double dose of irony - thoughts on a book/bookstore

Open the doors of any book store and the overwhelming scent of new paper greets you. Open the door of Shakespeare & Co and an interesting sense of nostalgia joins the paper's aroma. You've never been there, yet you sense the years of history preserved between pages. How many stories are hidden here?

Bookstores, even the most awkwardly corporate, invite you to slow down, leaf through the texts, grow a few brain cells. Shakespeare & Co. feels like a good friend's home. The out-of-tune piano beckons to be played, and the ancient type writer insists you overcome those creative apprehensions to pursue your literary dreams. Maybe the cat will sneak up behind you with a purr and a twirl of his tail. Probably not, you should never expect too much from a cat. 

Despite the added weight to your already heavy backpack, you decide a new book is exactly what you need. Your habit of reading before bed should not be neglected during a three week adventure. Perhaps you'll manage to keep motion sickness at bay, and hours on trains can be spent reading. New books soothe the soul and inspire lovely daydreams. Even if it's a second-hand book with a creased spine and dog-eared pages, you know it can do the job. 

So you ironically purchase an English book about a year in France from an English bookstore...in France. You laugh to yourself a few days later when the irony really truly sinks in. By then, you're half way through the book, "A Year in Provence," and you don't want the story to ever end. 

Peter Mayle chronicles the twelve months he and his wife spent in their new Provencial home with enough poetic details, you could be living with them. Their misadventures with house renovations - all at the hands of relaxed laborers whose deadlines are estimations, not promises - make you laugh. Their Sundays spent leisurely enjoying extended lunches make you pine for home cooked meals. And Mayle's immaculately detailed descriptions of Provencial culinary treats make your mouth water and your stomach grumble. 

Everything about this book accompanies your life perfectly. And you finish it on your train ride to Spain - the end of Mayle's first year and the end of your days in France. 


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This post is coming to you from Rome. I know, I know. It would have been much better if I was still in France, but what can I do?
Stay tuned for pictures of all things Italian.
xoxo//hc