An English Library

***Another guest post from John, as Stephanie is still taking care of work back home.

Right in the heart of Quillan, just off the Place de la République, sits an unassuming, even a little shabby, glass-fronted space–a former haberdashery–easy to overlook and shut up most of the day, but which amounts to a hidden heart at the center of the English-speaking community here. It is the appropriately named Biblioteque Anglaise, or English Library: a volunteer-run, member-funded organization which, just as it sounds, offers English language books on loan. The rules are simple: a €20 fee per year for membership, or, if you aren’t going to be in town for long, you can take a book and just leave a donation, which they suggest as a euro per title. (Or they’ll just take what loose change you have.) There aren’t any due dates; it’s an honor system, which in a world that counts on honor so little, I appreciate–and it makes me even more determined to give them their books back!

The collection is not massive–this isn’t Shakespeare and Company–but it’s more than serviceable. There are a solid number of literary fiction titles–the majority of them by British authors but also some by North Americans–along with a sizable Crime Fiction section, a Nonfiction section, a section of Classics, and a section of DVDs. Paperbacks all of them; a lot of recognizable, mainstream established names. Of course they are. These have all been donated by the retired or semi-retired Anglos–in other words, old people like me!

The books are certainly a wonderful resource–I have taken out several titles already–but the real value of the library is as a reliable, central gathering location. There’s a desk at the front-right side of the room and in its center a large, wooden, very French looking table. The first time I went to the library there were four people sitting around the table, chatting–retired folk all–just enjoying each other’s company on a cheery Saturday morning. Clearly these were old friends. I was the stranger, but they quickly caught me up on the rules of the place. They also told me that if I ever need a place to read, I could just come in and pull up a chair or sit at the table. A lovely thought. Maybe I will!

Last weekend, feeling a bit more like a veteran, I took a seat and found myself in an extended conversation with a retired British gentleman who has long-lived in the area and one of the library volunteers, an affable Australian fellow who was born in England to a Belgian mother, from whom he learned good French. It’s a relaxed collection of folk who find their way to this library. All my age and older, they have for different reasons ended up retired in France and all seem perfectly happy with this little part of it. “Quillan has everything you need,” the Australian told me. In chatting with them, I’ve learned a bit about local politics, about public transport, about the advantage of driving to Andorra for one’s liquor and cigarettes (no tax), about restaurants in the area suitable for out-of-town guests, and about the entertaining history of some local businesses. And I’ve heard some opinions as to the need for air conditioning. One man kindly laughed at the question. “No one has it here! These old stone houses are built to withstand the summers.” (So far I have to agree.) In turn, I have answered some questions about the United States for them.

Yes, it’s a lending library, but really it’s a hub. The regulars clearly know and thrive on each other’s company. Best and kindest of all, they quickly welcome newcomers into their company. At least, they have me. “If you ever come by and the library is closed,” one volunteer said, “we’re probably over at the cafe; so just come over and get us.” I think that’s about the warmest thing I’ve ever heard. No, I am not about to disrupt their cafe afternoon, but I so appreciate the offer, one of many aspects of this little space that I find both unique and invaluable.