The Whitlock Farm Booksellers is set off the beaten path in rural Bethany. There is no mistaking it for one of the cookie cutter chain bookstores found in every suburban shopping mall. When driving down the twisting back country roads, you are left with the feeling that civilization and modern society is being left in the dust.

The Whitlock is an anachronism and the new owner, Norm Pattis, wants to keep it that way. (See the accompanying article on Pattis.)
            The entrance to the bookstore is flanked by two white wooden posts that support a swinging metal gate that appears to never be shut. The property boasts four barns. The two front barns contain the bookstore. The two rear barns house the farm’s remaining livestock.
            The Whitlock Farm Bookstore has been open since the 1890’s. Originally owned by the Whitlock family, the bookstore has recently passed into the hands of Norm Pattis. The bookstore’s first incarnation was even more informal. The two barns, which had housed sheep and turkeys, became a storage area for books. The doors were left unlocked and people were encouraged to just come in and browse. If they found something that they were interested in, there was a tin can where they could deposit money. This is difficult to imagine for the contemporary book connoisseur used to the elaborate security systems in bookstores. While the customer trusting spirit of the bookstore has not changed, it has been updated.
            When you enter the lower barn you are greeted by the comforting smell of old books, tinged with the smell of alcohol and glue used to fix the effects time has wrought on these treasures. The warm overhead lighting illuminates the massive collections of books. Books occupy every imaginable surface. In the background classical music plays softly and you can hear people chatting about recent acquisitions. The antique cash register by the front door adds to the nostalgic charm of the store. The staff is quick to point out that although the register is missing its casing, it is far more reliable than its modern counterparts. 
            The three person staff is warm, friendly, and inviting. Elaine Sargent and Audrey White, are each willing to expound upon their particular area of interest. Sargent is a librarian who specializes in the repair of old books. She is eager to explain the differences between books that can be saved and those that can’t. She also points out that even pages from books that can no longer be contained by their bindings have merit. Illustrations can be salvaged and framed, giving new life to an old book.
            As you wander around the store, it is never far from your mind that this is no Borders or Barnes and Noble. The ever-changing nature of the stock requires that you carefully inspect the books in each row. While navigating the rows of rough wooden book shelves you become aware of the uneven scarred floor masked by throw rugs. The windows are made of an antique glass that warps the outside world, giving the feeling that either the customer has landed in a secluded haven of books or the world outside has morphed into a Monet painting.
            Teeming with literary treasure, the upper barn contains an odd combination of old new and books. Here one can find everything from a 1990’s Danielle Steele novel to an early 1900’s Horatio Alger novel. Equally diverse is the clientele.  Conversations from Yale students mix with conversations of book collectors. The students look for books to read for pleasure while the collector asks if any new books old ones have been acquired.
The bookstore has become an ever expanding enterprise and Whitlock has now ventured into the world of antique maps. Although during our visit some of the maps were out at a fair (along with the in house map expert), it was still an interesting collection. One advantage of viewing the maps is the vista to be enjoyed from the small porch outside the map room. The extensive property stretches out before you and you can’t help but be grateful to Norm Pattis for saving this landmark. Where else can you look out over a bookstore and a field, while in the distance watch a young woman receiving a horseback riding lesson.
             The store blends old and the new. The historic integrity of the store is maintained while subtle quiet modernizations lie on the fringe. The tin can has been abandoned for a cash register but the basic feeling of trust and honesty remains. The upper book barn is not monitored and there is an implicit faith in each customer’s honesty. There is trust that customers will bring their purchases to be rung up and paid for. The only visible computer is surrounded by so many books it is hard to find. In an age where the written word is being submerged by the electronic word, the written word seems to be fighting back here. Walking through this store isn’t like the mass market experience in one a soulless chain store; it’s more like wandering through a friend’s library.