In Honor of the French (Sort Of)

So here we are on Bastille Day, and I thought I’d give a little nod to the French.  Granted, it may not be the kind of nod they’d like, but what can I do – I am not French, have no French heritage whatsoever, don’t even speak French.  Heck, I can’t even do a passable Miss Piggy-talking-to-her-Kermy or Pepe Le Pew.  But I’m trying nonetheless, so deserve some credit, right?  Actually, if experience holds true, the French (and their French-speaking relations in Belgium) that I’ve encountered are not much impressed with the fact of my attempts at their language.  I get that I’m no good, really, but you’d think it’d be worth SOMETHING that I was willing to try…  Not so much.

Oh well.  Regardless, I am going to highlight a few books entirely focused on the French today, in honor of the whole Bastille Day thing.  This is unlikely to improve my standing with the French, frankly, because they’re not entirely flattering representations of France/the French (extramarital affairs, blood, poison, beheadings, and bizarre legal maneuverings all feature prominently), but they’re entertaining anyway and worth the read.  Ah, the things I’m willing to do for you, my Fearless Readers…  For you, I will risk the wrath of an entire nation.  A nation which produces cheese and bread that I greatly enjoy.  Ah well, c’est la vie!  (teehee)

• The Merde books by Stephen Clarke – I have only read the first two (In the Merde for Loveand A Year in the Merde) in this series of novels about a British ex-pat who travels to Paris for business (What business you ask?  Why the only business an Englisman could have in Paris – opening tea shops, of course…), but feel like I can fairly confidently recommend the entire series based on those two alone.  Clarke’s protagonist – the fairly goofy yet oddly self-confident Paul West – is a classic bumbler.  He means well and genuinely tries, yet somehow keeps falling just that little bit flat.  Whether this is due to his own shortcomings (his grasp of French is about as good as mine when he moves to Paris to conduct business, after all) or to the challenges inherent in being a Brit in Paris (which must be somewhat like being the pasty glasses-wearing girl in a lunchroom full of cheerleaders – no matter how smart you are, they are just so much cooler than you!) is up for debate.  Regardless, the tales of his run-ins with French custom and law (as well as Frenchmen and –women) are silly and entertaining and sure to have you muttering a well-placed “merde!” or two of your own as the shenanigans unfold.
• Marie Antoinette: The Last Queen of Franceby Evelyne Lever – I have mentioned how I feel about history and the delicious drama that has unfolded in so many castles in so many countries so many years ago.  The all-too-human Marie apparently suffered not only at the hands of the revolutionaries but also at the hands of historians.  History is, after all, written by the victors.  So it is always particularly interesting to me to read the tales of history’s losers.  The story of Marie Antoinette is known to most – or is it?  I consider myself relatively well-versed in history and even I found a few interesting tidbits I had not known in this engaging biography of the rise and fall of a little princess girl who would be queen – against her own will, at least in the beginning.
• Madame de Pompadourby Nancy Mitford – Wow.  As someone preparing to get married later this year, you wouldn’t expect me to be sympathetic toward a mistress, now would you?  I certainly didn’t – maybe it’s a good thing I first read this one years ago in my pre-engaged state, but even if I had just stumbled upon the good Madame’s story now I still suspect she would have captured my imagination.  The rise to power of a commoner in the court of Louis XV is an impressive claim to fame, particularly for a woman who managed to do so largely through skills not of the carnal variety. And to do so for over twenty years. This is a fantastically intriguing tale about the nature of power – claiming it and keeping it – full of delicious gossipy-sounding tidbits about court life.  Mitford’s meticulous research makes the book a creditable piece of history; her writing style makes it a much more than creditable piece of entertainment.
• La Reine Margotby Alexandre Dumas – I love love love Dumas Pere.  This is one of his relatively lesser-known works, but it is just as fabulous as his more commonly recognized titles.  It is a tragic love story, full of bitter rivalries, possessive jealousies, and bloodthirsty peasantry.  Poor Marguerite De Valois (aka Queen Margot)!  Well, “poor” only applies if one can be said to feel sorry for royalty, I guess.  I can, so I say “Poor Margot” again, as she cannot seem to catch a break – married to King Henry of Navarre against her will in a political alliance engineered by none other than that master of intrigue, Catherine de Medici, in love with a Protestant during a particularly bloody period of religious strife (including the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre of Protestants by the score)…  She is a sympathetic heroine and her travails in a world full of mayhem, politics, and blood-thirsty princes is sure to capture your imagination.
• Madame Bovaryby Gustave Flaubert – Shifting gears a bit, we go from Margot, a surprisingly sympathetic royal, to Emma Bovary, whom I have always found a surprisingly unsympathetic commoner.  Well, perhaps “commoner” is too harsh a term – Emma herself would most likely argue with me for my use of it, but “bourgeoisie” just doesn’t translate all that well in a single word.  Regardless, Emma’s quiet desperation and her pathetic attempt to cure the boredom of her married life with a racy extramarital affair don’t exactly endear her to me – and this definitely would be true regardless of my stance on/in regard to marriage!  Despite the fact that I usually can’t enjoy a book if I don’t like the main character, I must admit that I really like this book.  Perhaps Flaubert, in some fabulous French way, is the exception that proves my personal rule.  His writing style is easy to follow and draws you in even against your will.  You may not sympathize with Emma (I never have), but you will nonetheless find yourself curiously captivated to see what kind of ridiculous decision she will make next.