The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery

The book I'm going to recommend today is French--boy, is it French. And by that, I don't just mean that it's by a French author or translated from French to English, though both of those statements are true. What I mean is that this book reeks of French culture. From the existential philosophy that the French are so famous for (think De Beauvoir or Sartre) to the very mechanics of propriety that the French value so much more than any other culture I know--this book is just French.

I think that's great. I love the French. I'm fascinated by them. Yes, I've been snorted at by Parisians who would rather speak their lousy English to me than listen to me stumble through their language. Yes, I've been accosted by Parisian con artists who "find a ring" on the street and then attempt to get you to buy it off them. I would say, "that's just Paris", somehow justifying the rest of the nation of France to you by writing off its greatest city as the one snobbish member of a generally loving family...but the book I'm recommending today takes place in Paris, so that doesn't work. What I do know, in defense of France, is that they make some of the world's best food and wine--and they know how to enjoy it. They have provided the world with so much art, so much philosophy, so much wonderful accordion music. OK, so I don't know a huge amount about the French. But what I do know fascinates me.

Take Renee, for example, our main character in Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog. She is a concierge at an apartment building, a position which in her culture seems to come with certain stereotypical expectations. She is expected to be slow and brutish. She is expected to be unkempt. Basically, she is expected to make all the wealthy residents of her building believe they are better than she is. But, oh! If they only knew her well. She is what she refers to quite frequently as an autodidact; basically, she is self-taught. She reads everything she can get her hands on, she thirsts for knowledge of the outside world, but she feels confined by her status as a simple concierge. That is, until she meets a little girl named Paloma, and more importantly, a new tenant named Ozu...

Europa Editions, 2006. ISBN: 978-1-933372-60-0

The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx

The only reason I ever picked up The Shipping News was that my professor was cleaning out her office and giving away free books. I'd heard of it, sure--I'd probably seen the commercials for the movie at some point and I was definitely aware of E. Annie Proulx. Still, it wasn't exactly on my list of books to read. Now I've read it twice and I'm actually ready to read it again.

Now, I know that some readers will be put off by this book's prose. It is a choppy, part-minded style that takes a few paragraphs or even a few pages for the mind to adapt to it. It's a 3rd-person omniscient POV, and the narration skips lightly from mind to mind so that in certain parts, if you aren't paying close enough attention, you might not be sure if you're hearing the thoughts of Quoyle, our big-hearted lummox of a main character, or those of his scrappy aunt Agnis. It is a book that requires your entire mind. Skim it and you're wasting your time. But if you are willing to make the commitment to this novel, you will discover wondrous things.

Maybe that's why they gave it the Pulitzer Prize. And the National Book Award. And maybe that's why it was a national bestseller.

Of course, all this happened in the early '90s, so you might not remember it. You might not have heard about it at all. You might have seen the movie and think our main character is Kevin Spacey. Well, erase that from your mind. I love Kevin Spacey, of course, but he is the Hollywood Quoyle. Without the big chin, the rolls of fat, the imposing posture, the furry ginger limbs, there is no Quoyle. His appearance is a continuing problem for him, something that clues him into his family's past, a psychological mountain that he must climb. If you've seen the movie and you read this book, please, I beg of you, erase Kevin Spacey from your mind. Listen to what the book tells you about our dear Quoyle. You will not fully understand the story unless you do.

But read it. It is so good, it's like vitamins for your mind--and your heart.

ISBN: 0-671-51005-3

My Life in France by Julia Child

Welcome to post-war France. It's 1948, and a six-foot-two, thirty-six-year-old American woman is stepping off the America into Le Havre Harbor. It's Julia Child, only nobody knows that yet. No one in France has even heard of Julia Child, have no idea that she'll one day be the American ambassador for French cuisine.

Right now, Julia Child mania is sweeping the nation. And why not? Her recipes are fabulous and her life was fascinating. I'm on the bandwagon, baby. And I think you should be, too. If you have any interest in history, French culture, cuisine, publishing...you should love Julia Child's memoir, My Life in France.

This book was a collaboration with writer Alex Prud'homme, Paul Child's grandnephew, who reminded Julia so much of her dear departed Paul that she completely opened up to him. The book is like listening to Julia tell a story--at times you can even hear that high, lilting voice that embodies her persona on The French Chef. The book is filled with snapshots taken by the artistic Paul, beautiful scenery and lovely shots of pre-fame Julia. It's a great memoir, full of heart, and it has one important thing that so many memoirs don't; it's about someone who did something with the life she wrote about.

My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud'homme, Anchor Books

ISBN: 978-0-307-27769-5

The Pleasure of My Company by Steve Martin

If you think you're crazy, just wait until you meet Daniel Pecan Cambridge. You might demote yourself from crazy to neurotic, from neurotic to quirky. After all, you are capable of crossing streets at the corners. You don't have to touch all four corners of every copy machine at Kinko's just to make things feel level. OK, so you might. I don't know you. But I guess I'm not really talking about you. I'm talking about Daniel.

Daniel just happens to be the hero of The Pleasure of My Company, Steve Martin's unequivocally hilarious and heartwarming second novel.

And yes, it is that Steve Martin. Wild and crazy guy. Arrow through the head. All that jazz.

The Pleasure of My Company is a unique piece of fiction. First of all, it is evident that the author is an actor. The narration reads like one long monologue, and it's not such a leap to imagine it as a one-man show. Indeed, if I were to cast anyone as the leading man, I would have to hop in my time machine and pick up Steve Martin--perhaps circa Trains, Planes, and Automobiles. For me, that's what makes it so great. It's like a movie wrapped in a dust jacket. It's accessible, hilarious, and--in its way--comforting. This is a character who is worse off than maybe 99% of his readers, but he doesn't want pity. He is happy. He has hope. And, by the end of the book, when he is beset all around by the pressures of normalcy, you can't help but root for the guy. It's heartwarming, but without the sticky-gooey schtick that implies.

Also by Steve Martin (all entertaining reads): Picasso at the Lapin Agile (a play), Pure Drivel (a collection of comic pieces), and Shopgirl (a bestselling novel).

The Pleasure of My Company, 2004 Hyperion Books. ISBN: 0-7868-6921-6

No Great Mischief by Alistair MacLeod

Before leaving on my most recent trip to Europe, I made a literary resolution: to find some brilliant British author, preferably one I'd never heard of, and bring back a book that would not only entertain me on the plane, but also remind me of my trip. Then, in the Scottish Museum in Edinburgh, I saw a book displayed in a glass case. It was a paperback, crisp and new, opened to the beginning of chapter four, the first two pages of which left me wondering if the glass case was alarmed, and if so, how much trouble I'd be in for turning the page. Thankfully, the left side of my brain stepped in and led me to the gift shop where they had plenty of copies for sale at a reasonable price. Thank you, left brain, for saving me from a life of an international criminal.

The book on display was No Great Mischief by Alistair MacLeod.

No Great Mischief is a family drama, centering on the clann Chalum Ruaidh--the descendants of a Scottish immigrant in Canada. The book is narrated by Alexander MacDonald, one of the many Alexander MacDonalds that people the clann Chalum Ruaidh, who has moved away from his ancestral home and forged a more modern life, but who cannot fully break his familial ties. The action of the book is fairly simple--Alexander visits one of his older brothers and goes to buy him liquor--but most of the story is told through memory. Alexander's memories, stories, stories within stories. It's a fascinating depiction of a family whose tale is finely woven into the true history of Scotland and Canada.

For an American like me, this novel is like a cultural study. These characters live, work, and react to life so differently than anyone I've ever met. They're steeped in culture--something most modern Americans can only dream about--and by 'culture' I don't mean art, music, or theater. I mean tradition. Americans generally don't stick in large family groups. We go out on our own to make our own fortunes. We don't stick to traditions. We either buck them entirely or attempt to make our own. It's fascinating for me--and comforting, in a way--to read about people whose lives are not so consumed with the idea of self. The writing is fabulous and the story touching, but for me, it's the characters that really make this book worth reading.

Vintage, 2001. ISBN: 9780099283928

Julie & Julia by Julie Powell

With the forthcoming cinematic production of Julie & Julia being my most anticipated event of the summer, how could I resist? While browsing cookbooks in the local used bookstore, I stumbled across a copy of Julie Powell's memoir--was it serendipity?--shoved in between low-cal cookbooks, right at eye level. I had promised my husband that on this particular trip to the bookstore (we were only there to kill time before they started serving free hot dogs at the hardware store--pathetic, I know) I would not buy any books, but this one called out to me. I put it down, then picked it up. Down, up, down, up, down up--until my husband could stand it no longer. $7.50 later (what an incredible deal!) it was all mine.

I have to tell you, I read this book over the course of two days. If it hadn't been a weekend, with my husband at home to absorb much of my time, it probably would have been one. It is not a great literary feat, by any means, but it is well-written and tells a story that I think we all need to read at some point in our lives. It is the story of a woman who does something crazy with the hope that she might save her life--not from any mortal peril, but from the path she's somehow turned onto, the soul-sucking job that replaced her theatrical dreams, the ratty apartment that replaced her more glamorous plans. She needs something to give her purpose, and her husband's suggestion of culinary school, while tempting, is not feasible with their financial situation. She declares that if she ever decides to learn to cook, she'll just cook her way through Julia Child's cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Her husband introduces her to the concept of blogging, and before she knows it, she has begun a project that will change her life forever.

Part of the reason I enjoyed this book so much is simply this: I also love to cook. I might not be willing to gain twenty pounds of butter weight for the sake of finishing a project, but I can see why Julie Powell would. I can laugh with her when she attempts to flip crepes or practices her omelet technique with a pan full of dried beans. I know how she feels when a dish turns out perfectly, and of course when it flops to the ground. Anyone who cooks can relate to these problems--but for those who don't cook, I just can't say. I do think that the overall message will appeal to anyone. It's summarized in my favorite quote from the book:

"Sometimes, if you want to be happy, you've got to run away to Bath and marry a punk rocker. Sometimes you've got to dye your hair cobalt blue, or wander remote islands in Sicily, or cook your way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year, for no very good reason."

As Julia Child said so very often, bon appetit.

ISBN: 0-316-10969-X

Firmin by Sam Savage

It's probably been a while since you've read a book with a rodent for a hero. When you think of rodents in literature, you can probably come up with very few: Templeton, from Charlotte's Web, or the famous Stuart Little. Since elementary school, you've probably been reading books from the perspective of humans, and no matter how much you enjoyed The Mouse and the Motorcycle in the third grade, your adult self will probably laugh at what I'm going to say next.

The leading character of Sam Savage's novel, Firmin, is not only one of the most interesting, fleshed-out, even human characters I've read in a while--but he's also a rat.

I hear you laughing. That's right, get it all out. Are you done? Then back to business.

It might seem crazy for me to call a rat a human character, but the fact is that the character of Firmin illuminates the connections between humanity and vermin. His hopes, dreams, and desires are not that of a simple-minded creature--he gets them from the books he reads (and eats) while living in the nooks and crannies of a used bookshop. He is, he admits, different from the other rats. His mother, brothers, and sisters are all guided more strongly by their survival instincts while Firmin lives in dreams. They raid the movie theater for popcorn; Firmin watches the movies. He dreams himself as Fred Astaire, dancing with Ginger Rogers. He tries to learn sign language and is frustrated by the limitations of his paws. His flaws are, though he doesn't often realize it, some of the most human things about him. The distinction between human and vermin? You'll have to read the book to find out.

ISBN: 978-0-385-34265-0