An Attempt at Exhausting a Place - Alex English

In my previous blog post I wrote about Lynda Barry’s simple template for listing the details of the day with her Daily Diary.

Now I’d like to introduce you to Georges Perec – a French novelist and filmmaker and member of the Oulipo group of writers, famed for their constrained writing (Perec famously wrote a novel consisting only of words that don’t contain the letter ‘e’).

In 1974, frustrated with newspapers’ focus on disasters and sensationalist stories (which rings very true with me at the moment – I almost cannot bear to read the news), Perec decided to shift his focus to the ordinary mundanities of life.

“The papers annoy me, they teach me nothing.” 

Georges Perec 

The result was a short (40 pages!) book titled An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris, published in 1975. It consists solely of lists of every detail of ‘mundane life’ that Perec observed while sitting in a cafe on Place Saint-Sulpice in Paris for three days.

There's something rather beautiful and hypnotic in these simple lists, and it's something I've tried to get into the habit of doing whenever I have a spare moment.

The numbers in Perec's notes refer to buses.

Refreshments are allowed!

'Exhausting a place' is something I now do whenever I'm not sure what to write. There's no expectation of a finished piece, just an exercise in noting down details. And I do happen to live in Paris at the moment, but it doesn't have to be a glamorous-sounding location. Anywhere can be exhausted, all it require is pen, paper and (most importantly) your attention.

As a side note, during my research into Georges Perec, I happened upon this rather lovely short film An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Sussex by Jessica Bishopp, inspired by Perec’s book.

I also came across this intriguing creative writing workshop, An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Leicester, on Tuesday 16 July.

Have you ever tried 'exhausting a place'?

Alex English is a graduate of Bath Spa University's MA Writing for Young People. Her picture books Yuck said the Yak, Pirates Don't Drive Diggers and Mine Mine Mine said the Porcupine are published by Maverick Arts Publishing and she has more forthcoming from Bloomsbury and Faber & Faber.
www.alexenglish.co.uk

10 tips for a great romance in Paris - Clémentine Beauvais

Cheating a bit today, but since my book In Paris with you, translated by Sam Taylor, is now out in the US with Wednesday Books, I thought I'd republish an article I wrote for a magazine at the time when the British version came out.

I know that at least ONE person got a great romantic Parisian weekend out of it. So there.

Warning: Might not be devoid of some sarcasm.

10 TIPS FOR A GREAT ROMANCE IN PARIS

1. Don’t actually be a Parisienne

I was a Parisienne for 18 years and frankly, there was very little I found romantic when I lived there. Intense emotion occurred only when the bus stop was cleaned, or when my favourite kebab introduced a new sauce. However, now that I’ve been a Britannique for 12 years, going back to Paris fills me with joy and longing, and a dirty Abribus is lovely to behold.

2. Be in love amidst skulls

Not enough lovers visit the Catacombs, which is weird, because the perspective is appealing : kilometers of underground passages whose walls and ceilings are almost entirely made up of the skulls and bones of people who died of plague at some point. Go there hand in hand and meditate on love and death. It’s like drifting across a Dutch vanity painting, for hours.

3. Whatever you do, don’t lock your love to a bridge

There’s a special place in hell for the sad, absurd couples who do this. That place is dull, smells of cabbage, and the couples there are condemned for the rest of eternity to bicker about which way the toilet roll should hang. Love locks are ugly, what they symbolise is ugly, and they quite literally break centuries-old architecture. In lieu of that, here’s other things to tie to things if that’s your thing : your lover’s hands, to a bedpost.

4. Don’t go up the Eiffel Tower

The Eiffel Tower is too high. It bulldozes the beautiful Parisian cityscape into a greenish-grey flatland. Instead, walk up the escargot-like chalky staircases of Notre-Dame, and kiss right next to the bells and the Gruffalesque gargoyles. Much more romantic, much better views.

5. A quirky story to tell your lover, walking down the Seine, when you’ve run out of things to say.

Because there’s nothing like a story of drowning to revive a waning conversation. In the 1880s, a woman was pulled out of the Seine’s murky waters, drowned, but extremely beautiful indeed, to the extent that she was exhibited publically for all to see. A death mask was made of her fine features, which many people then acquired to hang on their walls (normal). She became known as L’Inconnue de la Seine. Many years later, in the 1950s, her face was used to create the first CPR mannequin. So, if you’ve ever done a first aid course, chances are you applied your lips to a face very much like that of this mysterious fin de siècle French beauty.

6. Don’t give them your 06

« Hey mademoiselle, tu me files ton 06 ? » - hey miss, give me your 06 ! – is what some catcallers used to shout at you in a desperate attempt to win access to mobile phone numbers (which mostly start with 06 in France). Catcallers today might ask for your snapchat or instagram handle instead, but whatever they’re trying to do, they are the plague of Parisian streets and the antithesis of romance. Don’t give them your 06.

7. Find a late-night alcove in a hotel bar

For instance, the tiny, beautiful bar of the Hôtel des Beaux-Arts in the 6th arrondissement. There’s never anyone there, they serve good cocktails, it’s all plump cuhsions and velvety armchairs, and the plush alcoves are good at keeping secrets.

8. 8 books to read before you go to Paris

Or during, when you don’t feel like talking to your lover, like, 24/7, because we all need space from time to time, don’t we ? L’inconnue de la Seine, conveniently, is a prominent presence in one of the most splendid love stories in French literature, Louis Aragon’s Aurélien. You should also read my book, I think : In Paris with You, translated by Sam Taylor. Another six facets of Paris : Emile Zola’s The Ladies’ Paradise ; Colette’s Claudine in Paris ; Simone de Beauvoir’s The Mandarins ; Tardi’s The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec ; Tiphaine Rivière’s Notes on a Thesis ; and Virginie Despentes’ Vernon Subutex.

9. Find those nine things and kiss in front of them

A fun game to play if you’re both getting a bit bored of each other by now. One mural of Gainsbourg and Birkin. Two Statues of Liberty. Three Space Invaders. Two windmills. One statue of a rhinoceros.

10. Ten cheeses to fix a broken heart

In case the trip to Paris didn’t turn out as romantic as expected, and s/he finally ditched you in front of that rhinoceros (damn rhinoceros). A cœur de Neufchâtel seems appropriate to begin with. Then a lovely Saint-Nectaire, runny like your nose ; a mimolette vieille, as rusty and flaky as your self-confidence ; a crottin de Chavignol (crottin means little turd : like your ex), a tiny bouton de culotte (pants’ button) to remind yourself of that crottin’s underwear ; an époisses and a maroilles, because you don’t care about what your breath smells like anymore ; some fourme d’Ambert, black and blue and mouldy like your poor heart ; and a slice of Chaussée aux Moines, because a monk-like existence is what you’re likely to have now and forever.

And finally, a nice big chunk of gorgonzola dolce, to make you want to fly off to Italy : it’s much more romantic there.

Enjoy!

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Clémentine Beauvais is a writer and literary translator. Her YA novels in English are Piglettes (Pushkin, 2017) and In Paris with You (trans. Sam Taylor, Faber, 2018).

UNLOCKING PARIS – Dianne Hofmeyr

There’s a pedestrian bridge in Paris – the Pont des Arts – where the side grids have had to be systematically removed to cut off the locks attached. The bridge was collapsing under the weight of 4 tons of lover’s locks. Since late 2008, tourists have taken to attaching padlocks with their names written or engraved on them to the railings on the side of the bridge, then throwing the key into the Seine river below, as a symbolic romantic gesture.

In total opposite to this symbolic and romantic gesture, I’m struck by how many abandoned bicycles are left locked to posts and railings in London to slowly disintegrate until all that remains is perhaps a wheel rim or a mangled frame and a lock… almost sculptural in their simplicity of form. Who left them there? And why?

On Friday 13th when I was texting my son in Paris at 21.45 London time… “Just heard. Please send a one liner to say you’re OK” locked bicycles were far from my thoughts. The same text must have been going out in its hundreds. He was OK. But so many weren’t.

I found over the week-end that followed, I avoided buying newspapers. I didn’t want to see the images of carnage. Then suddenly on the Sunday evening I was drawn to the TV news. A bicycle locked to a railing near the Bataclan flashed across the screen with a single red rose stuck into its frame. It was a distinctive bike with a brown leather saddle that had sort of designer holes in it. Not a bike that would easily be left abandoned and unclaimed. This was the locked bike that would never be unlocked again – the key lost forever.

In the days that followed I saw this photograph below – a solitary man mute with despair rising high above the crowds, the tricolor at his back, his banner telling the whole story … "still no news of my cousin"… riding the kind of tall bike we associate with circus acts – a mute almost Marcel Marceau figure that seemed to condense all the hurt and sadness into this single silent act of cycling.

And then there was this image caught by someone in black and white, almost Henri Cartier-Bressonlike, with the litter on the grey street, the zebra crossing and the gritty silhouette of the man pedalling his bike and dragging behind him a portable piano. The silent pedalling standing stance. The man staring ahead into the distance. He was the German pianist who played John Lennon's Imagine outside the Bataclan to the crowds that gathered there on the Saturday.

I’m not even sure why I’m writing about bicycles and locks and things so unfathomable. Maybe it’s my own way of coping with what happened in Paris. And rather than be locked into the images of carnage I’m trying to look for others that sum up the collective spirit of the city of Paris. I don’t have that image of the bike with the red rose that flashed up on the TV screen, except for the one in my head. But if there is any monument that might help recollect those that died, perhaps it’s the unclaimed bicycle that says it all. All over Paris, there must be similar bikes to the one outside the Bataclan, still locked to railings waiting for an owner who will never return.

The art of silence speaks to the soul like music, making comedy and tragedy, involving you and your life... Marcel Marceau 

www.diannehofmeyr.com
twitter: @dihofmeyr

Je suis Charlie by Keren David

Cartoon by Sarah Macintyre, saying it better than I can in words

How can we, as children's writers, respond to the horrific massacre  in Paris yesterday? As I watched people gather in Paris and London, holding pens in the air as a protest against those who seek to silence, I asked myself how can I use my pen, my ability to write, my privileged position as an author, to oppose and prevent future atrocities?

These are the inadequate answers that I came up with:

 -  Oppose extremism in every guise. Stress shared humanity and values. Never glorify violence, warfare or death.

 -  Give children the idea that conflicts can be  addressed and even solved through talking. 

 - Feed and encourage their sense of humour.

 - Support the education of children all over the world. The extremists of ISIS and Boko Harem are waging a war on children, slaughtering them in their schools, because they fear the power of  reading, writing, thinking.

 - Celebrate cartoonists and writers who poke fun at authority. 

- Write about the real Islam, the moderate peace-loving Muslims, who are horrified by acts of violence carried out in their name and against many of their community.  Do not allow the extremists to become the face of Islam. 

 - Champion freedom of speech, even if that freedom leads to offence. This is a difficult one, because there's a natural and correct strong urge to avoid giving offence, and so many words can be exceptionally hurtful.  I've just written a book set in Amsterdam, where I lived for many years, and I was often surprised by Dutch bluntness -  a by product of a deeply held belief in the freedom of speech, whatever offence that may cause.
 The assassination of  film-maker Theo Van Gogh in Amsterdam by an Islamic extremist just over ten years ago was very similar to yesterday's attack. Van Gogh, like the Charlie Hebdo magazine, made a point of laughing at everyone,insulting everyone, including Muslims. Getting children to understand the appropriate responses to insults and teasing, to understand the difference between personal attacks and criticism of beliefs and ideas is a difficult conundrum - but completely essential. Ultimately the right to offend is an important freedom, even if it's not a very comfortable one

 Je suis Charlie, say the placards in the Place de la Republique and Trafalgar Square; in Berlin, Montreal, New York, all over the world. Je suis Charlie. Nous sommes Charlie. But what are we going to do?