Let's talk about Literary Salons

Sylvia Beach and James Joyce

I went through a phase where I read just about anything I could find set in 1920s Paris. The Sun Also Rises, of course, and A Moveable Feast and Tender is the Night.…  

But if I’m honest (and what’s the point otherwise?), I preferred the more recent novels written from the woman’s perspective. Some of my favourites: 

• Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald by Therese Anne Fowler

• Loving Frank by Nancy Horan

• The Paris Wife by Paula McClain

In any case: Literary Salons. Like a party, but more interesting. Where writers, artists and thinkers engage in stimulating conversation, not small talk. 

A replica of Gertrude Stein’s apartment. Courtesy of Salon de Fleurus and Messy Nessy.

Check out this retrospective of artists living in 1920s Paris.

Gertrude Stein was, by all accounts, the hostess with the mostest and her guests came bearing gifts. Decades later, her apartment was dubbed “the first museum of modern art” as it was filled with Picasso’s, Cezanne’s and the like. 

I’m sure I have an overly romantic notion of those salons. Hemingway, in particular, must have been an insufferable blowhard. But still, I love the concept of gathering for the express purpose of discussing books, or art, or something. Really, anything besides the weather and school applications.

I don’t have the chutzpah to host a literary salon (yet!), but I’m working up the courage while reading this book: The Art of the Gathering by Priya Parker.