I love to read. I dream of opening a bookstore when I move on to my next season.
After 44+ years of an incredible career, I am on a “mostly” sabbatical inching my way towards retirement.
Lastly, there is a hotel right across the street from the NY public library. It’s The Library Hotel - I’ve stayed there and loved it. On that street, the sidewalk is filled with quotes from authors…
Reading about your dream(s), I couldn’t help thinking of Borges:
“Men usually infer from this mirror that the Library is not infinite (if it really were, why this illusory duplication?): I prefer to dream that its polished surfaces represent and promise the infinite… Light is provided by some spherical fruit which bear the name of lamps.”
Borges dreamed the same and woke inside the Library of Babel — where to live in the total library is also to be shelved by it, catalogued, findable, unable to leave. The lovely thing about a real library is that you go home; the terror of the infinite one is that you can't. I'd keep a door.
I would like to reserve two suites in your hotel, providing it is dog-friendly: the Julian Barnes suite and the Ismail Kadare suite. A door between the two would be convenient, or possibly a shared Pablo Neruda bath. It’s extraordinarily kind of you to create this library hotel, this ‘archive of longings’ (per Susan Sontag) for transformative tourism.
I’m wondering if your conical bookshelves dreamscape could actually be a cyclone: you are safe at the very center of it and can powerfully move about the world, touching down here and there to shake things up and flatten misguided mediocrity.
I too have recurring dreams about spaces that are like real homes and neighbourhoods i know, but not them-- more mystical and confusing and labyrinthine. Commenting to say that here's another person manifesting your literary hotel into the real world. Also as someone who believes a little sheepishly in signs and things like that, I'm writing a chapter where my two main characters (teenagers) pretty much live in the library of the enormous neobrutalist structure they find themselves stuck in.
I think I remember that in The Lovely Bones, she says that everyone’s idea of what heaven is different. May yours (and mine) be just what your dream reveals.
What a lovely dream! Libraries are one of the few refuges for people who are unhoused and/or unemployed, and a place where you don’t need money (or very much) to read and learn and dream.
Your dream reminded me of a fictional library in the YA book Hummingbird (Lloyd). The middle school library has so many circular floors includes some unusual emotion support animals. In my mid-forties, I still gasped with delight—what a dream!
I realize you are dreaming specifically about a literary hotel, which I would love, and I responded to your description of the NYT article. Both are beautiful in their own ways.
As a kid, I wished I could sleepover in Borders. If you can do it in a museum, why not a bookstore?
Mr. Chee, I am here to tell you that your dream of reading non-stop when you retire was also my dream and I'm in a position to make it happen but I cannot actually do it. I can maybe read eight hours a day.
Which surprises me, because I thought I could read more like 12 hours a day. And maybe very occasionally I can. But I don't read that much all the time. I have friends and a garden and travel and events and zen meditation and I have to take care of the physical self every day--I have to work out and care for my teeth and shower and buy stuff for my body like food and lotion and clothes.
I am not complaining. I have a very rich retired life and I am very lucky. So I can do whatever I want. Yesterday I went ziplining with five of the people I love most in the world. What is better than that? But afterward I puttered in my garden for a little bit, and a friend came over and we talked about the way she is revolutionizing her industry, and then I went and got my book and I read in the garden. First, for an hour maybe, I read on the sunny side of the garden, and then I moved into the shady reading grotto, which is where I really lost touch with reality and entered into this novel. And then, there was this scene, this line, that broke my heart and I could not just turn the page, I had to mourn the loss of that character who was so real to me.
Still, I went to bed early so I could read some more. I thought I'd finish the book, but after an hour or so the book kept wavering in my hand and I had to put it away, and I slept and slept and it was lovely. I will finish that novel today and then take a break and start another one. But in between I need to do a long yoga session and have a big salad and mess around in my garden. I have to send an invitation to my zen group, and get an estimate for the windows to be washed, and send my friend Janet some dates when I will come down to visit her on the central coast.
The vision is a lovely one.
I love to read. I dream of opening a bookstore when I move on to my next season.
After 44+ years of an incredible career, I am on a “mostly” sabbatical inching my way towards retirement.
Lastly, there is a hotel right across the street from the NY public library. It’s The Library Hotel - I’ve stayed there and loved it. On that street, the sidewalk is filled with quotes from authors…
Oh yes, I’ve been to events there but have never stayed there. A good reminder. Thank you!
I used to have the same dream as a child.
Amazing! It’s good to hear from you also, I hope you are well.
Reading about your dream(s), I couldn’t help thinking of Borges:
“Men usually infer from this mirror that the Library is not infinite (if it really were, why this illusory duplication?): I prefer to dream that its polished surfaces represent and promise the infinite… Light is provided by some spherical fruit which bear the name of lamps.”
I think he would have liked your dream library.
Thank you!
Borges dreamed the same and woke inside the Library of Babel — where to live in the total library is also to be shelved by it, catalogued, findable, unable to leave. The lovely thing about a real library is that you go home; the terror of the infinite one is that you can't. I'd keep a door.
I would like to reserve two suites in your hotel, providing it is dog-friendly: the Julian Barnes suite and the Ismail Kadare suite. A door between the two would be convenient, or possibly a shared Pablo Neruda bath. It’s extraordinarily kind of you to create this library hotel, this ‘archive of longings’ (per Susan Sontag) for transformative tourism.
I’m wondering if your conical bookshelves dreamscape could actually be a cyclone: you are safe at the very center of it and can powerfully move about the world, touching down here and there to shake things up and flatten misguided mediocrity.
Thanks, I like all of these ideas!
I too have recurring dreams about spaces that are like real homes and neighbourhoods i know, but not them-- more mystical and confusing and labyrinthine. Commenting to say that here's another person manifesting your literary hotel into the real world. Also as someone who believes a little sheepishly in signs and things like that, I'm writing a chapter where my two main characters (teenagers) pretty much live in the library of the enormous neobrutalist structure they find themselves stuck in.
Well thank you and here’s to that.
come to Cologne, please! i am looking into how to open a book-store-wine-bar, among other projects!
The name of the hotel could quite easily be Hotel Alexandria. Part you; part evocative of that famous library :)
I think I remember that in The Lovely Bones, she says that everyone’s idea of what heaven is different. May yours (and mine) be just what your dream reveals.
I love your dream! If you’re every staying on the Oregon coast check out Hotel Sylvia - https://www.hotelsylvia.com/about/ 📚 🌊
Lovely to think of you on sabbatical with time to read your stacks of books! Hope your mom’s move goes smoothly.
Thank you!
What a lovely dream! Libraries are one of the few refuges for people who are unhoused and/or unemployed, and a place where you don’t need money (or very much) to read and learn and dream.
Your dream reminded me of a fictional library in the YA book Hummingbird (Lloyd). The middle school library has so many circular floors includes some unusual emotion support animals. In my mid-forties, I still gasped with delight—what a dream!
I realize you are dreaming specifically about a literary hotel, which I would love, and I responded to your description of the NYT article. Both are beautiful in their own ways.
As a kid, I wished I could sleepover in Borders. If you can do it in a museum, why not a bookstore?
Thank you! Exactly.
I would love to be a guest at your literary bed and breakfast 🩵
Mr. Chee, I am here to tell you that your dream of reading non-stop when you retire was also my dream and I'm in a position to make it happen but I cannot actually do it. I can maybe read eight hours a day.
Which surprises me, because I thought I could read more like 12 hours a day. And maybe very occasionally I can. But I don't read that much all the time. I have friends and a garden and travel and events and zen meditation and I have to take care of the physical self every day--I have to work out and care for my teeth and shower and buy stuff for my body like food and lotion and clothes.
I am not complaining. I have a very rich retired life and I am very lucky. So I can do whatever I want. Yesterday I went ziplining with five of the people I love most in the world. What is better than that? But afterward I puttered in my garden for a little bit, and a friend came over and we talked about the way she is revolutionizing her industry, and then I went and got my book and I read in the garden. First, for an hour maybe, I read on the sunny side of the garden, and then I moved into the shady reading grotto, which is where I really lost touch with reality and entered into this novel. And then, there was this scene, this line, that broke my heart and I could not just turn the page, I had to mourn the loss of that character who was so real to me.
Still, I went to bed early so I could read some more. I thought I'd finish the book, but after an hour or so the book kept wavering in my hand and I had to put it away, and I slept and slept and it was lovely. I will finish that novel today and then take a break and start another one. But in between I need to do a long yoga session and have a big salad and mess around in my garden. I have to send an invitation to my zen group, and get an estimate for the windows to be washed, and send my friend Janet some dates when I will come down to visit her on the central coast.
And then I can read again.
Thanks, I appreciate the advice!
What a lovely dream. Thank you for sharing this. I hope that your mom‘s move goes well.
I am a librarian reading this at a library conference, so I had to comment. Thanks for sharing your beautiful writing and Substack.
I was immersed in this flight of dreams and libraries and possibilities. It summoned Jorge Luis Borges for me.