Gold-leaf engraved books, 200-year-old leather-bound books, books so rare and precious that they are carefully wrapped in cellophane before being placed inside an antique wooden box placed on the stone shoulder of the Seine for students, intellectuals, power brokers and tourists to browse .
For centuries, wooden bookstores have been a fixture in the heart of Paris, so when the city’s police, citing security concerns, ordered them closed during this summer’s Olympics, there was an uproar. Now President Emmanuel Macron intervened.
In a decision that reverberated across the city this week, Mr Macron deemed the booksellers “a living heritage of the capital” and said they could stay.
The relief was palpable, and not just among the booksellers, who had threatened legal action and barricaded their stalls, but also among cultured, romantic and intellectual Parisians, some of whom signed an opinion column defending the booksellers in Le Monde last year. August. It began with a quote from Albert Camus: “Whatever degrades civilization shortens the paths that lead to slavery.”
“The Seine, our main river, flows between rows of books,” said Alexandre Jardin, a French writer who was among those who signed the column. “To think that booksellers are just booksellers is to not understand anything. They speak of the very identity of Paris and its deep ties to literature. Paris is a city born from writers’ dreams.”
The decision to remove a living symbol of Paris from the geographical heart and soul of the country, at a time when France was welcoming the whole world for the Olympics, was so absurd that it clearly came from bureaucrats – “the enemies of poetry”, he said Mr. Jardin. It was only natural, he said, that Mr Macron had sorted things out.
Peddlers have been selling used books from wooden carts and tables along the river since at least the 17th century. In 1859, Napoleon III approved the bookstores, which were in danger of being removed despite their popularity among the city’s writers and intellectuals, making them permanent.
Since then, around 230 booksellers have created what is considered Europe’s largest open-air book market, stuffing their finds into more than 930 boxes along some two miles of the Seine.
The dark green stalls, filled with often centuries-old literary treasures, have become a symbol of two favorite Parisian pastimes: flâner, or aimless strolling, and reading. They are ruled by money-grubbing philosophers, treasure hunters and purveyors of literary tastes, a major force in a country where many politicians strive not only to reach office but also to publish a book as a sign of their intellectual prowess.
“Boucinists have existed only in Paris — outdoors, open every day of the week, from January 1 to December 31 — for 450 years. There is no other city that could pretend to have that,” Jérôme said Calle, the president of the Booksellers Cultural Association and a bookseller himself who counts Steven Spielberg among his past clients. Fernando Henrique Cardoso, the former president of Brazil. and a handful of French presidents, including Jacques Chirac and, if you must know, Francois Hollande. (Mr. Calle was not a fan.)
Paris police notified bookmakers last summer that around 570 of their boxes would have to be moved because of the Games and, more specifically, their opening ceremony, which is about to unfold. along the Seine in a flotilla of boats. The boxes were considered a safety hazard.
Reports started quickly and full of names. The Bukinistas rallied their troops and lawyers, vowing to fight in the courts and in the streets. After months, they met with representatives of the police and City Hall, but no concessions were acceptable to them: Moving the centuries-old boxes would mean their very destruction, they said.
Last October, Sylvie Mathias was by the stall she has tended for more than 20 years along the Quai des Grands-Augustins when she saw Mr Macron walk past, a mobile phone pressed to his ear, and security agents they follow behind. He had just returned from the funeral for a teacher stabbed to death by a radicalized former pupil in the northern town of Arras.
Mrs. Matias caught up with the president and asked him directly: Would he take away the boxes?
“No. We won’t take the boxes away from you,” he replied with a smile. “And you will participate in the ceremony one way or another.”
Four months later, the bookies have withdrawn their lawyers and are planning a victory celebration — but not until the fall, after the Olympics are over, Mr. Calle said.
Since the idea for the opening ceremony was announced, the number of ticketed spectators allowed to attend has been repeatedly reduced for security reasons.
Gérald Darmanin, Minister of the Interior, committed it to about 300,000 people last month, with 100,000 spectators seated on a lower bank near the water, and an additional 200,000 on a higher bank near where the bookies’ boxes are. The president’s announcement is likely to affect that number.
Even with their victory, many bookmakers remained deeply ambivalent about running their stalls during the Games. Visions of overcrowded subway cars and jammed restaurants have many Parisians declaring their intentions to leave the city.
“I’m not sure yet. It’s a nice idea on paper, but I’m not sure how it’s all going to work,” said Ms. Mathias, 61, standing from a folding wooden chair between her row of boxes and the next, so that to have a clear view of the rushing waters of the Seine. “If there are too many people, it will not be possible to stay open.”
Mr Calle said the whole battle had left a bad taste in his mouth, but the president’s announcement had lightened his mood.
“I might be there,” he said. “We’ll see.”
