Stepping off the busy London street and through the welcoming threshold of the UK’s oldest Islamic bookshop, and immediately I can breathe. The hurry and hustle of life, of the city, slip off as easily as my coat when I enter the hushed, comforting atmosphere of this literary sanctuary. For the past forty years, Ta-Ha Publishers has had a wonderful relationship with Dar al Taqwa – a treasured connection passed down from my father, to me. This wasn’t just a trip to a bookshop; it was a visit to an old friend.
Dar al Taqwa describes itself as an “Aladdin’s Cave of Islamic Texts”, and a treasure trove it most certainly is. Books line every shelf and fill every nook and cranny. Some showing off their front covers in full glory, others teasing us with the glimpse of a suggestive spine. Timeless classics sit comfortably next to contemporary thought. There is no snobbery as a twelfth century Persian polymath extends his wing generously to the first time author from Peterborough. You can almost hear the expectant hum of conversation beneath the covers.
This Aladdin’s cave continues down wooden stairs that creak deliciously as you venture further in. That unmistakable, musty scent of knowledge and wisdom intoxicates you and somehow manages to inebriate the hands of time as well. Walking out of the door, my watch showed me that I had somehow spent a happy hour and half inside.
Of course, what completes the experience is the person at that gorgeous vintage wooden desk: Sister Noora Elatar, the owner. In fact, it would be remiss of me to just call her the owner, when she is a tour guide of the vast canyons of knowledge and wisdom on her shelves. She knows her inventory like family, and is happy to spend time recommending a title perfectly suited to your needs – perhaps a classic on spirituality, or a contemporary work on political thought. This is the heart of the matter: you don’t just go to a bookshop for a book. You go for the service, the connection, the community.
Sadly, this precious experience is under threat.
Like many independent bookshops, Dar al Taqwa is facing financial difficulty. They recently shared a heartfelt plea on their website: “Our bookshop has always been a place of comfort and connection… But now, we’re facing the heartbreaking reality of difficulty keeping our doors open.”
But, this is more than one shop’s struggle. It’s a threat to all of us. When we choose the convenience of a quick click to buy our books, we are squeezing out the presence of these magnificent, community-focused spaces. A local bookshop is a haven, a place where readers (and non-readers) of all ages can discover new books, learn, explore, escape, and grow – all the things a soul needs – often guided by an expert hand. It is a beacon of culture and connection on our high street – a confluence of minds gathered along the winding timeline of human thought.
If a bookshop shuts down, we don’t just lose a place to buy books; we lose a focal point of wisdom, history and shared experience. We lose the chance to be welcomed by people who care about our lives and our literary journey. We lose the feeling of comfort and companionship that comes from wandering a book-lined space.
This month, may I request you to make a conscious decision to visit your local Islamic bookshop in person. Walk through the door, breathe in the smell, let your fingers run along the spines, and speak to the people who work there. Buy a book, and, most importantly, show them that their presence matters. Let’s ensure our children and grandchildren can still experience the magic of walking into a genuine Aladdin’s Cave. Let’s make the time to savour the bookshop experience before the only option left is a soulless click.
