Hunting for treasure at the Puces

One of my favorite things to do is to visit brocantes (“flea markets”). Whenever I see something that even remotely resembles a brocante even one with a measly collection of stalls, I have to stop and check it out. The lure, as I’ve said countless times before, is the idea of finding treasure. You never know what great things you’re going to find. Of course you could come away with nothing. But then again, that’s part of the fun. The famous Puces de Saint Ouen is therefore the mother lode of all brocantes to an avowed fan.
During my last most recent visit, I realized that I don’t know much about how it actually came about. A bit of research turned up a number of interesting facts. The term Marche Aux Puces dates back only to the beginning of the 20th century. Contrary to the well organized markets we see now, it only began to be organized in the 14th century when specific hours were designated for the “brocanteurs” to unload their goods at a designated place. The rest of the time, these itinerant sellers plied their trade by walking the streets and calling out their wares. It’s a vastly different matter now. The Puces is actually divided into 12 different markets, with each market divided into several allées and the brocanteurs arranged on both sides of the allées. The number of stands inside each market varies and it can be a dizzying array to the uninitiated.
Fortunately, there are helpful signs everywhere and you can print out maps of the markets from their website. Oh and I should warn you not to be distracted by the outside stalls that ring the actual antique markets. The good stuff is inside. Once inside, it is a veritable display of all kinds of objects. Furniture, Clothing, Accessories and Jewelry, Books, Paintings from all eras are all present. Most of the items are in pristine condition and all of them quite ready for a new home. Be prepared to pay a good sum for the items you want, and more often than not, prices are not dirt cheap. But the items are of very good quality and well worth every penny you spend.

Of course my favorite stands are those that feature vintage clothing and jewelry. There are a number of exceptional ones like Falbalas (Marche Dauphine) for museum worthy vintage clothing, Artemise et Cunegonde (Marche Serpette) for fur and haute couture and Olwen Forest (Marche Serpette) for Chanel costume jewelry. Be warned though that Olwen Forest doesn’t take kindly to pictures being taken of her stand, lest the items be copied by the Chinese as she says. My personal favorite is Les Merveilles de Babellou in Marche Paul Bert. This is Isabelle Klein’s first actual vintage store and to a vintage aficionado, it is Ali Baba’s cavern. Her selection is immense, featuring turn of the century lace, 20s beaded flapper dresses and wonderful crocodile skin bags from the 60s. She also has an amazing selection of jewelry, featuring Chanel, Dior and Lanvin, as well as a good collection of pretty vintage scarves. You can literally spend hours at her place and she’ll let you try everything. She’s quite happy to share her knowledge too as she replied to my numerous questions. I was so glad to discover that she’s now got an actual store as she only used to participate in Antique fairs like the ones held in Bastille every November. Now, I can visit her store all year round!

Here's something from Isabelle Klein's store...

A pretty Chanel brooch from Olwen Forest's store (please take note, this picture was taken from the Puces website and not by me!)

For those who are not as into fashion, there are stands to satisfy every decorative and home furnishing urge. Everything from linens to art deco lamps and sturdy iron railings are available. Carpentier at Marche Paul Bert featured original and extraordinary furniture. They recover air plane parts and use these parts to create striking tables, shelves and other furniture for the house. Try to imagine if you will, the nose of the plane turned into the base of a table and you get an idea of what they do. It’s impressive and quite beautiful. Another stand called CVS at Marche Dauphine has beautiful Syrian furnishings and 19th century sofas. At Marche Serpette, you can find beautiful old fashioned Vuitton travel bags, vintage Hermes and hat boxes from Le Monde du Voyage and Voyages.
Despite having gone a few times now, I still haven’t discovered everything that the Puces de St. Ouen has to offer. I am so looking forward to the next opportunity to do more treasure hunting at the Puces.

I first heard of Rawi Hage during the last Festival for American Writers at the Bois de Vincennes last year. He was one of the authors featured in a number of the conferences even though he is Lebanese and currently living in Canada. Apparently, his book "De Niro's Game" had received numerous prizes and much critical praise. Despite that, I wasn't sure if I wanted to read his book though I was interested in hearing him speak. I have to admit that the first lines of his book really caught my attention.

De Niro's Game is the tale of two childhood friends growing up during the turbulent years of Lebanon’s civil war. Bassam and George ( known also as De Niro for his love of Russian roulette like Robert De Niro’s character in Deer Hunter) have a precarious future before them. Many of their friends and family are dead or missing, and the city is in a perpetual state of war. The foremost question in their lives is how to survive. And if they do, at what cost?

It is an impressive debut novel from Hage, who himself fled Lebanon for the safe shores of Canada. It is quite brilliant and his writing is infused with palpable passion and the pages practically crackle with tension as you tear through the narrative. This is by no means an easy book, dealing as it does with the war torn landscape of Lebanon and its aftermath. It depicts vividly the story of two friends whose paths diverge dramatically in their quest to survive. It is infused with savagery where scenes of people hunting down the street dogs and the even more harrowing scenes of the Sabra and Chantilla massacres have the power to haunt even after you turn the page. Hage writes about these events with such authority and realism and interestingly enough, he himself left the country at the beginning of the war. His response to the question as to how he is able to do this is interesting food for thought. "The author of a novel is under no obligation to tell or portray the exact truth or be bound to a faithful depiction of the real. It's the act of creativity, the storytelling and the novelist's views that should be predominant and valued as well."

On Chesil Beach

Le superbe film Atonement, tiré d'un roman de Ian McEwan, m'avait bouleversé. On Chesil Beach n'ayant eu que des bonnes critiques, je me suis décidée à le lire, afin de découvrir l'auteur.

Je ne peux pas dire que le sujet -la nuit de noces de deux jeunes amoureux vierges en 1962- m'inspirait plus que cela. N'étant ni particulièrement romantique, ni particulièrement portée sur l'érotisme, je ne voyais pas très bien comment un tel sujet pouvait être abordé sans pencher vers l'un des angles précédents.

La première partie -l'introduction des personnages- m'a parue plutôt longue. Il est certes essentiel de connaître leur passé pour pouvoir comprendre, mais cela est resté beaucoup trop descriptif à mon goût, et je n'ai jamais été dans la contemplation -ou la description en l'occurrence. La deuxième partie -la nuit de noces- est beaucoup plus touchante puisqu'elle met en scène deux êtres perdus, qui n'ont jamais vraiment discutés, et qui se sont précipités dans le mariage pour être enfin adulte. Tous les livres de pschylogie de base vous le diront (il suffit même de lire Elle ou Cosmopolitain), la communication et une bonne entente sexuelle sont les clés d'un mariage réussi. C'était donc compromis pour celui de Florence et Edward.

Dieu merci, aujourd'hui à défaut de communication, les couples ont au moins intégré la notion de sexualité épanouie, ce qui n'empêche pas d'avoir un mariage sur trois de finir en divorce. Alors il y a peut-être autre chose que ces deux piliers dans le succès d'un couple, et c'est ce que l'auteur laisse entrevoir. Perséverer, dépasser ses propres humiliations, se centrer sur les difficultés de l'autre, prendre le temps de se connaître est probablement plus important.

On Chesil Beach ne m'a pas plus convaincu que ça (mais il est connu que j'ai unn coeur de pierre), et je n'ai été touchée pa aucun des personnages. En revanche, l'auteur met remarquablement en valeur comment un simple grain de sable .

Joyce Carol Oates

Blonde m'était tombé des mains. Et pourtant, ce roman avait valu à son auteur, Joyce Carol Oates, une nomination au prix Pulitzer.

Etant tenace, j'ai voulu savoir ce que l'auteur valait. Vu la floppée d'écrits, le choix était large, mais n'étant pas non plus suicidaire, j'ai mis de côté Blonde. White girl/Black girl avait fait parlé de lui à sa sortie, et le sujet m'intéressait.

Située en 1973, l'histoire a pour personnage central une fraiche bachelière, Genna, entrant à la fac. Celle-ci a pour collocataire une boursière noire. Sous la forme d'un manuscrit racontée par le personnage principal bien des années après, le roman est intéressant non pas tellement pour l'histoire (la naïveté de Genna, qui imagine avoir trouvé en sa collocataire une âme soeur est particulièrement exaspérante) mais pour la description de l'atmosphère de l'époque. Racisme, conspirations révolutionnaires, l'histoire américaine de cette époque était loin d'être de tout repos.

Pour en revenir à l'auteur, je n'ai été impressionnée ni par la forme (écriture), ni par le fond (histoire). Je suis toujours sceptique quant aux auteurs prolifiques qui sortent un roman par an (hello Marc Levy), et la lecture d'un de ses romans ne m'a pas particulièrement convaincue. Je passe mon chemin pour les prochains (et précédents) même si la lecture n'a pas été désagréable du tout.

Sonia's World

For me, the first thing that comes to mind when I hear Sonia Rykiel is her famous striped sweater. Funnily enough, I have always associated her style with someone a little older, someone more sophisticated. It’s only been in the last two years or so that I’ve come to really appreciate her style and I’ve come to like immensely her Sonia line which is a lot of fun. It was thus interesting to learn that the Musee des Arts Decoratifs has an ongoing Sonia Rykiel retrospective. I didn’t realize that she’s been around in the industry long enough to have a restrospective.
When Red Addict asked me if I was interested to see the exhibit, I jumped at the chance. Featuring about 200 dresses, sweaters and tops, the exhibit commemorates her 40 years in fashion. Divided into her dominant themes (Laura, Stripes, Rhinestones and Lace, etc…), the exhibit juxtaposes each capsule theme with magazine covers and articles featuring the clothes. It was interesting to have the clothes put within the context of its times. It makes one really appreciate the innovativeness of her designs during those times as well as see how they have evolved to become modern classics or wardrobe staples. We take it for granted now, but back then, it was quite revolutionary to have sweaters that actually hugged the body and moved with it in a flattering way! One memorable cover with Francoise Hardy shot in 1968 features a beautiful striped sweater dress, designed cleverly to look like a shirt and skirt outfit. It’s something I would have no problems wearing today and as Red Addict pointed out, that’s because it’s now a classic look. It was also funny to see how much Rykiel pioneered some styles that fashionable brands now have. Her Velour jumpsuits look exactly like the now ubiquitous Juicy Couture track suits sans the Juicy across the bottom of course, that is now so beloved by the bling bling set. A number of her Slogan sweaters calls to mind those of Zadig et Voltaire’s. Her big drapey cardigans that you tie and wrap around yourself in different ways could well be the predecessor of the soft wrap around cardigans being sold now at Les Petites. Just goes to show how modern and forward her styles already were way back in the late 60s and 70s.
What we both loved at the exhibit were the big publicity shots for the label over the period of 1968-late 90s. They were beautifully shot in evocative black and white that showed off the clothes to perfection yet were so much more. Haunting and striking, it was hard to believe that these shots were publicity ones. They could very well hang in one’s living room or boudoir. They were that nice.
Towards the end of the exhibit, there are a number of “homage dresses” designed by such diverse designers as Matthew Williamson, Ralph Lauren, Rodarte and John Galliano to name a few. Along the wall, one could see the sketched designs of each dress and it was great fun to see how other designers interpret the Rykiel look. Most were gorgeous though I have to admit that some of them looked better on paper.
If you have the chance to do so, visit the exhibition before it closes on the 19th of April. It’s a good opportunity to get better acquainted with the world of Sonia Rykiel.

Some of her sexy sweaters...

Stripes galore...

The new place to shop

The question of whether shopping is ever guilt free is a question that most girls have probably wrestled with at one point or another. I know that in recent years, there has been a growing campaign for guilt free shopping. Let’s see, there’s the RED campaign led by Bono, which devotes a portion of sale proceeds from partner boutiques like Gap, Converse, Armani and Apple to the AIDS cause, then there is also a whole slew of boutiques now devoted to fair-trade. It’s a growing movement and I suppose it’s the easiest way to motivate people to do more to help the disenfranchised. After all, people are always going to shop.

Here in Paris there is a great new place to do guilt free shopping as I discovered happily this weekend. The new player on the scene is Merci, the brain child of Bernard and Marie-France Cohen of Bonpoint which opened its doors barely two weeks ago. The concept behind the store is simple. Merci acquires an exclusive selection of merchandise from different designers without the usual margin imposed by the designers. This enables the store in turn to sell their items at a much lower price than what they would normally retail in the big stores. Whatever margin Merci makes is turned over to their charity of choice, in this case, the children of Madagascar.

Believe me when I tell you that there is an immense range of choice available. Covering an area of 1600 square meters, the store is divided into different sections--there is a flower shop, a big section devoted to clothes, the mezzanine has children’s clothes and house furnishings while the basement covers kitchen ware and lighting. There are women and men’s fashion available from such names as Paul Smith, Stella McCartney, Isabel Marrant, Paul and Joe, and Azzaro. And that’s just the current designers. For their Vintage section, they had YSL, Chanel and Hermes. For accessories, they had delicate jewelry by Gas and covetable bags by Jerome Dreyfuss. And all of the items are at rather reasonable prices.

I shouldn’t forget to mention that there is also a used bookstore that doubles as an in-store café. There are a number of books by Gallimard but they likewise have books in English, Spanish and even German. Oh, and there is a perfume counter by Annick Goutal where you can bring your own bottle and fill it up with one of the Annick Goutal scents available at 40% less of the retail price. I had a lot of fun spritzing the perfumes on my wrists, trying to decide which one was the right one for me.

A selection of their fashion...

Houseware....

For the kitchen...

And shelves and shelves of books...
You can literally spend hours at Merci, perusing their stock, their books, and maybe having a cup of tea and a slice of cake. There’s literally something for everyone. Now this is what I call guilt free shopping!


Practical Details:

111 boulevard Beaumarchais

75003 Paris

Metro St. Sebastian Froissart
Open Mon to Sat from 10 am to 8pm

This week finally feels like spring. The air still has bit of a bite to it, but with the sun shining, la vie est belle. What better time than to finally rediscover the nooks and crannies of the neighborhood? I’ve rediscovered the charm of walking around without fear of freezing my extremities off. The Marais is one of my favorite places, a sentiment I’m sure is shared by a number of people. And this weekend, there is an extra good reason to pop by the neighborhood. Until tomorrow night, the Espace Blancs Manteux is hosting the T-Mode Salon des Jeunes Createurs. The Salon began in 1996 under the name “Les Puces de l’Art and was first hosted in the 19th arrondissement. Since then, it has become a travelling Salon with a different venue each time, every trimester. It was conceived as, and continues to be, a showcase for young designers who would not otherwise have a venue or a forum for their creative and artistic projects.
There seems to be a good number of jewelry designers. Mostly of the fun kind; earrings, necklaces and bracelets in plastic, resin and sometimes covered in Japanese print are displayed in colorful bunches that attract the eye. One or two stands had silver jewelry. If you should visit, check out Dewa. They had nice silver cuffs and even better than that, some rings and pendants with stingray skin. Off-putting as this may sound, stingray skin has an interesting texture and looks quite striking when used for jewelry. I chatted with them and was surprised to find that the stingray skin they used actually came from the Philippines but was then subsequently imported to Italy. Hmm….I certainly hope that stingray isn’t about to become extinct! Another interesting stand without a name, (except they are the first one immediately to your left when you enter the Hall), had lovely wooden cuffs. Despite being carved from wood, they were quite delicate looking, the wood all smooth and lovingly buffed to a high shine. They were very lovely!

There are also a number of participants focused on clothes. And I don’t know if it’s the current trend, but a lot of them seemed to have used Japanese prints! One stand had nothing but head bands. I didn’t realize that you could have so much variety and in so many colors and prints. It’s not my thing but I seemed to be in the minority as a good crowd gathered around the colorful headband stand. Another one which seemed to me to be the oddest was the one that had nothing but Guetres or those funny looking things that are designed to cover the shoe. This designer covered her shoe covers with all manner and type of design and color. I can’t think of wear (or how) I could wear them but its good to know that they are there if I ever want one.

I may have come away empty handed (this time!) but I’m glad to know that there are occasions like this Salon where I can discover new designers and their wares. You never know when you’re going to stumble onto the next Martin Margiella or Marc Jacobs.

Practical Details

Espace Blancs Manteaux

48 rue Vieille de Temple

75004 Paris

Free Entrance

Open till 9PM tomorrow night!

Bruges

En grande inculte, je n'étais jamais allée en Belgique. Pour les blagues belges (ou plutôt sur les belges), on les a en France, pour des excellentes frites, je n'ai qu'à "retourner chez ma mère", pour le chocolat, Leonidas et Côte d'Or sont arrivés jusqu'à chez nous, pour les canaux, il y a Amsterdam, et pour la pluie il y a Londres. Cela dit si on me propose un séjour là-bas, je suis partante. La Belgique n'étant pas en superficie les USA, restait le difficile choix entre Bruxelles (V. m'avait donné envie) , Anvers (après tout Diamonds are a girl's best friends), et Bruges dont on dit que c'est Venise sans ce romantisme imposé. Le romantisme m'exaspère, la crise étant passée par là, je n'ai pas de budget pour un dimant (même avant la crise d'ailleurs), et Bruxelles parle français, donc c'est moins funky pour le dépaysement. Bruges, me voilà donc!




Bruges, c'est un condensé de bonnes choses: des gens adorables (ça change des parisiens), des petites boutiques, du flamand incompréhensible et tellement musical à l'oreille, une superbe architecture, des vélos à gogo, quelques moulins pour les touristes, des canaux, et un charme fou. Sans oublier des chocolatiers à tous les coins de rue (ils ont probablement copié leur stratégie sur Starbucks), ce qui fait que pour une chocolate addict comme moi, j'étais comme un chien fou, ne sachant plus où donner de la tête (et en plus les toffees sont aussi à se damner!).




Trois jours suffisent amplement à visiter la ville en prenant son temps. Le problème est qu'ensuite, vous n'avez qu'une envie: explorer les environs. La Hollande n'est qu'à 2H de vélo, et la Mer du Nord, 1h15. Il ne reste plus qu'à pédaler....

En attendant Godot

En manque de théâtre (on s'y habitue vite), et dans ma lancée des classiques, En attendant Godot me tendait les bras. Prisée par tant de critiques (et par Y.), la pièce est cependant connue pour être un classique du théatre de l'absurde. Et vu mon pragmatisme, l'absurde n'est pas mon terrain favori.

Décor épuré de chez épuré (un arbre et un banc) comme le voulait l'auteur. Deux personnages se partagent la vedette: deux vagabonds attendant un certain Godot, qui devrait leur apporter le salut. Il y a longtemps que j'ai arrêté de croire aux contes de fées, mais je suppose que mes conditions de vie me le permettent, et que quand on a rien, il ne reste plus que l'espoir. Godot ne viendra jamais, mais enverra un "boy" pour avertir les deux hommes de perséverer. Manifestement le sadisme ne date pas de la dernière pluie. S'ajouteront à cette galerie de personnages un maître et son serviteur que l'on verra aux cours des deux actes, équivalents à deux journées.

Beckett n'a jamais voulu donner d'explications à sa pièce, ce qui est fort dommage, car j'ai dû raté beaucoup de symbolismes. En revanche, certains thèmes sont clairement mis en évidence: l'espoir, la chance qui tourne, la faiblesse et l'horreur de la nature humaine, le besoin de ces semblables.... Il y en a trop pour pouvoir en faire la liste, et il serait dommage de gâcher le plaisir de ceux qui vont en faire la découverte par eux-mêmes.

Une excellente pièce de 2h10 pour laquelle on ne voit pas le temps passé. Le jeu des acteurs ne m'a convaincu mais la force du texte fait oublier ce désagrément.

Another vampire series to sink your teeth in

After slogging through Wasted Vigil, I definitely wanted something a bit lighter for my bedside reading. Given the exceeding fuss on the recent Vampire phenomena with Stephanie Meyers Twilight series, I thought that a vampire book might just do the trick. But having read the first three Meyers book, I decide that now was the time to try another author.
Charlaine Harris was already a well known mystery writer when she decided to turn her hand to the vampire genre. Such was the success of her Southern Vampire series that HBO recently turned them into a regular series called True Blood. Since it’s always a good idea to start at the beginning, I picked up Dead Until Dark to make my acquaintance with Harris’ world.
It stars (might as well use that word since its now on tv) Sookie Stackhouse (played by Anna Paquin) is a waitress in small town Bon Temps Louisiana. She’s goodhearted if a bit isolated from the rest of the people and we learn that Sookie has a gift. She can “hear” people’s thoughts. And the effort of keeping out other people in her mind prevents her from being too close to people. We also learn that in Harris’ world, vampires have recently acquired legal status. Yup, they are now free to move about in the normal world complete with legal rights. The pesky problem of vampires drinking blood is solved with synthetic blood (sold as well in bars) and they’re not dead anymore, just suffering from a disease that makes them allergic to sunlight, silver and garlic. When Bill, a tall good looking (of course!) vampire comes to Bon Temps to set up house, Sookie is overjoyed. Finally here was someone whose thoughts she can’t hear. I suppose its not giving away too much of the plot if I tell you that Sookie falls hard for Bill. Only trouble is, women are turning up dead in town and they have fang marks.
This is the perfect book to read if you’re looking for something diverting and fun. Harris has written a vampire book with some twists. Sookie herself is a refreshingly likeable character, less warrior babe than Anita Blake or Buffy and less maiden in distress than Bella Swan. She’s a waitress but like she says “she’s not stupid or simple or a slut”. Add the fact that the vampires in this world are actually out and about and it makes for an interesting (to say the least) interaction between the humans and non-humans. What’s nice too about Dead Until Dark is that vivid description of a Louisiana small town. Harris is able to capture the nuances of small town life –the gossipy atmosphere of everyone knowing everyone else and their business but also the looking after each aspect that’s sometimes lost in big city living. All in all I wouldn’t mind going further in the series and reading more about Sookie’s adventures.

David Lachapelle se la jour provoc'

Que vous le connaissiez auparavant ou pas, vous n'avez pas pu échapper à la campagne d'affichage pour l'exposition des photographies de David Lachapelle. Et inconsciemment ou pas, vous n'aviez probablement pas pu échapper à ses oeuvres: publicités, photographie parues dans des magazines, clips vidéos (Hello Britney!), rien ne lui échappe.

Un inabordable (financièrement parlant, pour le commun des mortels) coffee book était paru il y a quelques années. La crise étant passée par là, avant d'élargir la cible, une exposition est organisée afin d'exposer quelques oeuvres du talentueux artiste, connu notamment pour son travail de photographie dans le milieu de la mode et des people.

On ne va pas vous cacher que l'expo est au moins autant un attrape-touriste qu'une expo intéressante. Certaines personnes attendent deux heures pour rentrer, et en lisant et en regardant attentivement tout ce que l'exposition présente, il vous faut au maximum 30 minutes.... Cela fait cher la demi-heure.

Cependant, cela vaut les cinq minutes de queue de la nocturne du lundi soir. Connu pour être provocateur, les photos de David LaChapelle sont souvent inspirés de la pornographie. Si l'on sait dépasser cet aspect, ainsi que les couleurs très vives (voire criardes), on atteint le deuxième niveau de compréhension de son oeuvre, qui est tout simplement fascinante. Contestation de la société de consommation, humour au vitriol quant aux people, ses photographies se révèlent extrêmement bien conçues, et pleines de détails invisibles lors de la première lecture. Alors quand vous finissez le parcours balisé de l'exposition, vous ne pouvez que vous précipitez sur le livre proposé, afin de découvrir d'autres photographies, et de tenter de comprendre le message qu'il a voulu faire passer par ce biais-là.

Pour les détails:

Hôtel de la Monnaie, 11 Quai de Conti, 75006 Paris

Tous les jours de 10h30 à 19h sauf lundis et vendredis jusqu'à 22h

A seemingly endless war

One thing (of the many I’d like to think) that Red Addict and I have in common is our predilection for what others would call rather depressing reading material. Try as I might, I always gravitate towards these books, though I confess that I’ve more than read my share of lite reads. Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment. Be that as it may, I do want my books to be leavened with a little levity and yes, why not, hope. Life is grim enough as it easy. With this in mind, I had no trouble reading Kite Runner (cried buckets with this one) or the Reader ( I found myself thinking about it for days after).
This time I hit the gold mine in depressing material with Nadeem Aslam’s new book “Wasted Vigil”. It’s the story of a Russian woman Lara who arrives in Afghanistan to look for her brother Benedikt, who was sent to fight during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. The book’s tone is set when right away mishap befalls her. Fortunately for her she falls into the hands of Marcus, a kind Englishman who has been living in the country for the past 40 years as he was married to an Afghan woman. And Zameen, Marcus’ daughter who was captured by the Soviets might have. also known Benedikt. Thus, we slowly discover that their stories are more closely intertwined than we can imagine.
Aslam certainly takes his time to build his story and characters into place. And he spares the reader not one single grim detail in the travails and horrors that have befallen Afghanistan and its people. If the author’s goal was to provide yet more reasons to fear and loathe the Taliban, he has succeeded admirably. One is left with the impression that there is no redemption for the people who are caught under the Taliban’s yoke. He likewise doesn’t spare the US for their responsibility in creating the monstrous oppression that is now entrenched in Afghanistan. To read this book is to have your breath taken away by the horrors as you can imagine its very heavy going. This is not to say that Aslam has written a bad book. Far from it. He has a beautiful way with words and there is a certain tenderness, lyricism even, in the way he writes some of the scenes. More importantly he is able to present the complexity that is the political history of the country. Still and all, I could’ve borne the book better if there had been some sort of redeeming element in the story. I’d like to think that the Afghan’s story is much more than death and horrors.

Another unlikely friendship

If Gran Torino was the story of an unlikely friendship between an old racist white man and a young Hmong man in Detroit, The Room of Lost Things is the story of another unlikely friendship. Its funny how often movies I see and books I've just read have similar or related themes.

It’s the story of the irascible Robert Sutton who is retiring after 40 or so years of being in the business of dry cleaning. His advertisement attracts Akeel Khan, a young Pakistani east Londoner who wants to make his mark in the world. Robert trains Akeel in the business and introduces him to the room of lost things where Robert keeps all the secret odds and ends people that leave behind in their pockets. Robert himself is hiding his own big secret. And as they move tentatively towards understanding each other, a curiously moving friendship develops between them. There really is something to be said about letting down one's guard and getting past one's own ingrained prejudices to bridge the gulf that might otherwise be present between two very different people.

Its really nice the way the author interweaves Robert and Akeel’s friendship with snippets of other people’s lives. There is Helen who only wants to be loved but is stuck in a fast going nowhere relationship and then there is Stefan who fears intimacy with a passion. And then there is the “Poet” who peeks into other people’s lives as he travels by bus. I shouldn’t forget to mention that one character which was as vivid if not more so than the others in the book, is the city of London, specifically the area of Loughborough Junction. Often, this area is described as a rather rough neighborhood but while reading this book, one gets an altogether different view. True, it maybe rough and a little shabby but there is a sense of community and the mix of different people make it a lot more interesting than more fashionable or homogenous neighborhoods. At the end of the day these are ordinary people with ordinary stories but they are somehow imbued with a certain grace that makes reading about them as satisfying as a cup of tea on a cold day.

A night dedicated to books

I’ve always wanted to visit the Salon du Livre but for some haven’t been able to for one reason or another. This year, thanks to an invitation from the Mairie, I was able to attend the opening of the 2009 Salon du Livre last Thursday at the Paris Expo Hall in Porte de Versailles. It was quite thrilling to enter with my precious invitation when the doors opened. This year, the guest of honor is Mexico. Not quite as controversial as last year’s choice but nonetheless interesting in its own way. As a result of being the guest of honor, there is a wide range of books by Mexican authors such as Octavio Paz, Carlos Fuentes, Juan Rulfo and Enrique Serna to name a few available in their French translation. Now is a good time to immerse oneself in Mexican literature.
I didn’t realize that the opening night of the Salon would have such a festive air. I suppose I should have expected it because the entire French publishing industry is present at the Salon. You have of course all the biggies—Gallimard, Flammarion and Albin Michel with their entire range of books. But the academics are also well represented. And because it was opening night there was lots of champagne and hors d’oeuvres at every booth. I loved this part and suffice to say this really added to the festive air of the Salon. It was really cool to wander about the different booths just seeing how much was available for the public. It leaves an impression (well-founded I hope) that in France at least there is still a dominant class of readers. What’s really nice about the Salon is that all the books are available for sale. This is unlike the big London Book Fair where the publishers are represented but are not there to sell to the general public. As such, you see catalogs of the publishers and numerous ads for their titles but their actual books are not in the fair. The London Book Fair is really for the professionals while the Salon du Livre is open to everyone. One feature of the Salon that struck me was the section devoted to ebooks, considered by some to be the future of books and reading. Its funny but a recently conducted survey found that only about 9% of French readers were adept at ebook technology and that 83% of those polled were not interested at all in ebook technology. I have to say that this gives me hope for the survival of all the independent bookstores that depend on traditional readers. Let’s not go the way of Jeff Bezos of Amazon who says that books are going to go the way horses went with the invention of the automobile. I can’t imagine a world without actual books. Can you?

Practical Details

Salon du Livre 2009

12 March - 18 March

Hall 1

Porte de Versailles

The catcher in the rye bored me to death...

L'attrappe-coeur ne m'avait jamais tenté, donc je ne l'avais jamais lu. Mais comme je suis passablement stupide, j'avais décidé de lire les classiques anglais sans m'intéresser au titre de la traduction française...

Donc The catcher in the rye, ou l'attrappe-coeur en français, est conforme à ce que j'avais pressenti. Ennuyeux. Les Américains l'étudient au collège, et c'est probablement équivalent aux livres qu'ont fait lire aux petits Français qui les dégoûtent à jamais de la lecture (Cf Les confessions de Jean-Jacques Rousseau, heureusement que je suis coriace sinon cette oeuvre m'aurait fait renoncé à tout livre).

Ce n'est pas mal écrit, mais rien de sensationnel non plus, mais surtout, on attend cent pages durant la chute qui n'arrive jamais. Je ne vais pas révéler la fin, mais je suppose que j'aurais dû être émue, mais mon coeur de pierre est resté de marbre, il a seulement bondi de joie à l'idée d'avoir fini le livre.

On m'a conseillé d'acheter les fiches de lecture, car j'ai manifestement loupé tout le symbolisme de l'oeuvre. Soit, mais là, d'abord je digère l'oeuvre, on verra ensuite....

Like wine, he only gets better with age

If you haven’t seen Gran Torino yet, I strongly advise (and Red Addict will heartily agree) that you run and do so. Now. Clint Eastwood who wrote and directed this movie has done a masterful job.
It starts out simply enough. Eastwood is the curmudgeonly Walt Kowalski who has just lost his wife. He can’t stand his kids or grandkids and is on top of that a mean old racist. He also has a family of Hmong’s living right next to him. The Hmongs as Sue explains to Walt are people living in China, Thailand and Laos who were obliged to migrate to US after the Vietnam war to avoid retaliation from the victorious Viets because they fought with the Americans. All of which are less interesting to Walt except that Thao his Hmong neighbor tries to steal his prized Gran Torino as part of his gang initiation. This rather rocky start between Thao and his family and Walt gradually evolves into an unexpectedly moving friendship. When tragedy strikes the family, Walt offers them the immeasurable and ultimate gift of friendship.

There’s so much to admire about this movie. I could go on hours about the way Eastwood has crafted a tender and moving story about what a beautiful thing could happen when a person lets down, even just a little, his own prejudices to reach out to another. Better yet I could tell you that Eastwood’s performance here is restrained yet all the more powerful and believable for such restraint. And in this world full of change it takes on the big question of integration and what it means to make a family in a wise and humorous way. Perhaps the most welcome surprise is the way Eastwood has come almost full circle as an actor but more importantly as a storyteller. Dirty Harry is still around but Walt Kowalski does something unthinkable braver than what Dirty Harry has ever done.

Société sans espoir

Je ne mentais pas en disant que les thèmes dépressifs, c'était mon dada. Coment donc échapper à Boy A, sorti en plus à divers festivaux de films indépendants, une autre de mes marottes?

Sorti en 2007 au Canada, 2008 aux USA, et 2009 en France (mais dieu merci, la Belgique sauve l'honneur en le sortant encore plus tard que nous), Boy A raconte la tentative de réintégration à sa sortie de prison d'un (à l'époque) mineur incarcéré pour meutre.

Aux Etats-Unis, aucun information n'a le droit d'être divulguée sur les mineurs étant jugés. Ils sont donc dénommés par des lettres. Le narrateur sera Boy A, son partenaire de crime aura probablement été Boy B.

Le film commence donc à la sortie de prison pour suivre le personnage pendant quelques mois. Quelques flash-backs interromptent son histoire pour donner aux spectateurs quelques pistes quand à son passé.

On ne va pas mentir, le film comporte quelques maladresses à mon goût. Les flash-backs ne sont pas forcément placés au meilleur endroit, ce qui fait que la compréhension n'est pas des plus aisées. D'autre part, le film est parfois un peu trop évasif, ce qui est probablement plus imputable au temps imparti qu'au metteur en scène. Encore une fois, j'aurais dû lire le livre duquel le film est tiré.

Cependant, le film est plein d'humanité; Andrew Garfield est incroyable et permet de donner à son personnage une très grande profondeur. Encoreune fois c'est probablement un superbe film qui va rester passablement inconnu, puisqu'il ne bénéficie pas d'un matraquage marketing à l'américaine. Et c'est dommage, car le film touche en nous des questions essentielles: chacun a-t-il le droit à une seconde chance, même si ce quelqu'un en l'occurence est un meutrier (d'enfant)? Aucune réponse bien entendu, mais réfléchir à la question c'est déjà insuffler un peu d'espoir et faire preuve d'humanité. Si vous avez aimé The Woodsman, extraordinaire film sur la réintégration en société d'un pédophile avec un Kevin Bacon au summum de son talent, vous allez aimer Boy A.

Lacrimosa

Régis Jauffret fit parler de lui lors de la dernière rentrée littéraire de septembre. Lacrimosa, plus ou moins basée sur son expérience personnelle, est un dialogue entre le narrateur et son ex-maîtresse/petite amie qui vient de se suicider. Les thèmes dépressifs, et tout ce qui peut aider à decripter les sentiments humains, c'est mon dada. Mais là, je me suis d'une part franchement ennuyée, d'autre part n'est pas compris grand-chose (et là vous trouvez ça normal.).

Le narrateur commence par raconter une histoire pour finalement se raviser et avouer qu'elle est fausse, et que cela ne s'est pas passé comme ça. La seconde version de l'histoire commence pour subir le même sort que la première. A la troisième version, j'ai perdu tout intérêt. Je suis très psycho-rigide, donc les gens qui tournent autour du pot m'ennuient au plus haut point. A force de crier au loup, on n'y croit plus. Donc après peu de pages, le sort des protagonistes m'indifféraient.

Et comme je suis particulièrement tolérante, je dois dire que les gens qui ne savent pas ce qu'ils veulent et qui ne savent pas prendre une décision, mais qui pleurent ensuite sur leur sort m'exaspèrent. Le narrateur traita la suicidée par dessus la jambe, et ensuite réalise à son enterrement qu'il l'aimait. Certes........ J'ai l'impression d'entendre toutes les excuses familières des hommes qui trompent leur compagne: "je n'y ai pas réfléchi, cela ne voulait rien dire". Encore une fois, certes cela ne voulait peut-être rien dire, mais tu l'as quand même fait, alors à défaut de réfléchir avant, tu réfléchirais à la situation une fois que tu seras seul.

Toutes ces disgressions pour dire que Lacrimosa ne fut vraiment pas de mon goût, mais je me demande de plus en plus si j'arrive à faire la distinction entre un bon livre, et un livre qui corresponde à ma personnalité.

Mais au moins, j'ai appris que Lacrimosa faisait référence à un requiem de Mozart, ce qui me prouve que toute lecture n'est jamais perdue!

Doute

Un duo de choc (Meryl Streep et Philip Seymour Hoffman), une bande-annonce captivante, des nominations pour Amy Adams, le seul obstacle à ce film était qu'il a été diffusé de façon trop intimiste.

Tiré de la pièce du même nom, Doubt montre une époque charnière en matière de modernisation (1964). La vieille école, incarnée par Meryl Streep en nonne, est réfractaire au changement. Philip Seymour Hoffman est le symbole de cette nouvelle génération de prêtres qui pensent que la religion catholique doit changer pour continuer à être attractive.

Sans jamais prononcer le mot, le film met le doigt sur l'homosexualité et la pédophilie au sein de l'Eglise Catholique. Une prestation époustouflante, menée par deux acteurs géniaux (Meryl Streep est à aussi convaincante en hippie dans Mamma Mia qu'en nonne dans Doute). Sans aucune preuve, le doute s'installe, à chacun d'en tirer ses propres conclusions. Croyant ou pas, le thème ne peut que nous toucher, le doute et l'espoir constituant les caractéristiques de l'Homme.

Un film à aller voir tant pour les acteurs que pour le thème. Dommage que la pièce n'est pas (à ma connaissance) été jouée en France, cela doit valoir le déplacement.

A once in a lifetime auction

A few months ago, I had the chance to view the Poiret clothes that were up for auction at Drouot, one of the venerable auction houses in Paris. It was a great experience and I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to go back and participate in one but wasn’t really expecting one. Then lo and behold, the news came out about the big auction for the St. Laurent-Berge art collection. It seemed like this was going to be the auction of the year. And it was. Sales from the auction amounted up to 458 million. As with all auctions the public has the right to view the exhibition a day or two before the actual sales. Unfortunately there was not a chance that I would be able to view the art collection Queues to go in took as long as 4 hours. I was despondent till I learned that an auction for St. Laurent clothes and accessories were to be put on the block at Drouot. Since the art auction was definitely out of the question, this was a chance to finally attend one and maybe even come away with a prize.
There were over 800 articles for the St. Laurent Mode et Accessoires auction. Organized by the Cornette St. Cyr group, it was the first time that such a number of St. Laurent pieces would be together in one auction. It included pieces from his Haute Couture line from the autumn-winter collection of 1970 as well as the Ballet Russes collection of 1976. There were also a number of clothes from his Rive Gauche line not to mention, fur jackets and capes, coats and jackets in all shapes and sizes and of course the jewelry which he designed. Since the clothes were from the period of 1960 to 2002, it reflected the rich and diverse themes which St. Laurent used to design his collection. There were notable pieces from his Picasso inspired collection (one of which is pictured above) and the Saharienne. Impressive as the clothes and accessories were, what really caught my eye were the hand drawn designs left by St. Laurent. There were four in all, two of which were simple sketches of a dress but beautiful in its simplicity while the other two were water color scenes of beautifully dressed little children. They were delicate and quite moving.

Photos of some of the lots for sale...



Just before the auction when the items were on view there was a palpable air of purposefulness in the room as the people milled about appraising this coat or that dress, all the while taking copious notes. Looking around, I realized what an amateur I was compared to all the others. I have to say though that not everyone there were professional buyers or people with shops. There were a good number of people who simply wanted a chance to obtain a beautiful St. Laurent piece that they would never otherwise have the chance to obtain. It was going to take some doing to come away with a piece. After queuing to enter the auction room and finding an actual seat (half of the room was already reserved), everyone was all set. Even the air seemed to hum in anticipation. I wondered if the others around me could hear my loud nervous heartbeats. e To actually participate in the auction was deceptively simple.. I was told that if I saw a piece I liked, I was to raise my hand or make some sort of gesture to indicate my interest and to keep going till I got the item. Hmm…it wasn’t as simple as all that. Or rather it was but the auction proceeded at such a rapid pace that as soon as one person’s bid was up, another and yet another hand would be raised till the price was so far off the original estimation. I timidly raised my hand for a simple raffia pochette that had seen better days and whose lock was even broken when bidding started at 15 Euros. To my horror, the bid went quickly up to 90 euros. This was when I realized the power of the St. Laurent name. People were ready to pay crazy prices. And so it was. The beautiful watercolor called Cadeau de Grand-Mere sold for a handy 6000 euros after being evaluated at 800 while a beautiful white and black evening dress threaded with numerous bugle beads went up to 8750 euros. Through it all, the auctioneer kept a running spiel about the pieces on the block, alternately cajoling or firmly calling an item as sold. And he banged his gavel at the end of every sale just like in the movies. Funnily enough they even had someone sashay up and down the aisles modeling the various capes, jackets and furs that were up for auction. At one point an obviously enraptured woman in the audience reached out and touched the model’s fur covered bottom. “To get a feel for the fur”, she said when people looked at her with raised eyebrows. The whole time the auction was on going, I was frozen in my seat, scared to death that the auctioneer was going to mistake any gesture I make for a bid. Scary thought given the huge amounts being bandied about. And you realize how much your hands move about when you’re trying your best to remain immobile.

The auction finished with about 500,000 worth with 95% of the items sold. I think it’s safe to say that people came home happily short of a few hundred euros after the auction.

A view of the audience..

John Legend

En cherchant un concert pour une date précise (je fonctionne à l'inverse des gens), John Legend était disponible (enfin façon de parler). On m'a dit qu'il était talentueux. Alors n'écoutant que ma curiosité naturelle, je suis allée le voir au Zénith. Manifestement je ne dois pas correspondre à son public habituel, car on s'est foutu de moi quand j'ai dit que j'aller le voir (mais comme on me prend aussi pour une provinciale fumeuse et accro à la caféine, je me dis que l'image que je projette n'est pas vraiment celle qui me correspond).

J'ai écouté un album qu'on m'avait prêté, mais je me suis aperçue après coup, que ce n'était pas l'album pour lequel il faisait une tournée. Bref, je dois avouer que je suis arrivée en touriste à son concert.

Première surprise : le Zénith n'est pas au bout du monde (je m'arrête à Bastille, voire Nation dans mes jours de générosité), et est une salle passablement intimiste (manifestement des rideaux réduisaient la salle en deux, à vérifier donc), avec un public extrêmement sage et bon enfant. On n'attend pas, et on est bien installé, et pour une déjà-vieille-dans-la-tête, psycho-rigide come moi, cela compte.

La première partie était assurée par Laura Izibor, la vingtaine, un charisme de folie, un talent époustouflant, une énergie communicante, un mélange de Lauren Hill et Alicia Keys. Pas un mot dans la salle, chacun retenait son souffle. Manifestement seules R. et moi ne savions pas qui c'était, elle doit donc être connue dans le circuit. Définitivement une artiste à voir en concert, et en attendant je me contenterai de son premier album qui sortira le 18 mai prochain.

Arrive John Legend himself. Son statut de sex-symbol est apparemment réputé (j'ai définitivement un blocage sur les yeux clairs), mais non, il n'y avait pas que des adolescentes prépubères dans la salle. Un écran blanc derrière lui diffusait des images, dont la première série le mettait en scène en boxeur gagnant sur le ring. Avec mon mauvais esprit habituel, je l'ai trouvé bien prétentieux, mais j'ai vite changé d'avis.

Durant une heure et demie, il a enchaîné avec une énergie, une bonne humeur, et une présence incroyable. Il donnait l'impression de faire ça pour le plaisir, ce qui n'est pas toujours le cas (Raphaël si tu m'entends...). Etant véritablement inculte en musique, je ne caractériserai pas ses chansons, mais il passe des "slows" à des beats beaucoup plus soutenus avec une facilité déconcertante, et le rythme n'est pourtant rompu à aucun moment. Chapeau l'artiste.

Le clou fut son duo avec Kanye West, que personne n'attendait (on n'a pas osé se faire ENCORE confirmé l'artiste par nos voisines, heureusement il est fort bien élevé, et s'est présenté de lui-même à la fin du morceau). Dois-je dire que je ne suis pas une grande adepte de rapt, mais que j'étais la première à hurler et danser comme une folle (et non, sans ectasy!) lors de la chanson?

Obama success oblige, on a eu le droit à un petit montage vidéo des plus grands leaders noirs de notre siècle (Luther King, Mandela, Gandhi...) sur une chanson que John Legend a manifestement composé pour une association humanitaire. Opération marketing ou réelle initiative humanitaire, je ne sais pas, mais après un tel concert, le public était conquis (surtout que John Legend a fini en marcel et jean, ce qui a promis fait sauter quelques barrières chez certaines spectatrices).

Un artiste à voir définitivement en concert!

A weekend in Normandie

For some reason it never occurs to us to visit the western or northern part of Paris. It’s a real shame because there are a number of beautiful little cities that are not too far from Paris and are therefore perfect destinations for a weekend. When a good occasion finally arose, we seized our chance to remedy the error of our ways and set off towards Normandie; destination : Honfleur.
As we set off, a heavy fog actually blanketed the road making it difficult to see the countryside. I was a bit apprehensive but as we progressed the sun gradually chased away the fog and revealed the countryside’s charms. It was a nice uneventful drive and along the way we got glimpses of the wide meandering Seine which I didn’t realize was a lot longer and wider than the placid river I see in Paris. Before reaching our destination, we had a lovely lunch detour at Etretat.


Étretat is a lovely seaside town which boasts the chalk cliffs of France’s Côte d’Albâtre (Alabaster coast). These cliffs thrust themselves dramatically into the sky, with the Needle (“l’Aiguille )“ reaching 200ft. I didn’t realize that these cliffs are as well known in France, as the white cliffs of Dover are in England. It’s a magnificent view to enjoy and a walk along the beach only reinforces this impression of white reaching towards the blue horizon. If you find yourself at Eretat during lunch or dinner, I heartily recommend the Dormy House. It is a hotel but its restaurant features an outstanding view of the cliffs and lip-smacking cuisine. Their calvados glazed apple dessert with the lime sorbet is as memorable today as I write as the day I had it.

Fully satiated, we set off in good humor for the actual destination. Once there, we congratulated ourselves on our choice. Honfleur is quite simply charming. It is a port town and as such its main attraction is the Vieux Port with its fishing fleets and pleasure crafts. You will be tempted as Eugene Boudin and other Impressionists artists were, to try and capture the gentle Northern light that bathes the old slate domed houses and reflects invitingly off the water. This artistic tradition in Honfleur is continued well today with its many fine art galleries. It was amazing to see so many clustered in a relatively compact area. And if only the prices weren’t so prohibitive, we could certainly see several of them hanging in our home (a Magritte lithograph and several wonderful canvasses by Normandie based artist Mitro really captured our eye). If galleries aren’t your thing, you could certainly visit the tiny Impressionist museum located centrally enough at the Place Ste. Catherine. If that isn’t enough, you can also visit the museum devoted to Erik Satie who composed some of his music in Honfleur. When you get hungry, any number of the quayside restaurants and cafes serve deliciously fresh seafood. And if you're a gourmand, there is a Michelin starred restaurant in the Place Ste. Catherine. Along with the apple dessert of Dormy House, I remember with great fondness La Terrasse et L'assiette's fabulous omelette de homard.

After you've finished with the galleries and museums or if the latter is not your thing, you could simply wander around the streets admiring the particular Norman architecture and soaking up the nice ambiance of the town. Its certainly more than enough to make you want to go back to Honfleur.

A view of le Vieux Bassin...

Eglise Ste. Catherine with the Sunday brocante...

One of the many galleries that had memorable art for sale...

Who says Germans don't know how to party

Every February, just before the solemn period of Lent, the people at Cologne turn their city into one giant party with a city wide Festival. The festival, which dates back to the Middle Ages actually begins on the 11th of November and officially ends on Ash Wednesday. However the festivities peak on the last weekend before Ash Wednesday and the highlight is a giant parade that winds its way all around the city on the following Monday. The giant parade on Monday is visited by some 1.5 million visitors! The festival is a big deal in Cologne. At the beginning of the festival, a Prince and Maiden are elected (and this is a very high honor that doesn't just go to any Dick and Jane) and these two individuals are billeted at a nice hotel and expected to devote all their time to festival duties. Their crowning moment is at the giant parade where they take their places at the official city float.

During the party weekend, every “kneippe” or bar is filled to the rafters with Germans downing liters of free flowing beer and cheerfully (and drunkenly, I might add) singing songs praising their city (at odd moments, I find myself humming one of the songs). The image of the staid German is certainly dispelled here. There is a strong air of camaraderie as people share their food and welcome every visitor. And if the songs and drinking wasn’t enough to create the party atmosphere, the fact that the whole city is disguised in all manner of outfits, certainly does. Everyone is in one way or another wearing a costume with some wearing something more fancy and outlandish than the others. While we were there we saw a number of folks dressed in full on warrior regalia or as different kinds of animals (bears being a popular choice). It’s the first time, I’ve actually felt underdressed at a party. Festival time at Koln is the one time of the year when the charms of the Dom or Cathedral is overshadowed by throngs of party goers. That in itself is quite the achievement as the Cathedral dominates the city and is renowned for being the only edifice left standing after the city was bombed during the war. If you’re looking for a weekend destination in the middle of winter, Cologne at festival time is certainly one great option.

the Cathedral...

a view of the Rhine river...

Let the beer flow....they've devised a way to stack up all the glasses of beer without spilling a drop...

Like I said, everyone was in costume and proud!

The Sunday street parade that was in preparation for the big one on Monday...

Funny to see that they had their own version of Samba...

Because everyone participates, children and non drinking adults were treated to flowers, candies and chocolates during the parade....