Mona Lisait (Marais, Paris)

Dear Mother,

The Mona Lisait (pronounced something like Moh-na Lee-say) is one of my favourite bookstores in Paris, one I have decided to visit annually.  We landed in Paris at about 8:30 a.m. Wednesday (May 25th), quickly cleared customs by walking rather than taking the moving stairs and moving walkways (thereby passing the other sleepy passengers) and were lucky to get an excellent taxi driver to the Centre Mennonite de Paris in St Maurice.  We immediately unpacked and then walked some 12 minutes to the market for groceries.  I wanted to stay awake as long as possible, so while Janice settled into the library, I headed for the métro and got off at St Paul (line 1).  True to form, I had neither name nor address for the bookstore but trusted my inner GPS and actually found the store at 17bis, rue Pavée (Paved Road, or road constructed of pavers or paving stones.  Many centuries ago, this was a useful distinguishing designation, but by now, all streets are paved). There are actually three locations, but this is the one I prefer.

Mona Lisait seems to be built within a former carriage entryway which reached into an inner courtyard.  The old paving stones (cobblestones), once trod by horses and workers, now form the store's unusual and very uneven floor.  The former inner courtyard is now partially filled with a new building which has two upper floors, one for books and the top for posters and reproductions of paintings.  I enjoy the incongruous confluence of former driveway and bookcases.

One never knows which books will be remaindered, but the store is carefully organized by categories and then by authors, so it is fun to browse.  They had virtually nothing on medieval history (my favourite subject these days), but I picked up some promising novels, a biography of the photographer Jan Saudek (strangely, known mostly for a single but powerful photo taken in 1966, one that made an impression on me in the early 1970s).  Prices are astonishingly low, so I picked up six paperbacks for about €24 ($30?)  Eventually the postage back to Canada will likely exceed the cost of the books themselves.


The French call bookstores "libraries" (a bibliothèque would be similar to our libraries where one can read, and sometimes borrow, but not buy books).  However, it is understood that you can spend hours in a librarie just browsing and reading, without being obligated to purchase.  Children learn this at a very early age.

My next bookstore visit will have to include the complex of stores known as "Gibert Jeune", a group of about four larger stores on Place St Michel, on the left bank within minutes of Notre-Dame.  Each of its stores is devoted to a different group of subjects.

Last evening (Thursday), Janice worked all day in the library with Yves, and then the three of us joined the Bloughs for a festive meal in their apartment celebrating our return.  The aperitif was an unusual concoction made from honey by a Catholic lay community.

The meal began with some smoked salmon in avocado on fresh lettuce.

 Then Janie served veal, perfectly roasted with new potatoes and a side of fresh green beans.

Next, the obligatory course cheese, this one including four (two brought by Yves from the Touraine), and we finished with some fresh mixed fruit.  Yves generously supplied a 1996 Pomorol (Bordeaux) which was absolutely astonishing, ready to drink, and a perfect accompaniment to the veal and cheeses.

Yves and Neal did dishes, while Janice and I chatted with Janie.

 By 10:30, we had no option but bed, and the 8:00 alarm rang far too early.  We nevertheless got up, had breakfast and were then joined for coffee and tea by Yves, who gave us a fascinating account of last winter's snowstorm, and of families being stuck in their cars on highways for several days without food or water.  If only France could get some rain now.  There has been no rain in this part of the country since March.  The farmers are in real trouble because although grain is growing, there are no heads at the ends of the traumatized stalks.  This is the driest weather since the drought of 1976.  The locals look at every cloud, hoping for rain, whereas tourists hope it will not rain. Well, it is supposed to get up to about 20C today, so I will soon be cleaning my lenses, repacking the bag and heading back to the métro. 

Meanwhile, love from us both,
Evan