In a development that has sent tremors through the world of architectural sovereignty and mildly confused stamp collectors, the Haskell Free Library and Opera House – that grand old dame straddling the Vermont-Quebec border like a particularly learned giraffe – has announced a new entrance exclusively for the use of Quebecois patrons. The move, described by UK heritage experts as a 'masterstroke of territorial diplomacy', has left your correspondent reaching for a second gin and tonic at an ungodly hour.
The library, where one can theoretically borrow a book in Canada and return it in the United States without so much as a passport check, has long been a symbol of cross-border amity. But now, in a twist that would make a Brexit negotiator weep with envy, the Canadian side has been granted its own doorway. A doorway that, one presumes, will be guarded by a Mountie in full ceremonial dress, or perhaps a moose with an attitude problem.
The new entrance, carved into the Quebec side of the building, is a masterpiece of political one-upmanship. It is the architectural equivalent of a diplomatic note slipped under the door, but with more brass handles. 'This is about sovereignty,' explained a library spokesperson, carefully not mentioning that the other door is technically in Vermont. 'We needed to ensure that our Canadian visitors could enter without being tainted by American air. It's a public health issue.'
Over in the UK, heritage experts have recoiled from their scones to applaud this solution. 'Splendid!' declared Sir Reginald Fitzbottom of the Society for the Protection of Ancient Silly Ideas. 'Why, it's the most elegant resolution to a border dispute since the Treaty of Ghent. Except with more bookmarks. We shall be recommending this approach for the Irish border, the Gibraltar frontier, and possibly the line in my local Waitrose car park.'
Your correspondent, who once managed to get himself banned from the Haskell for attempting to borrow 'War and Peace' in two separate currencies, can only applaud this move. Finally, the Quebecois can enjoy their Proust without having to look at a Vermont licence plate. And the Americans? They can relish their Tom Clancy novels without the faint whiff of poutine distracting them.
Of course, the devil is in the details. Will the new entrance have its own turnstile? Will it require a special library card, embossed with a fleur-de-lis and validated by the Quebec government? And most importantly, will the fines be payable in Canadian Tire money? The library board has remained characteristically tight-lipped, releasing only a blurry photograph of what appears to be a door handle being polished by a bilingual badger.
Let us raise a glass of cheap gin to the Haskell Free Library, a place where books and borders blur into a beautiful, bureaucratic mess. And to the UK experts who have blessed this farce with their approval: may your tea always be strong, your scones clotted, and your sense of proportion thoroughly absent.
