Dreams of Old Delhi

With everything almost finalised for India (with the first set of jabs tomorrow eek!) whilst planning the actual trip I have been having serious thoughts about holiday books and the fact that I have two very long flights to indulge in some hardcore reading. My Dad has lent me Salman Rushdie's classic Midnight's Children and I have A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry sat on the TBR. However, I am particularly excited about my next purchase; hopefully the City of Djinns by William Dalrymple, which sounds like the perfect read for our first time in this scintillating city. Djinns are figures that fascinates me; spirits that appear in many novels set in the East (including my current read) and seem to be particularly prevalent in Indian culture. This book promises a lot - part-memoir; encompassing not only Dalrymple's personal experience of the city but also an exploration of its rich history. How exciting! 

When God was a Rabbit

Do any of you have a dilemma when it comes to choosing books to take away with you?  There you have it, a few days of uninterrupted reading-bliss, no blogging, no phone, just a bit of sightseeing and a lot of eating and drinking in between. What do you plump for?  Do you do go for for a Count of Monte Cristo/Ulysses-style readathon? Or do you focus on books that you can just dip into easily but that are profound and engaging enough to have something to talk about afterwards?  Both approaches work, and the bf and I were only saying the other day that holidays (of the beachy/swimming pool kind) are often the only time you have to really immerse yourself in classics that have been propping open your doors for years.

This has been a busy year so I have been glad for the easier route this year. (But yes, I will read Anna Karenina one day...) When God was a Rabbit was the perfect choice. It is a comfy read and a charming book which, like all great books, has the great theme of love at its heart. I can't necessarily lay out the 'plot' here as, although many things happen in this book I wouldn't say that there is any solid plot or clear 'action' of any sort. This story is about the people. The love between friends and family but ultimately the love between a brother and sister; very best friends and two people who hold each others secrets, pain, worries and joys deep in their hearts and whose paths into adulthood merely lead to an even deeper and richer friendship.

Without getting too cheesy and sentimental here, as I've said in many previous reviews, one of the most important things for me when reading any story is to sympathise with the main characters and here I happily can, a million times over. Although I am the older sibling in  my family, I could identify a great deal with the close relationship between Elly and her big brother Joe in this story as I am very close to my own brother (also a Joe!). It is a relationship that is completely unique and extremely special and I feel very lucky to have it . :-) ah. 

We are plunged back into the magic of childhood, where thoughts and feelings are relatively uncomplicated and where God is, well, a rabbit! However, don't be fooled into thinking that is a simple sweet tale of bunny rabbits and children's games. There are some serious and quite shocking underlying themes/events in this book that I won't reveal but that, although traumatic, are very sensitively and appropriately dealt with and Winman manages to maintain the tone of her book whilst keeping us aware of these more serious topics. 

This slightly oblique approach leaves us to fill in the gaps and I was really glad of it. I was also happy that the shine wasn't taken off the other important topics in the book, particularly the relationships. As well as Elly and Joe we are introduced to some wonderful, incredibly eccentric British characters. Creative and sparkly Aunt Nancy reminds me of my own sparkly bohemian auntie, the delightfully gay and melodramatic Ginger and Arthur put me in mind of myself and my gay-boyfriend and finally, who could forget Jenny Penny. Elly's quirky childhood friend with unmanageble hair and distinct smell of chips whose fate surprises us all...

Ah...I feel all warm and fuzzy inside...

The Lantern

A couple of weeks ago my Mum called to enthuse about a new book she was reading. When she finally revealed that this new masterpiece she'd discovered was The Lantern by Deborah Lawrenson I was delighted.

I became aware of Deborah initially as a blogger when her smiley face first popped up among my Google friends; a hugely exciting experience when you've just started out. Having a click around and acquainting myself with her marvellous blog I was doubly excited to discover that she was a published author in her own right and, even better, writing and living in a part of the world that holds a special place in my heart; a world that plays the starring role in both in her blog and in The Lantern.

Lawrenson transports us right into her world from the word go as we follow couple Eve and Dom as they make the brave move to install themselves permanently in a beautiful, tumbledown farmhouse (Les Genévriers - Juniper trees! I even learnt a new French word) in the heart of Provence, removing themselves without much difficulty from their executive lifestyles. Provence. Tick. Love story. Tick. Now, to give this tale a splash of the extra special? How about a great big mystery and a ghost story to boot? Perfect.

Eve and Dom's first months at Les Genévriers seem oh so cosy. There was so much to connect with in this book for me; a cosy relationship where you are both more than happy to close yourselves off from the world in a happy bubble...a love of France, literature and music...a languages specialist inspired to begin writing a book of her very own... This connection I felt with the main protagonist, a woman roughly my age who craves good conversation, good wine and a good book meant that I found this an even more enjoyable portrait of Provence than the Marcel Pagnol classics.
However, this sedate existence soon begins to alter radically as Eve finds it increasingly difficult to understand the caginess of her partner towards certain aspects of his past life without her, most particularly his ex-wife Rachel, who we become more and more suspicious of as the story progresses and the mood of the tale darkens...

Wonderfully interspersed with this modern drama is the tale of Benedicte and her blind sister Marthe, young women who inhabited this very same farmhouse (and perhaps still do) in the first half of the twentieth century and whose stories will eventually collide in the most spectacular fashion with that of Eve. This change of perspective/tone every other chapter really kept things going for me and kept the story even more fresh and exciting.

It is in the striking hills, lavender fields and flora and fauna of a provençal garden where Lawrenson's singularly sumptuous and florid prose really comes into its own. I just found myself wanting to taste/bury my nose into everything she described, even the most mundane everyday objects:

'Bénédicte drifts through the rooms of the lower floors, into the dust of venerable scents:flecks of the lavender held in the corners of drawers; flakes of pinewood armoire; the soot of long-dead fires; and, from the present, the deep mossy aroma from cloud formations of damp above the rose-tiled floor; the sharp white smells of late-spring flowers outside.'

     p. 9

Anyone who is familiar with this part of the world will understand just how well such a passage evokes the nature, heat and history of the old farmhouses, cicadas and lavender of Provence. I can also think of no better writing style to tell the story of a blind young girl who harnesses her extraordinary sense of smell to forge a career as a perfumier in Paris, periodically sending her sister dried flowers and other tokens that evoke memories of childhood, love...a wealth of different things depending on the recipient. For me, it evoked childhood holidays in the South of France, spooky farmhouses, gorgeous food and the white heat of the midday sun.

This is a beautiful story with exquisitely dark undertones. Who haunts this beautiful section of countryside? Is Dom really who he first appeared to be? Lawrenson pulls you first in one direction and then the other as you attempt to unravel the mysteries of Les Genévriers for yourself. I found myself texting my Mum throughout with exclamations and ideas as to where the story could be going. She, who always always figures out the plot of any book/film/TV drama right from the very beginning, was as gripped with suspense and excitement as myself until the very last page.

Do go out and read this right now. This book is great and the rather wooden (sorry!) TV Book Club review was far too lackluster to review such a fantastic novel. Top marks!

This was a lovely ending to Paris in July and I'd just like to thank Book Bath and Thyme for Tea first of all for hosting this exciting event and to all of you bloggers out there who participated and have provided me with some top notch reviews and entertaining frenchie posts to read this month. I only wish I'd had time to post more! 

à 

l'année prochaine! 

Delicatessen

**Sigh** I am back in sunny Manchester (?) following my very relaxing and characteristically scorching stay in Sevilla. After quite a series of planes, trains, and automobiles I can finally sit back and reflect on what I've seen/read/ and...well, I was going to say learnt but what I really mean is ate/drank whilst I was there.

Although this was a distinctly un-Paris in July/French holiday I did get to meet Mérimée's Carmen...

See the bullring where the object of her affections did battle...

And drink lots of cócteles!...

Whilst relaxing I finished and loved The Lantern by Deborah Lawrenson (watch this space) and When God was a Rabbit by Sarah Winman, which I read in preparation for a little something special next week...(more to come soon!!)

Hanyway...back to the tail end of my own personal Paris in July; rather than being sensible and packing for my holiday I decided to curl up under my duvet and, much to the bf's dismay, reacquaint myself with the wonderful Delicatessen by Marc Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunet. 'Why do you want to watch such a grisly film' says he. 'No no no, you just don't understand' say I. This film is sublime. Set in post apocalyptic France we meet the completely skew-whiff and quirky tenants of an anonymous, shabby building and their charismatic landlord and local butcher, who we know is up to something from the very beginning, his chopping boards smelling distinctly of something other than your standard beef steak.

This film is both hilarious and completely dark at the same time, exploring themes such as cannibalism and suicide in such a way that I challenge any one of you not to completely crack up. Dominique Pinon (above) is so very versatile and adorable in this story and worlds away from grumpy Joseph in Amélie (although both explore the wonders of love in their own special way.) It is beautifully shot, atmospheric, creepy and quite scary towards the end. It is a film with many layers and I notice something new every single time I watch it...so please watch with me...et bonne nuit!

                                        

Sevilla Sevilla Sevilla !

Just to let you all know that I'll be taking a little break from literary relish for a week or so while I take a short break with a friend in Spain. I watched Delicatessen last night as part of Paris in July and will be reviewing both that and Deborah Lawrenson's The Lantern when I get back - it's an absolute superb book which I'll hopefully finish today on the train :-)

I will also make sure to take pics of the statue of Carmen that stands outside the bullring in Sevilla and the old tobacco factory (now the university) where she 'worked' .. Ole !!

Jean de Florette

I have been familiar with the character Jean de Florette since I was little girl, hearing about the original Marcel Pagnol novel and the extremely successful 1980s French films through my family whilst holidaying in the south of France. Consequently, this read (or at least the first half of the entire story of Les Bagnols, I still have Manon des Sources to dig into at some point in the future...) has been a long time coming...

Marcel Pagnol was born in Aubagne in the very south of France and the dramatic landscapes and earthy inhabitants of this part of the world really are the true stars of these novels.

At the beginning of the story we meet César 'le Papet' and Ugolin Soubeyran; an uncle and nephew who are central figures within the local village and who, with dreams of amounting riches for themselves, set their sights on owning a property down the valley that is ripe for cultivating, with a sizeable farmhouse and, more importantly, a spring that will allow Ugolin to grow thousands of carnations and sell them in the nearby town.

Following the untimely (and rather suspect) death of the recluse, Pique-Bouffigue, who owns the land, the Soubeyrans set to work protecting their interests and concealing the spring before relations arrive in the hills to claim their inheritance. Jean Cadoret, Pique-Bouffigue's nephew and a hunchback from out of town promptly arrives with his beautiful wife and daughter, intent on becoming a true peasant and making a home and business for himself and his family by tilling the land. Land that is now as dry as a bone. What then follows, unsurprisingly, is the painful downfall of this spirited, initially carefree man and the strong women who are there to support him; a decline that is uncomfortable both to watch (Jean is masterfully played by Gérard Depardieu in the 1986 film) and to read about.

**Apologies for those of you who don't understand any French - I can't find an appropriate clip with English subtitles but I think this trailer gets the feel of the film across quite well :-)**

I have to say, and hate to say, that I actually prefer the film in this case. Each and every character is brought to life, and indeed, rejuvenated somewhat by the brilliant performances by the likes of Depardieu and Daniel Auteuil and I really think that watching the film first and reading the book afterwards may be a more accessible way into this story, particularly if you aren't familiar with that region of the world. I have started this book twice before in the past and sadly never made it to the main part of the story until now. I suspect I simply have never been quite 'in the mood', and probably need to actually be down in France to fully immerse myself in the provençal spirit of it all. Although as a reader you are right behind Jean, trudging along those dusty tracks and cursing the peasants' relative disinterest in his plight, right up to the harrowing climax of the book...I did find it slow to get off the ground. Although I know my Mum (and probably Dad, Auntie and co) will no doubt passionately disagree with me, I did reach a stage where there one too many descriptions of planting chickpeas going on and I was desperate for something to happen.


That said, something did happen in the end and this is definitely worth picking up...just make sure you watch the film first.

Carmen

I have just realised with horror (mainly due to that sodding place called 'the office') that I have only managed four posts for Paris in July so far! What better day than Bastille Day (as you can see I actually began to write this post yesterday and still didn't manage it!) to make a mini-vow to improve my performance on the Frenchie front and review my latest read; Carmen by the brilliant Prosper Mérimée, who wrote some of the best short stories/novellas I have ever read. (La Vénus d'Ille is superbly spine-tingling). 


Now, I know that this is, essentially, a teeerrribly Spanish story. The quintessential Spanish tale of blood, love and passion. However, Mérimée was born and bred in Paris and I want to extend my personal Paris in July to include France and French writers in general.

This novella was one of the few I read cover to cover during that heady-first year of university when it popped up on one of the reading lists for my French Literature course and, out of 30+ fairly bright students, not one of us realised that this fabulous story is a book first and foremost and inspired Bizet's world-famous opera. It is a real, true classic and I think how quickly I could whip through it in the original French really betrays how perfect Mérimée's writing is; no fluff, just purely fantastic storytelling.


We begin and end this tale with the author himself, as he recounts his travels across the wild, hot plains of Andalusia and his meeting with the mysterious fugitive Don José and his lover, Carmen. The book is split into four sections, with us travelling back in time in the third section to explore the birth and death of this passionate relationship, the story that Bizet wisely chose to focus on in his opera. 


Carmen makes this story come alive. She is a sassy, smart and terribly naughty woman (naughty may be quite an understatement I suppose) who drags Don José into the outer fringes of society, partially through his decision to mix with her and her band of gitanos and partially through the trouble he lands himself in as he is driven mad by his love for this exotic, intoxicating woman. It is so so important to sympathise with the main characters of the books you are reading (something I'm failing to do with my current read, but more of that later...) and I both sympathised with poor José and wanted to be Carmen. This timeless character, who has been the inspiration for countless dramatisations of this tale weaves her spell both over her lover and over the reader. This is a wonderful portrait of this part of the world and the people who, if you ignore the Irish pubs and tacky shops of the Costa del Sol, still do inhabit it and I loved it, even more so the second time around. Top marks Mérimée.