The Paris Library

by Janet Skeslien Charles

founded in 1920; the first in Paris to let the public into the stacks;

My favorite part of library school had been the Dewey Decimal system. Conceived in 1873 by the American librarian Melvil Dewey, it used ten classes to organize library books on shelves based on subject.

I arrived on le grand boulevard, where in the space of a block, the city shrugged off her working-class mantle and donned a mink coat.

Breathing in the best smell in the world—a mélange of the mossy scent of musty books and crisp newspaper pages—I felt as if I’d come home.

“Raconte. It means ‘tell me.’ ”

Something told me she needed the Library. Something told me the Library needed her. Over dusty books, our conversation had flowed like the Seine.

I had learned that love was not patient, love was not kind. Love was conditional. The people closest to you could turn their backs on you, saying goodbye for something that seemed like nothing. You could only depend on yourself. My passion for reading grew—books wouldn’t betray.

This was the first time Rémy and I had been separated for more than four days. Like the sunrise, like the bread on our table, he’d always been there, slurping his café au lait, gurgling after he brushed his teeth, humming while he and I read together. Rémy provided the musical score of my days. Now, life was silent.

“I read Out of Africa and didn’t establish a coffee plantation in Kenya!”

“I ran. And until you, I’ve never told anyone.”

“But… you always know the right thing to say.” “Because I’ve said so many wrong things.”

My goal in writing the book was to share this little-known chapter of World War II history and to capture the voices of the courageous librarians who defied the Nazis in order to help subscribers and to share a love of literature.

Tremendous thanks to the team at Atria, from my editor, Trish Todd, who convinced me with her first words, “You had me at the Dewey Decimal system,”