“The Paris Library” by Janet Skeslien Charles
Odile’s sister Lily. p. 40
I tried to say I would, but fear stole my voice. After a long moment, she pushed my body from hers and looked at me. Trapped in Mom’s mournful stare, I remembered things she’d said: Babies sleep through the love. A gaggle of geese, a murder of crows. People are awkward, they don’t know what to do or say. Don’t hold it against them; we never know what’s in their hearts.
Odile. p. 71
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.
Odile reflecting on Lawrence and Margaret. p. 80
There was a peculiar current in the air. He’d gone from charming to condescending; she’d become wooden. I remembered Maman’s advice to cousin Clotilde: Make the courtship last as long as you can. Once you marry everything changes. Was this what Maman had meant?
Odile decides to stay in Paris after the Nazis occupy the city. p. 144
Remaining had bee the right choice. If her parents had taught her one thing, it was to stand her ground, whether dealing with a malicious schoolmate or the domineering cataloger act the Library of Congress. You’re nothing without principles. Nowhere without ideals. No one without courage.
Odile talking to Lily. p. 205.
Well, ma grande, that was the first lesson I learned as a young wife. Sometimes, when you win, you lose. I got rid of the stuffed head—the garbage man picked it up when Buck was at work. But he was angry for a good long while.
Professor Cohen to Odile. Odile is upset with her father. p. 232
Your father’s old, he won’t change. And dogs don’t have kittens, so you’re as stubborn as he. The only thing you can change is the way you see him.
A passage for its sheer beauty, Boris is the reference librarian at The Paris Library. He is shot in his home by Gestapo. I read it three times. p. 256
He didn’t remember falling, didn’t feel his head hit the floor. He sensed Anna beside him, saw the red run down his shirt over her ashen hands. He heard the Nazis shout. It was all too much. Boris longed to slip up the spiral staircase, to walk along secluded rows of books, to lose himself in the sweet quiet of the Afterlife.
The novel has a beautiful ending. The story movingly describes the true nature of friendship, how easily it can be lost, how important it is to cherish it and how important it is to hold on to it. p. 339.
Don’t listen when someone tells you not to bother a person—reach out to make a friend. People don’t always know what to do or say. Try not to hold that against them; you never know what’s in their heart. Don’t be afraid to be different. Stand your ground. During bad times, remember that nothing lasts forever. Accept people for who they are, not for who you want them to be.