Paris' Left Bank: the Legendary Shakespeare & Company Bookstore

In every corner, dilapidated couches and cupboards in the walls serve as beds for any down-on-their-luck bohemians in Paris lacking accommodation. In exchange for a couple of hours of work in the store, travelers can crash at "Tumbleweeds," snuggling up in beds and couches in the bookstore (above).


This was our first visit to Shakespeare and Company bookstore, the old haunt of Anais Nin and Henry Miller (a couple of my favorite lovebirds and writers). It's a fusion of living room and bookstore, of 1950's and 2007, of bohemian hedonism and commercialism (it was surprisingly expensive). I had to remind myself that we're not just paying for books. We're paying for history, ambience, and, some would say most importantly, we're paying an institution that provides free shelter to writers from all walks of life.

One of the owner's good friends stopped Phil to tell him how happy he was that he had brought his young daughters to the store. He said that they are very lucky to experience a place like this so young. I'm not entirely sure that the girls saw it that way, though; they couldn't wait for the poetry reading to be over! They curled up on couches and quietly read and played with a dog who seemed to live there along with a group of transient writers.

Funny side note: I had the most uncomfortable conversation with a resident writer there, who was striking a magnificently introspective pose while seated at a little desk with pen in hand (remember Burroughs in Naked Lunch getting pulled over by the cops? When asked to prove that he's a writer, he holds up a pen and says something like, 'Of course. I have a writing tool'). After about a minute of conversation, during which he made it very clear that he is a writer who is "pondering the next great American novel" he cut me off and said, "do you mind? I have writing to do." I'll bet that Henry Miller would be as amused by this as I was.

Here are a couple of pictures of the bulletin board upstairs (it's interesting if you click on them to enlarge):


As I was taking these pictures, a curtain above the bulletin board rustled, and I nearly jumped to see a woman lying down in a little bed behind it! Anything that can conceivably be used as a bed, is. After that little surprise, I made sure to act really cool just in case there were other people similarly curled up in hidden nooks throughout the store, watching me. God forbid someone catch me photographing Shakespeare and Co. like it's some sort of tourist attraction.

And...the treasure. There is always a treasure at a used bookstore, and it is different for each of us. This treasure is pretty self-explanatory (besides just looking like a hell of a good read):


It's missing the "I" but that's OK; "I" wouldn't exactly want to be in this novel, anyway. Judging completely by the cover.