First Impressions: A Novel of Old Books, Unexpected Love, and Jane Austen Read Online Free PDF Page B

to read, the words made no sense to Sophie.
    “I don’t understand,” she said.
    “It’s Latin,” replied Uncle Bertram. “Think of it as music, and just listen.”
    And so she fell asleep to the musical sound of Uncle Bertram intoning Horace, with visions of Rat and Mole and Toad dancing around her. She didn’t wonder until much later whether it had been the kind attentions of Uncle Bertram and his gentle voice or the story itself that had so delighted her. She only knew, then, that she had never been happier.
    They did not leave the flat for the rest of the weekend. The next morning Uncle Bertram finished reading
The Wind in the Willows
while Sophie had tea and toast for breakfast. After that, she explored every room and every shelf, climbing on a stepladder to reach the rows of books that towered over her eight-year-old head. Uncle Bertram’s books were not arranged by author or title or, more perplexing to little Sophie, by size or color. “You have to read a book to understand its place on the shelf,” said Uncle Bertram. And he showed her how
The Wind in the Willows
(“a book about life on the river”) sat next to
Three Men in a Boat
(“a book about a journey on the River Thames”), which sat next to
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
(“a story that was first told on the banks of the Thames”), which sat next to Freud’s
The Interpretation of Dreams
(“because
Alice
is a dream story”), and so on. Sophie longed to read every book, to understand every relationship. If other books were as exciting as
The Wind in the Willows
, she could not imagine a better way to spend her life than unlocking the puzzles of her uncle’s bookshelves. She found it mystifying that this library was so alive, while the library back at Bayfield House seemed so dead.
    “Why does Father never look at the books in his library?” asked Sophie as she and Uncle Bertram sat at the kitchen table eating tomato soup for dinner.
    “Your father has always resented that library,” said Uncle Bertram. “I think he feels like he’s its prisoner at times.”
    “Why?”
    “Well, you see, Sophie, our father died when we were young, and since your father was the older brother he inherited the estate—that’s the house you live in and all the gardens and fields around it. And that also included the books in the library.”
    “You didn’t get any books?”
    “Not exactly,” said Uncle Bertram. “You see, our father made a sort of rule before he died that none of the books or the furniture in the house could be sold or given away unless your father and I both agreed.”
    “And you wouldn’t agree to sell all those books!” said Sophie gleefully.
    “Exactly. Your father thought he needed money and the easiest way to get it would be to sell the books. And since he didn’t care for books, especially old dusty books, that didn’t make him very pleased with me.”
    “But old dusty books are the best kind.”
    “I think so, and you think so, but your father doesn’t think so.”
    “So you bought all these books yourself?” said Sophie, waving her soup spoon to indicate the entire flat.
    “Almost all,” said Bertram. “Your father and I made a deal. I agreed to let him sell some paintings and things to raise the money he needed to fix up the house, and he agreed to let me have one book from the family library to take home each year.”
    “The Christmas book!” said Sophie.
    “Exactly, the Christmas book. So every year at Christmas I pick one book to keep for my own.” He took her by the hand and led her into a small bedroom at the end of the corridor. “Do you see this shelf right here next to my bed? Those are all the books I’ve picked over the years. It is my very special shelf.”
    “It must be exciting to go into a big library and get to pick any book you want.”
    “I’m glad you think so, Sophie. Because I want you to do the same thing. I want you to pick any book in my flat to take home with you and