Visit to Librarie a Soi.e

 Visit to Librarie a Soi.e 

 

I wasn’t sure what exactly to expect when visiting Librarie a Soi.e for the first time. When I walked in, I was greeted with a welcoming atmosphere and a polite “bonjour” from the girl, about my age, who was working the front desk. (I’d glance over at her a few minutes later to see her reading a book behind the checkout counter, like a true bookstore employee.) The bookstore was smaller than I expected, and it felt very quaint and accessible. I took a minute to wander the little shop, enjoying the ambiance of the wood-paneled walls, matching bookcases, and colorful decorations. 

As proclaimed by a chalkboard sign placed outside the entrance, as well as the numerous pride flags and welcoming “Merry Queermas” written on the windows, Librarie a Soi.e is a bookstore centering around female and queer voices. Throughout the store, books by women and queer folks were on display, all translated into French. I saw some familiar titles, such as Roxanne Gay’s Bad Feminist and HerStory collections, but I also saw some unfamiliar titles. 

There’s a bookstore in Detroit called Source Booksellers that I frequent when I’m in the city. It’s run by Black women and focuses on works of nonfiction written by Black authors. Source Booksellers is a similarly quaint little store, with books ranging from all topics lining the walls, and piled up on sturdy bookshelves. Much like Librarie a Soi.e, posters and images decorate the walls showcasing activists of past and present. The two shops, Librarie a Soi.e and Source Booksellers have a similar focus of on intersectional feminism, anti-racism and many other inclusive and progressive topics. Even being in Librarie a Soi.e brings me a pang of nostalgia, because I miss outings with my friends to bookstores we adore. However, it also brings me a sense of contentment and pride. It’s amazing seeing bookstores in Lyon that have similar goals of promoting feminism and inclusivity, like the bookstore in Detroit. 

Remembering both bookstores makes me think about the role that women played in many of the novels we read and the movies we watched. I often latch onto female characters, especially if the book follows a male-dominated storyline. 

In The Art of Losing, one character that kept coming up as I read the book was Delila, Ali’s oldest daughter and Hamid’s sister, the closest in age. So often in that book, I yearned to see the story through her eyes. Often Delilah’s story seems to go largely untold, with the exception of allusions to many of Delilah’s struggles. When Delilah is born, Zeniter writes, “During the night, after hours of screaming, Yema gave birth to a little girl. The child is named Delila. Her mother loves her a little less than she does Hamid. Her father accepts her.” (42) When they arrive in France, Hamid and his brothers are allowed to grow up and go out. They’re allowed to get accustomed to French society, while Delilah is made to stay at home with her mother. Zeniter continues to allusion to Delila’s female anger and rage much throughout the novel, Yema also has similar experiences, on page 205, Yema and Madame Yahi commiserate together, with Madame Yahi saying, “I even resent my husband, because if it had been up to me I would have stayed in Algeria. He was the one who wanted to leave. No one even thought to ask us what we wanted. They just drag us around with them. It’s the men who make the mistakes, but we’re the ones who have to pay.” (205) Overall, many of the women feel overlooked and are overlooked in this traumatic story, one that’s often moved forward by the actions of men. The inclusion of Naima’s storyline brings a female perspective to the conflicts and traumas, one that is much needed in the novel, and one that was, before often cast aside due to the actions of men.