I came upon this bookshop one decidedly crisp morning in Paris. It was almost noon and still just two degrees. The fountains were frozen … their ponds, which rang with the laughter and excitement of children sailing their boats in summer, now shimmered with a layer of ice, so the thought of a cosy bookshop seemed an invitation I couldn’t refuse.
Walking through the door felt like walking into Wonderland. The walls appeared to have been constructed from books, stacked, poked and jammed into every conceivable crevice … from floor to ceiling, over doorways, under windows and up and under stairways.
Walking through the door felt like walking into Wonderland. The walls appeared to have been constructed from books, stacked, poked and jammed into every conceivable crevice … from floor to ceiling, over doorways, under windows and up and under stairways.
The narrow, well-worn staircases led ever upwards and I felt more and more as if I’d tumbled into something from a topsy-turvy children’s storybook. Snuggled amongst all the chaos of books were chairs, beds and even a piano ... but I’m getting ahead of the story.
In 1951, George Whitman, an American ex-serviceman, established this English language bookstore on the Left Bank, opposite Notre Dame. It was originally know as Le Mistral but on the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s birth the name was changed to Shakespeare and Co.
George said, “I created this book store like a man would write a novel, building each room like a chapter. I like people to open the door the way they would open a book, a book that leads into a magical world in their imagination” … and that’s exactly how I felt on that cold February day as I stepped through the door.
George said, “I created this book store like a man would write a novel, building each room like a chapter. I like people to open the door the way they would open a book, a book that leads into a magical world in their imagination” … and that’s exactly how I felt on that cold February day as I stepped through the door.
On the second floor above a doorway, which led into the children’s section, were the words. “Be not inhospitable to strangers less they be angels in disguise”. I recognised the words from Hebrews 13:2 and wondered how George came to choose that quote, which in many ways became the theme of the shop and his life.
When in his twenties, George had walked and hitchhiked from one side of the USA to the other and through Mexico. He fell ill in an isolated part of the Yucatan and was nursed back to health by a tribe of Mayans. The generosity he encountered on his travels had a profound effect on him and inspired his philosophy of hospitality.
I discovered that George opened his heart, his shop and his life to aspiring writers asking only that they help in the shop for two hours each day and read a book a day in exchange for free accommodation. Over 30,000 people have stayed in the shop since it opened in 1951. They’ve slept among the shelves and piles of books on small beds that doubled as benches during the day. He called them Tumbleweeds, because they drifted in and out with the winds of chance. The shop was also his home so he chose to be vulnerable in inviting anyone in.
When in his twenties, George had walked and hitchhiked from one side of the USA to the other and through Mexico. He fell ill in an isolated part of the Yucatan and was nursed back to health by a tribe of Mayans. The generosity he encountered on his travels had a profound effect on him and inspired his philosophy of hospitality.
I discovered that George opened his heart, his shop and his life to aspiring writers asking only that they help in the shop for two hours each day and read a book a day in exchange for free accommodation. Over 30,000 people have stayed in the shop since it opened in 1951. They’ve slept among the shelves and piles of books on small beds that doubled as benches during the day. He called them Tumbleweeds, because they drifted in and out with the winds of chance. The shop was also his home so he chose to be vulnerable in inviting anyone in.
I’ve wondered about those strangers. What did they learn from the books, from George, from each other? How did that experience shape their lives? How many went on to become authors? And I wonder how many angels George might have ministered to without realising it?
It's easy to show hospitality to those we know and love, it takes courage and vulnerability to open our doors and lives to the stranger.
In essence we are all strangers to those we don’t yet know.
Hebrews 13:1-3 encourages us to “Love one another as brothers and sisters, do not to forget to show hospitality to strangers … to remember prisoners as if we were in prison with them, and those who are mistreated as if you yourself are suffering".
It's easy to show hospitality to those we know and love, it takes courage and vulnerability to open our doors and lives to the stranger.
In essence we are all strangers to those we don’t yet know.
Hebrews 13:1-3 encourages us to “Love one another as brothers and sisters, do not to forget to show hospitality to strangers … to remember prisoners as if we were in prison with them, and those who are mistreated as if you yourself are suffering".
George Whitman died in 2011, aged 98. His daughter, Sylvia Whitman has taken over running the shop in her father's memory and with lots of new inspiration.
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