Sisley, Anaïs Nin, Alain Gründ, and the Chainsaw from Hell

Literary Tourist near Paris

Louveciennes is, for the most part, a quiet little village on the outskirts of Paris. We drove there from Le Mans for a meeting I’d arranged with the renowned children’s book publisher Alain Gründ. Louveciennes was a favourite spot for the Impressionist painters. All told, more than 120 paintings of the place exist, limned by the likes of Renoir, Pissarro, Sisley, and Monet.


Entrée du village de Voisins by Camille Pissarro, 1872

Anaïs Nin lived here at 2 bis rue de Montbuisson from 1931-1935 with her husband Hugh Guiler. It was here where she first met her lover Henry Miller, where she launched her writing career with the famous Diaries, “There are two ways to keep a diary: live a day and describe it in five minutes, or live five minutes and spend the whole day describing them,” and where, in this “laboratory of the soul,” she entertained Antonin Artaud, Brassaï, Lawrence Durrell and other famed artists and writers. Here’s one of her descriptions of the house: “Every room is painted a different color. As if there were one room for every separate mood: lacquer red for vehemence, pale turquoise for reveries, peach color for gentleness, green for repose, grey for work at the typewriter.” Some visitors in recent years have been lucky enough to catch glimpses of these evocative colours, however, despite various efforts over the decades to turn the house into a writer’s museum, none have met with success. You can read more about Nin in Louveciennes here.

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After picnicking in the shade of an old stone church in the village’s centre square I strolled over to this gentleman

barber, louvecienne, paris

to discern directions to Alain’s house. He’s the barber. Has been for 25 years. His customers bring him back exotic combs from all over the world.

Barber

Alain’s place was only a five minute drive away, on rue Auguste Renoir. I was greeted at the gate by his wife, Monique. We walked up the garden path and met Alain sitting at that table over there on the patio.

We settled on a bottle of chilled rosé. It was warm outside. I sat down and methodically turned on both microphones, ready to engage in some ripping good conversation. The only thing that ripped however, was the soft, silent air, as a chainsaw burst full-throttle through it, obliterating any hope of a good recording. The noise kept up for much of the next hour and a half. I left the machines on anyway but the results were unusable. I’d have to play stenographer.

So, here goes.

Alain’s grandfather Continue reading “Sisley, Anaïs Nin, Alain Gründ, and the Chainsaw from Hell”

En Attendant Maylis

Literary Tourist in Paris

Time usually flies when I’m interviewing people. It sure did with Krista Halverson at Shakespeare and Company. Of course with it winging by so quickly I wasn’t attending to the clock, so I was late for my next appointment with Maylis Besserie. Maylis is a well regarded radio documentary producer with France Culture. She’s interviewed loads of authors in her time. I wanted to learn her secrets,  to find out why she’s so good at what she does.

We’d agreed to meet at 5.30pm just around the corner from the bookstore behind Notre Dame cathedral in a little treed park. It was now after 6, and she, understandably, wasn’t there.

Luckily the City of Paris provides free WiFi right in the park so I sent off a grovelling, apologetic email. ‘Could we possibly try for later on that evening?’ ‘Yes,’ Maylis graciously responded, despite having waited for me for at least half an hour, ‘that would be possible, near the Strasbourg-Saint Denis Metro stop, line 4, at 8.30pm.’ Whew. I had plenty of time to catch my breath, grab a meal and do a bit more research.

I headed toward the Saint-Michel Metro station, around the cathedral out into the brilliant late afternoon sunshine, to be greeted by this head-on view of the marvelous facade. I wasn’t alone in admiring it.

Notre Dame Paris

Over near the river I ran into a couple of bouquinistes plying their trade, just as their namesakes have since the mid-1500s. Apparently the wait time to become one these days is around eight years. But it’s not all gravy. If you’re not open at least four days a week you lose your spot. Today, bouquinistes’ green boxes – 900 in all – are perched on three kilometres’s worth of quayside wall, from the Louvre along past Notre-Dame. It took a while to manoeuvre me, the booksellers, and the cathedral into position, but eventually I got the shot I wanted

bouquinistes, paris
I’d read that the 250 Bouquinistes who, combined, operate what’s been dubbed as the “world’s largest open-air bookshop,” were applying to get on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list, and at the time wondered why. Well, it turns out the mayor of Paris, Anne Hildago, isn’t happy about all the plastic Eiffel towers and  other tri-coloured touristy trinkets being sold instead of antiquarian books. And of the books that are being sold, many are Les Nul – trash in other words. It’s a privilege to be able to sell books by the Seine, and it looks like some are abusing it.

Not sure how this’ll pan out. A lot, I think, depends on local bibliophiles and book collectors, and yes, literary tourists, stepping up, demanding and buying the genuine article: old, rare books. If they don’t, and the sellers fail to up their game by improving their stock, what has long played an important, charming role in Paris’s biblio-cultural life, will disappear, or deteriorate at least, into just another tawdry tourist trap.

Speaking of the Eiffel Tower: during the time of its construction in the 1880s, three hundred writers and artists signed a petition written in pompous prose condemning this ‘hateful column of sheet metal’; they were certain it would destroy the reputation of French taste. Signatories included J.K. Huysmans, Guy de Mauspassant, Leconte de Lisle and Sully-Prudhomme.

According to the chansonniers of the time, the poets were upset because they couldn’t find a word to rhyme with ‘Eiffel’. Over time, many of the signatories came to admire the tower, but not Maupassant; “I have left Paris,” he wrote, “for the Eiffel Tower was really too boring in the end.”

***

I sat down outside a pleasant enough restaurant – there were potted trees – near the Strasboug-Saint Denis Metro station not far from the Porte Saint-Denis, a massive arch that,

while not as large or well-known as the Arc de Triomphe, is well worth checking out. It inspired the triumphal arch at the entrance to the Manhattan Bridge in New York (1910).

‘Could I have the wee fee (that’s how they pronounce it here) password please?’ ‘Non. There is no Internet’ the waitress informed me. How surprising. I hurried across the street to a slightly less pleasant spot, closer to the traffic. Italian. Spaghetti would be nice. I ordered and asked for the password. ‘Yes, of course, no problem.’ Well, yes. Problem. For whatever reason I couldn’t connect. By now I was getting a bit nervous. I had to email Maylis to establish a meeting place, and the last thing I wanted to do was to be late with it.

McDonald’s!  I could see one on the next block. I left the Italian restaurant holding the spaghetti (them not me), and bolted for America’s favourite eatery. If it was anything like at home they’d have password free Internet. And they did. I got the email off. We’d meet out front in 10 minutes.

As I stood waiting, an attractive Asian woman approached me (funny, Besserie didn’t sound Asian). Could this be Maylis? It wasn’t. It was a ‘péripatéticienne’. With a smile, I gently declined her kind invitation, and continued to shuffle around ‘attendant’ Maylis. Minutes later she arrived, caucasian as I’d thought,

and led me across the street to her apartment while I hurredly explained that I never eat at McDonald’s, especially not when I’m in Paris. We tip-toed past her sleeping children’s bedroom, and settled in for our conversation on the art of the author interview. You can listen here:

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Tumbling into the Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart in Paris

Literary Tourist in Paris

It was a tough trek. Way longer than I expected – from the American University of Paris to the Shakespeare and Company bookstore along the Seine. I was lugging my laptop too, and the books Daniel Medin had given me after our conversation about translation, plus this

Shakespeare and Company Paris: A History of the Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart. Predictably I wasn’t on time for my interview with its editor, Krista Halverson. It wasn’t that I was winded, or, despite the heat, sweating too much; no, I was annoyed because I was unnecessarily late. Krista quickly shooed this funk away, assuring me that she hadn’t noticed, inviting me to join her for a beverage at the store’s adjacent cafe (there on the left,  all dressed in white).

Yes, Shakespeare & Co. has its own cafe now! – a luxury that long-time owner George Whitman could only covet. The store, and cafe, are now owned by his daughter Sylvia –  as in Beach – who I had hoped to interview. Unfortunately for me, she was off on maternity leave, nurturing the next generation of bibliophiles.

I ordered an espresso, Krista chose some sort of energizing berry-carrot concoction. Of course that’s what I should have had – being hot and tired and late and all. We moved to the outdoor patio to plot out how our conversation would go. Krista couldn’t finish her drink and offered me what remained – looked like half the glass. Perfect.

She showed me through the shop, which, thanks to various adjacent rooms and apartments coming on the market and being bought or rented at different times , really does

resemble a rabbit warren.

You need to pay attention to details if you want to get the full bookstore experience. Floor tiles

overhead signs, biblical

and otherwise

(City Lights in San Francisco is a sister store, and sports a Shakespeare &Co. sign above its door), and I really liked this window full of flowers

We even stopped in on some young Continue reading “Tumbling into the Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart in Paris”

Fixed Book Price, Translation, Books and Bookstores in Paris

Literary Tourist in Paris

She told me to get off at the Monge metro station, her office was nearby. I envisioned traipsing around a bunch of back streets squinting at numbers on buildings, and being late for our rendez-vous. But no. I simply crossed the road, looked up at the street sign – and there it was

3 rue Rollin, rockin’ right in front of me. I’d arrived in plenty of time.

Héloïse d’Ormesson is the founder, with her companion Gilles Cohen Solal, of Editions Héloïse d’Ormesson, a small but sturdy publishing house that attentively puts out 20 books a year. It’s now published more than 200. Here’s most of them

They greet you as you enter the office.

Héloïse invited me into her bureau where we talked generally about book publishing in France. Click here if you’d like to listen in:

Specifically, we dove into why so many editors become publishers, the late adoption of illustrated covers in France; are they readers or customers? the lack of good literary agents in France, Fixed Price policy and the importance of booksellers; Heloise’s heart and soul, her famous father Jean, books in the house at an early age, favourite bookstores, the new Jean d’Ormesson Award, every book is unique, hence there’s no set formula for success – and many other things.

Once our interview was finished I strode out onto the rue, but not before Héloïse gave me a charming little Continue reading “Fixed Book Price, Translation, Books and Bookstores in Paris”