A Little Italy in Paris

A Book Walk with Italo Calvino through the Marais

Whenever I long for an adventure and find myself nailed down to my weekly routine, I take my books out for a walk, and rediscover my city from a fresh new perspective. This August is a time for Italian dreams, and so, without any immediate plans of actual travel, I thought to myself : how can I find my own little Italy in the heart of Paris ? If there is one thing I love about reading, it’s the feeling of infinite possibilities to discover and travel, to marvel and expand my vision, all with a few written pages.

I got out of the subway at the Saint-Paul station, crossed the rue de Rivoli at its eastern end, and stepped in the magical maze that is the Marais. And right on a street that seems to have been waiting for me, Rue du Roi de Sicile, the King of Sicily street, I find myself in front of La Tour de Babel Italian Bookshop. 

La Tour de Babel: Where Italian Words Dance in Parisian Air

As soon as I stepped inside, the music of the words felt like magic. Here I was, in the middle of Paris, yet mentally transported to the land of long vowels and linguistic exuberance. The bookstore attendants were speaking to a customer, and the joyful trill of their conversation felt like the most perfect (and instant) trip to Italy. And so, I started my quest for the book that would perfect my Italian book walk in Paris. I let myself be guided by the titles as I explored cover after cover of exotic new titles, trying to test out the limits of my knowledge by randomly opening a book and figuring out if I could handle the level of vocabulary.

The bookshop itself is a treasure chest of sensations: Italian music plays gently in the background, setting the rhythm for a slow, immersive exploration. The shelves overflow with titles both in Italian and in translation—novels, poetry, children’s books, essays. The atmosphere is generous and open, much like the culture it celebrates. What delighted me especially was the small but vibrant graphic art exhibition featuring works by Morena Tamborrino, whose expansive, colourful compositions felt like pure distilled joy. Her art radiated something ineffable yet unmistakably Italian: a sense of being fully alive, of delighting in form, light, and colour.

As with all travel—whether through pages or across borders—the people are the true essence. And at La Tour de Babel, I found the warmth and charm of an Italian village. There’s something about the way people greet one another here, the smiles exchanged, the shared enthusiasm for stories. I received a handful of recommendations that surprised and enchanted me. We spoke a hybrid of French and Italian, but really, it was the shared spark in our eyes that carried the meaning.

In Search of Calvino: Finding the Perfect Literary Companion

My mission for the day was clear: to finally read my first Italo Calvino book. His biography alone suits the theme of my Italian August—born in Cuba, raised in Italy, and a long-time resident of Paris. He seemed like the literary companion I had been waiting for in this Marais expedition. I was lucky enough to find a beautiful bilingual edition of Il visconte dimezzato (The Cloven Viscount), a novella that is playful, philosophical, and strange in the best of ways. The bilingual format helps me enjoy both the original Italian and the flowing French translation side by side, making it a perfect linguistic adventure.

In this fable-like tale, Calvino tells the story of a viscount who is split in two by a cannonball during a war, and each half returns home—one cruel, one kind. Through this simple yet surreal premise, he explores what it means to be whole. Are we ever really one single self? Or are we made up of halves, contradictions, and opposing desires? The story feels particularly resonant in a city like Paris, where cultures intermingle, and every expat carries fragments of home while weaving new roots. I kept thinking about how many of us feel, in some way, like the Cloven Viscount: split between identities, languages, or past and present selves.

There’s one quote in particular from the book that stayed with me, and it became the spark for this week’s essay on Bookmarked Moments, my Substack page. If you’d like to follow along with these meditations on literature and life—one quote at a time—you can subscribe HERE.

Eataly and the Poetry of Foreign Grocery Aisles

Leaving the bookshop, I walked with a new kind of alertness. My inner compass now tuned to “Italy,” I noticed the many small signs of its presence all around me: trattorias tucked into street corners, gelaterias with striped awnings, a pastry shop offering cannoli like an offering to the gods. Paris doesn’t have a designated Little Italy, but if you know where to look—and more importantly, how to look—you can build your own.

My final stop was Eataly Paris Marais, the Italian megastore that I treat like a miniature escape to the Mediterranean. I wasn’t after anything in particular (though I almost always end up with at least some Bella di Cerignola olives), but for me, wandering foreign grocery aisles is one of the most pleasurable forms of travel. Each product is a story, each label a souvenir from a place you have or haven’t yet been.

There’s nothing quite like the Campo de’ Fiori market in Rome, but still, between reading pasta labels, admiring bottles of balsamic vinegar, and tracing regions on jars of artichoke spread, I found myself completely immersed. I left a piece of my heart with the Limoncello tablecloth by Tessitura Toscana Telerie, and found some more soaps that I’ve mentioned in the August Inspiration newsletter (so if you haven’t read it yet, what are you waiting for ?).

The Journey Continues

In the end, between the pages of Calvino, the music and laughter at La Tour de Babel, and the soft, sunlit folds of tea towels, my thirst for an Italian summer was quenched. Travel isn’t always a matter of distance. Sometimes, it’s simply a matter of taking your books for a walk, letting your imagination set the course, and noticing the beauty that’s been waiting for you all along.

The Italian reading adventure continues over on theritualofreading.com all month long, be sure to check it out and subscribe to the newsletter so you don’t miss a thing.

Until next time, enjoy your reading, and your armchair travels !

Written by Alexandra Poppy
Writer, reader & curator of The Ritual of Reading

I’m Alexandra, the voice behind The Ritual of Reading. Somewhere between a stack of novels and a half-finished pot of tea, I keep finding traces of the life I want to live—slower, richer, filled with stories. The Ritual of Reading is where I gather what I love: books that linger, places with a past, and rituals that make ordinary days feel a little more meaningful. I write from Paris, where elegant bookshops and old-fashioned cafés offer endless inspiration—and I share it here, hoping it brings a spark to your own days, too.

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