Saturday Story Hour: Elegant Hedgehogs

You can find your weekly dose of contemporary literature at "Saturday Story Hour."

Fosco has been doing more actual work as of late and, consequently, doing less "pleasure" reading (it goes it cycles, you know). But last week, he did manage to read Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog (or charmingly, in the original French, L'élégance du hérisson). He wants to credit Maggie at The Improvisatrice for recommending the novel in this post of awesome things. When Fosco came across the title again a few weeks ago (in this NY Times article about a publisher that is successfully selling translated literary novels from Europe), he knew he must read it. So he made the trip to his local independent bookstore (as promised) and picked up the surprisingly elegant(!) Europa edition.

The book was a bestseller in France and has garnered mainly positive reviews here in the States (although not every critic appreciates "the accessible book that flatters readers with its intellectual veneer"--ouch). Accessible or no, flattering or no, Fosco enjoyed this book a great deal (and one would think that Fosco hardly needs to be flattered with intellectual veneer). Sure, the mini-essays on philosophy occasionally seem a bit forced (although mostly they do not), but what's important in this novel are the characters and the possibilities of their relationships.

And when it comes to the characters and their lives, the novel is extremely moving. In fact, Fosco is willing to admit that the last two chapters of the novel made him cry. A lot. We're not talking about a few sniffles and moist eyes; we're talking tears streaming down his cheeks, wiping his eyes to be able to see the page in front of him. To be honest, Fosco hasn't cried like that over a book in quite a while.

Now before you run out and read it, you should know that the novel is very French. It is engaged with social class in a way that would never occur in most American novels (whether that's because of a real cultural difference or because of a denial of the role of class in the US, well, that is a good question). The novel is built, to a large extent, around the everyday codes of language and politesse that codify (and enervate) social relations in France (or, at least in this fictional stereotype of France). Also, there is much comedy focusing on two of the long-standing obsessions of the French haute bourgeoisie: socialism and psychoanalysis.

The novel is composed of two intertwined narratives: that of a widowed fiftyish concierge for a ritzy apartment building and that of a precocious twelve-year-old living in the same building. The concierge is from the lower class and has no real formal education; yet, she is an amazingly well-read autodidact who reads philosophy for fun. However, as she is worried about appearing to have ambitions above her station, she hides her keen intellect and cultivated taste behind a veneer of stereotypical concierge stupidity. The twelve-year-old also hides her extraordinary intellect--mainly from her family. She is smart enough to see through the pretensions of the adult world and despairs at the prospect of adult life. She intends to commit suicide on her thirteenth birthday.

Does hilarity ensue? Not exactly. What happens is sweet, humane, and (eventually) heartbreaking. This is novel that explores the pleasures and the pains of secrecy, the tentative joys of making a new friend, and the purpose of cats. At its heart is the extremely comforting suggestion (to Fosco at least) that there is a secret fellowship of those who love beauty and who spend their lives searching for it. It is the idea of this fellowship that helps make the pain in this novel bearable for Fosco.

And while "Saturday Story Hour" typically focuses on a short story, there is nothing other than this novel that Fosco can discuss this week. And so, instead of a short story, Fosco offers you the first chapter of this remarkable novel. I hope that it leaves you wanting more.

The first chapter of The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery, trans. by Alison Anderson.


1. Whosoever Sows Desire

"Marx has completely changed the way I view the world," declared the Pallières boy this morning, although ordinarily he says nary a word to me.

Antoine Pallières, prosperous heir to an old industrial dynasty, is the son of one of my eight employers. There he stood, the most recent eructation of the ruling corporate elite--a class that reproduces itself solely by means of virtuous and proper hiccups--beaming at his discovery, sharing it with me without thinking or ever dreaming for a moment that I might actually understand what he was referring to. How could the laboring classes understand Marx? Reading Marx is an arduous task, his style is lofty, the prose is subtle and the thesis complex.

And that is when I very nearly--foolishly--gave myself away.

"You ought to read The German Ideology," I told him. Little cretin in his conifer green duffle coat.

To understand Marx and understand why he is mistaken, one must read The German Ideology. It is the anthropological cornerstone on which all his exhortations for a new world would be built, and on which a sovereign certainty is established: mankind, doomed to its own ruin through desire, would do better to confine itself to its own needs. In a world where the hubris of desire has been vanquished, a new social organization can emerge, cleansed of struggle, oppression and deleterious hierarchies.

"Whosoever sows desire harvests oppression," I nearly murmured, as if only my cat were listening to me.

But Antoine Pallières, whose repulsive and embryonic whiskers have nothing the least bit feline about them, is staring at me, uncertain of my strange words. As always, I am saved by the inability of living creatures to believe anything that might cause the walls of their little mental assumptions to crumble. Concierges do not read The German Ideology; hence, they would certainly be incapable of quoting the eleventh thesis on Feuerbach. Moreover, a concierge who reads Marx must be contemplating subversion, must have sold her soul to the devil, the trade union. That she might simply be reading Marx to elevate her mind is so incongruous a conceit that no member of the bourgeoisie could ever entertain it.

"Say hello to your mother," I murmur as I close the door in his face, hoping that the complete dissonance between my two sentences will be veiled by the might of millennial prejudice.

-------------------------------

If you should desire to purchase this novel from Amazon.com, you can do so by using this link:

A very small percentage will go to Fosco and he will appreciate it...


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Rounding Up Food, Again

"Foodie Friday" continues at Fosco Lives!

Here's a roundup of some very cool foodie things for the week:

• Fosco has been in love with kolaches for years, ever since Todd's remarkable parents introduced him to them. They buy them every so often at some ethnic bakery (Czech would make the most sense, but I don't think it's actually a Czech bakery) near St. Joseph, Michigan. In Fosco's experience, kolaches are kind of like heavy cookies with fruit filling and thick sugar glaze (like a crust, almost). I think Todd's parents normally get apricot and raspberry--both are good.
  
  UPDATE: Check the Comments section below for more information on this West Michigan bakery. It turns out that I was almost entirely wrong about everything. (What else is new...)
  
  Well, in this month's Gourmet, there is a feature article on kolaches! Apparently, the kolache capital of this country is central Texas(!), where the descendants of Czech settlers have created a kolache culture. Both the pictures and descriptions seem slightly different from the Western Michigan kolaches that Fosco is so fond of (these appear to be more like danishes), but they still look (and sound) amazing.
  
  But the best part? There is a chain of stores called The Kolache Factory (with locations all over the Midwest and Great Plains). Imagine--an entire factory dedicated to making kolaches! I am having "Willy Wonka" visions, yes I am. (Apparently, there is one in Austin. Hint, hint, John Mackey and AEJ.)
  
  
• I've mentioned before that I am now enthralled with Jean-Georges Vongerichten's blog. Well, recently J-G used his blog to announce two new innovations at his flagship restaurant in NYC:
  
  • the "select menu": a four-course meal of three signature dishes plus your choice of a dessert flight, all for $58. Even though the selected signature dishes are not quite as exciting as his frogs legs or black sea bass, this menu is an absolute steal at this price. This is a wonderful concession to a bad economy--thank you, J-G!
    
  • half glasses of wine: perfect for people like Fosco who like to taste a little wine, but who rarely want to finish a whole glass. As Jean-Georges notes:
    

    I noticed that people getting together at the bar would start with a glass of wine, and then be stuck in the awkward position of wanting to stay a little while longer, but not for another full glass. (Think first dates.) In the dining room, customers wanted to pair different wines with different courses, but didn’t want a full glass with each course. And colleagues who came in for lunch celebrations would want to order champagne, but a full glass is a bit much when you need to return to work. (In these times, it’s more important than ever to celebrate professional achievements.) Perhaps most importantly, I wanted diners who drove to my restaurants to drive home safely.

    I think this is brilliant, although I can't help but imagine the disdain the French will feel if they ever hear about it.
  
  
• Speaking of Jean-Georges, Mark Bittman explains a beet-roasting technique he learned from J-G himself. He also has an easy recipe for eating them:
  

  a dressing of walnuts, garlic and fresh orange juice. Note that all of these have some bitterness or acidity, which counter the sweetness of beets beautifully. To tame the garlic, I cook it quickly, along with the walnuts; toasting always makes nuts nuttier. This makes the purée smoother tasting as well.

  Fosco lurves beets and this sounds like a great preparation.
  
  
• You may know that the French Laundry (the best restaurant in the country) is located in the Napa Valley town of Yountville. Well, it turns out that, as Thomas Keller's restaurant empire grows, so do the ambitions of Yountville. As this article notes, Yountville is positioning itself to become the capital of Napa. As one resident suggests, Yountville is now the one stop that a person needs to make in Napa:
  

  "It's an experiential village — you can stay, eat, go to all these different restaurants, check out great art, enjoy the wine. It's what makes Times Square, Times Square. Yountville is the rural Times Square."

  Hmmm. An odd comparison, I think. Even so, Fosco is currently scheming a trip to Yountville; he'll keep you updated.
  
  
• Fosco's favorite Queen of Good Living, Jill of Stella's Roar, did some cooking and some mixology recently. Check out her amazing Gumbo YaYa and the filthily-named Black Snake Moan cocktail. I'm a little in awe of her lifestyle.

Golden Delicious

"Foodie Friday" continues here at Fosco Lives!

This past week was the annual Bocuse d'Or competition in Lyon, France--a sort of "culinary Olympics" for the best French-style chefs in the world. The competition is named for legendary French chef Paul Bocuse, who with typical Gallic modesty, also lends his name to the eponymous award. Interestingly, the literal translation of bocuse d'or is "golden narcissist," which seems appropriate when you see the winner's trophy:

Yes, that is the actual figure of Paul Bocuse standing atop the globe. In gold. This guy makes Donald Trump look like Mother Teresa.

But despite Bocuse's Rick Warren-like self-regard, the competition is still a deadly serious event, with many European countries following it as closely as sporting competitions. The competition takes place over two days and is something of an endurance test. Each country that participates is allowed one team, led by one chef. This year, the American chef was Timothy Hollingsworth, the sous-chef at the best restaurant in the US, Thomas Keller's French Laundry in Napa. Hollingsworth won the privilege last September and has worked full-time since then with his team to prepare for the competition. Like I said, this is serious.

The New York Times covered this year's competition quite well (how will we live when they no longer exist?). You can watch this short video explaining the competition and describing its strange football-game atmosphere.

If you prefer your culinary competitions to have a bit of a Top Chef twist, then you will definitely appreciate this report from the competition that describes how the first day's ingredient (Norwegian prawns) were given to the chefs frozen. As the Times notes,

“It was the surprise of the day!” said Christian Têtedoie, a member of the official organizing committee, who once won the Meilleur Ouvrier de France, considered the most prestigious cooking award in France. He offered no other comment except to shrug his shoulders, tap his clipboard and walk away.

Eek! What would Tom and Padma say?

The good news is that, unlike previous years, all of the chefs lived through the ordeal. The bad news (for rabidly patriotic Americans like Fosco) is that the American chef, Mr. Hollingsworth, came in sixth. The winner was Norway. Or Sweden. Or something like that. Luckily, you can read about why Mr. Hollingsworth failed. It turns out there was a minor snafu with plating (I told you this thing is serious):

“It was very difficult to plate the fish,” he added. “This was the first time I was with these servers, it was very difficult. They were working a different way from the way I’m used to working.”

He said he was used to plating all the dishes for one course at one time, but his servers at the competition did it in sets of four.

Nor did things go any better for the home team:

The biggest disappointment was felt by France. Philippe Mille, the 34-year-old Frenchman who is the sous-chef at the three-star Paris restaurant Le Meurice, was a strong candidate, and many expected him to win. But his fish dish came out a minute late, which cost the French team 12 points in the scoring.

Sadly, M. Mille will now be deported to Belgium.

Joyeux anniversaire!

Even though Fosco is getting to this kind of late, he can't let it pass that today is the birthday of Ste Jeanne d'Arc, born in 1412 in the village of Domrémy in Lorraine. Fosco's favorite representation of Joan of Arc is this 1879 painting by Jules Bastien-Lepage (found in the collection of the Met Museum in NYC and adored by Fosco on his recent visit).

This painting dates from a French revival of interest in Jeanne after the disastrous Franco-Prussian War (1870-71). If you look carefully at the left of the canvas, you can see ghostly shapes of Saint Michael, St. Catherine, and St. Margaret giving Joan her holy charge. Sometimes Fosco wishes we had a historical record of what happened to Joan after that. Oh well.

From the Annals of Future Terrorism

Fosco is no expert on French domestic politics (he leaves that to KFR), but he finds this story worrisome. According to British paper The Observer,

The French government fears a wave of extreme left-wing terrorism this year with the possible sabotage of key infrastructure, kidnappings of major business figures or even bomb attacks.

Based on secret documents, The Observer reports that

A report by the French domestic intelligence service talks of "a rebirth of the violent extreme left" across Europe that is likely to be aggravated by the effects of the economic crisis. Other secret documents expose alleged links with activists in Italy, Greece, Germany and the UK. "It has been growing for three or four years now and the violence is getting closer and closer to real terrorism," said Eric Dénécé, director of the French centre of intelligence research and a former Defence Ministry consultant.

Now this report is worrisome for several reasons. One possibility is that this is an attempt by the (relatively) Right-wing Sarkozy Government to create a climate of fear that would allow a power grab (taking a cue from George W. and his cronies across the Atlantic). The other worry is that this report is true--and terrorism (whether Left or Right) is a force of chaos. Our world is only getting scarier.

[The above painting is part of Gerhard Richter's Baader-Meinhof series, reproducing photographs of the 1970's terrorists.]