November Notable Pays Tribute to George Whitman and Shakespeare & Co.

In 1999, Canadian crime reporter Jeremy Mercer suddenly found himself in a difficult situation. At the beginning of his memoir, Time Was Soft There: A Paris Sojourn at Shakespeare & Co. (St. Martin's) -- a November Book Sense Notable, Mercer writes that a thief had provided him with explicit details about a crime for a book that he was writing, and the book was published with facts that the thief had specifically forbidden Mercer to use. Fearing for his life, Mercer suddenly quit his high-paying job as a crime reporter for the Ottawa Citizen, moved out of his apartment, gave away most of his belongings, and, he writes, "twitched nervously at each approaching footstep." Then, Mercer flew to Paris for what would become a life-altering experience, spanning from January to June 2000.

When he arrived in Paris, he was broke, but then Mercer was invited to a tea party among the various lost souls who were living at the famed Shakespeare & Co. For decades, the bookstore has been opening its doors to writers, artists, or just about anyone who is willing to do some sort of work in exchange for food, a place to sleep, and a stimulating bohemian experience. And that work happens to include reading one book a day.

Writing in the first person in Time Was Soft There, Mercer provides vivid insight into Shakespeare & Co.'s eccentric and compassionate owner, George Whitman. Whitman, who will turn 92 next month, has funneled his own socialist beliefs into the way the English-language store operates ever since he relaunched it in 1951.

"I read probably about 80 or 90 books," Mercer told BTW. "I didn't quite do the book a day thing. Because [Whitman's] a big fan of the Russian classics, he gives you The Idiot, and you have to read The Idiot. That's more than one day's work."

"But George did give me all these book that I would have never touched," Mercer continued. "All the roots of socialism -- that was very important in terms of the grounding. He runs his life based on some simple Marxist concepts. And one is, 'Give what you can, take what you need.' That's how he runs his bookstore. Everyone is welcome to come, and he expects that if you can fix a shelf, and a shelf needs fixing, then that's what you do. In return, he'll give you dinner and a place to sleep. That's a really beautiful concept.

"The other concept he believes is, Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise. It's painted up on the second floor of the store, where the vast majority of the beds are. Anyone who comes in, he welcomes as a long-lost friend. I don't know if everyone can do that, and I think you have to be somewhat mad to pull it off, but he's pulled it off."

And Whitman's beliefs certainly rubbed off on Mercer. "He taught me about how to live," the author said. "I came from a job where I was earning pretty well, going on dates for dinner, and always buying CDs and this and that, and he taught me how to live on nothing. He taught me how to cook for myself and how to buy cheap clothes, and he showed me how you can live on next to nothing and how that frees you, because then you don't need [a lot of] money. And that's how he kept the bookstore going for so long; essentially, he didn't go to movie or go for dinner for 30 years -- he just put it all into the store."

Now, the store is an established tourist destination, so it's in better financial shape than it's been in quite a while, but back in the 1960s, Mercer explained, "George went around selling Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer door-to-door at American dorms because it was banned in America; that's what he had to do to survive."

The Paris store originally was run by Sylvia Beach, the editor and publisher of James Joyce's Ulysses, from 1919 until 1941, when the Nazis occupied Paris. During its first incarnation, the store became a hub for American and British writers. "The likes of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, and Ezra Pound gathered here to borrow books, discuss literary matters, and drink hot tea in the private parlor at the back of the store," Mercer writes.

Unlike those writers, however, Mercer actually wasn't very familiar with the Paris experience when he hastily decided to go there. "Honestly, I bet you I couldn't have even told you that Notre Dame was in Paris. I was a crime reporter, and didn't really look beyond that. The only reason I went to Paris is that I needed to take a French course in order to finish my university degree. So I thought, Where is far away, and where can I do something semi-useful?"

But Mercer was more than pleasantly surprised when he arrived in Paris. "Talk about having your breath taken away when you start walking around Paris. I think it's almost better that way, because if I had known how wonderful it was, I wouldn't have fallen so much in love."

During his stay at Shakespeare & Co., Mercer observed how Whitman ran the bookstore. He feels many American bookstores could learn a thing or two from Whitman's bookselling style.

"What you really need to do is build a community," Mercer said. "George always runs beautiful little reading series, for kids, for instance, to get people to fall in love with the bookstore. He runs all kind of writing projects." But, Mercer noted, you'll never find a book you need when you enter Shakespeare & Company. "When I was there, it was all so badly organized, but the book finds you -- which is also a beautiful experience."

Recently, Whitman's daughter has been running the store, and "it has become much more efficient now than it ever was when I was there," Mercer said. "Theft has been cut by two-thirds. George almost liked it when people stole. Because he believed, well, if they need it that badly, let them have it. He'd give away books all the time."

As for Whitman, Mercer said he recently decided grow his hair out again. "So now his hair is down to his shoulders and he's looking pretty freakish. A big, wild head of gray hair. And his daughter handles the day-to-day stuff. But he's still the spirit of the bookstore."

And George's passionate spirit certainly seeps into the store's social scene, Mercer said.

"It's incredible because everyone thinks they're going to be the next writer, the next director, and everyone was so enthusiastic and happy to be in Paris," Mercer continued. "The other thing that's really interesting is that all these boys meet all these girls there. You feel bohemian, you feel young -- all of a sudden you have these crazy girlfriends and crazy boyfriends. It's incredible. It's completely free."

It's not surprising, then, that Mercer highly recommends that "anybody who has even an inkling of a dream to go to Paris, or to go see the bookstore, go now, because George is one of the last living people from that generation. Every Sunday he has a tea party so you can have tea with him. Go take advantage of one of the last great hippie bookstores."

While Mercer has left daily crime reporting, he hasn't exited crime journalism entirely. He's currently writing a nonfiction book about a murder that took place in the French city of Marseilles to be published by St. Martin's.

"I sort of feel that everything in my life has led up to this moment," Mercer said. "As a crime journalist, I learned to write and interview and do all these things very effectively, but then Paris opened my eyes to the grander world of literature and history. I feel so lucky to be in a position where I can do this book with all my experiences. I'm going back to crime, quiet honestly, because I want some comfort writing in the first person, so it's going to be familiar ground. It's going to be, hopefully, a really serious and fun book." --Jeff Perlah