Can I Buy You a Book?
Earlier today, Instagram’s algorithm—which knows me all too well (and which, I suspect, might even know I haven’t written a Substack article in a while)—suggested a video.
In it, a witty Scottish man with a delightful accent says:
“You shouldn’t be finding a girl in a club—you should meet her in a bookshop or a library. And instead of asking her if you can buy her a drink, ask if you can buy her a book! She’ll appreciate that so much. You know how much books cost.”
I found the idea absolutely spot-on.
It resonated with me—because personally, I don’t like the taste of alcohol. So rather than a glass of Chardonnay, I’d much rather someone offer me a paperback.
Likewise, instead of the usual “What do you do for a living?”, I’d find it infinitely more charming to be asked “What are you reading at the moment?”—without the question feeling intimidating.
For instance, I recently watched a documentary that captivated me, and I immediately felt the urge to dive deeper by reading a book written by the person it featured. Just this weekend, after watching the documentary about Jérôme Kerviel, I wanted to immerse myself in his words. The story struck me as fascinating, romanesque, and full of complex, layered stakes.
Books—or even articles—become opportunities to talk about what moved you, what caught your attention. To reveal yourself through the way you tell, summarize, ignite curiosity. A kind of storytelling intimacy.
So, tell me: what book would you offer me?
Every year, I teach classes in prépa HEC (preparatory programs for France’s top business schools), where I coach students for their oral exams. One of the questions I love to ask is: “What book would you give me as a gift?”
Sometimes they dodge. Sometimes they nail it.
You can always tell who’s bluffing—and who has wit, attention, depth, personality.
Once, a student hit the bullseye when he said he’d offer me «Anna Karenina ».
Blind Book Date
A friend of mine was recently lamenting the misery of blind dates on dating apps. And I thought—why not bring a book to a blind date?
I’d find that absolutely charming. Sure, it might get expensive if you’re dating a lot—but hey, at least you’re left with something lasting at the end of the night.
The Book Boyfriend
I recently stumbled upon the concept of the “book boyfriend” . And instantly, I thought of Hugh Grant in Notting Hill. To me, he remains one of the most irresistibly charming men on Earth. Sweet, sensitive, articulate, well-read… the perfect boyfriend by the book. And if he comes with a library and a blue front door? Even better.
Books I Love to Gift (Especially When I Don’t Know the Person Well)
Whenever I browse second-hand bookstores or flea markets, I tend to pick up multiple copies of Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. It always lands with meaning—it touches the heart.
An anthology of French poetry is another lovely gesture.
Or a book by Deleuze or Bergson found at a flea market. I saw a video recently that said: To age well, read a page of a complex author every day. Even a single paragraph is enough. It keeps your mind alive and alert.
The Scotsman Was Right
In these uncertain economic times, spending €20 or €25 on a book you’re not sure you’ll love can feel like a big ask.
But at the same time, we have to keep investing in new voices—writers who have spent years crafting their work and and had the courage to unveil it.
So when you do make the effort to buy a book from a local bookstore—and actually read it—instead of letting it collect dust on a shelf, why not pass it on?
Gift it. Slip a ginkgo leaf or a pressed flower between the pages. Wrap it in newspaper. Let it circulate.
It’s a gift everyone can enjoy.
Wishing you a beautiful Sunday!
Here’s the link to the Scottish man who inspired this little note: