Tag Archives: paris

REVIEW: EXTRAORDINARY THEORY OF OBJECTS by Stephanie Lacava

by mwgerard Posted on November 27, 2012

I have a love/hate relationship with Paris.  Like many people, I expect, I had a romanticized notion of Paris, which I was quite aware was unreal.  But I still wanted to see the storied place of Latrec, Ilse Bing, Cocteau, Hugo, Doisneau, and Brassaï.  There must be something that drew them, inspired them all.

If there was, they took it with them.

Although there were certain things that we did that we enjoyed, as a city, a place, it was dreadful.  It was dirty, with rotting small animals left in public parks.  Every few years another agressive peddler tried to sell you the same cheap trinket.  The Metro was filthy and not well-run.  But I somehow managed to take stunning photos.  Maybe that is Paris’ spell.

I couldn’t help but think all this as I read Lacava’s fantastic memoir.  She was moved to France as a thirteen year old.  Already fragile, she is thrown into a new world, a new school, new country, new language.  One of her coping mechanisms is to collect random objects that are important to her.  No one seems to understand it, or her thought process, or even the inner pain she is experiencing.

Illustration from page 110.

The book is series of intertwined episodes during this confusing time.  Each essay shimmers along until the little asterisk signals a tangential explanation.  The footnotes sometimes last for three pages, dwarfing the “actual” text.  But this is the charm, and indeed, the strength of this memoir.  As the reader, we are given insight into how Lacava’s nonlinear thinking works.

Alone and unaccepted by other girls, I also loved biographies or fiction about alluring and iconoclastic women who would come to feel like real-life companions.  Reading was a Pascalian diversion; stories and facts were a distraction from spiraling thoughts.  I had always hated loudness.  It was loud enough in my head.

This mania extended to animals, people, and places — a city, even strangers in the street.  I had a game where I liked to imagine what sort of pajamas each passerby might wear.  This came from a belief that the more I know about the inner lives of others, the more I might understand the world.  Collecting information and talismans is a way of exercising magical control.  You can hold a lucky charm and known everything about nature’s creatures yet still be terribly lonely.  ~Pg. 3

In some ways, I think many young girls who are “different” but brilliant have these inner conversations and games.  It’s a way to exercise the mind without exposing themselves to ridicule.

Illustration from page 16.

Her writing is unflinching.  She is brutally honest about her self and her familial disappointments, but this is not a self-indulgent pity party.  This is insightful writing at its best — and it’s an extremely enjoyable read.

My sincere thanks to the folks at Harper for the advance review copy and for sending the images for me to inlcude.
________________________

ISBN: 9780061963896
ISBN10: 0061963895
Imprint: Harper
On Sale: 12/4/2012
Format: Hardcover
Trimsize: 5 x 7 1/4
Pages: 224
$23.99
Ages: 18 and Up

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31 DAYS OF HALLOWEEN – Day 18

by mwgerard Posted on October 18, 2012

Time to show you some more photos of the cemeteries we explored on our honeymoon.  There photos were taken at Pere Lachaise, the very famous burying ground in Paris.  It is where such famous people as Jim Morrison, Chopin, and Oscar Wilde.  It is also a beautiful place to wander around.

Have you been to a famous gravesite?  Where was it?

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Paris Review – Dear Paris Review, What Books Impress a Girl? , Sadie Stein

by mwgerard Posted on June 14, 2012

 

Dear Paris Review,

Someone sent me this text message yesterday: “What’s a book I should read to make girls think I’m smart in a hot way? I want to seem like a douchey intellectual instead of my deadbeat self.” What should I tell him?

 

Sincerely,
A

Paris Review – Dear Paris Review, What Books Impress a Girl? , Sadie Stein.

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REVIEW: JEZEBEL by Irene Nemirovsky

by mwgerard Posted on June 7, 2012

This is the first of Nemirovsky’s novels I have read.  I’d heard her story and was intrigued.    She was born in 1903 in Kiev to wealthy family, who immigrated to France.  Well-educated, she became a prolific and respected writer in Paris.  However, her life and talent were cut short when she died in 1942 in Auschwitz.  Her posthumous career has taken on a life of its own.  This book in particular was kept locked in a safe for decades and only released in 2006.

It opens on the trial of Gladys Eysenach, the main character.  She is accused of murdering a young man named Bernard.  As the trial proceeds, she does little to defend herself.  Rather she allows others to come to their own conclusions.  She would rather be found guilty than admit to the terrible truth she is trying to hide.

Gladys is obsessed with youth.  Her beauty is her only concern.  As the novel progresses (through flashbacks) it becomes clear that she will never be content and only serves to act as her own downfall.  Gladys’ selfishness is stunning.

In 1914 Gladys lived near Antibes in a beautiful but uncomfortable house, built in the Italian style; it had belonged to the Counts Dolcebuone and was named ‘Sans-Souci’.

‘I only rented it because of its name, ‘Care-free’, for it encapsulates all of life’s wisdom,’ she would say.

The rooms were vast and cold, the furniture covered in threadbare red damask.  But the dark walls softened the glaring light of the Midi and Gladys likes that.  Every day, just after she woke up, she would pick up her mirror and study her features, and she would find pleasure in the glowing shadow that softly lit up her face.   ~Pg 59.

Although it is written in the third person, it is from Gladys’ point-of-view.  The reader sees her disintegrate, slowly unravelling.

The main weakness in the novel is the repetitive nature after the halfway point.  The plot is left in the background — until the last few pages.  However the repeating thoughts do note Gladys’ static nature.  She is unchanging, ungrowing, even in the face of losing her freedom.  Her obsession has in turn consumed her and she is now unable to change.

The book reads more like a novella.  It’s easily read in a day.  I found it very reminiscent of George Sand and her Leone Leoni, and of James M Cain’s Mildred Pierce.  I’m very glad her work has been “rediscovered” and look forward to reading more of it.

A great many thanks to Audrey and Courtney at Vintage Anchor Books for the review copy.
________________________________

Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: Vintage; Reprint edition (May 1, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0307745465
ISBN-13: 978-0307745460
Product Dimensions: 5.2 x 0.6 x 8 inches

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Pere LaChaise and Sacre Coeur: Paris

by mwgerard Posted on August 16, 2011
On the outskirts of the city is Pere LaChaise cemetery.  It’s an enormous graveyard and is full of generation of families and famous ex-pats.  There are several notables buried here, including Edith Piaf, Jane Avril, Stephan Grappelli, and Seurat, to name a few.  It would be impossible to find all of these graves, but we managed to find a couple people you might recognize.
Menilmontant is a wonderful silent film.

Tree next to Jim Morrison’s grave

We stopped by to pay our respects to Oscar Wilde.  I was absolutely infuriated by the state of the head stone.  It was (at one time) a lovely deco-style sculpture but it had been destroyed by graffiti.  It was covered in notes in pink and red marker and black sharpie.  It was maddening.  I refuse to post a picture of it. 

Good thing there was a fence around this one…

Chopin 
Then it was back on the Metro to Montmartre and Sacre Coeur.  

I was hoping for the neighborhood, artist’s colony feel but unfortunately it was simply overrun by tourists and more guys selling awful trinkets.

The famous steps of Montmartre.  Of course, Brassai’s is better than mine.
We stopped at a grocery store to get some slightly more affordable food to eat for dinner, then crashed at the hotel.  By this point, I couldn’t wait to get on a plane and away from France.  And I hate flying.
The next morning, we rode the Metro to Gare du Nord, then caught another train to Charles deGaulle airport.  On that train, we suffered at the hands of incredibly awful, rude people who shoved our luggage into other riders.  Then, at CDG, we stood in a line that was over an hour long because the United/Continental desk was so unorganized.  Security was nonsensical, and trying to get a croissant at the Starbucks was inane because people didn’t line up.  Just rushed the counter.  
Luckily, both plane rides were uneventful (although the transfer at Dulles was also ridiculous).  
Keep watching this blog for more stories.  I’ll be revisiting the Edinburgh photos soon since I didn’t have much time to post about it earlier.  
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Of Stairs and Hunchbacks: Paris

by mwgerard Posted on August 14, 2011
Our last day in Paris and the last day of the honeymoon.  We went to Ile de la Cite and Notre Dame first to try to beat the crowds.  There was no one there and we just walked into the church.  It’s quite deceptive — it is beyond enormous inside.  
The railing along the Metro stairs

Palais de Justice

One of the famous Rose Windows, taken down during the war and reinstalled.

A view of the buttresses

We climbed over 400 stairs, up a small, winding, stone staircase, to a narrow walkway to view the famous gargoyles. Each one was a little different, which was very cool.

I cannot tell you how excited I was to see this guy.  

Then we climbed another 100 steps or so up an even narrower staircase to one of the two bell towers and viewed one of the incredibly large bells — like the one Quasimodo rang in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Views from the upper roof 

We made the very long and dizzying descent.  As we walked back to the Metro station, we found a very cool nursery and florist.  

 And nearby was a retired Art Nouveau Metro station. 

Next stop, Pere LaChaise… 
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Along Le Seine

by mwgerard Posted on August 13, 2011

After we finished at the Eiffel Tower, we walked along Le Seine, on the way to Musee D’Orsay.  The skies threatened to unleash, but no rain ever actually came down.

The Grand Palais

The Grand Palais left, Pont Alexandre III middle, Petit Palais right

The Grand Palais, from across the river

The view from Pont Alexandre III

Petit Palais

The Grand Palais

Pont Alexandre III

Pont Alexandre III

Pont Alexandre III

The Louvre, from across the river

Musee D’Orsay
There was a line approximately 2 hours long just to get into the museum, so we decided to pass.  Instead, we crossed the river to the Louvre and Jardin Tuileries.  And there was a line 3 hours long to get into the Louvre, so we skipped that too.  Instead, we went for a stroll in the garden.

The gardens themselves were not in very good condition.  It was almost as if they grounds crew had given up on trying to keep them nice.  Also, there were people EVERYWHERE, being loud and obnoxious.  Luckily you can’t hear them in the pictures.
We followed the garden to Place de la Concorde, then wandered some more on some quieter streets.

After dinner, we walked back to Pont Alexandre III for a view of the sights by night.

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Le Tour Eiffel

by mwgerard Posted on August 12, 2011
Knowing it would be crowded, we left the hotel in plenty of time to arrive at the Eiffel Tower before it even opened.  We waited in line that really wasn’t very long for an elevator to take us to the 2nd level.  It was bit overcast and grey, but the worst part was fending off the strange men who peddle their crap to everyone in line.  Primarily they are selling cheap models of the tower, in different sizes.  You get to pick 3 or 4 for just 1 Euro!  Such a deal.  Until the thing breaks or you get lead poisoning from it.  Anyway, they were EVERYWHERE and don’t seem to take a hint in any language. 
Those of you that know me probably know that I hate elevators.  I hate riding in them, seeing them, hearing them, anything.  It all goes back to an episode of a TV show called Probe (but that’s another story).  So riding 3 elevators to 1000 feet is not my favorite. But, I did pretty well.  I knew a great deal of the history about the building of the tower, and Otis’ contribution to it.  The ride was very smooth, and I just concentrated on the engineering of it all, rather than the fact I was stuck in a box climbing a structure. 
That said, the views were great, and it really is an impressive structure.

 

Yep, we’re going even higher.

Apparently, pickpockets are red in France.  Very convenient. 
We rode the elevator back to the second floor, then walked down the stairs from the 2nd floor to the 1st level.  I highly recommend using the stairs at some point.  You can see the iron work as well as get a great view of the elevator system.  

Oh yeah.  By the way, it’s brown.  Had no idea. 

A very expensive restaurant in the tower
As I took this one, I got a few weird looks… and some copycats. 

Walking down Le Seine
More from our afternoon in the next post.
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Je N’aime Pas Paris

by mwgerard Posted on August 11, 2011
I desperately wanted to.  But I just didn’t love Paris.
Tuesday, August 2nd was mostly a travel day from London to Paris.  Getting luggage from the hotel, on the Tube, to St. Pancras, then on the Eurostar, through Gare du Nord, then on the Metro in Paris, then to the hotel was a bit taxing.  Actually, the worst part was St. Pancras.  Once we “officially” left London to board the Eurostar, it was chaos.  No announcements, signs, or labeling — in any language.  Just mobs of people staring at a non-updated departure board.  Ridiculous.
The train from London to Paris itself was perfectly pleasant and I didn’t notice we were in the Chunnel until we came out of it.  But Gare du Nord was a nightmare.  In such stark contract to the well-mannered city we were in just a couple of hours before.  Scammers were everywhere.  Signage was incomplete.  There were no staff members to help.  It rather summed up the entire population as we experienced it: Every man for himself. Any chance someone had to get just a little bit ahead, despite what it might cause their fellow human, they took it. 
We finally arrived at our hotel, which was quite lovely and on a quiet street.  And determined to get the bad taste out of our mouths, we immediately set out on foot to the Champs Elysees and the Arc du Triomphe.  

Tired and hungry (we hadn’t eaten all day, really), we set off to find a small cafe or bistro in a less touristy area.  

Despite our wanderings, the best we could find was a $27 hamburger.  Yes.  You read that right.  And this was not a fancy place be any means. Exhausted and rather disenchanted, we made it an early night and vowed to do better the next day. 
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BOOK PHOTOS: Medical Muses and Sisters Brothers

by mwgerard Posted on June 27, 2011
So, I thought I might try something a little different.  I’m going to start photographing the books I review with props or in settings that are relevant.  I think it might be a little fun, plus challenge my creativity.  I’m going to try to catch-up just a bit with some past reviews and book covers.

Read my review of MEDICAL MUSES here. 

Read my review of THE SISTERS BROTHERS here.
Please let me know what you think!  More to come… 

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REVIEW: MEDICAL MUSES by Asti Hustvedt

by mwgerard Posted on June 17, 2011
Hysteria in the Nineteenth Century Paris

An absolutely stunning and amazing book.  There were many overnight hours spent with a little light, awake and reading.  Hustvedt demonstrates such thorough knowledge and ease about her topic that her academic precision never overpowers the compelling story of Charcot, Salpetriere and the “star” hysterics. 
Hustvedt uses three main women who were in the care of Dr. Charcot to illustrate numerous social conditions.  Through their stories, we are able to understand the medical theories of the time, the societal obsession and repulsion with gruesome science, the possible (acceptable) roles for females, religious fervor, class discrimination, medical morality, artistic representation and the role of the supernatural. 
The idea of an insane asylum is always harrowing, particularly in the days before rational medication and sympathetic nursing.  They are often the setting for horror and mystery movies and novel, for there is nothing my psychologically upsetting than to a) lose one’s mind or b) to not be believed to be sane.  In Bedlam (1946, Val Lewton), a caring young woman (Anna Lee) unwittingly discovers the horrors within St. Mary Bethlehem Hospital and the distinctly serpentine creature that oversees it (Boris Karloff).  Her determination to expose him lands her in Bedlam where she must struggle to maintain her own sanity among the truly disturbed. 
Boris Karloff and Anna Lee in Bedlam
What is so illuminating in this book is how very unlike Bedlam that Hopital Salpetriere was.  Charcot’s wards were not considered insane and therefore did not live in the asylum ward.  They enjoyed a certain status among the doctors, staff and other patients and were subject to lengthy spells of normal behavior.  Some even came and went from the hospital for months at a time to work and live in Paris.  Ostracized from “normal” society, they enjoyed an unusual sense of luxury within the walls of the hospital.
Jane Avril, a famous dancer at the Moulin Rouge, was an occasional patient of Charcot.
But, in exchange for this relatively independent lifestyle, they were test subjects for Charcot’s research — something it seems they were all too willing to be.  His subjects became something of celebrities.  Charcot’s frequent lectures were open to the public as well as to other researchers and doctors.  At any one of these spectacles, a visitor might witness hypnotism, suggestion, involuntary contractions,  and other outbursts that only hysterics could produce.  Many hysterics also suffered from anesthesia in a certain hemisphere of the body.  Like a Coney Island freak show, doctors would poke large needles completely through the arm of a patient who had no feeling to prove the biological symptoms of hysteria. 
Asti Hustvedt divides her treatise into short chapters, more like sections, that deal with a particular topic.  It makes a seemingly spindly subject very accessible and organized.  Medical terminology is used, but always explained.  French phrases are sometimes thrown in, but they too are elaborated upon if they are not entirely obvious.  Though much was questioned about Charcot and his muses’ veracity, Hustvedt primarily focuses on what we do know.  She draws from dozens of sources such as doctor’s reports, newspapers, medical files, municipal records, interviews and fascinating photographs (an art form in its infancy) and sketches.  
While probably not for the very faint of heart, the book is not gruesome or gory.  There are descriptions of medical procedures and the case histories of the patients tends to be somewhat upsetting (no wonder then that they became hysterics).  Though it is not able to medically define hysteria for a modern system, it poses viable and probable causes for its influence during the time — and what it has become today.  It is rather incredible to gauge just how far we have come, and yet how very little we still understand. 
______________________________
Hardcover, May 2011
ISBN 978-0-393-02560-6
5.8 × 8.6 in / 372 pages       
Many thanks to the lovely folks at W.W. Norton for the review copy. 
Read an interview and an excerpt on NPR.org.
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QUICK REVIEW: Eiffel’s Tower by Jill Jonnes

by mwgerard Posted on January 31, 2011
And the World’s Fair Where Buffalo Bill Beguiled Paris, the Artists Quarreled, and Thomas Edison Became a Count


An enticing and engrossing snapshot of one of (if not the) most recognizable landmarks in the world.  Author Jonnes brings together all of the tidbits and urban legends you’ve heard – and several you haven’t – to illustrate a vibrant moment in history. 

When Gustav Eiffel suggested to the committee for the Internationale Exposition that the centerpiece should be a large, iron, skeletal tower, more than a few were unconvinced.  Notably, many public figures insisted the  structure would be hideous.  A few even suggested it would change weather pattens, crush homes in the area and act as a giant magnet, pulling nails out of walls and collapsing whole blocks of the city.

Jonnes also highlights some of the personalities surrounding the 1889 fair.  Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show and Annie Oakley played to sold out shows daily, and became highly respected in Parisian society.  Thomas Edison showcased his voice recording machines, while the entire fair was lit by his light bulbs.  A temperamental James Gordon Bennett Jr. launched the Paris Herald, a very successful English newspaper for expatriates (like himself) and visitors to the fair.  Van Gogh and Whistler struggled to be seen. Paris was a wonderland, it seems, with a revival of arts, culture, ideas and science.

Jonnes’ carefully-researched book certainly makes one wish they could have see these wonders firsthand. 

_________________________
Read more about the author and her book here: http://www.jjonnes.com/index.html

Reviewer did not receive a review copy of this title.

Paperback: 368 pages
Publisher: Penguin (Non-Classics); Reprint edition (April 27, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0143117297
ISBN-13: 978-0143117292
Product Dimensions: 8.3 x 5.4 x 0.9 inches

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    MESRINE: Parts Un et Deux (2008)

    by mwgerard Posted on January 24, 2011

    Part 1 – Killer Instinct
    Part 2 – Public Enemy No. 1

    I have rarely been so entranced by what is primarily an action movie.  So far-reaching is the protagonist’s mayhem that it took two full length films to show just pieces of his exploits.  There could easily have been a third.

    The saga begins in the early 1960s when Jacques Mesrine (Vincent Cassel) struggles with his post in Algeria.  He is assigned to rout out revolutionaries in Algiers and punish with no mercy (these scenes harken back to the equally suspenseful Battle of Algiers).  Clearly conflicted, he returns home – to live with his parents.  His disillusionment is not unlike those returning from World War I, confused by their elders’ insistence that war is honorable, as is a quiet home and a respectable job.

    Home life doesn’t agree with Mesrine, but he finds that bank robbing holds a thrill, and a paycheck, he can’t resist.  He becomes more embroiled in the criminal underworld and his “legitimate” life begins to crumble.  His wife and kids suffer from his short temper and angry outbursts.  He is finally apprehended and jailed for a number of years before he manages to escape (the first of many times).  The mood slowly morphs from bebop-infused heists (in which Mesrine insists no one is hurt and only the thieving banks suffer) to dark, solemn, psychologically-disturbed crime.

    Cassel very expertly draws this enigmatic character.  He will wink and give a half smile that elicits a chuckle, then scrunch up his nose in a sneer that is frightful.  Though Mesrine has no problem shooting police officers and stealing money, he is also incredibly charming, a stalwart friend and a fantastic cook.  He has never gone back on a promise and never hurts an innocent bystander.  The gendarmerie have labelled him Public Enemy #1, but the public are not so quick to condemn.  He is a modern Robin Hood.

    By the second film, Mesrine (that’s MAY-reen) is struggling with this public image.  At once admired and reviled, he begins to lash out at those who try to quell his ideas.  He attempts to develop his stance as a revolutionary — fighting against inhumane treatment in prison (like those he suffered), in addition to bringing attention to unfair banking practices and those who control them.

    Yet he can never quite reconcile himself with the absolute ruthlessness needed to achieve widespread change.  He has a tender side, which he often has trouble dealing with.  It’s as if two halves are constantly battling one another — and it’s devastating, yet incredible, to watch.  We too, as the audience, are at the same time intrigued and repulsed by the outlaw.  Perhaps the only thing that is clear is that the ineffectual Paris police force (portrayed as little better than a team of Inspector Clouseaus) caused an unfair end to Mesrine.

    The Mesrine Saga is a taut and exciting portrait of a man who really existed.  It is a fun crime thriller to be sure, but it also explores what is means to “exist” and the idea that exterior perception can affect interior reality.

    ____________________

    Many thanks to Psychotronic Films for screening these movies, and to Muse Arts Warehouse for hosting.

    View trailers of the films here.

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    REVIEW: Unknown by Didier Van Cauwelaert

    by mwgerard Posted on January 17, 2011
    Previously published as Out of My Head
    Translated from the French by Mark Polizzotti

    Without a number of artistic elements this would be nothing but a slapdash pulp action.  Fortunately, Van Cauwelaert brings pulp up several notches.   Plenty of action, a femme fatale and a sympathetic narrator make it pulpy.  But the writing is strong, confident and refined. 
    It’s told from the first-person perspective of Martin Harris, famed botanist, awakes from a coma after a taxi accident.  According to the cab driver, he’s been out for three days and she has been sitting with him, full of guilt.  She drives him home to his expensive flat, and they expect to never see each other again.  Harris is given a great shock, however, when he excitedly arrives at his front door, only to be met by someone else named Martin Harris and a wife who doesn’t recognize him.  Angered and confused, he sets out to prove his identity and determine who is trying to erase him.  
    Because the story is told from Harris’ point of view, we have of course a unreliable narrator, yet we believe him.  This is enhanced by a couple of things.  Firstly, Mark Polizzotti’s translated preserves the lively cadence of the language, yet avoids flowery phrasing.  Secondly, the author mirrors the the style of writing with Harris’ state of mind.  As he becomes more erratic, so does the narrative.  Settings jump around and conversations are truncated.  Thirdly, the details are rich but not overwhelming.  It was a small stroke of genius to make Harris a botanist rather than a retired cop or a physician.  His tangents into the world of botany are both cogent and humanizing. His observations become almost another character. 
    Kruger and Neeson on set
    The reveal is not nearly as fulfilling as the rest of the novel.  Still it is a very enjoyable read.  It has been made into a film, slated to release in February of 2011.  It stars Liam Neeson, Diane Kruger, January Jones, Aidan Quinn and Frank Langella.  It certainly has a pacing like Taken that should be a perfectly watchable movie.  I am curious to see how they integrate Harris’ inner thoughts, however.  It also seems the film was shot in Berlin, but the book takes place in Paris.  It is unclear where the film is supposed to be set at this point.  Following its release, a film review will be posted at http://acineastesview.blogspot.com.
    ________________
    Many thanks to Meghan at Viking/Penguin for the review copy (movie tie-in edition). 
    In keeping with the theme of the book, it seems there is no listing for it on the Penguin/Viking site. ISBN – 9780143119012
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    REVIEW: PARISIANS by Graham Robb

    by mwgerard Posted on December 28, 2010
    An Adventure History of Paris
    Consider this an entirely unorthodox guidebook through the crooked streets and tumultuous times of Paris.  Robb, as expert as one can be without actually being Parisian, uncovers and shares fleeting tales of famous moments in the City of Lights.  
    It is rather like finding a train ticket or a receipt and discovering an unknown afternoon.  He leads off with a somewhat innocuous story of Napoleon visiting the city (the Palais-Royal in particular) as a young man.  From a diary entry, the reader sees a generous and impressionable man — not a fearless conqueror.
    A sophisticated underground system
    Robb continues to reanimate voices through the centuries.  Marie Antoinette is captured only because she became lost during her escape attempt.  M. Guillaumot literally keeps Paris from collapsing by shoring up old mining quarries and tunnels — then finds a new use for his underground city.  The real, vengeful and masterful Comte de Monte Cristo is uncovered.  The romantic criminal-turned-detective Vidocq and the devastating life behind La Boheme.  There is a story of a small building in Marville that escaped numerous wrecking balls.  The photographs of it over the years show the lives it has held.  It is a study of which Walter Benjamin and Roland Barthes would be proud.  Zola and Proust weave in amongst the crowds in the early days of the Eiffel Tower and the Metro – landmarks in their own right.  An alchemist takes clues from the facade of Notre Dame and an exuberant Hitler goes on an eerie tour of the city he has obsessed over.  
    A famous Metro sign
    The book slumps in the middle. The chapters “Occupation” and “Lovers of Saint-Germain Des Pres” do not hold up nearly as well.  Robb uses various storytelling techniques throughout the book, all in an attempt to enhance each tale.  Yet the distant, impressionist portrait of the lives of children during the war doesn’t carry the weight it deserves.  The existential chapter is written in screenplay form (Godard-esque, perhaps?) but it is barely readable.  Thankfully, Robb returns to more approachable and appropriate styles of the remainder of the book.  (Sadly, he skips the surrealists and the street photographers of the 1920s.  Perhaps he feared too much had been written on them already). 
    These are postcards; small tales, yet ones you can’t believe you’d never heard.  It underscores the importance of archives, history-gathering, and storytelling in our own time.  It is not the streets and buildings that make a city — it is what happens within (and under) them.  The foundations of predecessors determine as much as a cornerstone.  
    Many thanks to the folks at WW Norton for the review copy.
    ___________
    Hardcover  - April 2010   ISBN 978-0-393-06724-8   6.5 × 9.5 in / 496 pages
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    A Sunday in Savannah

    by mwgerard Posted on November 29, 2010

    It was a lovely day in Savannah.  Slightly chilly, but warm in the sun.  First we stopped in the Jepson Center to see the Modern Masters, The Art of Kahlil Gibran, and The South Beheld.  I didn’t care too much for the modern exhibit, but too be fair, it’s not my favorite style of art to begin with.  I did find that I enjoyed the portraits of Nathan Oliveira.

    Two portraits, on display in the Modern Master exhibit.

    I much preferred the works of Kahlil Gibran and was very excited by the art of Southern, self-taught artists.

    A very “Blakeian” figure drawing by Gilbran, and a linocut print from Anna Taylor


    We had a great brunch at Molly MacPherson’s (the first day they have offered brunch), which is all decked out for Christmas.

    We discovered a great new store on Broughton Street called Fab’rik.  They have unique clothes and very reasonable prices.  They are also have it set up brilliantly.  The second floor is a “man cave”  for all the boyfriends and husbands to hang out while their women shop.  They even have refreshing beverages!

     
    I can safely say I will be shopping here often.  Then it was off to an old favorite – Paris Market

    A quick stop at Leopold’s for some Sugar Plum Fairy ice cream rounded out a lovely afternoon in downtown Savannah.
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    Mulberry and Prince Streets

    by mwgerard Posted on April 1, 2010

    It is a slow afternoon in Savannah, as it is often. I found a lovely little link to the New York Public Library’s online digital collection. The only thing missing from sifting through these lovely bits of ephemera are the smells of aged inks and shedding paper.
    I came across this photo, one I’m sure I must have seen in my study of street photography (self-inflicted) but for some reason, today, it punched me in the stomach.

    Mulberry and Prince Streets, M... Digital ID: 482588. New York Public Library

    I’m not entirely sure why. The shadowy figure in the foreground is very mysterious. Someone is hurrying along their way, but is he up to no good? What hides beneath his swirling cape?
    The building that is now for rent, who used to live there? What happened; why did they leave? it looks tragic, haunted. It is worn, but not with love. It looks beaten and bruised.
    The men standing on the corner seem to be speaking in hushed tones. Are they gossiping about the former tenants? Is the man with the pushcart, or the cargo truck waiting to haul the last possessions of the unfortunate tenants?

    Berenice Abbott, like her mentor Eugene Atget, set out to record, capture and memorialize the changes taking place in the their cities (Ny and Paris, respectively). Both claimed to be record keepers, rather than artists, yet they are still regarded and some of the most important photographers in the medium’s short history. I think this photo proves that it was more than just memorializing a building or a street corner. She was capture a mood as well.

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    REVIEW: THE CLASS, OR ENTRE LES MURS (2008)

    by mwgerard Posted on November 15, 2008

     

    The first French film to win the Palme d’Or at Cannes since 1987, this raw tale of a school year in Paris’ inner city pulls no punches.  Francois Begaudeau penned the novel, the screenplay and played “himself” as the teacher, under the direction of Laurent Cantet.

    Filmed with real students, not actors, it exposes with frankness the day-to-day challenges, and successes, of life within the walls.  It also managed to show a wider view of Paris that enamored foreigners rarely see — racial division, Muslim populations, and formerly colonized African descendants all in the same room.  Kids will be kids, but these kids have it tough and are fighting tooth and nail to be heard over the din of street violence, iPods and aggressive parents.

    Lengthy scenes add to the realistic feel, letting the audience feel like it is sitting in on class.  Interjections and giggling seem spontaneous.  Interruptions remind us how hard it is for the teacher to keep things on a single track.  What makes this teacher so endearing is his willingness to let them drive the direction.  He winds up their curiosity and lets them go, almost so they won’t know that they are learning.

    There is much to glean from the few scenes with administration as well.  Their callousness toward the students we have spent class with is cold and shortsighted. We feel the urge to yell at the screen, “But you weren’t there!  You don’t understand! If you would just listen!”

    Somehow, the story comes full circle.  It’s neither happy nor sad. It’s Sisyphus. Another school year is over.  People move on.  He’ll have a new class next year.  And maybe these kids will be the ones to get something out of it.

    Certainly he will.

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