It’s every reader’s fantasy: curled up like an otter on a Chesterfield sofa in front of a fragrant fire, getting lost in Austen or Auden. The setting? A moody mahogany library lined with cases of ...
The fantasy usually goes like this. A friend of mine comes over, and we wander into my shimmering Babylonian spire of a library, with shelves of books ascending into the atmosphere. The only way to ...
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