The Flâneur

flâneur, euse - stroller (péj) idler, loafer 

The Flâneur; a stroll through the paradoxes of Paris by Edmund White is a book that Matt at A Guy's Moleskine Notebook reviewed in detail exactly a month ago and that I simply had to snap up in preparation for Paris in July, if only for the tantalizing title. I remember a French friend jokingly referring to the bf as a flâneur whilst we were living over there and, after hearing the word bounded around a few times afterwards, I decided to do a bit of digging into the meaning of the term and fell in love with the concept; of an aimlessly wandering, intensely curious, intellectual and stylish soul, a quintessential figure of any Parisian street scene.

Pleased as punch I was when this little gem landed on my doorstep. A handy, pocket-size guide that actually has no writing on the front, just a beautifully mysterious picture of the Tuileries garden in the snow, its characteristic chairs the only hint to the insider of where exactly in Paris this may be. This was a departure from my usual, almost purely fictional reads, and a joy to settle down with for this very reason. Edmund White is a veteran of wandering the streets of this wonderful city and his easy familiarity really reveals itself in the fascinating, almost random snippets he gives us from each arrondisement, yet random is indeed the order of the day for any genuine flâneur. 

This was indeed a very personal account of the streets of this fair city, and I enjoyed it all the more for this...it was nice not to have the feeling of reading fact after fact as you might do with a more conventional guidebook. There are some great portraits of artists from the nineteenth and early twentieth century (including a particularly vivid one of Colette which I relished after reading some of her work recently) and a clear focus on the life of more marginalised groups in France (e.g. Jewish, gay, black people, etc) which was just fascinating. One or two sections were very entertaining but, I have to say, a little too specific to be going on for 10+ pages - i.e. I can't really see myself getting 'on' the gay cruising scene when I next visit Paris quite as much as Edmund White may like to do, so I may be passing on some of his hints/tips onto my gay friends. Tee hee.

That said, all in all, jolly interesting, great guide. If you know Paris well then I'm sure you'll find this interesting, if not, read it while you're there and it will mean so much more...

Être et avoir

To do his bit for Paris in July the bf (although he is reading a frightfully 'English' book at the moment - see 'Seed's reads' below) is trying to brush up and learn a little more of the langue d'amour. I therefore thought it the ideal moment to reacquaint ourselves with Jojo and the gang in the glorious French film/'documentary' Être et avoir (to be and to have). This film follows the daily lives of a group of children aged 4-12 and their beloved teacher Monsieur Lopez over an ordinary school year in rural France. As the director Nicholas Philibert explains in the interview included on the DVD, his interest before beginning this project lay in exploring the seemingly banal, utterly ordinary aspects of daily life and revealing the absolute beauty in those very things.

This film is shot beautifully and we are privileged enough to witness some of the most hilarious (particularly with the younger children) touching and significant moments in the children's development, led by a man who, being both a loving yet firm pedagogue to the children, really does credit to an all-to-often underrated profession.

Have you ever seen anything cuter?!

The only little dampener was, whilst reading up on the extraordinary and unexpected success of this little film (particularly at the Cannes Film Festival back in 2002) the discovery that, following the release of the film and despite making countless positive comments in the press, M. Lopez decided to take legal action against the film's producers, claiming that the aggressive marketing (and subsequent success of the documentary) was never discussed before filming and something that had an extremely negative affect on some of the children. Although I can see how elements of this story could be true, particularly the children's experience of the entire process, I have to say that I still feel rather skeptical about and disappointed in this seemingly 'humble' teacher. What were his motives, you may ask, for fighting for compensation?.. *Sigh* Perhaps I am far too cynical...

13 rue Thérèse

Over the past few months I've noticed that some of my very favourite bloggers seem to lament having to write negative reviews when they have the misfortune to read something they haven't really enjoyed. I never really understood the dilemma and used to simply think 'aw, what sweet people they just don't want to cause offense' and really didn't see that I would have any problems when my time eventually came to criticise...

Oh how wrong I was.... I was really, really looking forward to reading this book and was, I'm sad to say, sorely disappointed. It does make me cringe to type something like that about a current writer's work as the mere fact that someone has put thought and time into writing a novel in the first place is something I have a great deal of admiration and respect for. That said, I will be as honest as I can bear to be here...

This initially sounded like such a good idea for a novel. As a young girl, Shapiro herself lived at 13 rue Thérèse; a quite little street off the rue de Richelieu in Paris that I know and love to stroll down myself. First big tick in the Lucy listofthingsthatIliketoread box. Whilst living there an elderly neighbour; Mme Louise Brunet, passed away, leaving no relatives but plenty of opportunists behind to pick up her personal effects, including a small box of keepsakes that Shapiro's mother thoughtfully salvaged from the clear-out. This book lays out the contents of that box and the remains of a life that was no doubt, judging by the love letters, photographs and others tokens left behind, full of excitement and intrigue....and here is where we take up our story. Examining the artifacts one by one our author makes a valiant attempt to fill in the gaps, sometimes realistically and sometimes with wild leaps of the imagination, creating a completely, well, unbelievable (not in a positive way) character who quite often sounded more like I do than I imagine your average 1920s Parisian housewife would have done.

Ahem. In order to add an extra level to the life she has conjured up for this woman, Shapiro creates a contemporary character; American academic Trevor (Trevor???!! A fine name but perhaps more honest Yorkshire farmer than dashing historian) who, upon finding the box in his desk drawer, embarks on a voyage of discovery where we are, I have to admit, treated to the occasional spine chilling moment where the barrier between the past and present seems to disappear entirely. This box has been left by Josianne, a secretary at the University, who, like our author, has made this discovery but, unlike Shapiro, seems to want to use it as a way to get to know Trevor more intimately. But don't get too excited, because we won't get to know these modern characters any better than this. Yawn.

1920s Paris makes for an exciting setting. Living between two World Wars, Louise's life is far from your stereotypical flapper girl as she paces up and down her apartment, grieving for the people she has lost, the children she feels she will never have and lusting for the man downstairs. (Another dashing academic called Xavier - a much sexier name, don't you think?) Although I found the dialogue/inner monologues, etc far too modern to be convincing, I did find certain little gems in this book that brought a smile to my face, such as the Louise's ways of relieving her chronic boredom - e.g. inventing luder and cruder tales to tell her Priest to see how far she can push him when she goes to confession every week. I also love a good mystery and used to work as an archivist, therefore the fact that she included copies of everything she finds in the box helped to enliven the story a little.

But, and this is a BIG but...I found the writing to be a little self-indulgent and pretty darn cheesy at times. Perhaps I'm far too cynical and English for this kind of thing but one to many star/heart/flesh motifs can make a girl want to gag. I'm wondering whether the style of this book could have been a little more palatable had it been written in French, a language that can often make the corniest of catchphrases sound like pure magic. Perhaps. But this book isn't written in French and I didn't like it. Sorry Elena Shapiro. I'm sure many people love your work but I'm far too much of a miserable git to appreciate it. 

NB. This might, again, be reading too much into things, but I was slightly perturbed that this anonymous, but very real woman, whose picture appears in this book, has a story that paints her in basically any light the writer wants. This light includes some rather questionable storylines and I felt a little uncomfortable with the idea that this was all being reflected onto a real-life individual who has no-one left alive to speak for her. If she is looking down from her cloud right now, what could she possibly be thinking I wonder?  

The Cat

As promised, today I will be kicking off our Paris in July with the second, and far superior (in my opinion), half of Gigi and the Cat. Alain is a young man about to embark out into married life with the sexy yet rather vacuous Camille. However, to do so he must leave behind the family home and, much more disturbingly for him, the company of his beloved chartreuse cat, Saha. (I think I'm on a cat themed-roll at the moment, don't you?)

Moving into a small Parisian apartment to enjoy his newly married life, the separation of man and pet soon becomes unbearable for both of them and Saha is swiftly moved in to sun herself on their balcony and curl up on the laundry basket. Alain is a man struggling to move on with his life, struggling to grow up in many ways and the unendearing and rather shallow personality of his new wife certainly does not prove strong enough to break the bond between her new man and the one creature who truly does understand him. Some may link the breakdown of this relationship directly to the presence of this bewitching animal. However, Alain is a restless character from the start, never throwing himself with complete abandon into the arms of his lover; seeming most comfortable in his childhood bedroom, playing in his mother's garden in pyjamas that are far too small for him.

'"My little puma! Beloved cat! Creature of the tree-tops! How will you live if we're seperated?"...She listened to him, watching him with a tender, absent expression. But when the friendly voice began to tremble, she looked away.'

p. 77

I don't blame Alain for his apathy towards his new life, for his desire to hang on to the past and disinterest in uninteresting people. I, like him, would much rather spend my time with a cat. Like Paul Gallico, Colette describes Saha with great eloquence and subtlety, betraying an implicit knowledge and understanding of these animals.

Unlike Gigi, this story is the perfect length, it is pretty and profound and I loved it. I'd also highly recommend Chéri and The last of Chérie, which were my first Colette books and carry fond memories of reclining in the Parc Monceau with a slab of cheese, baguette and a bottle of red wine...aaah bliss.

À toute!

Gigi

It is Paris in July EVE!! And to celebrate this exciting event I will be talking about the first half of Gigi and the Cat by the wonderful Collette, a book I erroneously thought was all one story, imagining a kind of Holly Golightly-esque frenchy figure, living in some Parisian garret with her pet cat.

Well, I was completely wrong! This book is in fact two short stories, and it turned out that Gigi wasn't half as mind-blowing as I expected and that The Cat, on the other hand, was utterly captivating - I will say more about that when I officially kick off Paris in July tomorrow evening.

These short stories should be dealt with separately purely because they are just completely different animals *pardon the pun*, both in style and in substance. Gilberte, or Gigi, as she is affectionately known by her loved ones, lives in a small apartment with her Grandmother and glamorous yet somewhat distant Mother Andrée, who earns her living performing in the theatre as an opera singer. However, I really don't feel this trio of women living in a such an unconventional set-up in early twentieth century Paris were exploited as fully as they could have been. Colette's writing is always so beautiful and evocative both in the original French and in translation and, herein lies one of my problems with short stories, there could have have been so much more to tell here! The blurb on the back promises the story of a young woman who is in the process of being groomed to become a courtesan; to harness her powerful sexuality and discover the finer things in life. Her glamorous Aunt 'Alicia' is an amazing character and, yet again, I needed MORE from her. I could have sat down beside Gigi for hours on end to be taught how to use my knife and fork correctly and how to apply my lipstick neatly. Not enough happens and I wonder (although I haven't seen any of the adaptations of this tale for cinema, theatre etc) whether the creators of these alternative versions recognised the potential and were as desperate to develop it as I was.

This is a very stylish story. Utterly delicious and I want more please.

NB:  I've just realised that I mentioned a link to Beyoncé's performance at Glastonbury in my last post. I now realise how silly this is as I'm sure you're all capable of typing the words into Youtube yourselves, however...since I mentioned it...

Jennie

Wow...well... I was fully prepared to write a review on the lovely little book by Paul Gallico I recently finished; a very innocent story about a little boy who, after a terrible accident, finds himself transformed into a great white cat. However, I am completely distracted by Beyoncé's NOT so innocent gyrating at Glastonbury. LIVE. Ladies and gents, this is history in the making because she is the first woman in history to headline Glasto. Bravo to her! **I'll include a video once they're up on Youtube because it is a truly awesome performance**

So....on a slightly gentler note..I adore Paul Gallico. I had Jennie sitting on my shelf for years when I was a teenager and never got round to it. I then, in my twenties, read Flowers for Mrs Harris, which is just the most wonderful tale of a simple char lady who saves up and travels to Paris to buy herself a Dior dress after she sees one hanging in her employer's wardrobe. Heart-warming really does seem to be the order of the day for Gallico. This is an inventive tale from someone who clearly has an intimate knowledge of these wonderful, magical creatures, whose fierce independence and love of kindly human beings has certainly made me some special friends throughout my life.

Peter, a privileged but essentially very lonely little boy living in a leafy suburb of London, adores cats but isn't allowed to have one of his very own. One day, rushing across the road to stroke a cute little kitten, he is struck by a car and suddenly finds himself lying on a hospital bed, looking down at his brand new fluffy white paws. Following a terrifying dash through London in his confusion he meets Jennie, an enigmatic little cat who, after hearing his story, proceeds to teach him how to survive in the cat world.

They really do have a royal little adventure together, sometimes comforting and familiar, sometimes uncertain and uncomfortable. This is a perfect read for anyone of any age and to be introduced to your youngsters immediately, especially if you are a family with an affinity with cats. He hits the nail right on the head and this book made me want to both laugh and cry in equal measure. I had strong feelings about the end, but won't share them with you today because this is a book not to be spoiled by some loose-tongued blogger.

Without further ado, a bit of advice for all you catlets out there, in the words of Jennie herself:

'When in doubt - wash!'

Béatrice Dalle and a Bloodthirsty Butcher

Whilst I collect my thoughts on my latest, heartwarming read Jennie by Paul Gallico, here's a little snippet of some of the cult films I'll be focusing on for our Paris in July; 37°2 le matin (Betty Blue) and Delicatessen:

I can't wait to revisit these films!