My Dream Reading Room
“Reading is an adventure and a book is a magic carpet, but where we read can often set the stage for how comfortably we fly.” ~Lydia Michaels
Many of my readers know I have an almost carnal obsession with bookshelves and reading nooks. What book lover doesn’t? I love books, the scent of the pages, the weight in my hands, and the beauty of a collection on display. When I see a beautiful library I stop and admire it like a work of priceless art, because paper and ink are my preferred media and they should be displayed as the masterpieces they often are.
While my home tends to be simplistic in favor of comfort and function, I am a lover of old houses, especially ones that have their own stories to tell. I was raised in such a home—a stunning 1752 farmhouse tucked away in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. So it’s no surprise that when I was asked to imagine my ideal reading room my mind immediately went there.
Most people love their childhood house because no other place will ever hold more nostalgia. My love for my childhood home is so pervasive and unfading, to me the house is much more than a beautiful structure. It’s a piece of time, a holder of secrets, echoes of memories, laughter, love, and even tears. It isn’t simply a pretty house, it is and will always be the place I think of first when I hear the word home.
Coined “big house” on social media, those of you who read my McCullough Mountain series might recognize the term from those books, which were greatly infused with sentimental feelings I drew from my big house in Bucks County. Readers of McCullough Mountain often tell me they want to live in the “big house” because there’s something magical about the way it’s described, a sort of emotion evoked that creates a yearning for home and a sense of familiarity. Though the two houses are different by design, the long wooden dinner table, the tongue and groove flooring, the gathering places tucked within, those are all things inspired by my childhood home. It is simply a house like no other.
Once a part of Bloomsdale Farm, owned by Landreth Seed Company, still in existence today, the house was built to withstand the test of time. I often say it’s like Tara, the fictitious plantation from Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind—and like Tara, the “big house” has a story of its own.
After the Revolutionary War, POW Alexander Graydon retired at the Big House to write his memoirs, staring out the same windows I’ve looked from, countless times. In 1989, Colonial Homes did a feature on the house, capturing a bit of the beauty visitors see at first glance. Generations have lived and died in that home, babies were born there, families were raised, and memories continue to be made.
Over the years, additions have been added, but the antiquated charm remains. Deep-set windows flood the home with natural light despite the thick, stone façade. Gaping fireplaces warm the house on drafty days. Antique furniture and art give guests the sensation they’re literally passing through time when they visit.
Somewhat lost in the grandiose renovations is a small sitting room at the far end of the house. It has a charming fireplace as its centerfold, directly across from the wide-open entryway. A narrow, floor to ceiling window facing the backyard is one of four windows in the room, spilling natural light into every corner during the day. With its original hardwood floors, colonial moldings, and marble hearth (cracked from the time my father thought he could burn our dried out Christmas tree), this room, with its quietly removed location, was destined to be a library.
I picture this room a warm and welcoming hideaway from the chaos of daily life, a place where a fire is always burning and stained glass lamps accent each surface. A cozy Persian carpet would rest on the floor, plush with intricate designs, a welcoming escape for little ones to quietly read or a lazy dog to rest and warm my feet.
Facing the fireplace would be two button back wing chairs, draped in soft, faded quilts. Arhaus has a unique selection of winged chairs and other living room pieces that remind me of this style*. Ottomans would be a must for those enthralling stories that require a good deal of comfort to survive. A tufted chaise, curved like a traditional fainting couch would rest invitingly in the corner for readers to stretch out and relax with the books that threaten to make a reader swoon.
Because I’m also a writer, there should be a writing desk tucked in the corner, something timelessly beautiful and one of a kind. I imagine an early 20th century Louis XV with floral inlay, gilded accents, and clawed feet. One ornate accent table, round with a butter smooth leather top, would display a first edition of the memoirs of Alexander Graydon to pay homage to the creative minds that once created there. The fireplace mantle would display first editions of my favorite—what I consider—classics such as J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan [originally titled Peter and Wendy c. 1911] and Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. But let us not forget the walls.
As a child, one of my favorite movies was the 1971 film, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. In this movie, there’s a song, The Candy Man Can, where the children rush into the local candy shop and are treated to a theatrical performance by the Candy Man. While I love chocolate, I love the setting of this song even more. The candy shop is set up like an old-fashioned apothecary with deep, cherry stained shelves, slightly worn by time. The moldings are notched with wooden sconces and—my favorite part—there is a ladder that rolls from one side of the room to the other, the track curving along the perimeter of every shelf. This is how books should be displayed and true bibliophiles would rush in like children seeking the last golden ticket.
Eye catching treasures would be hidden throughout the room as well. I collect antique typewriters, and the windowsills in this room are just wide enough to display them properly. Tiny inkwells would sit on the lip of every paned window, reflecting sunlight. But the beauty of this room is that there are no televisions, no clocks, and no boundaries. It is a time machine, a dream maker, a place where magic beans can be found and hearts are at the mercy of the greatest heroes ever written.
It’s hard to imagine such a perfect place could ever exist. We see these types of fantasy rooms on Pinterest and television, but never imagine actually having them our homes. Perhaps one day I will possess such a room, a place where I can travel through time and forget the worries of ordinary days. Wouldn’t that be lovely? I think any true book lover can empathize with such a dream.
I’d love to hear what your fantasy reading room looks like. Do you want the library Beast bestowed on Belle? Or perhaps you want something bigger like the archives Samwell discovered in the Citadel on Game of Thrones. Or maybe you only want a nook, a secret corner full of pillows near a window where you can steal away on a rainy day.
Tell me your perfect reading room and perhaps one day the fairytale of owning such a room will come true!
