Joe Ray

May 29, 2006 - The Miami Herald

PARIS - Dressed like a hunter out for a stroll in the countryside, Alain Frolich scans the pedestrians along the banks of the Seine River in the shadow of Notre Dame Cathedral. He seems to know every other person, and that is good for business.
Frolich is a bouquiniste—one of more than 200 used-book sellers who have set up shop along line the city’s quays. He’s also part of an even smaller group that still specializes in old books—a member of a historic subculture that is threatened by changes brought on by the Internet.

‘‘Everything I learned in 30 years, you can just tap into Google,’’ says Frolich, his fingers typing in the air, “and you’ll find what you’re looking for.’‘

Minding over rows of large green metal boxes without the benefit of computers or phone lines, the bouquinistes have seen relatively few changes in their micro-industry during its 400-odd year history. But the vintage-book sellers know their days are numbered.

‘‘This is a trade in the process of disappearing,’’ Frolich says. “I think there are only 20, maybe 40, of us [along the river] who work in old books.’‘

READING FOR A LIVING: Alain Frolich, a bouquiniste in Paris who specializes in old books, reads a copy of a newspaper from the 1600s, above, while he waits patiently for clients. Below are some of his books. Photos by Joe Ray

‘‘Clients are coming less because they are finding less,’’ he says. “But the Net, that’s the biggest bookstore in the world.’‘

Though the bouquinistes plying their trade are still postcard-perfect and seemingly locked in time, what they’re selling has changed.

‘‘It’s giving way to souvenirs, postcards and DVDs,’’ Frolich says.

Sure enough, a look at the wares of other nearby bouquinistes reveals that the temptation to sell more tourist-friendly items such as old magazines with pin-up models, Toulouse Lautrec makeup mirrors or Eiffel Tower key chains is high.
But such novelties don’t seem to interest Frolich.

For the books he sells, he claims not to have any particular specialty, outside of having a near-boundless curiosity, which, he says, “allows me to find stuff more easily.’‘

Despite his self-deprecation, he does have an affinity for literature with illustrations. His books are truly romantic specimens, often beautiful leather-bound volumes with gold-leaf lettering that glints in the early-afternoon sunlight. A clever suitor could easily earn big points presenting his favorite Parisienne belle with an old, illustrated copy of Louis Aragon’s poems or Saint-Exupery’s Vol de Nuit.

PRIZE POSSESSIONS

Frolich says his prize possessions are copies of Jacques Le Fataliste by Diderot and Balzac’s Le Peau de Chagrin. He’s also partial to works by Prévert, as he and the author were friends.

Though he clearly reveres the books he sells (and the chance to meet the clients who buy them), his interest in reading trumps giving the books any sort of white-glove treatment. In the rare moments when he’s not chatting with one of his client/friends, he’ll light a stubby Davidoff cigar, pick up a volume and flip through it as though it’s a paperback he’s been reading at the beach.

His clients are quite faithful. At any given time, he has a stack of special orders and books he thinks specific clients might like stacked in the corner of one of his boxes. Occasionally, he’ll even give a client a book.

‘‘I just gave a guy I’d never met two books because I knew he’d appreciate them more than me,’’ he says.

And he can also be talked into selling books at a price where profits are doubtful, ‘‘Ah, it’ll give me some space.’’ That said, he also has a sort of ‘‘haggling reduction’’ built into his marked prices.

Frolich explains that the price he comes up with is a function of the condition of the book, its rarity and a handful of other factors.

MAKING A LIVING

Though he says that he makes enough money to keep him and his wife happy, it’s the client contact in his work that is the key for him both personally and professionally. It’s also the principal reason why he’s not interested in hawking his wares on the Internet.

‘‘If I’m online,’’ he says, summing it up, “I don’t get to meet you.’‘

‘‘The Internet lets you learn about anything you want,’’ he says, shifting gears. “I’m going to learn how to use it.’‘

And soon he’ll have plenty of time to do just that. He plans to retire at the end of June. Though the Internet is rapidly catching up with his colleagues, it isn’t the Cyber age that forced Frolich, who is cushioned by 30 years in the book trade, to hang up his hat.

It’s time.

But first, he’s got some people he must speak with.

Joe Ray is a Paris-based freelance journalist. He can be reached via his website: www.joe-ray.com.