Since 1995, April 23rd has been more than just another day on the calendar. Thanks to UNESCO, it’s the official World Book and Copyright Day—a global celebration of reading, literature, and the brilliant minds who shaped it. The date was chosen to honor two literary giants who passed away on this day: Miguel de Cervantes and William Shakespeare. The tradition began in Spain, where the day also coincides with the beloved Festival of the Rose and St. George’s Day. Read more
I recently finished Honoré de Balzac’s Memories of Two Married Wives, and I have feelings. Big ones. The kind you have after a long dinner with old girlfriends—half-inspired, half-exhausted, and slightly emotionally hungover.
This book is basically the original 19th-Century WhatsApp Group Chat conversation between two best friends—Renée and Louise—who grow up together in a convent, then head off into womanhood down dramatically different paths. Think: “What if you and your bestie made completely opposite life choices, then spent decades dissecting them via eloquent, passionate, sometimes maddeningly long letters?” Read more
I’m in the middle of a book about marriage—borrowed from a friend, like many of life’s biggest questions. Marriage has always stirred something in me. Not just curiosity, but a kind of restless wonder. Among all the existential questions that occasionally camp out in my mind, a few wear wedding rings.
I still remember a moment from my teenage years—one of those imprints that time doesn’t blur. My mother, with her unshakable realism, said to me: “Every marriage looks perfect from the outside. But once you’re inside, there’s no guarantee that your home will ever feel truly peaceful again. Arguments creep in when you least expect them—usually over children or money.” Read more
“You will not believe what a longing for you possesses me. The chief cause of this is my love and then we have not grown used to be apart. So it comes to pass that I lie awake a great part of the night, thinking of you; and that by day, when the hours return at which I was wont to visit you, my feet take me, as it is so truly said, to your chamber, but not finding you there I return, sick and sad at heart, like an excluded lover.” Read more