‘The buying of more books that one can read is nothing less than the soul searching towards infinity, and this passion is the only thing that raises us above the beast that perish.’ 

– A. Edward Newton (1863-1940) 

“Hmm”, I thought as I read the bookmark which had the quote printed in pale brown ink. He seemed like a person who loved to collect books. Wonder who he really was. I put down the neatly wrapped book in cellophane sheet that I had in my left hand and reached for my phone. 

Alfred Edward Newton was an American Industrialist and an author too. But he was mostly known for his book collecting ‘hobby’. It is said that he had a collection of nearly ten thousand books!  

I suddenly stopped. This man was an avid book collector, and I found out about him through a bookmark. A bookmark that I got with a book, purchased from a bookshop. And yet, I’m reading about him in an electronic device. It’s a weird feeling because in so many ways its convenient, easily accessible and tech savvy – unlike the lady in that ‘old Niagara bookshop’ where this story started. 

Let me take you back to 8^th January 2024. I was on my way back from a trip to Niagara Falls, Canada and decided to stop for lunch in the beautiful town of Niagara on the lake. It was a cold afternoon with a little bit of snow. The year 2024 was hotter than usual and we did not get a lot of snow. 2025 though brought in a lot, but I deviate. 

As I parked my car near a meter and started strolling along the downtown area of Niagara on the lake, I felt peaceful. I love strolls. It wasn’t too crowded since it was a Monday, and eateries were the only places where you could see some heads enjoying their meals. I took a right somewhere, away from the main road, and there came a sign.  

‘Old Niagara Bookshop, since 1969’ it said.  

Though I have so many unread books at home, I can’t seem to stop myself whenever I come across a bookshop, let alone such a cute (not so little) one. I started walking up to the door, unsure if it was open.  

It was. 

There was a well-dressed lady outside who was taking down the holiday lights from the windows. She wore a smart red overcoat with a black top and black pants with a pair of leather boots. She looked in her late 60s, probably 70 (Ma’am, if you ever come across this blog and were not 70 at the time, I apologize!). 

I entered the shop as she continued taking the lights off on the outside. Stepping in felt like being transported into the past, in a world that was as magical as ‘Narnia’ except I had entered through an actual wooden door instead of a wooden cupboard. Let’s call it ‘Bookarnia’. 

“Hodor please!” 

“Wha..!”, (GOT alert) I looked back surprised. 

“Hold the door please” the old woman said. She had a kind face and was walking in with the Christmas lights she had just taken off. I held the door for her as she nodded with a smile. She disappeared somewhere in the back as I started looking at the books displayed in hardwood shelves. Though I had already made up my mind which one to pick up while entering ‘Bookarnia’, I still glanced over all the shelves. That was my favorite pastime. 

After roaming the entire store, I came back to where I started and picked up ‘The Mysterious case of Rudolph Diesel’ by Douglas Brant. What a fine cover it had. All blue with a picture of a boat fighting the stormy waters and the title written in bold white letters. 

Happy as a clam, I made my way towards the billing counter but could not find one. Confused, I roamed around for a few more minutes hoping to find the ‘lady in red’ (is dancing with me, there’s nobody here, just you and me.. Kidding!) 

I did find her coming out of another door in the back where she apparently had been boxing the lights she had just taken off. I looked at her. She looked at me. Our eyes met. Neither of us said a word but we communicated. She took the book from my hand and started walking. I followed her lead. 

In case you\re wondering, had we used our words instead of our eyes to communicate, I figure the following would have transpired: 

“Oh, there you are Ma’am, I was looking for you.” 

“Are you ready with your purchase, sir?” 

“Yes Ma’am, I am.” 

“Great, let me get you a bill.” 

“After you, Ma’am!” 

That was formal enough for sure. 

She made her way to the billing counter. It wasn’t a counter though. It was an antique desk which looked at least 55 years old, as old as the bookshop itself. The desk had at least 20 books and multiple stacks of paper. Still wasn’t messy. 

She took out a notepad and started writing up the bill. Yes, writing up. It was going to be a handwritten bill! That’s cool! I had forgotten those still existed. As she handed me the bill, I took out my credit card. 

“Oh”, she said in her gentle voice and sat down at the desk. She opened a drawer trying to find something but couldn’t. On to the next drawer, she looked underneath some papers but didn’t find what she was looking for again. Third time’s the charm? As she opened the third drawer, a smile came across her face as she took out a small rectangular device, placed it on the desk and then raised her eyebrows to look at me. I wasn’t sure what to do but instinctively handed her my credit card. She placed my card on the device where it fit perfectly and lined up a paper above it. It had a movable handle at one side which she slid across to the other side in one quick motion. 

There, my card information was imprinted on the paper above it. The lady handed me the paper and a pen motioning me to sign it. I obliged. Post that she took out a stamp and stamped the words ‘paid’ on the bill, smiled and handed me the book and the bill. (I found out later that this was a device used in the 80s before the digital devices came into being. The paper that imprints the card information is then taken to the bank with the bill. The amount gets deposited in the account through that.) 

I was astounded at what had just happened and stood there for a couple of seconds. THAT WAS FASCINATING! I never knew such a thing existed. 

As I made my way towards the exit, a strange sensation hit me. A nostalgic feeling about something I never knew or lived through. A feeling of peace. Time had stood still inside this beautiful bookshop. It was rooted and true to how the Gen X lived in the pre digital era. 

This memory remained with me. I did go back the following year to visit ‘that Old Niagara Bookshop’ again. The best part, nothing had changed. It was still ‘heavenly’. 

– Prateek Godiyal