65 - The New Library

When they first opened The New Library, there was confusion among the people. For one thing, this was no library but a book shop. For another, it sold only old-looking, used-seeming books, and stocked none of the new and bestselling books that a lot of them were after. 

Despite the early suspicion, success came quickly. A word spread through the town, a word pronounced ‘special’ or ‘not normal’ or ‘can’t put it into words’, depending on who said it. This word, garbled out over an almost choked-on breakfast, or mumbled by a usually mute child, caught the imagination of the town’s many readers and some of its non-readers, too.

These were books that either elevated or enlightened or had some other effect, without even needing to be read. Reading helped, since the purpose of the book could sink in when you not only held it but let the content enter your eyes and settle among your thoughts. For some though it was enough to constantly hold or repeatedly touch the book they'd bought. 

One woman kept her cloth-bound collection of African folktales in her handbag. Between one or two hundred times during work and many more times while she was supposed to be having lunch or eating dinner, she pawed at this elixir. For her the effect glowed from her. She felt healthier, but more than anything she felt satisfied. Having been ignored for too long she was now being  noticed all over the place. Two friends of the family were fighting over her. She'd never been so happy.

 

While the New Library was doing good business, the town benefited in many ways. Each customer found a different kind of new happiness. A pair of parents now had time to stop and play with their children, a student found he had a photographic memory and could easily memorise everything he needed to pass his exams. More love was made and more ideas were had. Conversation bubbled up as if from some hidden well, while friendship sprang from every meeting, like rain without end.

Then the shop closed down. It was an overnight thing. No one saw the owners leave. No one saw anyone come to take the stock away. Even those books people already had simply lost their effect. People ceased to speak. The joy of those boom weeks fell flat on its face, got poured away down the drain. The townspeople were, as one, alone.