Early this morning while cream was heating for that first miraculous cup of coffee, I walked to our sun-dappled front room to grab a book of poetry. (It was a bit too early for Stephen King.) A moment later, book and perfect coffee in hand, I found my way to the secret garden to wake myself up with swirls of words and sips of sweet, hot caffeine.
Then I realized I’d grabbed the wrong book. Instead of poetry I sat there holding A Moveable Feastby Ernest Hemingway. Specifically, a restored edition with foreword and introduction written by his son and grandson. I cracked it open and was transfixed. I’ve always wanted to love Hemingway but have so far felt it stiff and stale. This, though? Already mouthwatering.
Just the title transported me, or perhaps the discussion of the title, pointing us to Paris and Hemingway’s love for the city.
If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.
I’ve never been to Paris, but it’s no secret how much I love New Orleans. How impactful that city (the French Quarter, really, just the village there) has been to my heart and mind, my imagination and best intentions. Does everyone have a place sacred like this? I hope so. This has been such a surprise to me… On one hand it makes me want to travel more widely, to see what other treasures are available for discovery. On the other hand, I’m so partial to the Quarter already.
So I’m reading A Moveable Feast today and thoroughly enjoying it. After that, the tail end of that thick King novel then some brand new historical fiction by Jen Luitweiler. What are you reading? How are you spending your Saturday?