Hello! I’m Theresa, a new intern here at Beaufort, henceforth known as Beau Soleil. I feel my moniker is appropriate for two reasons–beautiful sun, for a summer intern–and it’s also a coy nod to my other job at an oyster bar–Beau Soleil is, of course, a boutique oyster from Canada. But anyway! Back to books!
A used bookstore in my neighborhood in Brooklyn has some vintage copies of my favorite books–not expensive first editions of classic books, but hardcovers from the 70s with fantastic covers.
It’s hard to justify buying a copy of a book I already own–but oh! The delicately frayed jackets, the charmingly dated font, that old book smell–and how nice they would look displayed on my bookshelves! (Once I have bookshelves, I mean–my library is currently supported by a wire kitchen rack.)
While you really don’t need more than one copy of a book, a beloved book, on the other hand, is hard to say no to–especially if the cover is unique, ancient, or foreign. New covers on classic books, while fun, don’t have the same thrill as unearthing a dusty relic with crumbling pages, last read decades ago. And especially treasured are old books gifted to you by someone you love–a book of my grandmother’s whose title frightened me my entire childhood (The Naked and the Dead), or my father’s copy of War and Peace from college, with his notes scratched in the margins.
So sometimes buying books is no longer just about reading them–they are for collecting, to remind yourself of earlier days and people from your past, for displaying as art objects, in lieu of wallpaper–
But, yes, most of all, for reading.
More importantly, think of all the books that we want to read, that we feel foolish if we haven’t read. They’re The Grapes of Wrath and The Sun Also Rises and Anna Karenina and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and the 1984s of the world. This is our canon, this is our standard, and there are very, very few women who are a part of it.
One year and one arduous home-renovation into their marriage, Ken and Bing head to the French countryside to celebrate their long-delayed honeymoon, swearing they’re getting out of the home-fixing business for good. When they fall in love with the village of La Montaigne Noire, they find themselves buying a fixer-upper and starting all over again—but this time, in French! McAdams recounts their mishaps and misadventures with humor, capturing the essence of French village life, the awkwardness of being foreigners in a close-knit town, the couple’s hilarious linguistic pratfalls, and how the mammoth undertaking that threatens to tear their new marriage apart ultimately brings them closer together and helps them find a place in the community they have grown to love.
America seems to be on a downward slide. Our government spends too much; our economy creates too little; and we aren’t preparing our children to compete in a global marketplace. Yet our politicians – Republican and Democrat alike – just don’t get it. While once-great cities fall into decay, Washington thrives, living off the hard work and tax dollars of the private sector.
The story of a young woman’s voyage to womanhood. Through poetry and prose, the author explores the conflicting emotions of childhood, the intensity of adolescence, the joys of motherhood, and the richness of maturity.
In The Sun and the Moon, Niccolo Tucci celebrates the comic courtship of Mary von Randen, introduced in the previous novel Before My Time, and poor Italian country doctor Leonard Claudi. After not seeing each other for nine years, the couple finally meet again in Rome in 1902. The Sun and the Moon tells the story of the nine tumultuous days and nights of love, guilt, misunderstanding, confusion and ecstasy that follow this second encounter.
