In honour of BabelBabe's beautiful post here is a photo of the books that are not in my grandfather's library, but in my bedroom:
Here is its inside cover. I knew you'd like that!
I was visiting my parents in London...it was probably around the year 1999. Miss Commentbox was about 8 and Master C was about 4 years old. I fell into my mother's arms, handed the two of them over to her, and then I spent a week trying to remember who I was and what I was doing and whether anything outside the domestic world really and truly existed.
I think I came across "The Homemaker" at Daunt's Bookshop. My mother sent me there like a doctor prescribes medication: "Go to Daunt's, go there twice a day for three days and come back if you don't start feeling better."
I started to feel better.
Once I returned home to Sydney my mother sent me Persephone Books as they were published, like mail-order medicine. She and my father went to the first Persephone shop one rainy Sunday afternoon and found Nicola Beauman there trying to hang a framed picture (I think it might have been a map) above her desk. She let them into the shop even though it wasn't officially open yet, and my father helped her hang the picture.
How I wish that I could invite you over to my house and lend you a Persephone or two. But this post is the best I can do for the moment. Thanks for reminding me of those silvery beauties, and thanks for such a wonderful post.