“Whenever [he] looked at a book, he did not see it purely in terms of a story, minimum retail price and an essential balm for the soul; he saw freedom on wings of paper.” (p. 143)
Hello Readers,
The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George (one of our June picks) was a lesson in “Don’t Judge a Book by Its Cover.” I was so entranced by the title and the beautiful cover that, as a bibliophile, I assumed it would quickly become one of my favorites. Readers, it just wasn’t the case.
Now, don’t get me wrong. The language in this book was indeed beautiful. It reflected both the title and the cover. Here are some examples:
“He stayed in the background, a small figure in a painting, while life was played out in the foreground.” (p. 8)
“Books keep stupidity at bay.” (p. 13)
“Fear transforms your body like an inept sculptor does a perfect block of stone. It’s just that you’re chipped away at from within, and no one sees how many splinters and layers have been taken off you. You become ever thinner and more brittle inside, until even the slightest emotion blows you over. One hug, and you think you’re going to shatter and be lost.” (p. 130-131)
“Habit is a vain and treacherous goddess. She lets nothing disrupt her rule. She smothers one desire after another: the desire to travel, the desire for a better job or a new love. She stops us from living as we would like, because habit prevents us from asking ourselves whether we continue to enjoy doing what we do.” (p. 208)
“It’s amazing how close you are to your essential self as a kid, he thought, and how far from it you drift the more you strive to be loved.” (p. 254)
George’s writing is truly beautiful. The main character in this book established himself as a literary apothecary, a man who prescribes books for people’s emotional needs. What a beautiful concept! George explored the power of the written word in a way that is sure to touch every reader.
However, I did not love the literary apothecary’s story. When the reader meets him, he is a fifty year old man who pines for a lover from his twenties. A lover, mind you, who was married. A lover who assured him that she loved him, but he wasn’t enough. The lover died very young and the literary apothecary had a difficult time grieving.
I sympathize with his grief, but I find the story to be tragic. Tragic not because he didn’t get to enjoy a lifelong affair with his lover, but tragic because his lover kept him from moving on, marrying, and having a family. I recommend this book for its language, but not necessarily for the story.
Did you get a chance to read it? What is your reaction? Leave a comment below with your thoughts and be sure to tag your copy of the book on instagram with #TWTBookshelf.
Live, Love, Learn,