The Bookworm's Guide: English Bookshops that Rival Shakespeare & Co

Shakespeare and Company gets the tourists—the Instagram crowd posing on the green benches, selfies in front of the hand-painted sign, everyone paying homage to Hemingway's ghost. Fair enough. It's a beautiful shop with genuine literary history, even if that history gets slightly oversold. But Paris has always been a city of readers, which means it has always needed bookshops. The English-language ones that survived did so by serving actual communities rather than capitalizing on romantic mythology. These are the shops where expats buy books, where students stretch budgets across used paperbacks, where the staff actually reads what they sell.

The Abbey Bookshop

At 29 Rue de la Parcheminerie, literally around the corner from Shakespeare and Company, this chaotic wonderland has been run by Canadian Brian Spence since 1989. The shop is stacked floor to ceiling—novels, travel guides, history, poetry, philosophy—with books occupying every available surface including parts of the floor. It feels less curated than accumulated, which gives it an archaeological quality. Dig deep enough and you'll find first editions, out-of-print travel memoirs, philosophy texts that haven't been fashionable in decades.

Spence himself often presides from behind the counter, offering free coffee or tea to browsers on cold days. He's opinionated about books in the way only someone who's spent thirty-five years selling them can be—ask for recommendations and you'll get honest answers, not whatever's getting publicity this season.

The Canadian connection runs deep. The shop specializes in Canadiana alongside general English-language stock, and occasionally hosts events celebrating Canadian writers who never get proper attention in France. It's cramped, slightly dusty, utterly unpretentious, and if you're genuinely looking for something specific rather than browsing for atmosphere, this is often where you'll find it.

Chic Tip: The travel section in the back room is exceptional—guidebooks from defunct publishers, memoirs from the 1970s when travel writing was less Instagram-friendly. Ask Spence to point you toward it if you don't immediately see it.

Smith & Son

This British institution at 248 Rue de Rivoli has operated since 1903, though it recently changed hands from WH Smith to new ownership under the Smith & Son name. The location under the Rivoli arcades near the Louvre makes it impossible to miss. Inside: over 70,000 books across multiple floors, organized with British efficiency that feels foreign in Paris where chaos is often considered charming.

The ground floor stocks current bestsellers, new releases, British magazines and newspapers. Upstairs holds deeper stock—literary fiction, history, science, children's books in volume. The tea room on the second floor reopened in 2016 after a twenty-year absence, serving proper English tea and scones if you need respite from browsing.

It's less intimate than the smaller shops, more commercial in energy. But that scale means they stock things others can't—academic texts, technical manuals, the kind of specialized non-fiction that only a large inventory can support. For expats who miss British bookshops, this is the closest approximation Paris offers.

Chic Tip: The magazine section imports periodicals you won't find elsewhere in France. If you're missing The London Review of Books or The Spectator, this is your source.

The Red Wheelbarrow

At 9 Rue de Médicis facing the Luxembourg Gardens, this shop opened in 2001 and quickly became a Left Bank fixture. The name references William Carlos Williams's poem, which tells you something about the literary sensibility here. The selection leans literary—contemporary fiction, poetry, criticism—with a strong emphasis on independent publishers and writers who don't get massive publicity budgets.

The space is small but well-organized, staff knowledgeable without being pretentious, and the location across from the gardens makes it ideal for buying a book then immediately sitting in a park chair to start reading. They host regular author events and readings, maintaining that tradition of bookshops as community spaces rather than just retail.

Chic Tip: Their used book section in the basement offers excellent value—literary fiction at €5-10, often first editions or signed copies from author events. Worth digging through if you're not in a hurry.

Librairie Galignani

This is Paris's oldest English-language bookshop, operating continuously since 1801 at 224 Rue de Rivoli. The Galignani family's history in book distribution dates back to the 16th century, and that pedigree shows in how they curate. The English section—about half the shop—covers literature, art history, philosophy, and self-help with equal seriousness.

The space itself is elegant: high ceilings, parquet floors, the kind of bourgeois Parisian atmosphere where browsing feels like an activity deserving proper attention. It's not cheap—mostly new books at full retail—but the selection reflects genuine taste rather than algorithm-driven bestseller lists. The art book section particularly stands out, drawing from both English and French publishers.

Chic Tip: The staff here knows their inventory intimately. If you're looking for something specific—a particular translation, a book about 18th-century French gardens, whatever—ask. They'll either have it or can order it.

San Francisco Book Company

At 17 Rue Monsieur le Prince in the Latin Quarter, this used bookshop has operated since the 1990s, buying and selling secondhand English books. The stock constantly turns over based on what walks in the door, which means you never know exactly what you'll find. The charm is in the hunt—scanning shelves for unexpected discoveries, finding a Graham Greene paperback from 1963 or a first edition Vonnegut someone sold for beer money.

Prices are fair, maybe €5-15 for most paperbacks, higher for rare or collectible editions. If you're selling books back, they'll offer store credit at better rates than cash. The shop serves students and long-term residents more than tourists—people who read constantly and can't afford to buy everything new.

Chic Tip: Their literary fiction section restocks fastest. If you're hunting for something specific in that genre, check back weekly.

Berkeley Books

This tiny shop in the 5th specializes in used and rare books, occupying a space barely larger than a walk-in closet. The owner—who's run it for decades—has accumulated a collection heavy on literary fiction, poetry, and criticism. It's not organized in any obvious way, which means browsing requires patience and willingness to crouch down to read spines on bottom shelves.

What it lacks in convenience it compensates for in character. This is the kind of bookshop that survives because one person loves books enough to keep the doors open despite rent increases and Amazon. If you find it (and it's easy to miss), you're probably the kind of reader who'll appreciate what's inside.

Chic Tip: The owner remembers regular customers and their tastes. Visit twice, buy something both times, and by the third visit he'll start pulling books aside for you.

The American Library in Paris

At 10 Rue du Général Camou in the 7th, this is technically a lending library rather than a bookshop, but it's worth mentioning for serious readers staying longer than a weekend. Annual membership costs €90 and grants access to over 100,000 English-language books, plus programming including author talks, film screenings, and lectures. The library has operated since 1920, serving the American expat community through wars, occupations, and economic changes.

The reading room overlooks a quiet courtyard. The stacks hold everything from recent bestsellers to obscure academic texts. For anyone spending a month or more in Paris, the membership pays for itself after borrowing four books.

Chic Tip: Non-members can attend most public events for €10-15. Check their calendar before your trip—occasionally they host authors who don't do other Paris appearances.

Shakespeare and Company trades on mythology, which is fine—mythology has value. But these other shops trade on actually serving readers, which is different and arguably more important. Knowing where to find specific books, which shops stock used versus new, where the knowledgeable staff work versus places that just employ whoever—that's the difference between tourists who buy books as souvenirs and people who actually read them. We map these distinctions because books matter, and Paris still has a community of English-language readers despite everything working against independent bookshops. If that community interests you, we're here.