Mrs M: The art of creating a library

There are moments in every marriage that feel like quiet victories. My latest came one rainy Sunday morning, about six months ago, when Mr M, half-buried beneath a newspaper, muttered the immortal words: ‘Well, if you really want to, you should build a library.’ He spoke in a tone that suggested he hoped I might forget, lose interest or suddenly remember quite how much dust books gather.

I sprang from the sofa and retrieved my folder of library inspiration clippings, which had been quietly accumulating for the better part of a decade. I know it would be far more modern to have an online board, but I adore cutting out beautiful pictures. It feels much more meaningful somehow.

Now, to be clear, I was not imagining a vast, oak-panelled room with secret passages and a resident ghost – although all that does sound rather marvellous. No, this was to be a modestly sized, exquisitely formed reading room, carved from what Mr M referred to as the second boot room, by which he meant the small room where broken tennis rackets, tangled cables and anything with a plug go to die.

Paint was the first decision. For the walls, I settled on Duster by Farrow & Ball, a soft, chalky shade that reminds me of old paper. The shelves and woodwork would be Preference Red, also by Farrow & Ball, which I think looks rather chic. Mr M, however, is not a fan.

The imposing shade, he says, ‘gives the impression the books are wearing an enormous velvet smoking jacket’. He is wrong. The effect is utterly cocooning. Furthermore, the moment one enters the room it is impossible not to feel immediately more intelligent, which, frankly, we all need some days.

I am totally in love with library ladders, and I wanted one that felt solid and looked beautiful. Enter Giles, a local craftsman I have known since he was at nursery school. He was always rather brilliant at art and crafts, so I knew he would understand the sacred geometry of a rolling ladder. He sourced a splendid antique, then customised it so that it glides along the bookcases with a soft whoosh that makes me feel like a minor character in a historical drama. Mr M has remarked that this is somewhat apt as ‘drama seems to follow you wherever you go’.

One must sit to read, of course, but also do so in utter comfort. Our library includes a deep window seat, piled with squishy cushions, and an armchair of indeterminate vintage, reupholstered in a Robert Kime fabric so fiendishly expensive I had to whisper the price when Mr M asked. He made a strangled noise and went to lie down. But I love it and see the armchair as a family heirloom.

Now we come to the heart of the matter. A library, rather like a handbag, reveals itself most fully in its contents. I have filled ours with the books that I truly love, as well as some Mr M cherishes. And, yes, I admit these include a few that I too felt one must have.

The shelves are home to The Diary of a Provincial Lady (naturally), the complete works of Jilly Cooper (people can be hugely snobbish about her, but I believe she is a national treasure and writes like a dream). I added everything from Jane Austen because she is rather wonderful with people.

I also insisted on all the Brontës, because one needs a little brooding windswept intensity between cups of tea. A long marriage is a wonderful thing and I am truly happy, but sometimes I get a little wistful for the will-he-won’t-he moments of my younger years.

There is I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, The Go-Between by LP Hartley, and the full works of PG Wodehouse, whose prose Mr M describes as the literary equivalent of a cheeky little claret.

In the cookery section, we have Nigella Lawson’s How to Eat, a book I consider as much a good read as it is a cookery manual. It sits on a shelf alongside Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management and Mary Berry’s original AGA book, which is so splattered with the spills of time that it stands up on its own.

The pictures are gloriously retro and some of the recipes so unlike today’s that it feels like a history text book and yet it is still perfectly brilliant and usable even now. For interiors inspiration, I have English Country House Style by Milo and Katy Campbell, An English Vision by Ben Pentreath, and, of course, all the Farrow & Ball books, stacked with great importance beneath a tiny brass lamp.

Then there are the comfort books. Wintering by Katherine May and The Salt Path by Raynor Winn are both utterly marvellous, particularly if one is experiencing a little life turbulence. I find they are best enjoyed with hot buttered toast. I have always been rather a fan of Roxie Nafousi and her work on manifesting, something Mr M calls poppycock, but is actually based in science. I did remind him of the fact that I have just manifested a library, but he did not seem amused.

Mr M is not a great reader, although he has contributed a small collection of darker reading: Dracula, 1984, and the full canon of John le Carré. I allow them space on one of the lower shelves, where they lurk gloomily, rather like teenagers at a wedding.

Since its completion, the library has become my sanctuary. It is where I go when the news is unbearable, a sauce has curdled, or the dog has rolled in something unspeakable. I have noticed Mr M slipping in more often these days. He claims he’s just ‘checking the radiator’, but I have seen him leafing through Wodehouse with a small smile. I do not say a word. Let him believe the room appeared by magic. That is, after all, the mark of good design.

Literary society: Building and filling the perfect library

Mrs M shares her favourite new discoveries for anyone dreaming of creating the perfect library - from beautiful books to expert advice on joinery and design.

Library of dreams

When I was planning my library, I went to the rather marvellous Simon Taylor of Simon Taylor Furniture for advice. He believes a well-designed library should ‘spark curiosity’ and offer a space that is ‘serene and invites quiet reflection’.

It should also add lasting value to one’s home, which Mr M appreciated. Simon also rightly pointed out that for any library project, the bespoke joinery should maximise the space in the room while adding character to a book collection. Simon Taylor Furniture uses premium hardwoods, hand-painted finishes, custom-made library ladders and fine detailing to achieve beautiful rooms that last.

Homes for tomes

In this beautifully illustrated guide, Books Do Furnish a Room, self-confessed bibliophile Leslie Geddes-Brown offers inspirational solutions and practical tips on how to make the most of books in every room and nook of the house.

All the key aspects are considered – from a working library that is a paragon of order and logic to the cosy informality of a den with books stacked in piles on the floor; from the dramatic impact of floor-to-ceiling shelves to the inviting ease of baskets of books by a fireside; and from discreet shelves that blend into the background to a designer bookcase that becomes the focal point of a room.

An array of photographs shows how books can transform any room into an alluring and magical place. Books Do Furnish a Room is published by Merrell and is currently available on Amazon.

Anglican angles

Mr M insisted I add one of his favourite books to the library: The English Cathedral. He firmly believes that the most magnificent buildings of England are its Anglican cathedrals, so this breathtaking book – in which award-winning Magnum photographer Peter Marlow has captured the nave of each of England’s 42 Anglican cathedrals – is something he always tells people about.

The pictures are taken in natural light at dawn, usually looking towards the east window, so the images bring into sharp relief the full splendour of the architecture. Marlow’s spellbinding photographs are accompanied by his commentary on the project, including sketches, preparatory shots and technical notes, and it allows Mr M to escape from the modern world. The English Cathedral is published by Merrell and is currently available on Amazon.