The Last Bookshop in London

by Madeline Martin

“Reading is...” His brows knit together and then his forehead smoothed as the right words appeared to dawn on him. “It’s going somewhere without ever taking a train or ship, an unveiling of new, incredible worlds. It’s living a life you weren’t born into and a chance to see everything colored by someone else’s perspective. It’s learning without having to face consequences of failures, and how best to succeed.” He hesitated. “I think within all of us, there is a void, a gap waiting to be filled by something. For me, that something is books and all their proffered experiences.”

The door closed behind him and the house fell unnaturally silent, as though it too immediately mourned the loss of his presence.

“It is the duty of the rest of the world to ensure they will never be silenced.” He tapped a yellow spine with Almansor in gilt at its top. “‘Where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people as well.’

People were dying to save books, to prevent ideas and people from being snuffed out.

“How can you stand this?” “Put that light out,” Mr. Stokes called to the men in a dispassionate, grating voice. “You don’t want bombs dropping on us.” He didn’t look at her again as the fire was doused and a startling blackness took the place of those brilliant flames so fueled by hate.

You can’t save the world, but keep trying in any small way you can.”

His mouth lifted at the corners in an almost embarrassed smile. “Such as an old man collecting battered and singed books to keep voices alive.” He set his age-spotted hand on hers, its warmth comforting. “Or finding a story to help a young mother forget her pain.” He removed his hand and straightened. “It doesn’t matter how you fight, but that you never, never stop.”

“You mentioned once feeling helpless amid this war.” He flipped the sign to Open in the window. “But down there, reading to all those frightened people, you had power.” “I confess, I felt rather foolish reading aloud like that.” Grace stacked the discarded books left on the counter during the air raid and set them aside in case the customers returned for them. He shook his head. “Not foolish at all, Miss Bennett. You’ll change this war yet.” He tapped his blunt fingers on the cover of Middlemarch. “One book at a time.”

anything to show she was doing more than simply surviving, as if life was a book full of blank pages to be turned. Uneventful. Holding no purpose but to get to the back cover and be done.

The spine, not yet stretched, creaked open, like an ancient door preparing to unveil a secret world.

It was startling to think a year prior to this, she hadn’t been able to appreciate such small moments. But in a world as damaged and gray as theirs was now, she would take every speck of pleasure where it could be found. And much pleasure was to be had in reading.

Deeper still was the profound understanding for mankind as she lived in the minds of the characters. Over time, she had found such perspectives made her a more patient person, more accepting of others. If everyone had such an appreciation for their fellow man, perhaps things such as war would not exist.