I first introduced you to Hilary Reyl’s novel “Lessons in French” in my recent post 6 French-Inspired Reads for Summer. Since the book provided a bevy of insights into adulthood as scene through a prism of life in Paris, I thought it would be interesting to have Hilary share a few of the life lessons she gleaned from her own experiences in the capital. All three are prefaced with related excerpts from the book.
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1// “In Paris, I am virtually transparent. A gift perhaps, un don, so to speak, voilá. But when you feel invisible, there is no end to the trouble you can get into.”
The heartbreaking beauty of Paris, along with its push to stylish conformity, seduces you, in your youth, into constructing ever-fresh identities in its myriad images. It is a city where you can lose yourself in version after version of gorgeous otherness. This is at once liberating and quite dizzying. Along with my heroine Kate, I have slowly learned that you cannot simply be seduced over and over. You yourself have to assume a seductive presence; you have to be visible.
2// “…the importance of Berthillon ice cream [is] on a par with that of the umbrella.”
Paris teaches a practical approach to pleasure. You should know where to get the very best ice cream or baguette or cheese, just as you should know that it often rains and therefore it is wise to be prepared. Living in Paris taught me a gratifyingly cerebral approach to hedonism. I came to understandthat chocolate sorbet on the Ile St. Louis and chestnut croissants from Hédiard were a form of knowledge which I could respect in myself.
3// “The room’s two windows framed the small interior garden, one degree further removed from the street than the quiet courtyard, the gem within the gem. Almost no one ever saw this garden, with its pleasantly overgrown geometric plots outlined in pale stone…”
While Paris is replete with gorgeous public spaces, glorious parks and churches, museums, cafes and restaurants, many of which are showpieces in my novel and in my memory, it is also a city whose architecture is very private. In the Sixth arrondissement, where I came of age, you not only have the Luxembourg and St Sulpice and Café de Flore, but you also have streets lined with heavy doors accessible only by numeric codes, leading into private courtyards and secret gardens around which domestic life is arranged. In order to discover these interior worlds, you have to be patient and observant. Paris has taught me to appreciate the beauty it puts on display, but also to understand that it is built on a labyrinth of secret realms. Nothing is more inspiring for a writer.
— Hilary Reyl
What have you learned about life from living in or traveling to France?
