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If you ever come to Paris/ On a cold and rainy night & find the Shakespeare store/ It can be a welcome sight Because it has a motto/ Something friendly and wise Be kind to strangers/ Lest they're angels in disguise 'Shakespeare and Company' in Paris is one of the world's most famous bookshops. The original store opened in 1921 and became known as the haunt of literary greats, such as Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, George Bernard Shaw, Ezra Pound, Gertrude Stein and James Joyce. Sadly the shop was forced to close in 1941 when the owner, Sylvia Beach, refused to sell the last copy of 'Finnegan's Wake' to an occupying Nazi officer. But this was not the end of 'Shakespeare and Company'... In 1951 another bookshop, with a similar free-thinking ethos, opened on the Left Bank. Called 'Le Mistral', it had beds for those of a literary mindset who found themselves down on their luck and, in 1964, it resurrected the name 'Shakespeare and Company' and became the principal meeting place for Beatnik poets, such as Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs, through to Henry Miller and Lawrence Durrell. Today the tradition continues and writers still find their way to this bizarre establishment, one of them being Jeremy Mercer. After his life as a crime reporter in a Canadian city takes a terrifying turn for the worse, Jeremy packs his bags and, on a whim, heads to Paris to see in the new millennium. With no friends, no job, no money and no prospects, the thrill of escape soon palls but, by chance, he happens upon the fairytale world of 'Shakespeare and Co' and is taken in. What follows is his tale of his time there, the curious people who came and went, the realities of being down and out in the 'city of light' and, in particular, his relationship with the beguiling octogenarian owner, George.… (more)
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So begins his whimsical and quintessentially bohemian stay, under the watchful eye of eccentric owner George Whitman (surely the star of the book, with his fascinating life and Communist ideals), who renamed his unique store after the original literary oasis, run by his good friend Sylvia Beach, which was forced to close down during the Second World War. Here all are welcome to browse and lose themselves in their reading; tea is offered on a Sunday; eclectic readings take place in the library; literary and political opinions are argued out – and those in need of a bed will find one amongst the books in return for a few hours helping around the shop and in the kitchen.
Mercer deliciously evokes days trawling the scattered tomes, nights spent storytelling by the Seine, tourists attracted by the store’s reputation, wanderers attracted by Whitman’s generosity, showering in the public washhouses, scrounging leftover food to get by: in short, a poor life, without good facilities or scope for wastage of any kind, but a happy, lively life nonetheless. The characters moving through Whitman’s utopia are many and varied, yet he remains, a kind of rock in the tides of time and tourism, as the chaos of youthful dreams and books and wine whirls around him.
Of course, eventually reality bites for Mercer and it’s time to move on – but his journey is magical and the lessons of the bookstore honest. Now I have Sylvia Beach’s own book 'Shakespeare and Company’ to read, and I recommend the documentary ‘Portrait of a Bookstore as an Old Man’, made towards the end of Mercer’s time in Paris and readily available online. Still not sure whether to read it? Try searching online for photos of the store in all its glory – if that doesn’t persuade you, nothing will!
How I wish to drop by the shop, maybe even spent a week or two in the companies of interestings would-be writers, poets, and four walls of BOOKS! But first, I need to save enough for a trip to Paris from almost a 1/4 of the globe away...
Mercer describes how upon accepting his request to stay in the store, Whitman also told him he was responsible for evicting an old poet who had lived in the store for five years. The book tells how the many impoverished guests get by on very little or no money, learning how to pass themselves off as students for cheap meals, scavenging for thrown out food, using a cafe restroom to wash. Though he includes the confrontations and filth, the title of the book comes from Mercer's description of prison "hard time" as being the most difficult, while the time he spent at S&C as being as soft as it could be.
Whitman's Shakespeare and Co. is the 2nd legendary store to bear that name after he inherited it from Sylvia Beach. Beach's original store was closed by the German occupation during WWII and never reopened afterwards. Beach was famous as the founder of the Paris english-language book store which also functioned as a lending library and mail-drop for many ex-pat writers in the 1920's & 1930's and she was also the first book-format publisher of James Joyce's "Ulysses". Whitman's store was originally called La Mistral when it opened in 1951 and the name-change came in 1964.
The overall arc of the book is Jeremy Mercer's path from down-on-his-luck writer to Shakespeare and Company veteran alongside George Whitman's search for reconciliation with his then estranged daughter Sylvia (yes, named after Sylvia Beach) Whitman. The reading journey was definitely a soft time and is recommended for book store lovers.
Further Reading:
As of July 1, 2016 there is now an official history Shakespeare and Company, Paris: A History of the Rag & Bone Shop of the Heart available online from the bookstore's website and in stores as of late September 2016.
Its a true(ish?) account of a fellow Canuck who goes to that temple of literary Gods, the used bookstore "Shakespeare & Company", ekes out an existence on one of the numerous guest cots throughout the store, interacting with the literary
The store itself is legendary. I myself have been there, in the heart of Paris, had tea in the books-&-people packed rooms riddled with roaches and swirling with the gaga eyed sycophants like myself who wanted, somehow, to be anointed with greatness by immersing ourselves into it. Doesn't work that way though.
I can recommend the visit. You get a free cookie. Lukewarm tea. A lab pup that buggers off with one of your mittens. A memory, a story, but not a book, or a novel, or whatever Jeremey was shooting for with this one.
Too bad. He has skill, his material is a rich vein of solid gold, but his own persona too often becomes the theme. Memoirs of a nobody packaged as literary tribute to ghosts still needing a voice.
3 stars.
Henry Hitchings was talking specifically about Lawrence Ferlinghetti's City Lights
Mercer was a crime reporter for a Canadian newspaper, and at times in trouble with police himself, when he made the mistake of revealing a source, who then threatened revenge. Mercer fled to Paris with little money and no prospects. Like so many young people in Paris under similar circumstances, Mercer found his way to Shakespeare and Company. For decades Whitman, a devoted socialist, had operated the bookstore as a free boardinghouse for "mavericks and nomads," with preference given to aspiring writers. Over the years some 40,000 people had spent nights in the bookstore, some for years at a time, sleeping wherever they could find room.
Whitman, an American, liked to tell people he was the son of Walt Whitman, which was true but it wasn't THAT Walt Whitman. He was in his mid-80s when Mercer was his guest, but still not nearly old enough to be the poet's son. Despite his socialist ideals, Whitman enforced a class system in his shop, allowing those he judged to be the best writers to use actual bedrooms on the upper floors, while others, like Mercer, had to look for space on the floor. Whitman also favored new guests over those he was starting to get tired of and attractive women over everybody else. Even at 86 he was still falling desperately in love with young women.
Whitman, Mercer tells us, was also a petty thief, stealing from his own guests. His favorite reading in his own bookstore were the diaries he stole from women who stayed with him. Mercer describes Whitman wrestling with a priest over a book being sold cheaply at a book sale. He wanted the book to resale in his shop. The priest presumably wanted to read it.
For all Whitman's faults, Mercer came to admire him and to want to help him protect the future of the store, which was being sought by developers because of its prime location. Mercer was able to track down Whitman's daughter, his only child and the product of his brief marriage to one of the women he fell in love with in his store. Today, following Whitman's death in 2011, Sylvia Whitman operates the store.
Mercer's title refers to prison slang. For prisoners there is hard time and then there is soft time. At Shakespeare and Company, he says, time was soft.
I visited Shakespeare and Company when I was last in Paris two summers ago. How I wish I had read Mercer's book first.
Mercer started out as a journalist, reporting court cases and other news items for a local paper. After a run in with a criminal contact he decided that he need to leave Canada for his own safety. Arriving in Paris he turns up at the bookshop as he has heard that it can be a refuge. Whitman says he can stay for a while, and says he can stay in the Antiquarian room, but he must say to the current resident, a poet called Simon, that after five years it is time for him to move on. Simon proves elusive, and when he does catch up with him to pass on the news he seems distraught. They agree on a time period for him to go, but when Mercer says that Simon wasn’t going to leave, he expects a scene, but Whitman shrugs it off.
As he settles into Paris life and the bookshop, he starts to befriend the other people that are living there. Whitman is a man who collects favourites, Mercer becomes one at one point, before the latest new member overtakes him. It is a bit chaotic, he is forever leaving money in books, there are a number of thefts from unguarded tills, and there are always new people and others moving on. They have to find places to shower and bathe and having very little money himself, he is taught by Kurt the cheapest and best places to eat from. For a time they are fed by a staff member of the New Zealand Embassy, and have to sneak in and stay quiet so they don’t get caught. And in this place of misfits, great things have emerged. It is thought that at least seven books have been written there, and many times that have been started or conceived.
It was a really lovely book to read. Mercer has brought the bookshop and its many characters to life and gives us a flavour of Parisian life at the time. There are some funny parts too as they sail a little too close to the law. Whitman is quite a man too, flawed but generous, this bookshop that he has given to the world is now in safe hands as his daughter is now running it.
Must pay it a visit one day.
Also published as: Books, Baguettes and Bedbugs: the Left Bank World of Shakespeare and Co.
Several bad decision derailed Mercer’s journalism career in Canada, so he ran to Paris to take a final French course and finish his degree requirements. On a
I found this very entertaining. I loved reading about his adventures scrounging for the cheapest food, picnics with friends along the Seine, the joys of free museums, and the eccentric residents of the shop, not least of which was the owner. It’s a very atmospheric read – you can smell the dusty books, hear the soft buzz of conversation, relish in the aroma of fresh baked croissants.
But, I was less enamored of the casual lawlessness, from drug use to petty theft; I just don’t find that kind of behavior “romantic.” Still, I think it’s an honest, and well-written, depiction of his time there. And I enjoyed vicariously living in Paris for those few days I was reading this. (Mercer still lives in France.)