Heritage Series [Part One]
Jorge Luis Borges, the Argentine master of short stories, likened the universe to an infinite library, an endless beehive-like space. ‘Twenty bookshelves’, Borges wrote, ‘five to each side, line four of the hexagon’s six sides; the height of the bookshelves, floor to ceiling, is hardly greater than the height of a normal librarian.’
Like all newcomers to Borges’ universe, I found myself flailing, unable to orient myself with the sheer scale of his vision. A visit to Colombo’s second-hand book stores proved to be the ideal tonic.
The shops are located near the roundabout that connects D R Wijewardena Mawatha (McCallum Road) to T B Jayah Mawatha (Darley Road). Sandwiched between the sprawling St Joseph’s College and sky-scraping Lotus Tower, next to garages dedicated to motorbikes and three-wheelers, these quaint single-room spaces won’t be the first image that comes to mind when readers imagine an oasis for reading.
In these shops, divorced from the sanitised shelves of bookstore chains, entire worlds collide without any sense of order.
But it is here, Borges’ words take life.
Sure, it isn’t an infinite library, but readers know that even a single bookshelf can be a pathway to infinity. In these shops, divorced from the sanitised shelves of bookstore chains, entire worlds collide without any sense of order: second hand textbooks on science and economics sit comfortably alongside yellowing editions of Filmfare and Men’s Fitness magazines; while elsewhere Asterix and Tintin can be seen in conversation with Michel Foucault and Ananda Coomaraswamy. I once came across a shelf that had an anthology of Gandhi’s writings right next to Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf.
It is chaos. It is devoid of any organisational logic. It puts the mania in bibliomania. It shouldn’t work.
Borges would approve.
His Library of Babel articulated the notion of an infinite library but comes with a warning: the vast majority of the books lining up the infinite shelves of the infinite library lack any meaning or order. If that was the case, the librarians in The Library of Babel argue, there must exist “The Book Man”. ‘… there must exist a book that is the cipher and perfect compendium of all other books, and some librarian must have examined that book; this librarian is analogous to a god.‘
I doubt any of the men hidden behind the many shelves in these old book shops fancy themselves gods. In many cases, the shops bear the names of the original founders of the shop: Premasiri Book Shop, for instance, is now run by the founder’s nephew Mohan Chandana. Speak to him and you’ll hear how his uncle saw an opportunity to buy and sell second hand books – this was in the 60s when entertainment meant a good book, a quiet corner, plain tea and a cigarette.
It is chaos. It is devoid of any organisational logic. It puts the mania in bibliomania. It shouldn’t work.
Chandana and his companions are simply running family businesses that are increasingly at odds with a fast moving, highly distracted world. But in continuing to run these shops, this act of simple defiance against changing habits, the men behind Sarath’s, Peter’s, Warnasuriya and Priyankara book shops have become minor oracular figures to readers in Colombo. I’d like to think we Colombo-ites tacitly understand this when we decide to stop by these shops, sometimes in the middle of a busy working day.
Because inside these book shops there is a happy accident waiting to happen. Because the book men of Colombo understand this – just like Borges did.
This photo essay by Natalie Soysa is inspired by the enduring legacy of Colombo’s book men. She is among the many readers in Colombo who have frequented these shops over the years seeking and finding many happy accidents.
In fact, while she was in the midst of this photography assignment, she came across Christopher Ondaatje’s The Last Colonial: Curious Adventures & Stories from a Vanishing World and was smitten, while I chanced upon Arthur C Clarke’s July 20, 2019: Life in the 21st Century.
Another day, another happy accident.
Theena Kumaragurunathan,
Editor-in-Chief
