The Last Week of the Bookshop

Marcel has owned the Green Lantern bookshop for twenty-two years. He knows exactly what a Monday looks like. He turns the sign at nine, makes coffee, and waits for the first customer. This Monday is different. A sign in the window says "Closing on Saturday". The landlord's letter is still lying on his desk.

马塞尔经营绿灯笼书店已经二十二年了。他清楚地知道一个星期一该是什么样子：九点翻过门牌，煮好咖啡，等第一位顾客上门。可这个星期一不一样。橱窗里贴着一张告示：“周六停业”。房东的信还躺在他的桌子上。

The rent has doubled. Marcel has tried every number he knows, and none of them works.

房租涨了一倍。马塞尔把自己知道的数字都算了个遍，没有一个行得通。

He expected a quiet last week. Instead, people keep arriving. On Monday, a retired bus driver says he read his first novel in the armchair by the stairs. On Tuesday, a young father shows him a photo of his daughter asleep on picture books. On Wednesday, a woman called Yasmin comes in with a worn paperback she bought there at nineteen.

他本以为最后一周会很安静。可是人们一个接一个地来了。星期一，一位退休的公交车司机说，他读的第一本小说就是在楼梯边那把扶手椅上读完的。星期二，一位年轻的父亲给他看了一张照片，照片里他的女儿睡在一堆绘本上。星期三，一位名叫雅斯敏的女士拿着一本破旧的平装书走进来，那是她十九岁时在这里买的。

"I met my husband in the poetry section," she says. "He was reading the book I wanted."

“我就是在诗歌区遇见我丈夫的，”她说，“他当时正在看我想要的那本书。”

Marcel listens to every story. He is too busy being polite to say what he really feels. By Friday evening, he is packing boxes in the back room. He isn't sure the shop was ever worth saving.

马塞尔听着每一个故事。他忙着保持礼貌，没有说出自己真正的感受。到了星期五傍晚，他在后屋里装箱。他不确定这家书店是否真的值得挽救。

On Saturday, the shop is full all day. People buy more books than in the whole month before. Near five o'clock, Yasmin raises her hand, and the room goes quiet.

星期六，书店里整天都挤满了人。大家买的书比之前整整一个月还多。快到五点的时候，雅斯敏举起了手，屋里安静了下来。

"Marcel, could you give us a minute?"

“马塞尔，能给我们一分钟吗？”

A small group stands by the counter. The bus driver is there, and so is the young father, with his daughter on his shoulders. Yasmin is holding a thick folder.

柜台旁站着一小群人。公交车司机在，年轻的父亲也在，女儿骑在他的肩上。雅斯敏手里拿着一个厚厚的文件夹。

"We have been talking all week," she says. "The shop is too big for books alone, and the rent is too high for one person. But if we shared the space, it might work. A café at the front, the books at the back. We have a rough plan. We don't have everything yet."

“我们这一周一直在商量，”她说，“这家店只卖书的话太大了，房租对一个人来说又太高了。可要是大家一起分担这块地方，也许就行得通。前面开咖啡馆，书放在后面。我们有一个大致的计划，还没有全部想好。”

Marcel looks at the folder, and then at the half-empty shelves behind him. "I don't know," he says. "I'm a bookseller, not a baker."

马塞尔看看文件夹，又回头看看身后半空的书架。“我不知道，”他说，“我是卖书的，不是做面包的。”

"You wouldn't have to bake," the bus driver says. "I make a very good soup."

“你不用做面包，”公交车司机说，“我汤做得很好。”

Marcel laughs for the first time in days. He doesn't say yes, and he doesn't say no. He picks up the "Closing" sign from the window and puts it face down on the counter.

马塞尔笑了，这是他好几天来第一次笑。他没有说好，也没有说不。他从橱窗里拿起那张“停业”的告示，把它面朝下放在了柜台上。