Opening Chapter Blag

To my imaginary reader
by Derec Jones
I confess. I have never read Jane Eyre. I have tried - honestly, well a bit. The only thing I know about the book is that the final chapter starts with the words “Reader, I married him.”, and I had to click over to Google to confirm that. I suppose it’s something to be ashamed of, calling myself a novelist and having no inclination to read what is reputed to be one of the greatest novels ever written. My logic goes like this: ‘Charlotte Bronte wrote the aforementioned great novel without first having read it, so why do I need to?’ OK, the truth is, I have tried to read it many times, but it just doesn’t do it for me. The writing might be brilliant and insightful but the story is mundane - perhaps I’ve seen too many soap-operas.

I have learned one thing from Charlotte though. That phrase: “Reader, I married him.” often pops into my head when I’m writing my novels. As I write, I have two imaginary readers; there is one that looks over my shoulder and nods or tuts at the words that leak onto the page or the screen. I don’t like that reader. That reader is too critical, checking all the time if I am following the correct rules, pressurising me to think about plot and structure and character development, and eventually driving me away screaming with frustration.

It’s the other imaginary reader I like, the reader that Charlotte addresses. This is the reader that sits enthralled at the fireside on a damp dark night, sipping from a glass of warm mulled wine; or smiles to herself on a bus, as the words I am writing chime with something real and beautiful deep inside her. That reader exists for me now, as I write, it’s just time that separates us. When I finish writing something to my satisfaction I bundle the words up into messages, put them in bottles and send them off into the cosmos. Before the internet those bottles invariably ended up in a drawer, and when that got full, up the attic in boxes.

In the pre-blog days I tried to get bottle messaging companies to take my bottles to the seaside and set them free but they weren’t interested. That upset me at first. Why are my messages unacceptable? I asked myself. It took a decade of rejections and the acquisition of an MA in Creative Writing before I realised that the rejection was nothing to do with the quality of the message - it was simply that the bottle delivery companies are actually commercial entities, their job is to make as much money as possible while doing as little work as possible. Naturally they go for the safer options of sticking to bankable names and those that write in a way that has sold before. There is not much room for new voices. Occasionally a writer is plooped from the slush pile and bandied about as the next literary genius, but that’s just because it makes good television, like the X-Factor or American Idol.

Things are different now, they really are. Some of my imaginary readers have now got names and e-mail addresses and blogs. Without the internet my bottles would gradually decompose and their contents disintegrate without ever finding a fellow human being’s eyes to devour them. They would be brushed aside by some future archaeologist as he grabs for the fascinating object that is my decomposed computer monitor.

Having instant access to the opinions of readers does have its problems though. As I write now, I’m thinking of how the output of my fingers will fare out there in the ether of the internet. Will it attract praise? Am I exposing myself as a deluded twat, like those miserable wannabees on the X-Factor? If I do get praise, is it genuine? Who cares anyway? And so on. Of course thinking of these things will influence my writing, I might as well go and study Jane Eyre and accept that I’m just not good enough to share my own voice; I should learn instead how to mimic and modify the formula, to dress it up in contemporary clothes and apply a thick layer of anti-seramide-dioxin-plump-it-up cream to every crevice of its bloated body.

The thing is, I can’t do that. There is another, much more important imaginary reader. He is my future self. He insists that I deliver only truth in my own voice. He is the other human being waiting at the end of the universe for my communication. Of course, he is not me in the sense of who I am in this particular form in this particular place and at this particular time. For I am a Shapeshifter and a Timelord, so there!

Derec’s Website

The Many Worlds of Oxford
Exploring the city’s literary and imaginative heritage
By Nicky Schmidt

Think of Oxford and you think of dons in billowing academic gowns, boat races and gentle punting on the Thames, students hurrying to lectures and hallowed halls of learning grouped around tranquil green quadrangles. Yet Oxford, the City of Dreaming Spires (a term coined by the poet, Matthew Arnold), its skyline dominated by the towers and domes of the golden stone buildings of the University is so much more than just the university – even though, at about 900 years, that university is one of the oldest in the world.

True, the university dominates the city, gives it life, presence and even a certain magic. There is, after all, something evocative about stepping through the great wooden doorways of the colleges and leaving behind the clamour of traffic and city life. It is as though you enter another world entirely – one which is a sanctuary of tranquility and stillness where the imagination and the mind can soar.

It was this unexpected peace of a college garden awash in the golds, crimsons and yellows of autumn and the sight of a fox loping between the bushes that set me to thinking about the magical effect that Oxford has had on so many minds - from a literary perspective. As I gazed at the fox going about his business I wondered… was he real or a creature from some other world? What, after all, was a fox doing in an enclosed college garden in the middle of a city? Enchanted and captivated, my mind swung back to my favourite childhood books of fantasy and other worlds… The Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis, The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien, Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll… Oxford, you see, has produced many great writers – and many books, television series and films have been set in the city.

It was while he was teaching at Christ Church that Charles Dodgson, a shy mathematics don, wrote the Alice in Wonderland stories under the pen name of Lewis Carroll. The stories began on a summer’s afternoon when Dodgson took Alice Liddell, the daughter of Dean Liddell, and her sisters on the river Thames. The journey, starting at Folly Bridge, ended five miles away in the village of Godstow and to while away time the Reverend Dodgson told the girls a story that featured a bored little girl named Alice who goes looking for an adventure. Alice’s Shop in Through the Looking Glass was based on the shop opposite Christ Church in St Aldate’s where the real-life Alice Liddell used to buy her barley sugar sweets. The shop is still there and will captivate children and adults alike. Aside from buying Alice memorabilia, visitors can still buy Alice’s favourite barley sugar sweets… yes, I did, and they were full of childhood memories.

In my meanderings through Oxford, an amble along Cornmarket Street, just off the High Street, with its wide selection of popular retailers (including department stores, boutiques and bookstores) brought me to St Giles, home of The Eagle and Child pub. It is here that the literary group most famously associated with Oxford congregated. Known as the Inklings, the leading members included CS Lewis and JRR Tolkien. They and their peers, George MacDonald, Charles Williams and Owen Barfield amongst others, met regularly every Monday or Friday before lunch during the 1930’s and 40’s. There they drank and talked usually in an area at the back of the pub, which was then a private sitting room and is now known as the Rabbit Room. Although not members of the Inklings, WH Auden, TS Eliot, Dorothy L Sayers and GK Chesterton were also associated with the group. The Eagle and Child is, unsurprisingly, a visiting place for many exploring Oxford, especially those doing Tolkien “pilgrimages”. Known amongst students as the Bird and Baby, it has also been called, as one might expect in a city populated by students, as the “Bird and Brat”, the “Bird and Bastard”, or the “Fowl and Foetus”.

Other writers connected with Oxford include Evelyn Waugh, Aldous Huxley, Oscar Wilde, Graham Greene, Vikram Seth and Plum Sykes, the poets Percy Bysshe Shelley, John Donne, A. E. Housman and Philip Larkin, and Poets Laureate Robert Bridges, Cecil Day-Lewis and Sir John Betjeman.

Aside from being the home of many writers, Oxford has also been the setting for numerous works of fiction. The city was mentioned in fiction as early as 1400 when Chaucer in his Canterbury Tales referred to a “Clerk [student] of Oxenford”: “For him was levere have at his beddes heed/ Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed,/ of Aristotle and his philosophie/ Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie”. As of 1989, more than 533 Oxford-based novels had been identified, and the number continues to rise.

In popular fiction Oxford is probably most closely associated with British author Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse books on which the 33 episode TV series was based. Set primarily in Oxford with a vintage Mark 2 Jaguar, a thirst for beer, intellectual snobbery and a penchant for Wagner, Chief Inspector Morse (played by John Thaw in the TV series) is a likeable character despite his sullen and cynical temperament. In the TV series the fictional colleges of Lonsdale and Beaumont are used but they are based on the real Brasenose College (used to represent Lonsdale), and Corpus Christi (used for Beaumont). Both fictional college names are, however, the names of real streets in Oxford. A stroll around Oxford for anyone familiar with the books and the TV series will reveal many places that are recognisable, such as the Randolph Hotel, the Carfax, the Bear Inn, the world famous Blackwell’s bookstore and the Sheldonian Theatre. As I wandered around I kept looking over my shoulder, who knows, I thought, perhaps there might be a real life Inspector Morse tailing me…

Oxford’s mystery and magic has also been revealed through Philip Pullman’s excellent His Dark Materials Trilogy. Although written for teenagers, the books have appealed equally to adults and the movie, The Golden Compass, based on the books and produced by New Line Cinema (who also produced the Lord of the Rings) is due for release in December 2007, starring Daniel Craig and Nicole Kidman. Lyra Belacqua, the principal character is a young girl brought up in the cloistered world of Jordan College, Oxford and it is from here that she and her companion, Will Parry, venture out to discover a multiverse of parallel universes. Pullman’s last work featuring Lyra is simply called Lyra’s Oxford and, with a map tucked away inside the book, it provides a wonderful way for fans to spend a magical afternoon following in Lyra’s footsteps as her adventure unfolds around the city. You’d be well advised though to take along your own copy - all Oxford’s bookstores seem to be regularly out of stock – unsurprisingly!

Most famously, many scenes from the Harry Potter films have been filmed in Oxford. The Divinity School of the Bodleian Library features in the movies as the Hogwarts Sanatorium. Duke Humfrey’s Library features as the Hogwarts Library and, Christ Church College’s Dining Hall is the Hogwarts dining hall - tourism at Christ Church and to Oxford has risen by around 40% purely because of the Harry Potter movies.

Numerous books, films and TV series have created fictional colleges based on Oxford University including: Terry Pratchett’s Unseen University from his Discworld novels, Thomas Hardy’s Biblioll College in Jude the Obscure, Anthony Trolllope’s Lazarus College in Barchester Towers, Thomas Hughes’ St Ambrose College in Tom Brown at Oxford, Evelyn Waugh’s Scone College in Decline and Fall and, Elizabeth Gaskell’s All Saints College in North and South.

Acknowledging the abundant literary tradition, numerous themed walking tours can be taken in the city, including tours entitled, JRR Tolkien, Pottering in Harry’s Footsteps, Phillip Pullman, CS Lewis, the Literary Tour, Inspector Lewis (Morse’s sidekick) and most well known, the Inspector Morse Tour. And walking is certainly the best way to see the city. In fact it is probably the only way to really gain a sense of the place and the magic of other worlds that has inspired so many writers and stories – stories that only further add to the rich and varied tapestry that is Oxford. Who knows, after a visit you may be inspired to write your own story…

Resources and Information
For the visitor with more than just literary interests, Oxford is a bustling town with a cosmopolitan range of restaurants and lively pubs, a wide variety of entertainment, excellent shopping and world-famous museums. A good place to start an exploration of Oxford is at the Oxford Story in Broad Street where, through a combination of films, interactive exhibits and a 25 minute indoor ‘dark’ ride, complete with the sounds and smells of the times, takes you through the University’s 900 year history, allowing you to meet along the way, some of the writers, scientists and politicians whose careers began at Oxford.

For Official Guided Walking Tours of Oxford for individuals and families go to: http://www.oxford.gov.uk/tourism/individual-walking-tours.cfm
www.oxford.gov.uk provides a wealth of information for those planning a visit to the city.
www.multimap.com is a great reference for street maps
http://www.chem.ox.ac.uk/oxfordtour/ provides virtual tours of Oxford enabling prospective visitors with a means to plan their visit to the City
Wikipedia offers a lengthy selection of books and other media associated with Oxford at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Books_associated_with_Oxford and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/University_of_Oxford#Oxford_in_literature_and_other_media

Notable libraries in Oxford include:

• The Bodleian Library
• Hooke Library
• Sackler Library
• Radcliffe Science Library

Museums worth visiting include:

• Ashmolean Museum (art and history museum)
• Pitt Rivers Museum (anthropology and archaelogy museum)
• Oxford University Museum of Natural History
• Museum of the History of Science

Buildings and Parks worth visiting include:

• Sheldonian Theatre
• Tom Tower – the main entrance to Christ Church College – Christ Church and its beautiful meadow which runs down to the rivers Thames and Cherwell are well worth a visit.
• Radcliffe Camera – which lies at the very heart of the old university
• Carfax Tower - situated at the crossroads between High Street, St Aldates, Queen Street and Cornmarket Street, the tower affords beautiful views over the city
• University Church of St Mary the Virgin – which has been in existence since the late 13 Century. Climb the 127 stairs to the top of the spire to be afforded a classic aerial view of Radcliffe Square
• Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford
• Oxford University Parks
• Oxford Botanic Garden and Harcourt Arboretum
• Rhodes Trust, the centre of the Rhodes Scholarship

Shopping:
Cornmarket Street – offers the usual High Street range of shops
The High Street offers interesting gift shops, boutiques and antique shops.
Situated off Cornmarket Street, The Covered Market is a must visit, selling everything from fresh produce to shoes and jewelry. A must visit for chocolate lovers is Chocology for the most decadent hot chocolate around.

Eating:
Good restaurants, pubs and the usual fast food outlets abound and every taste and need is catered for. http://www.dailyinfo.co.uk/venues/restaurants lists number of eateries with reviews.

Accommodation in the centre of Oxford does not come cheap and those traveling on a budget would be advised to look at hotels outside the city centre or for B&B accommodation – of which there is plenty.

By far the most well known hotels are the MacDonald Randolph http://www.randolph-hotel.com/ which is centrally located just off Cornmarket Street and the newer, very hip Malmaison Oxford Castle which caters for all a traveller’s needs and has been created within the walls of the old jail. http://www.malmaison-oxford.com/main.asp

The Old Bank Hotel on the High Street also offer excellent central accommodation http://www.oldbank-hotel.co.uk/

For those wanting to spoil themselves (and break the bank), Raymond Blanc’s Le Manoir Aux Quat’ Saisons http://www.manoir.com is a real treat at Great Milton, some 6 kms outside Oxford.

More affordable than the above, yet also central, The MacDonald Eastgate is a comfortable three star hotel just off the High Street. http://www.macdonaldhotels.co.uk/hotels/Eastgate_(The).htm

***

Nicky Schmidt is a writer, blogging at Absolute Vanilla

South Asian Fiction Turns Eleanor Rigby

by Suzan Abrams

This article reflects my radical view as a past lover of South Asian literature. If it is ever possible to dissolve a relationship with a certain category of books, I am now contemplating plunging down that ravine while staying intent on a literary divorce and a hearty reconciliation with past loves.

I picture writers from the East who stay determined to write only about ethnicity as a pompous grandeur of heritage and culture, as squeezed into hovels or boxes with no chance of escape. This after reading dozens of books that all precariously cling to the same themes.

I fear sometimes these authors are their own worst enemies especially the majority of the newer South Asian novelists.

Do exclude the likes of award-winning novelists like Salman Rushdie, Anita Desai, Vikram Seth, Arundhati Roy, Hanif Kureishi and other pioneering authors who once before, manoeuvred modern Indian writing in English with colourful and extraordinary stories of emigration and identity and who still command the top league with ease.
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But several of the newer writers from the Indian sub-continent, I fear, encourage publishers to label them in ways that limit their creativity like a straitjacket.

They insist on writing about race and nationality & forget the free rein of the imagination. There are broods from certain countries even in South-East Asia who insist on patriotism being screamed at from their plots…where freedom of thought is captured and patriotism which reflects a commissioned agenda, is dutifully mastered.

Of course, I stay convinced that there can never be originality in their very obvious fiction.

Tell the world about our country…the world doesn’t know our country…kind of thing” and the whole affair of English literature in that particular country ends up pathetic, contrived and superficial.

Because of such catch-labels, they exploit the ancient topics of emigration and identity. And where they were once the new rage for world publishing in the 1990s, they have now succeeded through their own persistence on writing about ethnicity in all its dull predictability, in destroying their popularity worldwide.

It is my view that such a community of multicultural fiction writing stays maimed when the rewards could easily have been trebled for literature in its new international form.

To say nothing of a work of fiction you may end up paying twice as much for, only to realise with a nagging intuition afterwards, that you’ve read it all before. Even the experienced book-buyer can’t always be too careful.

I feel writers from other continents could make a big difference if they wrote what moved them through a strong flow of imagination i.e. by what they feel compelled to rather than out of an obligatory service to the nation.

Perhaps, even a laziness is invoked when a writer chooses to rest on his laurels with a comfortable but stale view of history, nostalgia and familiarity, rather then having to probe the mind’s tougher reflections, insights and ideologies.

One of the braver ones I daresay is bestselling New Delhi author Vikram Seth, based in Great Britain.

When Seth was asked why he chose a complete European cast - this with the exception of a fictitious Japanese musician for his novel ‘An Equal Music’ (1992) where an English violinist stayed haunted by memories of a lover, he replied simply that it was because he ‘felt inspired to.’ And it all stopped there. There was nothing else to add, despite the fact that he offered no hint of an Indian anecdote.

For a start, there are the same-ish themes employed by Monica Ali - the only difference being that she spotted a Bangladeshi culture, also by Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake - the only difference being that she employed the greater eloquence, Preethi Nair’s 100 Shades of White had similar themes to both stories, though they were all written at different time periods.

All complain about a loss of identity. All contemplate returning home. All decide at the end of the day, they can’t bear their homeland.

Of course, Hanif Kureishi wrote about identity. But in the midst of it, he tackled subjects like homosexuality in all its wonderful brazen analysis and also displayed erotica in prose and film like the subject was a series of curious paintings.

I have not seen any other South Asian writer in 2007 courageous enough to do this. Kureishi also honed a distinctive style and actually helped pioneer a lively experimental scene in Britain and Europe in the 80s and he still rules the fort.
He’s not part of the predictable copycat stories South Asian writers conjure up these days.

Kureishi once tackled a difficult true story in Intimacy (1998) on abandoning his lover and 2 sons in London from a fear of commitment. This had nothing at all to do with emigration etc and ended up causing a fair amount of annoyance that he would dare walk out on his young family with no stricken conscience or shame to show for it afterwards. But at the time, he aroused a strong interest and created the kind of heavy controversy that made for a refreshing difference.

That’s the kind of subjects Asian writers should be daring themselves to write about. Anything that cajoles them to come out of their one-roomed shells. I have no doubt the window views are prettier.

Please look at this link to have some idea.

http://www.sawnet.org/books/fiction.php

Do you hear the majority of these writers being spoken about today in 2007? Yet, at one time for a season or two, they were. They may boast brilliant profiles and their books are said to be popular worldwide.

For several (not all), the lacklustre fiction cannot be beefed up even by the use of exotic elements. The issues of emigration don’t seem to offer any fresh insights, from the same questions another South Asian writer may have posed a few years ago.

The theme for Monica Ali’s Brick Lane bore a subtle but striking resemblance to Sunetra Gupta’s Memories of Rain written in the 1990s in Oxford England. Both plots talked about escapism…the return to the Indian homeland that would solve all problems.

Amulya Malladi’s The Mango Season, Lahiri’s The Namesake and Chitra Banarjee’s Queen of Dreams also spun a repeated nostalgia for the homeland, the visit to India and the relief once more in returning to the States. You could almost predict the plots.

By the time, Monical Ali wrote her second novel, Alentejo Blue (2006), that talked about eccentric characters, love letters and Portugal, it was too late. Her reputation had already been set with yet another story of Bangladeshi emigration and nostalgia in Brick Lane.

Had she made it her first, I believe she would have been seen as a highly-talented young author, fine-tuning her craft to an adventurous plot.

Publishers would have observed her taking the road less travelled and expounded on that trait. She would have set an exciting trend. Then there may have been other copycat stories, following hers.

But it didn’t happen that way.

Fame came along but to a familiar setting.

It is often somewhat difficult for one’s second novel to rise against the first. If you are involved in theatre, you would know that the second performance often hardly pulls in as big a crowd as the first before it begins to find its way up the ladder again.

In the last few years, Monica Ali’s name was everywhere. I heard it in Singapore, Australia and so forth. With the second book, one hears hardly anything at all. Her popularity has taken on a severe decline.

Veteran writers who have already made their names are feted when a new book comes out.

That’s no surprise. But newer south-Asian writers scatter like ants when they cling to the perimeters of dusty topics incapable of a good polish except for the familiar themes of a slight wistfulness, homesickness & nostalgia.

Why are these writers so afraid to tackle hundreds of other new subjects that have nothing to do with leaving the homeland for instance and just attempt to break the glass ceiling placed on them?

I believe that these writers give publishers and their agents a very easy time to pigeonhole them.

And it’s sad. It’s sad that south Asian writers offer so few choices in themes when the world being the playground it is could have afforded them hundreds more.

The road less travelled. The comic novel. The psychological thriller. The drama of present-day contemporary fiction without the constant meditation of the kind of past that moulded India’s history. This whether the author lives in the States or Europe. A blatant sexual episode and not one hidden by saree drapes or caught in a locked bedroom. A family trilogy. Pure adventure. So much more. But it simply isn’t so.

I’m also not referring to a success in its material aspect as to perhaps the greater more exciting subject of evolvement in literature and where it would have headed today if these writers had been a little more daring and adventurous with the attention afforded to them for the longest time, before the world slowly moved its eyes away again. They could have challenged the publishers/agents and got away with it if they wanted.

On a deeper introspection, many of the newer writers command an average mettle and they do succeed in dulling the reader’s mind. But if I probed this thought more carefully, then the topics chosen have definitely contributed to a major stalemate and it may affect even the sales of more talented and newer south Asian writers coming along. Some of the older ones who stay comfortable with their work have settled into conformity. Some stories stay politically correct while others lack a profound beauty.

I think where publishers are concerned, they may be riding an old horse. Because of the pioneering and highly talented authors that went before like Vikram Seth, Kureishi, Arundhati Roy and in a later version, the likes of Monica Ali, they keep hoping for another Roy or another Ali but the book-buyers haven’t as yet for a long time of late, given them that. They think the old themes filled to the brim with exotic elements are still safe but somehow, I don’t think so and time will tell as it already has for me.

I’ve been studying the market for this kind of literature for years. The damage will only be discovered later, not now. But it isn’t as easy for south Asian writers to get the notice of agents & publishers as they once did. In the 90s, they were all the rage and Time Magazine devoted a major section to Indian authors making it big in the West.

Interest has steadily dwindled but I don’t know if the technicalities have actually been probed fully by any media. I’d consider it early days yet. Give it another year or 2 is my reckoning and the effects will be clearly seen.

In the meantime, be prepared that such veteran writers may fail to garner sparkling reviews as they used to, although they could still expect a generous attention from their own communities.

A new south Asian writer who wants to be noticed worldwide for her/his writing from now, should take up the difficult challenge of seeking innovation by offering a completely different storyline to juggle happily with a distinctive talent. Otherwise, the new novel too is likely to be done for. There’ll be a season or 2 of publicity and a couple of quick prize nominations, before the once ‘promising’ read drowns sadly in the glut.

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Suzan Abrams is a writer and journalist and blogs at Behind the Curtain

Read Around Paris
By Michele Helene

As an expat living overseas, one of the first things I do is check out the English language bookshops; not having access to books is like not having access to fresh air. Admittedly you have to pay a bit more for the books and the shops do not tend to be overflowing with the three for two offers, but this is one of the crosses to bear when you choose to live abroad. Luckily for me, Paris tends to cater for its Anglophone community rather well in the literature department; here is a smattering of some of my discoveries and a few favourites.

On first arriving in Paris the first bookshop I was told about was WH Smiths. Its reassuring Britishness meant that it was one I had to visit. While it is filled with the usual fare: newspapers, magazines, DVD’s, games, greeting cards and of course books, it is a far cry from the bland bright interiors I have come to associate with this store in Britain. It’s glitzy location on rue de Rivoli, opposite the Jardin de Tuileries and just off Concorde, means that it is often filled with a healthy spattering of surprised Anglophone tourists as well as Parisian regulars. Downstairs are posters advertising book readings and events for expats, while upstairs its interior of dark wooden beams and uneven floors gives the impression of a mediaeval bookshop. While I find Smiths a little on the pricey side, you can rely on it to find books on any subject, the staff are generally helpful (as long as you can speak French) and they will order books in for you.

Next up was Tea & Tattered Pages, which I am afraid is how I would have to describe the state of the books that were there. This was a accidental discovery as it was a couple of doors from an Anglophone video store. Perhaps it was the fact that I could never master their opening hours – they always seemed to be shut when I passed by, but the outcome was that I never felt encouraged to purchase anything from this tiny shop tucked away in the back streets of the 6th arrondissement.

The San Francisco Book Company on the other hand was a completely different matter. Again this was an accidental find, near the famous ‘Dix bar’ in the Latin Quarter where the soixantehuitards planned yet another revolution back in the day. The San Francisco Book Company is also a second hand book shop and a veritable treasure trove. They offer a comprehensive range at very reasonable prices. It is also evident that the owners are book lovers from the condition of the books they take on, only well treated books are bought. If you are a traveller passing through Paris and want to unload some of your paperbacks this shop is well worth a visit.

The Red Wheelbarrow is so named after a William Carlos Williams poem. This small store in the heart of the Marais district of Paris, is a little on the kooky side, a bit like the poem. Crammed from floor to ceiling with books, you can be sure to receive a warm welcome as well as a flash book review if you so request. The shop runs events, book signings and trade fares in Anglophone schools in Paris. You feel confident that the founders of the shop know their books and if it is cheerful helpful staff you are after then you won’t find a happier place. Again the books are reasonably priced and if you can’t find exactly what you are after, they can order in, or make alternative suggestions.

Lastly, Shakespeare & Company, located opposite Notre Dame on the left bank this bookshop is the epitome of madness. The building is one of the last remnants of mediaeval Paris, and is a cross between a bibliophile’s dream and a claustrophobic’s nightmare. In a world where the Dewey decimal system exists this shop should not. There are books everywhere, along with a healthy spattering of cats, tourists hoping to get a glimpse of the infamous founder of the bookstore George Whitman and volunteer workers popping up from barely visible beds
(Whitman continues to allow penniless travellers to stay in the bookshop in return for a couple of hours work a day). It is sometimes difficult to tell who is actually a customer there, or indeed to find anything in the wild jumble of books that are in someway organised, yet this shop has become a ‘must do’ for the Parisian visitor; I even met one traveller who had travelled all they way from Australia specially to stay in the shop after reading about it in one of Bill Bryson’s book. Whatever the draw of the shop; the location or the history, Shakespeare & Co is definitely an inspiration to every ‘would be’ writer in Paris with its comprehensive list of readings, workshops and even a writers’ group.

So wherever you are in Paris - these shops are fairly evenly spread around the centre – there tends to be a bookshop. In total, although this is in no way an extensive list, they cater to every budget and sensibility, whether it be the order of Smiths or the chaos of Shakespeare & Co. you are sure to find something.

Listing:
WH Smiths
248, rue de Rivoli
75001 Paris
Metro: Concorde

Tea & Tattered Pages
24, rue Mayet
75006 Paris
Metro : Duroc/ Falguière

The San Francisco Book Company
17, rue M. le Prince
75006 Paris
Metro : Odéon

The Red Wheelbarrow Bookstore
22, rue St Paul
75004 Paris
Metro: St Paul

Shakespeare & Co.
37, rue de la Boucherie
75005 Paris
Metro: Cite/ St. Michel

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Michelle Helene writes and blogs at A Wanderer in Paris