John Taylor says he's not angry, just mystified.

For several years, he's watched people enter his Madison store, J Taylor's, and inflict various forms of abuse on him and his merchandise, from manhandling delicate items to insulting him if he won't negotiate a lower price.

The store, at 18 1/2 N. Carroll St. on the Capitol Square, sells "antiquities, notable books and rare maps."

Two weeks ago, Taylor posted a lengthy note on the shop's front door. Some might call it a rant. Taylor thinks of it as tough love.

"Handle the books, papers and tools gently," he writes. "You're quite lucky to have this opportunity to experience authenticity. So excuse my admonishment while you break the back of a $5,000 atlas."

His note — a merchant's manifesto, if you will — says the store is "not a flea market, nor is it an eBay moment." If any "offers" are to be made, "I, John, will offer it up to you. Not vice versa."

For good measure, Taylor throws in a laundry list of things not to do, including "distract, meddle with, pick at, insult, spit on, snipe at or needle the contents of J Taylor's."

In an interview, Taylor describes the posting as "kind of in your face" but defends it as cathartic. "That's me on the door," he said. "I write like I think and speak."

Taylor, 55, opened the store in 2005 after spending years amassing a collection of worldly artifacts, including an atlas printed in the early 1600s and a first-edition copy of "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens, priced at $16,000.

Although his manifesto strikes a defiant tone, Taylor sounds more wounded than confrontational in person. He said he was shocked one winter day when a woman vigorously wiped her boots on a Persian rug and continued to do so after being asked to stop. Shoplifters filch things, including, recently, part of a three-volume set of "Moby Dick," he said.

"Is this where we are with manners in society today?" he asks. "Are we so detached from each other that we don't think about each other's feelings?"

Taylor's store has had a quirky aura since the beginning, with erratic operating hours that sometimes confound people. (His Saturday hours are still "by chance only," although he promises to be more consistent.)

He said he realizes his note will alienate some people — "That's painful to me" — but he said he's just trying to make the shopping experience better for respectful customers. Most customers say they're glad he posted it, while a few roll their eyes, he said.

Kristin Wild, owner of Atticus, a clothing store next door, said she loves having Taylor as a neighbor and thinks he probably is being somewhat tongue in cheek in parts of his note.

"I hope people don't take it too seriously," she said. "It's a good way to keep people intrigued and interested in his store, but I don't think he wants people to be scared by it."

On a recent Monday — a day the store is closed — Bob Janeck was among the pedestrians who stopped to read the note. He said he doesn't know Taylor and hasn't been in the store.

"I'd say it's been written by someone who's seen it all," said Janeck, 54, of Madison.

Janeck applauded the content of the note, saying it has a nicely personal, anti-corporate tone. "This makes me more willing to return," he said. "It keeps the riffraff out."

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