There is a little bookstore in Paris that will forever have my heart: Shakespeare and Company.
To set the scene: I spent my first two days in Paris doing a lot of exploration myself (my friend was working on a big paper). No one to answer to, no agenda. Just me. These moments were some of my favorites from the weekend. I am an introvert. Many people are surprised to learn this, as I am relatively outgoing at times, and communicate very well with others. However, introversion is NOT about shyness and social isolation. That's a myth. Introversion and extraversion are about where you get your energy from (I just did a paper on this, thus the rant). Introverts tend to feel the most "alive" when they are by themselves or with one or two other people. This made so much sense to me, and really explained why I am the way I am. I love being left to my own thoughts and reflections when I'm exploring.
Anyway, after mass at Notre Dame, I was walking the streets when the store sign caught my eye. Intrigued, I entered and didn't leave (for two hours).
Shakespeare and Company has a fascinating history behind it; you can almost feel the fascinating stories when you walk through the door. It was originally founded around 1920. Famous authors such as Ernest Hemingway and James Joyce would frequent the store to read and write. However, the Nazis closed it down in 1940 when they invaded France. Miraculously though, much of the library survived the war. Reopened in 1951, it has been thriving ever since.
I really cannot put into words the happiness I felt while I browsed the selection. Downstairs, the books are modern. Upstairs, however, is an extensive collection of antique books, mainly from the 1800s. The originals! The upstairs of the store was a homey nook, with a few small rooms with cushions and shelves and shelves of masterpieces. There was even an antique piano against one of the walls; a very talented customer began playing classical music that filled the store. The store's message is that of compassion and shared love of literature. People can stay as long as they want, play music, and enjoy.
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| Staircase author tribute |
The old books aren't for sale, just for reminiscing. Little Women anyone? Look what I found: An original (in ink!) message written by Louisa May Alcott in one of her books!
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| "To the many boys and girls whose letters it has been impossible to answer, this book is dedicated as an offering by their friend, L.M. Alcott." |
There were so many surprises like this one. It got me thinking. How many people have opened each of these books? How many individual stories are represented? At the risk of sounding completely sketchy, I loved smelling all of the old books. So many hands have turned the pages. So many decades have come and gone in their presence.
Autobiographies have always been my one of my favorite genres. I could listen to people talk about their life stories for hours on end. Books have played such an essential role in my own life story, particularly in childhood.
I genuinely taught myself how to read when I was three. It started out with just memorizing the words, but then I somehow actually read them. I certainly had practice. My mom loves to tell the story of a huge parade in my hometown when I was a toddler. Rather than watch the parade and partake in the festivities like a normal child, I picked up my little bag of Berenstein Bears books, marched off to a patchy area of grass, and stayed content for hours (as fireworks and who knows what else were going off around me).
Therefore, I almost started to cry when I saw some of my favorite classics in the store, many in their originally published print. Madeleine, anyone?! "In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines..." SO good. Pretty sure I wore out that VHS tape...
The nook with old children's books had a small wall where people have posted thousands of handwritten notes to the store, thanking the store for what it has given them. The notes were in dozens of languages, connecting people from all over the world. Mine reflected my warm heart and remembrances:
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