Tag Archives: Paris

The Lady and the Little Fox Fur by Violette Leduc

I decided to get hold of this strange little book after reading an article about it in the Guardian by Deborah Levy, which turned out to be the introduction to this new edition. According to Deborah Levy the novels of Violette Leduc are works of genius and also a bit peculiar. She suggests that in addition to Proust and Genet, who were challenging the received ideas about love and sexual roles, Leduc was also  ‘rearranging the social and sexual scaffolding of her time.’

I did find this novel very rewarding and also quite unsettling. These are good things to find in a novel.

The Lady and the Little Fox Fur by Violette Leduc. Translated from the French by Derek Colman.

The Lady and the Little Fox Furby Violette Leduc

The lady of the title is in her 60s and lives alone with no income, in a room in Paris under the noisy Metro line. We never learn her name, nor anything much about her previous life, nor why she is in the position she is. We intuit that she never married, has no children, never had a profession and has few, if any surviving friends.

It is the sensation of hunger, of loss of a future, or everyday connection to the rhythms of busy Parisian life that concerns the old lady of the title. (viii)

These three connected sensations occupy the short novel. Each on its own would make a sad story, but Violette Leduc’s lady suffers all three. She is weak from hunger, near the end of her life, but she is attempting to gain human warmth from going onto the streets and into the metro.

As a result, this short novel is in part a wonderful evocation of Paris, night and day, its undersides, the sounds of the streets at night, the light on the river, the metro stations, the streets. As she walks the lady comments on or speaks to everything, animate and non-animate. Memories, small incidents are savoured to give spice to her life. Here is an example of her auditory world.

One night, as a train was fleeing from winter outside her attic, a window had been opened by five or six bars of trumpet playing. Then the window closed again. The diamond winter and the glittering brass. She remembered it still in summer, in the gardens of a square, and she thought of herself as the chosen one of winter. She waited for the brazen blare of jazz again, the first night of frost, but the window would not light up. (26)

Once she is aching for a sip of orange juice and searching for oranges in the rubbish she finds an abandoned fox fur. She adopts the fox, imbuing it with life and love for her. Eventually she realises she is so poor she must sell it. But her attempts bring her contempt and rejection. She realises that the fur must stay with her, must be warmed by her.

In the loneliness and cold of the night she experiences great discomfort, as she tells her feet.

My temples, my stomach she groaned, addressing the words to her feet, two warm strangers. Her eyes were misting over, her heart was talking on her lips. To need everything when everything is finished. She no longer knew whether she was sad or whether it was hunger. (28)

Something about the lack of inhibition in an older person allows them to make observations that are considered a bit unsavoury and downright funny. The lady’s billing and cooing at the fox, for example reminds us of how women have always been expected to address foxy gentlemen.

There is a hallucinatory quality to this novel. The woman frequently addresses inanimate objects, implies that they have spirit, life, and that everything in Paris is responding to her actions. While we know that at one level this is a little delusional, we are also required to see that some of our own behaviour is similar, although we may not be as hungry as this old lady.

The Lady and the Little Fox Fur by Violette Leduc was first published in Paris in 1965. I read the Penguin European Writers edition, of 2018, with an introduction by Deborah Levy. 80pp

Translated from the French by Derek Colman

Women in translation

I have reviewed many books by women in translation on this blog. Here are some recent posts with links.

People in the Roomby Norah Lange, translated from the Spanish by Charlotte Whittle

Go, Went, Goneby Jenny Erpenbeck, translated from the German by Susan Bernofsky.

Flights by Olga Tokarczuk, translated from the Polish by Jennifer Croft.

The Chilli Bean Paste Clanby Yan Ge, translated from the Chinese by Nicky Harman.

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Draw the line!

Cartoonists and other staff were murdered at the offices of Charlie Hebdo magazine in Paris on 7th January 2015. Twelve people died in the attack and eleven people were wounded, four seriously. The responses were immediate, identifying with the victims – Je suis Charlie – the demonstrations in Paris and a renewed determination not to be cowed by extremist ideas and extreme action.

187 suis ch

One response, in the UK, was Draw the line Here, a collection of more than 100 cartoons by 66 cartoonists, drawn in response to the murders. It was curated by the Professional Cartoonists’ Organisation committee. Funds were raised by CrowdShed crowdfunding. I’m proud to say I took a small part in the crowdfunding.

187 Draw f cover

Dedicated to anyone, anywhere or at any time who has suffered persecution for the crime of expressing their thoughts and opinions.

I wish I could show you some of the cartoons, but I can’t. But better yet, you could buy a copy.

187 je s c pencil

Predictably many of the cartoons utilise the black balaclava, the gun and its similarity in shape to the pen or pencil. Others draw on the absurdity of violence as a means of persuasion. Others simply restate a belief in freedom of expression. Yet others are concerned with the damage to Islam of the Paris attacks.

Nous Sommes Tous Charlie in Kayserberg May 2015

Nous Sommes Tous Charlie in Kayserberg May 2015

In the foreword, Libby Purves refers with admiration to the art of cartoonists:

How do these guys with pencils and weird imaginations suddenly relax your thoughtful news reading frown into a daft grin and make you snort aloud at the memory hours later? … The glory of the art is in its freedom, its courage, its willingness to dance lightfooted over dangerous ground. Not with malice or threat, but in the name of freedom, curiosity, and argument.

And as if to endorse these words, without malice or vengeance this was the Charlie Hebdo cover on 14th January 2015 …

187 Ch hebdo

You can buy a copy of Draw the Line Here (£14.72) from English Pen, the publisher, by clicking here. Funds raised from the sale of Draw the Line Here will be shared between the families of the victims of the Charlie Hebdo atrocity and English Pen’s Writers at Risk Programme.

And as you do, remember the importance of asserting freedom of expression. And remember the victims of those who believe that some things should not be thought or expressed in words or cartoons.

Back cover of Draw the Line Here

Back cover of Draw the Line Here

Draw the Line Here by Professional Cartoonists’ Organisation, published by English PEN in June 2015. 90pp

 

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Filed under Books, words, Writing