. It's been a comfy place, due in great part to the quiet demeanor of Michael O'Brien, whose former career as a member of the Gethsemane Monastery in Kentucky is apparent in this haven for people of all sorts — business people, academics, those on the fringe of homelessness, the disenfranchised, the aging radical, the poet and the musician. It's been a land of corduroy and flannel souls in search of respite.

This used bookstore believes in the Power of the Browse: that delightful, uncharted wander through stacks as the ubiquitous cat winds 'round your ankles and the folk music is turned low and the four o'clock sun streams in through the window. This is not a place to buy your copy of Steven Covey's latest, although there might be a copy - perhaps next to that pile of Robert Heinlein, or check under that Holly Near album resting next to a hardback dictionary without a front cover ... nope, but here's a thin blue-backed book the size of the palm of your hand. It just feels right, and it's Dale Carnegie's business blast from 1936 — that'll do just fine.

The Bookstore on West 25th has hosted poetry readings, musicians, balloon artists and a monthly poetry workshop. Its bulletin boards bristle with notices for activist jobs, peace rallies, heat assistance programs and GLBT support groups. When the current war entered its third year, the lyrics to "Waist Deep in the Big Muddy" by Pete Seeger appeared in the window. You may be able to find great used books on the Internet for great prices; what is lost is a well-grounded sense of place and people. Some might call it community.

The hottest concept in the pernicious world of marketing right now is experiential marketing, which "attempts to connect consumers with brands in personally relevant and memorable ways," often through the recreation of a certain atmosphere. Perhaps the next big thing will be an Uber Used Bookstore, say, in Vegas, whose planograms detail how to stack books randomly in order to replicate an experience that was once natural.

Our world is fraught with classifications and flashes of information and schedules. We've commodified time as we buy individually wrapped microwave hotdogs and pre-written love notes that we can add to our child's lunch box to stay in touch. We are all so busy. Going where? To our class on Stress Reduction in Under 59 Seconds? Too bad we won't be able to just drop into a noble used bookstore for a while and noodle around aimlessly. It's a damn shame.

The Bookstore on West 25th (1921 W. 25th St., half a block north of the West Side Market, 216.566.8897) is open noon to 6 p.m. Monday through Saturday. All stock progressively discounted from June 23 to June 30.