Pigalle. That Paris neighborhood everyone knows about. Sex shops. Moulin Rouge. Sketchy hotels. The whole seedy package. But it's changing—getting sanitized, gentrified, turned into somewhere respectable parents can push strollers without feeling weird.
The book starts with an old woman setting fire to her apartment. Not an accident. Deliberate. She's done with the loneliness and misery. The fire throws everyone around her into chaos, starting with her son Timothée.
Timothée's fifty-something, a failing producer, cheating on his wife, ignoring his kids. He's always about to leave his family for his mistress. Always. His mother's coma derails that plan again. Forces him to actually look at his life for once.
Then there's Louisa, the neighbor. The smoke smell won't leave her apartment. It drives her insane. Makes her question everything about her existence. Her husband doesn't get it.
Six characters take turns narrating. The structure reminded me of The Slap, minus the rawness. It's very 2010—packed with every news event from that year. Bird flu. Roma expulsions. National identity debates. World Cup. The Icelandic volcano. Pension reform strikes.
"There had to be alternatives to today's France, to the security-first politics to the deportation of foreigners the explosion of undocumented people racism the triumph of careerism money groupthink calculation stupidity inequality fake rebels."
Solid concept. Poor execution.
These characters are wealthy Parisians complaining about their bourgeois problems. Translators. Novelists. Journalists. They whine about rent prices while dropping serious cash on exotic tomatoes. They publicly defend deported immigrants but privately grumble about homeless people blocking their doorways and smokers crowding sidewalks since the smoking ban.
It's the portrait of rich France that moans but refuses to rebel. And their solution to existential malaise? Sex. Disturbing, joyless, depressing sex.
Maybe I'm becoming prudish with age. But the whole thing felt empty.
Still waiting for someone to write the real novel of contemporary Paris.
Comments
I appreciate your frankness and freshness. Thanks for taking the time to read this book and summarize it for us.
I actually loved this book, devoured it. I don't see where it's boring. Not just an exhibition of "bobo" problems—that term is becoming obsolete anyway since we're all someone else's "bobo." The characters are engaging, but that's not the point. The book is well-made and pleasant to read. The author is courageous both on the memory of the "pieds noirs" and on the fantasies. It's definitely a book about our times, and aside from "Gaïa" who gets lost mid-narrative, I'll keep a very good memory of Nation Pigalle.
I don't entirely agree with this review (obviously, I adored this book). It's normal that you saw them as privileged complainers—that's what she wanted to show, especially with Louisa. The author draws a deeply unsympathetic portrait through light touches. The first jab is that passage where she passes a beggar quickly, then loses herself in reflections about world violence and poverty. And the more "authentic" characters, less intellectual, less trendy, and ultimately not that bourgeois since even they struggle to make ends meet in Paris—Gaïa who runs a thrift shop, the crazy poet—they're symbols of a more "real" people that's perhaps dying out. By the way, the real "crazy poet" of Pigalle, who was neither red-haired nor mustachioed, died recently, I was told. I don't know if it's a good portrait of Paris, but for me, having been a Pigalle resident for 15 years, it's a slightly extreme portrait, as befits a novel, but very accurate of Pigalle.
And bam! Well that doesn't make me want to read it :-)
Bobos don't hurt themselves.
I understand your feelings toward these considerations and very annoying states of mind. I'll pass, I might get annoyed too!
You confirm my first impression after reading the first 50-60 pages. I'm disappointed, because like you, I expected a lot from the cover, which is very nice, and the summary. I hoped for something that would take up some of the themes of social misery and integration difficulties found in "Baba la vie sans savoir lire"! We're VERY far from that—whining BOBOs, that's all we have!
Your review isn't encouraging but I really like the cover.
It's funny, my preconception of this book corresponds exactly to your opinion after reading it! Which shows that sometimes prejudices are useful ;-)
Following your opinion, I won't risk reading this novel. Thanks! Happy reading!