In the old
book shop they are books that have lived, books that invite you to
browse. You'd rather have them with all their germs and dust than the
soulless tomes of uncut pages. You can judge people pretty well by their
books, and the wear and tear of them.
Open shelves are good enough for any house in these days of vacuum
cleaners. In the Bayard Thayer house I had the pleasure of furnishing a
wonderful library of superb paneled walls of mahogany of a velvety
softness, not the bright red wood of commerce. The open bookshelves were
architecturally planned, they filled shallow recesses in the wall, and
when the books were placed upon them they formed a glowing tapestry of
bindings, flush with the main wall.
I think the nicest living-room I know is the reading room of the Colony
Club. I never enjoyed making a room more, and when the Club was first
opened I was delighted to hear one woman remark to another: "Doesn't it
make you feel that it has been loved and lived in for years?"
The room is large and almost square. The walls are paneled in cream and
white, with the classic mantel and mirror treatment of the Adam period.
The large carpet rug is of one tone, a soft green blue. The bookcases
which run around the walls are of mahogany, as are the small, occasional
tables, and the large table in the center of the room.
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