Literary Houses

If you like history and architecture and books, then you’ll like this blog. This blog is dedicated to literary houses, that is, houses either lived in or written in by literary giants. Not all of them, just the ones I’ve visited: Ernest Hemingway, Shakespeare, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Margaret Mitchell.    

I love looking into people’s homes and get frustrated by those who never open their blinds. I attend all of my neighbor’s open houses. I adore estate sales. And I think the best part about Zooming this year has been peeking into the living rooms of celebrities and co-workers. Even journalists have been reporting from home. Glimpsing into a person’s interior world is fascinating to me, and I guess it started early. I grew up in a small town where people didn’t lock their doors. (You can see where this is going.) As kids, my brother and I would wander into our neighbors’ houses when they weren’t home just to look around. I can still hear my mom yelling, “Michael, Paula, GET OUT of So-and-So’s House!!”

Sometimes a person’s house is surprising, but sometimes it’s exactly as you’d expect. Hemingway’s house was as I expected: masculine. I’ve actually visited 2 of Hemingway’s houses, one in Key West and one in Cuba. Both shared similarities. For example, both houses show off his love for taxidermy. Each property was generously decorated with stuffed animal heads and mounted fish. The decor revealed what we already knew: this man liked the outdoors. He liked to hunt and fish, and he liked the water. Both estates had gorgeous pools, maritime-looking things cluttered about, and a telescope pointed towards the ocean. Not surprisingly, his property in Cuba also included a baseball field. His “things” tell us that Hemingway liked to play, but just as loudly, they tell us that he was a serious writer and that he liked his alone time. Both places had a writing studio. Both were set apart from the main house, high up in the trees, and only accessible by a rickety staircase. The studios themselves were full of light, breezes, books, comfy recliners, and I imagine back in the day, bars.      

Seeing an author’s studio space, a desk, a typewriter is especially interesting. But in the case of Shakespeare’s house, it’s just too old. Shakespeare’s boyhood home is in Stratford-upon-Avon, a day trip from London in the Cotswolds. Shakespeare had ties to the house and the town throughout his entire life. In fact, he’s buried there. But what I found most interesting about this place wasn’t his house, but rather his former school. The very school he attended as a boy is still operating as a school today. It was amazing to stand in his original classroom, lined with rows of desks carved with the initials of former students. Standing in the empty classroom, I could hear kids playing outside on the playground, creating a timeless soundtrack connecting the centuries and transporting me to 1574. I’m sure it would have looked and sounded exactly the same in Shakespeare’s time. Well, except for the vandalism on the desks. I doubt the teachers in 1574 would have put up with that!      

  Another very old literary house I’ve had the privilege of visiting is Nathaniel Hawthorne’s house in Salem, Massachusetts. Salem is a short train ride from Boston. On a long Boston layover, I made the trek to see this historic town and property. The property (now a museum) is actually comprised of 2 structures: the house built by Hawthorne’s grandfather and where the author was born on July 4,1804, as well as, the second structure: The House of the Seven Gables. This house never belonged to Hawthorne, but rather inspired one of his greatest novels. I know everyone’s favorite is The Scarlet Letter, but I also love The House of The Seven Gables. The language in that book is so beautiful it should be read aloud.           

The last literary giant I’m going to write about wasn’t a giant at all. Margaret Mitchell was only 4’11. She wrote my favorite book of all time: Gone With The Wind. Her house is in Atlanta and it isn’t even a house. It’s a one-bedroom apartment. In this tiny apartment, on a tiny desk, a tiny woman wrote a gigantic book. I mean that both literally and figuratively. Gone With the Wind is over 1000 pages long. And for better or worse, it has had an enormous impact on American culture. I have visited this house twice. It captures my imagination and inspires my admiration. To see this book’s humble origin is, in itself, a humbling experience.