We know what has changed, how will future classes?

Those on campus in recent years have seen a university in a state of continual churn. They’ve seen instruction upended by the introduction of generative AI, the reintroduction of proctors to exam rooms after a 133-year absence, and the closing and reopening of the center of campus for the construction of Frist Health Center — only to close again to build Schmidt Hall. As these changes accumulate, it’s worth thinking about what is lost as old versions of campus fade into memory. 

This year, I was forced to reckon with one of these changes as I shopped for an LA distribution requirement to fill out my course schedule. After settling on a once-weekly seminar on Fyodor Dostoevsky, all that remained was ordering course books from eCampus, which describes itself as Princeton’s “official Online Bookstore.”

Although I needed my books urgently, for many of them the best that eCampus could state was that orders “usually ship in 2–3 business days,” on top of Frist processing time. Being unwilling to pay for one-day shipping — which can run upwards of $40 — I would have to wait at least one week between placing my order and picking it up. 

As I scoured the internet for licit and less-than-licit means to access the requisite readings, I could not help feeling that there must be a better way. Instead of waiting days for my order to arrive and be processed at Frist, what if there was a place near campus where a student could walk in and get everything they needed in one stop? 

Those members of the University community who were on campus prior to Fall 2024 will recall just such a place: Labyrinth Books on Nassau Street, which served for more than a decade as the one-stop shop for Princeton students seeking course books. Since the termination of the University’s arrangement with Labyrinth in 2024, the bookstore has refocused on its used and antiquarian holdings while students have instead been instructed to order from eCampus and sometimes wait weeks for their books. 

I am by no means the first student to complain about replacing the charm of meandering into Labyrinth on the first day of classes with navigating an e-commerce website — almost anyone who remembers the old system knows that eCampus pales in comparison — but I might be among the last. When the Class of 2027 graduates, so will the last class of students who remember Princeton before eCampus.

This is, of course, an inevitable consequence of the four-year memory cycle that is a core feature of a college campus. 

In only a few years, no one in the student body will remember a time before the University tightened restrictions on student protest or gutted independent dining. 

The timescale disparity creates challenges for students who might want to alter the fabric of their campus. Without continued resistance, broadly unpopular changes can become calcified, anointed by virtue of having survived the four years needed to wipe the slate clean. 

The continually refreshing memory of the student body puts the administration, who operate on longer timescales, at a distinct advantage. Before last week, I, for one, had never seriously contemplated the possibility of the University permitting chalking, or that doing so might be desirable. When no one on campus remembers a campus covered in chalk, few might think to complain about its absence.

I don’t know whether Labyrinth returning as the official University bookstore is practicable or for that matter even desirable years after the termination of its contract, nor do I have an alternative to offer. But for those once again frustrated with the poor service, sluggish delivery, and impersonality of eCampus, remember that a better system is possible — because it existed. 

Thomas Buckley is a senior Opinion writer from Colchester, Vt. studying SPIA who is still waiting for eCampus to deliver his copies of The Brothers Karamazov and The Idiot. While he waits, you can contact him at buckley[at]dailyprincetonian.com