The Glories of French Libraries

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by Norma Hopcraft

I've always loved reading, books, and libraries. 

From the first moment that I realized that little black marks on a page could form pictures in my mind, I wanted to be a writer. I loved that experience, even if it was just "See Sally run," and I wanted to create that experience for other people. For me, it's all about the joy of communicating with each other with images made of words.

As I kid, I read every spare second. I read the toothpaste tube, the Cheerios box, the Rice-A-Roni carton, just for something to fill my voracious appetite for words.

Now I make a point of reading widely: some science, particularly about the stars and about the tiniest particles. Lest you think I'm a total nerd, I also read favorite mystery writers (nothing very gory, please) and classic novels (Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters being favorites). I push myself to read poetry--I prefer stories, but poets say the most with fewest words, a good habit for prose writers too.

I love books and have a pile in my reading corner. One must have a chair, a lamp, and a book. There are a number of folks who say you also need a cat in your lap, or a dog at your feet. I don't have a cat now, but I have happy memories of Ninja, a Siamese. I bought him fresh out of my divorce, splurging on him when I could have gone to a shelter and gotten an American cat. When the owner named her price, I sat in stunned silence. Then she brought the price way down. 

Really, one ought to practice stunned silence. It works.

And I love libraries. I own one cocktail table book, and it's about the world's most beautiful libraries. I've been in a few of them now, but not yet in the Library of Congress, which is stunning.

"I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library," wrote Jorge Luis Borges.

I agree. In Paradise I will also compose music like Bach, do the high jump like an Olympic athlete, and write novels even better than Jane Austen. In heaven, I will be published to critical and popular acclaim! My dream for 30 years, still waiting for it to come true. Maybe in Paradise.

There's a beautiful library in Paris where I wrote The Paris Writers Circle ten years ago, when I lived in Paris for a year. I commuted to it six days a week. It's called the Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris. BHVP for short.

I've explored other historic libraries in Paris. In my 2019 trip, I worked on a new novel in The Richelieu, The Arsenal, and The Mazarine.

This November 2025 trip to Paris, however, I made a new start on that novel. It's about a set designer, and a fashion designer wanna-be, sharing an apartment in Brooklyn and working in Manhattan (I don't do the Bronx, Queens, or Staten Island :)

I had written almost half in 2019 and recently decided to start absolutely from scratch. Every chapter written fresh. 

It's going well, thanks to the guidance of story consultant Lisa Cron's book. She says each character has to have a third rail. I had read that each character should have a visceral desire and an inner struggle that blocks her. But Cron brings those two elements together and says each character should have a third rail with two sides to it: the want and the misbelief that blocks it. 

I love the way she integrates the character struggle! My first couple of re-written chapters are electro-magnetically charged!

Now I'd like to share pictures from the BHVP. It was built as a mansion for a duchess in the 1500s. The United States has nothing like this:

Here are the gates, on Rue Pavée in the neighborhood known as Le Marais.

Do you often see a facade like this in the U.S.?

In the corner, the door to Paradise, the library.

This is the workroom. It's silent even though it's full of people. Everyone is focused on their work. It's the most marvelous place I've ever been in to write. I love, love, love it.

More of the facade.

The opposite corner from the door to Paradise.

A detail of the beams in the work room. Every day I asked for a seat "under the angels, because I work better there." That I said it in French (after looking up the word for beams), tickles me.

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