Articles by Beatrice Labonne

 


When “merde” hits the literary fan….literally.   


While browsing through the display of newly released books in the bookstore near my home in Rio de Janeiro, a bilingual French-Portuguese title attracted my attention: “Merde! Um ano em Paris”. The English translation would be “Shit, a Year in Paris”.  My multilingual friends and faithful readers will agree with me that in Portuguese, English as well as in French, the title makes little sense.  Is it an account of the experience of a tourist who felt that he spent too much time in Paris?  Or that of a disgruntled Brazilian who has been forced to relocate to Paris instead of Brasilia? Luckily, the name of the author was not totally unknown to me and it provided the needed clue.  


Stephen Clarke, the English author of the book is sometimes described as a journalist who lives in Paris.  Others insist that he is a businessman who spent some times in Paris.  Anyway, his three irreverent “merde” novels have sold like hot cakes among both Francophiles and Francophobes.  His third production is charmingly titled “Merde Actually”.  The proceeds have undoubtedly created a businessman out of the journalist.  


Has the “merde” pundit decided to write yet another book? Why is he now targeting the Portuguese-speaking market? Actually, reading the blurb on the back cover, I realized that it is not another travel guide, but rather a blatant case of “lost in translation”.  Clarke’s Parisian memoirs, the cheeky “A Year in the Merde” had come to Brazil with a meaningless title.  His best seller had been written as an uncouth gibe at fellow novelist Peter Mayle’s “A Year in Provence” or “Um Ano na Provence” as the book was titled in Portuguese.  Pity, therefore that the wisecrack in Clarke’s title got short shrift in Portuguese.  


Some refined English speakers, or writers like Stephen Clarke for this matter, like to use the word “merde” as a chic alternative to the crude English S…“Merde” has retained both its real and metaphoric meanings. I didn’t read the original “merde” book.  It was not a case of French “lese majesty”.  I am too familiar with this delicate subject to find any novelty in someone else’s experience. As a matter of fact, I could have written the book myself, the sex part excepted! 


Here goes the plot: Clarke’s alter ego Paul West has been transferred to Paris for business.  He is looking forwards to a less work-demanding job than his current London post.  He ended up literally stuck for one year in the “merde of the City of Lights”. With plenty of free time, his heavy-handed adventures lead him to become both a sex maniac and a “merdolexic”. No need to dwell on the first condition. English-speaking writers have always fantasized Paris romantic opportunities. It is still unexplained why they are getting the best sex in town.   


According to Clarke alias West, who coined the word, “merdolexy” is a syndrome which is sui generis to many French cities.  It strikes principally the expatriates, the foreign visitors and even the returnees like me. For reasons not yet fully understood, the French population seems to be immune to the disease. The hapless West became “merdolexic” as he seemed unable to avoid stepping into Paris’dog poop. 


The French capital is undoubtedly, the world champion in terms of unscooped dog shit production.  This ranking was achieved thanks to the resilience of emblematic French attributes, such as pride in unlawful actions, disrespect for others, contempt for peer pressure, and an indulgent interpretation of sanitary regulations. Like nowhere else, dog owners have trained their pets to efficiently litter strategic locations such as building entrances, and busy sidewalk intersections.  The gravity of West’s syndrome only matches the aversion of Paris’dog owners to put the pooper scoop into practice.  This allergic reaction to cleaning one’s dog’s mess is increasingly becoming Paris and France’s trade mark, as well as a long-established diner topic among expatriate community. 


It is telling that France and the British islands have roughly the same number of dogs, an approximate nine million. In the UK, stepping in poodle poop is a rare incident. According to West, each year in Paris some 650 people go to the hospital after slipping and falling.  Calvisson, the charming medieval village where I spend my European summers is populated by too many French people with the resilient emblematic attributes mentioned above. At dinner parties, the exchange of techniques to keep dogs and their owners away is one of our recurrent topics.  In my case, I spray ground pepper in front of my house.  So far, results have been both positive and lasting.  As it rarely rains in Calvisson, my black pepper expenses are manageable, and sneezing is a small price to pay.  Actually, when in murderous mood, I feel like stocking up on pepper sprays to use on dog owners. I have occasionally used other techniques, which I dare not to disclose in this article.   


Clarke’s book was promoted as a European best seller in the book section of a prominent Rio newspaper. Its scatological dimension was emphasized, as well as a number of unpleasant truths about the City of Lights.  Will “Merde, um ano em Paris” become a bestseller in Brazil too? Incidentally, I checked the book’s availability in an Ipanema bookshop. I am delighted, five books did sell in a week, and more are in order.  For Brazilians, Paris is the ultimate romantic destination. Clarke will certainly contribute to a more balanced perception of the charms of the French capital, to the chagrin of its travel business. Can the book become a rough city guide for masochistic Brazilian tourists? In major capitals, dog poop on sidewalks is a fast disappearing commodity.  Contemptuous of trends, Parisians effortlessly maintain their streets fouled with the stuff.  Could it become a tourist attraction?  The spell of Paris may after all be a typo, it should read the smell of Paris, a foul smell.   


Anyway, Clarke could not have written his book in Rio. Here dog owners take pride in outdoing themselves in the delicate pooper scooper technique. 


“A Year in the Merde” by Stephen Clarke, 2005. Bloomsbury Edition.

Beatrice Labonne, Rio de Janeiro, 23rd November, 2006.