Lunching at the Library

Today I had lunch at Madison & Vine, the charming restaurant that forms the corner of 41st Street & Madison Ave. and shares building space with the Library Hotel.  My dining companions were Stacey Harwood, who is the managing editor of "The Best American Poetry," Nancy Franson of TweetSpeak Poetry/Every Day Poems, and Adele Gutman Milne and Ivana Bolf of the Library Hotel.  The purpose of our lunch was to discuss ideas for the Library Hotel's upcoming Haiku Challenge, which will be held in April in honor of National Poetry Month.  Here is a general outline of how to write haiku from last year's competition:

A haiku written in English is usually composed of three lines. The first line has 5 syllables, the second line has 7 syllables, and the third line has 5 syllables. A traditional Japanese haiku usually has some reference to nature & man's place in nature. There is a kigo, or "season word" that gives the reader a sense of what time of year it is in the poem. Sometimes there is contrast between two images or ideas, and in the Japanese form, there is a kiregi, or "cutting-word" that separates the two. When composing a haiku in English, one can separate two juxtaposed images with punctuation. A haiku conveys the poet's message in a few simple, carefully chosen words. It is the most economical of all poetry forms - a perfect fit for the Tweet Generation!

The composer of the winning entry will be awarded a prize:  Last year's prize was a two night stay at the Library Hotel.  Having spent a night there myself last month, I can say with authority that if you are a book person, this hotel is one of the world's sweet spots. It is a boutique hotel themed on the Dewey Decimal System (remember when the library had card catalogs in those little wooden drawers, and the books had pockets inside the rear board with the Due Date cards in them?)  Each room is named after a category in the Dewey Decimal System, and stocked accordingly with books.  I was in the Mystery Room, a luxurious corner aerie from which I could look straight west to the Main Branch of the New York Public Library.

They say that God is in the details.  If this is so, there is a touch of the divine everywhere around when you stay at The Library.  The books are well-chosen; the sheets are of the finest, softest, snowiest cotton; there is an embroidered bolster on the bed informing you that Book Lovers Never Go to Bed Alone.  Forgot to bring your bathrobe?  There are two of them hanging in the closet, the same immaculate white as the sheets, but woven of a thick, velvety terrycloth.  Slippers?  Under the vanity in the magnificently appointed
bathroom.  I had an unholy desire to swipe the "Do Not Disturb" sign off the doorknob, for it says:

Shhh! Be Quiet and Let Me Read!

and I could really use one of those around my house.  But I was too disarmed by the little chocolates wrapped in gold paper that bore such literary mottoes as:

If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need - Cicero

and

When I step into a library, I cannot understand why I ever step out of it - Sevigne

to indulge in such thoughts for more than a moment.  It wouldn't be right to repay such kindness with sign pilferage...although I really wish the hotel would open up a gift shop, and then I could buy one.

And this brings me to the other thing about this hotel - which is that everyone you meet here, from the concierge, to the person who makes up the room with such impeccable daintiness,  to the charming lady who beams at you as she helps you learn use the very fancy espresso machine in the second floor breakfast lounge that is available free to guests, and even to the other guests at the hotel, is just so nice.  Book people are just nice people.  I've always known this to be true.  People who love books love quiet.  They love peace.  They love unobtrusive luxury and a complete absence of bling.  They love to see that considerable thought, planning and skill has gone into producing the things they enjoy.

You couldn't ask for a better location, if you are a bibliophile.  The night we stayed happened to be a Friday, which is Free Admission night at the Morgan Library, a mere four blocks south at Madison and 37th. Which meant that I could revel in the exhibition of the Edgar Allan Poe manuscripts, shivering at the sight of the original of The Bells in Poe's own hand - with scorch marks around the edges of the paper that showed with mute eloquence that this treasure had once nearly perished.  An added bonus was the codices of Leonardo Da Vinci on the second floor, with his sketches for the Virgin of the Rocks.  Afterward, we walked downtown a few blocks to dine at one of the Indian restaurants that have given Murray Hill its nickname of "Curry Hill."  Of course, we had already been treated to a delightful snack by the hotel - wine, cheese, crackers, and fruit are available in the second floor lounge at five - but we'd walked it off.  Well - we'd walked most of it off.

The next morning we had breakfast in the second floor lounge.  I would have liked to have spent more time on the rooftop - there is an adorable Poetry Terrace - but let's not forget, this was in February.  So we ate indoors instead, and enjoyed more fresh fruit, eggs, and of course the superb coffee, and tried to resist the delicious pastries.  I finally caved in and asked the lady at the next table, who had thrown caution to the winds and was enthusiastically consuming an almond croissant, "Is that as good as it looks?"  She nodded vehemently and, as soon as she could speak, proclaimed it "Delicious."

Her British accent led us to ask her and her husband what had brought them to the States, and we had a very pleasant conversation as we all ate our breakfasts and spoke of this and that.  We parted with a cordial invitation on their part to look them up if we were ever in Brighton.  See what I mean?  Book people are nice people.

After checking out, we walked across 41st Street to Fifth Avenue, and I was astonished (and slightly chagrined) to learn that I have lived in New York City for 34 years and had never known that the sidewalk of 41st St. between Madison and Fifth is inlaid with bronze plaques that have quotations from various authors - that it is, in short, a Book Walk.  Who knew? (Probably everybody but the lifelong Upper West Sider.)

We finished our bookish revelry with a trip up the stairs of the NYPL, where there was (and still is) a gorgeous exhibition of children's books.  Exhibitions at the NYPL are free, and they are invariably superb.  Among other gems, I saw an original Bemelmans drawing for Madeline and the Bad Hat, all of the stuffed animals that had once been the bedtime companions of Christopher Robin Milne (including Pooh, Piglet and Tigger), P.L. Travers' parrot-headed umbrella that she'd bestowed upon her creation, Mary Poppins,  a photograph of Alice Pleasance Liddell taken by Charles Lutwidge Dodson, who, under the pen name of Lewis Carroll, had immortalized her as Alice in Wonderland, and a full-size re-creation of the Great Green Room from Goodnight, Moon, where quite a few selfies were being taken.  Had we but world enough and time, I could have gone upstairs to see the A Raisin in the Sun exhibition as well.

The children's book exhibition was so marvelous that, after today's luncheon, when inquiry revealed that Nancy Franson (Tweetspeak Poetry) had not seen it yet, we two strolled over from The Library to The Library (I hope you are following me) and I got to see it all over again.  There are definitely benefits to being a vagabond poet.