Daily Life in the Time of Calvin.

At the Place du Molard in Geneva, used book sellers had set out their offerings around the flower-decorated fountain. Although I was meeting my former and current landlady who is the same person plus the family that are now living in my old flat for lunch, there was time to browse.

I try and read at least one French book a month. Unlike English books, which I eat, French takes me longer and the book has to be fascinating. I prefer used books, because they are cheaper, and if I am lucky someone has put notes in them. It is a type of communications between other readers and me.

The book La Vie Quotidienne à Genève au Temps de Calvin almost jumped into my hand. I am trying to develop a mystery series set both in modern times and with a subplot somewhere in history. I also want to set them in different cities. Murder in Argelès is written, but needs a rewrite. Underground Railroads, is set in Rockport, MA and is also written and making the rounds. Last month I researched Murder in Damascus while in Syria, and I have been postponing researching Murder in Geneva.

However, this 245-page book has all the background I need on what Geneva was like during Calvin’s time.

The woman said there was a newer edition out, but at 8 CHF, I was content. As I walked across the street and sat on the steps in front of yet another fountain waiting for my lunch partners, I started reading.

I learned that where I bought the book in the time of Calvin was beach front property. Lake Lehmann had come up all the way to the Place du Molard. Now it is a couple of rather large streets away. I also learned that despite the proximity of the lake, water was a problem. It had to be hauled from the lake up the hill to the Old Town.

Somewhere in the 1400s a man from Avignon had offered to build 12 fountains for 800 Ecus. The city fathers only authorized one, at the place I was sitting. I looked behind me. The fountain was definitely newer, but I still could imagine a woman in a long dress and apron walking down the hill along the cobblestones with her pitcher to get water to wash her luncheon dishes. Before I could go any further either in my imagination or the book, my landlady called to me. The sandwich shop where we were eating, was definitely of modern times.