The Elegance of the Hedgehog

After being a very lucky girl this Christmas and receiving countless book tokens to spend wherever I please, I decided to pick up a brand new copy The Elegance of the Hedgehog in my new spiced-up local Waterstones. Mainly pulled in by the atmospheric picture of the Paris skyline and the quirky title, I felt confident that this book was for me - in hindsight I really had no idea of the philosophy lesson I was letting myself in for, albeit a very pleasant one.

The 'hedgehog' of this tale is Renée Michel; the aging concierge of 7 Rue Grenelle, an address in one of the most exclusive, 'bourgeois' areas of Paris and home to Paloma Josse; a deeply intellectual and profound young girl, so dismayed by her existence among the shallow trappings of her class that she is seriously contemplating 'escaping' from her life indefinitely.

Renée is a highly intelligent, passionate autodidact with a huge internal life. A bright, vibrant intellect who hibernates away (à la hérisson) in order to conform with the stereotypical image of the French concierge; dull, uninteresting and hooked on daytime television. She is utterly terrified of being 'found out' (a huge element of her personality that I really struggled to comprehend at the beginning of the book), a problem that is thrust out into the fore once she begins to develop exciting new relationships with those around her.

Only at the halfway point, after meeting some lovely Frenchies on the bus home from work, did I discover that Muriel Barbery and her novel are both French, and (thankyou Wikipedia) that she herself is a professor of philosophy. Finally everything falls into place! This book is so very thick with philosophical musings and introspection yet, you would think quite miraculously, still manages to tell a deceptively simple tale about a woman constrained by the social boundaries that she has quite unwittingly exacerbated for herself.  From what I know from my university studies and living over there, this masterful mélange is typically French but, for that very reason, may not be everyone's cup of tea, however lovely the story might be. Despite the excellent translation by Alison Anderson, had I known I most certainly would have read this in the original language.

I always found our own concierge (and they always seemed, quite strangely, to be Portuguese!) to be completely fascinating; keeping our narrow little apartment building running like clockwork and the mirror in the hallway shining like new and yet still remaining squirreled away in her ground floor flat. I think I saw her once in a whole year of living over there - The question is will this story really interest those without such a specific frame of reference? Well yes, I think it will.

For those of you who can embrace the philosophy for dummies, Barbery's quirky, anti-bourgeois characters cannot fail to pull at your heartstrings. As I learnt with Lively's Moon Tiger, this compassion is an essential aspect of enjoying any book, as is the uncanny ability of a good book to advertise other literary classics within its pages. In the same way that I have been persuaded to read Dickens' David Copperfield from recently reading John Irving's The Cider House Rules, dear Renée has boosted my confidence to perhaps finally tackle some of the Russian monoliths such as Anna Karenina and War and Peace. (I have also been inspired to name my first cat, like Renée, after a favourite literary character...I'm thinking 'Bilbo' could be quite cute...)

A Kindred Spirit

 In other news, there's a chap both myself and the boyfriend find so intriguing who can be regularly found ensconced in our local watering-hole reading a plethora of fascinating things. Not only this, but he seems to be able to read in any situation. Take Friday night for example - packed full, nowhere to sit, huge levels of drunken rowdiness - he leans against the wall close to the bar and pulls out? The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. I am very impressed indeed.

Moon Tiger

Moon Tiger is one of those books that I have seen on the shelves of charity shops and libraries for years, got wind of from bookish friends and just never felt compelled enough to pick up and read. However, following a compelling review by Simon at Savidge Reads, I decided the time had finally come, and what better excuse do I need to explore Manchester's temporary - but very nicely done up - City Library.

I have to admit that this has been a difficult book to reconcile myself with. Not only did the premise of reading about an elderly woman on her deathbed sound a little depressing but our main protagonist neither said nor did very much to endear me throughout the initial few chapters.

Claudia Hampton is a 76 year old woman; terminally ill and compiling her 'History of the World', a history that quickly descends into reminiscing about her life, the people within it, and the events that have shaped her. Throughout the sporadic retelling of her history, which occurs quite naturally and not necessarily chronologically as she slips in and out of consciousness, we meet significant characters and are transported through two world wars, the stark desert landscape of a besieged Egypt and an earth shattering romance to the present day to observe a strained and awkward daughter, a self-absorbed lover and a tortured, Hungarian artist visiting her bedside.

Although I struggled to get along with Claudia at first, upon reflection I get the feeling that Lively has quite deliberately created a woman who the reader isn't necessarily going to warm to right away. Why, after all, should we always been indulged like children and feel comfortable with every character we encounter? As a professional (albeit controversial) historian and war correspondent, she is a strong, opinionated, compelling character whose ramblings betray some intriguing points of view. On the other hand, I found her to be obnoxious, arrogant, self-centered, cold and superior, meaning that I spent the first few chapters wondering exactly why I should care about her life at all!

That aside, Lively did a fairly good job at crawling back some of my compassion, although her (almost) mother-like relationship with Lazlo didn't quite do it, her passionate relationship with Tom, an officer fighting out in the desert in Egypt during WWII, certainly did. In this short portion of the book we could almost be reading the internal thoughts of a completely different woman; soft, loving and refreshingly vulnerable.

It is very difficult to really adore a book when you can't completely sympathise with characters or situations (e.g. I found her relationship with her brother Gordan to be a little disturbing, you'll have to read the book to learn more!) but I do relish a challenge and I do admire strong female characters. Do persevere with this book. It is very well-written, quite compelling and does create a bit of conflict in your mind. And if you persevere for just one thing, stick it out for the end. The final chapter contains some of the most beautiful and poignant passages I have read over the past couple of years. Claudia's honest approach to both her situation and the legacy she will leave behind is both admirable and thought-provoking.

Library Corner

This weekend the boyfriend and I officially became real life, full-fledged adults; we bought our first pieces of furniture together and, yes you guessed it, the most exciting piece of all was a quirky bookcase made out of old doors (apparently) that acts as both ornament and as our saviour as our cheapo B&Q bookshelves have started to bow under the strain of Mount TBR.

All this purchasing has resulted in a major shuffle around at Relish Towers, a reshuffle that has resulted in what I am fondly calling 'Library Corner'. It may not quite be a library of Beauty and the Beast proportions but now our collection is all pretty much in one place and when I sit in my little rocking chair, well, I'm a very happy girl indeed.

In other tip top news, I have been awarded a 'Liebster Blog' award by the lovely Victoria Corby (do check out her wonderful blog here) an award that aims to promote fledgling/little known blogs that deserved more recognition. Now, I'm loath to guess how many followers/hits my favourite bloggers get as I know that this often isn't obvious to the casual reader so really I'm just sticking my very favourites down here, perhaps omitting those superstar bloggers of whose heights I'm sure we all aspire to reach one day!

1. Only Orangery - This lovely lady's blog had to hit the top of my list. Around for about as long as Literary Relish I have been absolutely astonished (and slightly envious) at just how many books she manages to get through and completely and utterly entertained by her short, snappy posts that, more often than not, express feelings very close to my own.

2. The Oliva Reader - 'Spangle' is a blogger whose posts really do brighten up the day. Clear, concise reviews (split down into sections such as 'what's good/bad about the book' etc) 'Sunday Snippets', 'Wordless Wednesdays' and 'Words of the Week' make for a relaxing, intriguing and diverse read.

3. Bundle of Books - Another great book blogger I have been lucky enough to discover over the past couple of months. A big Twitter fan (a way of networking I am increasingly becoming a fan of myself) BundleofBooks has a highly imaginative and aesthetically pleasing website and lots and lots to say; excellent taste in books and in everything good that life has to offer.

4. Deborah Lawrenson - This is a MASSIVE cheat for the above award because, as I'm sure many of you are aware, Deborah is an extremely successful/well-known author as well as being a very accomplished blogger as well. However, I can't help but count her on my favourites list. Her dreamy pictures and prose right from the heart of Provence really do brighten up the Manchester gloom.

5. Open a Book - Geetanjali first caught my eye with a post about the book markets in Delhi (a part of the world that really has captured my imagination.) Her posts are chatty and engaging and feature books (and passages from books) that seem to spring up from her personal library, whims and fancies, just like me! It's nice to find a kindred spirit out there...especially one whose last post feature Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes, now there's a classic!

A Christmas Carol

Now that we're reaching the end of a thoroughly damp and gloomy January, tonight I'm in the mood to revisit the boozy, chocolate-filled week where I, ensconced in my two (yes two!) new dressing gowns, finally settled down to read A Christmas Carol by Dickens.

Surely any reader worth his/her onions is familiar with the very essence of this wonderful ghost story, even those of you who have been living in a hole in the ground for the past 170 years and might have missed the countless theatric and filmic adaptations (yes, including the muppets) of this undeniable classic. After spending a great deal of energy banishing poor Kermit from my mind's eye, I found myself completely enthralled by Scrooge's surprisingly witty repartee and the appearance of characters and scenes that I know inside out, despite this being my very first read.

Ebenezer Scrooge is a solitary, miserly old man, so frosty towards his fellow man that;
'He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; 

and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas...

No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him.  No wind that blew was bitterer than he...'

Following a chilling visit from the spirit of his late business partner Jacob Marley (above), Scrooge is faced with the dire warning that he must change his miserly ways or else be faced with an afterlife of purgatory and suffering. He will be, whether he likes it or not, visited by the ghosts of his Christmases past, present and future who will confront him with his wrongs and (hopefully!) change Scrooge's ways for the better.

What better way to get into the festive spirit than this wonderfully moral tale, set historically in some very dark, very mean times. As well as the obviously honourable message that Dickens conveys here (with much conviction), he gives us enough frisson and, surprisingly, amusement, to keep the story flowing:

'Though he looked the phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before: he was still incredulous, and fought against his senses...

You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.  There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"'

What do you all think of A Christmas Carol? And I suppose because it's the great author's 200th birthday this year, what do we all think of Charles Dickens in general? I think it may be time for a re-read. The recent televised adaptation of Great Expectations was really quite tantalising...

The Paris Wife

My relationship with Ernest Hemingway has so far been a rather distant one. Although the fact that I have actually never read any of his books is almost as painful as my Daphne du Maurier virginity - it somehow doesn't feel quite as naughty. The boyfriend devoured his books whilst we were in Paris; where the atmosphere and the opportunity to read surrounded by the author's old haunts was the absolute perfect setting, it was a location I sadly never took advantage off to introduce myself to him.

The main problem is, and I'd be intrigued to know whether any of you feel the same way, I always see Hemingway as a bit of an author - dare I say it - for men (yikes!). I suppose this is a pretty controversial topic and probably merits a blog post of its very own. Women and men can of course read whatever kind of book they choose and I detest pigeonholing people/authors, though by the very virtue of what I'm saying here, I know I'm guilty of it myself. Surely at the end of the day, an author has a certain type of personality and an audience in mind when writing that may well mean that they largely appeal to one sex more than the other?

 Procrastinating aside, the boyfriend was the first to pick this up and (rather ironically) was very unsure at first; feeling that Mclain's style and sensitive portrayal of Hemingway's first, most beleaguered young wife Hadley Richardson was more aimed at a female audience who would perhaps connect with her voice more easily.  I can however happily confirm that despite these initial doubts he soon became hooked and was, needless to say, quite affected by it all in the end.

A few years ago I read Coco, the Novel by Patricia Soliman and surprised myself by quite enjoying the biographical-fiction genre; something I thought might be a little too trashy and vaporous for my tastes but that I found hugely entertaining, adding a bit more colour to my existing image of the legend that is Coco Chanel. That discovery considered, as well as always being intrigued by the wholesome-looking young woman who always features in photographs of Hemingway's early life, I thought The Paris Wife might also gently nudge me in the her husband's long-neglected direction.

(Elizabeth) Hadley Richardson met Ernest Hemingway in Chicago in the early 1920s through a mutual friend and were instantly attracted to one another. Deeply affected by his war-time experiences Hemingway was young, eccentric, energetic and, above all, volatile. Hadley, on the other hand, was the epitome of reliability and stability; honest, straightforward and strong, qualities that Hemingway clearly found attractive, most likely a breath of fresh air from the frivolous, frilly women who usually flitted around him.

Quickly married and with Hemingway's new ideas and imaginings for novels full to bursting point, the couple moved to Europe and smack bang into the center of 1920s Parisian artistic society. Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, you name it, everyone is here. As well as bringing back fond memories of this beautiful city and exploring an incredibly dynamic and exciting period of history, Paula Mclain has created a sensitive and astute portrayal of a young woman and her great love for an extraordinary man that I quite simply found really touching.

Although we pretty much all know how the story ends and there are few surprises in the story (...right back to your stereotypical man's man; philandering, pipe-smoking Hemingway...) despite a few frustrating moments when I was saying to myself 'just get out of there woman!' or 'slap him, slap her!', I generally sympathised deeply with Hadley right up until the end. For a short time at a pivotal point in his career this unpretentious, genuine human being was his strength, support and inspiration and I was left wondering what kind of man, indeed what kind of author Hemingway would have morphed into had he kept it all tucked up safely in his pants (!) and stayed with her.

The only doubt I've ever had in the back of my mind about reading biographical fiction is the worry that any emotions you may end up having regarding the main protagonists may end up being quite false and unfair, almost akin to reading the lies the tabloids have to say about celebrities nowadays. The Paris Wife, however, is both well-researched and well-written enough to hold none of these unsavory, sensational elements.

 Read this for a bit of romantic relief from your heavier tomes. A Moveable Feast will be the next on my list I think.

Whisky Galore!

On the 5th February 1941, the S.S Politician, a large cargo ship chugging its way to North America with its precious load of cotton, biscuits and, most importantly, 260,000 bottle of malt whisky, suddenly ran into trouble off the remote Isle of Eriskay in the outer Hebrides, becoming stuck in the sandbanks surrounding the island.

Listing to one side and flooding fast, rumour began to spread among the war-deprived islanders of the vessel's precious and potent cargo and, in truly enterprising fashion, the islanders set about to take advantage of this surprise landing on their shores and liberate the alcohol from its perilous home...

Although the local authorities were far from impressed with this turn of events, events for which a few hapless individuals were eventually punished, this charming image of craggy old islanders frantically rowing across the waves to claim their bounty is one that has certainly endured and, soon after the event itself, inspired Compton MacKenzie's 1947 novel Whisky Galore and the classic black and white film of the same name. The book was a sneaky charity shop find of Daddy Relish; the perfect present for the boyfriend; for whom the prospect of a wee dram at the end of a long hard day is becoming increasingly more attractive. What an old man.

In celebration of finally finishing the novel, we both settled down with a cheeky shnifter, turned the lights down low and watched the hilarious 1949 comedy last night, starring Basil Radford and Joan Greenwood. As well as being a thoroughly heart warming tale, particularly for those as fond of that part of the world and its people as we both are, the film really does hark back to a much simpler, more innocent way of life. We really are so over-stimulated and over-sexed nowadays it is really lovely to go back to a time when the simplest jokes and the simplest pleasures were truly the best and when a peck on the lips from your beau whilst sat on the beach was the sexiest, most romantic thing anyone could think of.

Do check out Whisky Galore, I'm assured that you will be as charmed by the book as we were by the film. Aaah I love Scotland!