This week, tens of thousands of publishers and booksellers gather at the Jacob Javits Center in New York City for BookExpo America, which touts itself as “the largest event serving the largest book market in the world.” It is an ideal time to ask: Will bookstores continue to be relevant in the age of e-books, the growing focus on digital libraries, mass-merchandisers offering deeply-discounted bestsellers, and declining reading rates?

Coming from the third-generation owner of the Strand Book Store in New York City, my emphatic yes may seem a bit self-interested. But it is not without good reason.

My grandfather, Ben Bass, founded the Strand in 1927 with a $600 investment, half of which was borrowed. The initial inventory was his personal book collection, and he used a cigar box as his first cash register. Every surface inside the dim and dusty shop seemed to buckle under towers of books that threatened to come cascading down upon any customer foolish enough to risk identifying their titles.

Yet it was an invitation to like-minded people, and they responded. Ben swore he knew the precise location of every book in his inventory, and those intrepid book people who shared his passion never left the store unrewarded.

Strand was one of 48 second-hand bookstores along New York’s fabled Book Row, as it was known from the 1890s to the 1960s, along Fourth Avenue from Astor Place to Union Square. These booksellers were driven by an excitement for the printed word and were witnesses to its effect.

Customers became employees and employees, customers; hours they invested in the store took shape through dialogue with the books and with each other. A customer at the Strand who expressed his interest in Molière would be introduced by Ben to another avid Molière reader his next time in the store.

A request for natural history prints might not yield immediate results, but, sure enough, there would be a couple of related titles on hold by the next visit. The prevailing principle then remains today: The bookstore is a foundation for community.

Just the act of reading a book connects us to others — to the author, to a lineage of ideas, and to a historical context, even a physical history, in the case of used books.

Booksellers are as passionate about books as their customers are. We are eager to offer recommendations and spread the word about a deserving writer or book. And we learn from listening to the readers who shop at our stores. With passing generations, new styles come to prominence and old greats get rediscovered. There is an education in these daily exchanges, and it centers around human contact.

Strand customers still spend hours exploring, content to lose themselves to the slow, rewarding search of the stock of books. The most frequent compliment we receive from customers is how happy they were to have come in for one title, only to discover and take home so many others.

Where else does serendipity await so regularly on the next shelf or in the next aisle for those who are interested in looking? Books are unearthed, friendships found, and even romance has bloomed from encounters inside our store.

Of course, my grandfather’s cigar box has long since been replaced by computerized cash registers. In case we don’t remember the exact location of every one of our three million volumes, each book is entered into a database that we list online.

Our Web site has allowed us to reach new customers worldwide, and unquestionably drives traffic into our store. Local bloggers link to our online calendar to help get word out about our events.

But technological advancements are only a part of what a bookseller can offer readers.

To remain a destination, storefront bookstores have developed innovative, community building programs within their towns and cities, such as literary lunches with authors, customer book clubs, and organized literary tours. They create opportunities for writers and readers to meet face-to-face.

At the Strand we try to invite strong audience participation in panel discussions, and provide an open reception afterward so the conversation can continue. Such activities are vital in establishing a gathering place for the intellectually curious to celebrate their common interests and excitement for the written word.

It’s all up to readers. If book people want community, bookstores are here for you.

Ms. Wyden owns the Strand Bookstore in New York City. She met her husband, Senator Wyden, in a bookstore, Powell’s, in Portland, Ore.