Walk into the old Citizens National Bank building on 5th and Spring in downtown Los Angeles and your nose hits it immediately. That smell. It’s the scent of decaying paper, vanilla, and dust. You aren't just in a shop; you're in The Last Bookstore. It’s a name that feels heavy, almost prophetic, but it wasn't chosen because owner Josh Spencer thought he was the final soldier in a war against Amazon. It was actually a bit of a joke. He started the business in a loft back in 2005 when everyone was saying physical books were dead.
The irony? People are obsessed with it.
It’s huge. We’re talking 22,000 square feet of labyrinthine shelves, vaulted ceilings, and marble pillars that make you feel like you’ve stumbled into a cathedral for the written word. Honestly, most people go there for the "Book Tunnel" on the second floor. You’ve seen it on your feed. It’s a circular vortex of hardcover spines that looks like a portal to another dimension. But if you only go for the photo, you're missing the point.
What People Get Wrong About The Last Bookstore
A lot of visitors think this place is a curated boutique. It’s not. It’s chaotic. While the ground floor feels like a polished, high-end shop with new releases and a massive vinyl record section, the mezzanine—lovingly called the Labyrinth—is where things get weird.
Books here aren't always organized by Dewey Decimal or even by author. Sometimes they're organized by color. Why? Because it looks cool. Because why not? It’s a middle finger to the efficiency of an algorithm. When you search for a title on a screen, you find exactly what you want. When you wander through The Last Bookstore, you find what you didn't know you needed. Maybe it's a 1970s guide to macramé or a stained copy of a Steinbeck novel with someone's grocery list from 1994 tucked inside.
Spencer, who has used a wheelchair since a 1996 accident, built this place on the back of his own eBay selling experience. He knew that to survive, a bookstore couldn't just sell books. It had to be an experience. It had to be "The Labyrinth."
The Labyrinth and the Art of Getting Lost
The second floor is a trip. Seriously. You have to navigate through narrow hallways and tiny rooms that used to be bank offices. Now, they house local artists and tiny galleries.
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There's a specific room—the "Rare Book Room"—hidden behind a heavy door that feels like a vault. Inside, they keep the stuff that costs more than your rent. First editions. Signed copies. Things that shouldn't be touched with greasy fingers. It creates this weird tension between the $1 paperbacks upstairs and the $1,000 treasures downstairs.
Most "modern" retail is about speed. Get in. Get out. The Last Bookstore is the opposite. It’s designed to trap you. You get lost. You hit a dead end. You find a secret window that looks down onto the main floor. It’s architecture as a narrative.
Why Physical Books Are Actually Winning
Despite the "Last" in the name, physical book sales have been surprisingly resilient. According to data from the Association of American Publishers, printed book revenue actually grew or held steady while e-books plateaued years ago. People are tired of screens.
Digital fatigue is real.
Think about it. You spend eight hours a day staring at a monitor for work. Then you scroll your phone for another four. When you want to relax, the last thing you want is more blue light. You want the tactile weight of a book. You want to see how much progress you've made by looking at the thickness of the pages on the right side versus the left.
The Last Bookstore leans into this. They don't have a sophisticated digital inventory system where you can look up every single used book online. You have to be there. You have to touch the paper. It’s visceral.
The DTLA Factor
Location matters. The Spring Arts Tower is a historic landmark. The neighborhood—Downtown LA (DTLA)—has gone through a massive transformation. Twenty years ago, this area was a ghost town after 5:00 PM. Now, it’s a hub of lofts, bars, and galleries.
The bookstore acts as the anchor for this entire ecosystem. It’s the reason people drive in from Orange County or fly in from Tokyo. It’s one of the few places in LA that feels like "Old Hollywood" and "Cyberpunk Future" at the same time. The juxtaposition of the massive bank vaults (which now hold mystery books) against the neon signs outside is pure California noir.
Behind the Scenes: How It Stays Profitable
You can’t pay rent on a 22,000-square-foot space in downtown LA just by selling $1 used books. That’s a myth. The business model is a lot more complex than it looks.
- The Vinyl Revival: They have a massive record department. Vinyl has higher margins than used paperbacks and attracts a different demographic.
- Events: Pre-pandemic and post-pandemic, they host readings, launches, and even weddings. People literally get married under the book arches.
- Curated Collections: They sell "books by the foot" for interior designers. If you see a perfectly staged library in a movie or a luxury hotel, there's a good chance the books came from here.
- The "Instagrammability": While purists might roll their eyes at the influencers posing in the book tunnel, those people buy coffee. They buy tote bags. They buy bookmarks. That "clout" is what keeps the lights on for the scholars.
It’s a smart business masquerading as a bohemian dream.
Dealing With the Crowds
If you go on a Saturday afternoon, be prepared. It’s packed. You’ll be dodging tourists taking selfies. It can feel a bit like a theme park.
The best time? Tuesday morning. Right when they open. The light hits the marble floor just right, and it’s quiet enough to actually hear the building. That’s when you can talk to the staff. These aren't just retail workers; they are obsessive readers. If you ask for a recommendation, they won't give you the New York Times bestseller list. They’ll tell you about a weird Japanese horror novel or a collection of poetry from a local writer you've never heard of.
The Future of The Last Bookstore
Will it actually be the last one? Probably not. We’ve seen a massive surge in independent bookstores lately. The "Bookstagram" and "BookTok" communities have made reading cool again.
But The Last Bookstore remains the archetype. It proved that a bookstore doesn't have to be a sterile, quiet library. It can be loud. It can be weird. It can be a piece of art in itself.
It stands as a monument to the idea that some things shouldn't be digitized. You can’t download the feeling of walking through a vault filled with the ghost of every story ever told. You can’t replicate the random encounter with a stranger in a narrow aisle.
How to Make the Most of Your Visit
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If you're planning a trip to this iconic spot, don't just wing it. Downtown LA can be tricky if you aren't familiar with the layout.
- Parking: Don't even try to find street parking. It’s a trap. Use the paid lot on 5th or Spring. It’s worth the $15 to not deal with a ticket.
- The Rare Book Room: Go early. They limit the number of people inside to protect the inventory.
- Donations: They buy books! If you have a box of stuff gathering dust, bring it in. They don't take everything, but it’s a great way to cycle your library.
- Check the Calendar: They often have local authors doing signings in the evening. It’s a completely different vibe than the daytime tourist rush.
- Explore the Mezzanine: Look for the "fold-in" book art. Local artists have spent hundreds of hours folding pages to create 3D sculptures that are still technically books.
When you leave, walk a block over to the Grand Central Market for lunch. It’s the perfect DTLA pairing. You get the intellectual fuel at the bookstore and the literal fuel at the stalls. Just make sure you actually buy a book. The "Last" Bookstore only stays open if we keep buying things printed on dead trees. It’s a fragile magic. Don't let it be the last.