This month my daughter and I went on a much-delayed trip to Paris, leaving the dog at home with the rest of the family, and although we did spend some time looking at the major sights – the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, etc., – we devoted a whole morning to visiting the English-language bookshops in the Latin Quarter, on Paris’s Left Bank.
Our first stop was at Shakespeare and Co – a shop selling both new and second-hand books, mainly in English, that’s been established in Paris since 1951. It was so popular that we had to queue (although only briefly) to get in, but once we were in, we had the chance to browse room after room, all filled with books of all kinds. Upstairs was best of all, with not only yet more shelves of books, but also cosy reading nooks and sofas scattered all over the place. The shop even has its own resident cat, called Aggie, but although we glimpsed her litter tray and food bowl, sadly we didn’t meet Aggie herself.
After leaving Shakespeare and Co with tote bags filled with books, we set off for the next shop on our list – The Abbey Bookshop, which was only five minutes’ walk away and has been run by a Canadian gentleman since 1989. We delved in and squeezed into the narrow gaps between towering bookcases, holding over 35,000 books in English, before descending the stairs into a basement where books were literally piled from the floor to the (stone vaulted) ceiling. Outside, the considerate owner had provided a seating area, and free tea and coffee for his tired customers.
With yet more books added to our tote bags, we set off for the next (and final) bookshop on our tour – The San Francisco Bookshop, which was founded in 1997, and which was only about ten minutes’ walk away, in the Odeon area. By the time we left this final bookshop our tote bags were getting heavy, and it seemed a good choice to buy some croissants and retreat to the Jardin du Luxembourg to relax in the shade and read some of our new purchases.
When we got back from Paris the following evening, the dog was very pleased to see us, as you would imagine. I did try to show him my new books, but he cast them aside – apparently the scraps of food that I’d saved him from our train journey home were far more interesting!
Catherine Rosevear 