It would be an understatement to say it’s been a busy couple
of months. What with all the Christmas preparation (I have infinite family
members to buy presents for), family festivities, reuniting with friends, and
the not-so-teeny task of dissertation writing and exam revision it’s been easy
to neglect the blog. But I’ve managed to not neglect my reading so much, and
it’s been a real treat having Lisa Appignanesi’s Paris Requiem to cuddle up with each night at the end of a cold,
hectic (but fun!) day.
Paris Requiem is
not a short novel. At about 500 pages it’s not a quick, or easy, read. For me
it was happily a slow burner, the thing I dedicated the reading part of my mind
to for a good six weeks. I would challenge anyone to read this book in much
less time, it is extremely demanding both in the complex twists and turns of
the storyline, and in the descriptive language. I found it hard to read more
than two chapters in one sitting, and I needed at least 24 hours to let all the
information and drama that each chapter is saturated with sink in and settle in
my mind. Looking back on the experience of reading the book, I think the length
of each chapter allows Appignanesi to indulge in both a richly gripping
detective story and a lyricism of language and engulfing description of Paris,
two things which crime writers often choose between, usually letting the latter
go in favour of a shorter, more accessible storyline. To me, having read Paris Requiem, this is a regrettable
error on the part of other writers, and the combination of the two is a
testament to the author’s dedication to an all-encompassing tale that demands
not just dramatic events and exciting dialogue, but a conjured up image of
Paris which entirely envelops and transports the reader to the period and
location of the novel. Understanding one could not be possible without the
other, which is what made this so much more than a ‘psychological thriller’ for
me.
Yet another novel that’s near impossible to write a brief
summary of, but I’ll give it a go. Paris
Requiem follows the reluctant, emotionally closed off American James Norton
sent to Paris by his mother to retrieve his rebellious younger brother Raf and
their fragile but eccentric sister Ellie. As soon as he arrives in Paris, James
is swept up in the whirlwind of his siblings’ lives, hunting down the murderer
of Raf’s drowned lover whilst simultaneously revealing the corruption of
underground Paris and his own forgotten past. Appignanesi’s talent lies in her
ability to tie together so many central strands into one story, managing to
encompass an entire historical period through one family’s experiences. Despite
having such a specific time and place setting, this book reminded me of one of
the first novels I remember truly loving: Daphne Du Maurier’s The Parasites. This too explores the
inner workings of the relationships between 3 siblings within the wider context
of historical events, clashing intimate familial issues with huge
world-changing events. Of course, the desire to reveal the solution to the thriller
is what keeps you reading in Paris Requiem,
but what really stayed with me afterwards was the tension in sibling
relationships between competitiveness, jealously, rivalry, and an eternal,
unbreakable attachment and unconditional love. The initial uptight, by-the-book
nature of James is crucial to the impact of this tension, and the emotional
dramatic irony of us realising the depths of his relationships before he does
is not wasted.
At the same time as keeping us invested in the relatable
familial storyline, Appignanesi flawlessly transports us to turn of the century
Paris as if it is the most natural location in the world. Paris – the eternally
romantic, magical city of love – becomes through Appiganesi’s description a
dark and terrifying place, haunted with shadows of past, present and future.
The narrative is one of those that no one can quite explain but everyone
understands – one that gives you that claustrophobic feeling of danger and
suffocation. At each corner that James turned, a fresh description, each dimmer
than the previous, seizes the reader, and despite my ability to put the book
down, I found myself just as incapable of shaking of that tainted, dirty feeling
of the surroundings that James does.
Once again (thanks to Arcardia Books), I have finished a
book a whole lot more knowledgeable about a place and time than I was before.
This time, late 19th century Paris - with its corruption which
spreads like a disease to bond all aspects of society from the aristocratic
politicians, to the powerful police, to the trusted doctors, to the seedy world
of trafficking and prostitution - was laid out before me, and brought more
shocking revelations as I turned each page. The American origins of our
protagonists removes them from the story in the same way as the reader is,
whilst the revelation that they may not be so innocently uninvolved in the
Parisian world as they at first seem seduces us too into a world of inescapable
corruption.
Read it now: Get it here
