It was a Thursday morning. Guided by a tradition that had developed, unbeknownst to my Dad and I, over a few years, we were in the car driving to Portsmouth, New Hampshire. First, a visit to Ceres Bakery for breakfast and to pick up the six sticky buns that were tucked away in a box, waiting for us with our name on the box. We each had a breakfast sandwich, he had a coffee, and I sipped my tea trying to avoid being burnt by the infused water. Once our plates were empty, the bookshop was open. We waited fifteen minutes, allowing the bookseller to change the sign to ‘open,’ to set out a few shelves of books on the sidewalk, and to open the door, leaving the old screen door closed. Sheafe Street Books is just around the corner from the bakery, and if you are looking for a quiet, enjoyable morning in Portsmouth (and love books), then I would recommend a visit to both of these places. The bookshop was just as I remembered it, there were new books, some new covers on display, but the owner was still there and his cat Petunia was still there. Let out a sigh of relief, while things seem to be crumbling in certain states, this little gem of a bookshop has remained somewhat untouched.
At the top of my receipt reads “Sheafe Street Books: Centre for Pointless Knowledge,” and below is scribbled ‘Mothers – $8’ and ‘Brooklyn – $10,’ Total: 18-. Eighteen dollars for two hardcover books, the first for my Mom, and the last, for myself. This is my favourite bookshop. It has nothing to do with how many books I find or the prices that I purchase them at, but everything to do with the creaky floors, the tall ceilings, and the number of books that fit in to such a small space. It may be best to arrive early as you usually have the place to yourself, and if you’re lucky, you’ll get a greeting from Petunia, she is a smoky-grey cat with brilliant green eyes and she patrols the place as if she knows where every book is … and maybe she does!
At the top of my receipt reads “Sheafe Street Books: Centre for Pointless Knowledge,” and below is scribbled ‘Mothers – $8’ and ‘Brooklyn – $10,’ Total: 18-. Eighteen dollars for two hardcover books, the first for my Mom, and the last, for myself. This is my favourite bookshop. It has nothing to do with how many books I find or the prices that I purchase them at, but everything to do with the creaky floors, the tall ceilings, and the number of books that fit in to such a small space. It may be best to arrive early as you usually have the place to yourself, and if you’re lucky, you’ll get a greeting from Petunia, she is a smoky-grey cat with brilliant green eyes and she patrols the place as if she knows where every book is … and maybe she does!
After feeling the weight of the books I was holding in my arms, I sat in one of the chairs that is surrounded by bookcases. There was a cushion placed on the chair, as if the seat itself had been worn down and it needed something to make it comfortable again. I selected the two to my left, and as it turns out, they were brilliant choices.
I made a post on Instagram a few weeks ago after I finished reading Brooklyn and what I wrote still perfectly communicates how I feel about the book:
“I started reading Tóibín’s Brooklyn a few hours after my Dad and I left Sheafe Street Books. Today, I finished reading the novel. I could have easily read it in a few days, but I stopped myself from picking it up a number of times, just so I could look forward to reading it the following day, I wanted to make this book last, I wanted it to keep me company for a few more days.
This novel has definitely become one of my favourites, I said it while reading it, and I can confirm it today after reading the last page. Spending all those hours with the main character, Eilis, allowed me to live in her world, in her story, even if it was only for a few minutes or hours a day. By the end, she was even more flawed than I imagined, complex and imperfect, but despite this, she was closer to flesh and blood than ink on paper. I felt close to her, a sense that I understood her, but I also felt a distance, a very human and realistic distance, one which reminded me that we may never know another person entirely. We may never know them completely, as they are continuously evolving, making decisions, and taking actions that we never thought they would be capable of, and making mistakes that reassure us of their humanity.”
I remember feeling so frustrated with Eilis in the last fifty pages, thinking: “No, why are you doing this, it’s not you!” I was shocked at the fact that a girl who seemed so well-behaved, so careful and respectful, suddenly deviated from this path and acted like a flirt, a tease, behaving in such a way while knowing how the other character felt, and more specifically, how he felt about her. By the end of the novel, I was content with this Eilis, she came to me in a very realistic form, as if she had jumped from the page and dusted off the previous descriptions of herself, a pile of the narrators words on the floor around her. She aged so quickly by the end of the book, suddenly the woman that was held in bursted from her own seams and had the courage to make mistakes even when the consequences were known to her. And perhaps more remarkably, she had the courage to create her own “home,” this theme which weaves its way into the whole novel, a topic which is at once so familiar, and yet so unknown, so attractive, yet it carries its own set of fears and repercussions.
Eilis became a dear friend of mine throughout my reading of the novel, one that I will remember, a memory that I will cherish – I urge you, actually, I implore you to read this book, if you haven’t already!
Sydney K Erickson 
Leave a comment