Life as an expat in France is far more The Odyssey than Game of Thrones or An American in Paris. Rarely is it a linear journey or smooth sailing. There are lots of boring parts, particularly in these odd times of covid. But the most basic activities can trigger surprises observations. The details matter. And my brain is on constant overdrive.
There are two acknowledged cerebral directions expats tend to follow in Paris, most often shaped by their touristic leanings: the path of fashion and style or the path of philosophy, high art and literature. I am guilty of hopscotching between the two. My first day job here was on the educational side while my second landed me neatly in the world of haute couture and trending sneaker crazes.
The French, themselves, seem extraordinarily skilled at balancing both these seemingly contradictory interests in tandem. And they sport the perfect accessory, bien sûr (of course), to display their agility.
Books Are Perfect Accessories
Books are an accessory that bridges the worlds of the academician and fashionista. Unlike in the United States, it is very stylish to read a physical book in Paris. No matter the age, gender or socio-economic background, Parisians love their books. Book stores are so necessary to the French that they have been on the list of businesses to stay open during the pandemic-induced lockdowns.
Here, I have a legitimate justification for opening up all those stories I’ve had on various, ever-growing, “to-do” lists since highschool. Which is how I found myself reading The Odyssey. And I’m glad I have waited until now to read this tome. I never would have gotten through it at 16. And, ironically, I never felt the impulse to read it while living in Greece during my 20s.
In Paris, my neurons shimmer differently, with more passion and patience for the “classics.” Perhaps it is the glorious contagion of being surrounded by so many monuments to times and great thinkers long past (male though the majority getting honored predictably seem to be).
Homer Knew His Marketing
In general, I find the story of The Odyssey to be dreadful. Homer basically copy/pastes the entirety of The Iliad into the book, like a very long shopping list. This is clearly a great way to make the book seem more substantial. I would have been pissed back in the day, however, to discover I could have saved money on the purchase of The Iliad by waiting for the 2-for-1 benefits of The Odyssey. Those ancient publishers (and I suppose their modern compatriots) laughed all the way to the bank.
The dude it’s supposed to be about doesn’t even show up until chapter 5, other than a passing mention in the first few pages. And when we do finally meet him, it’s quickly obvious that he’s an extremely violent, sexist, egotistically connard (asshole). Instead, you learn about his son, just enough to invest emotionally in his story despite the teen’s weakness and whining. But then, the kid mostly disappears from the tale, deemed virtually irrelevant. (Netflix should make a series about Telemachus – I’ll be happen to be consulting producer.)
But there are even bigger problems. This book is sexist as shit. One sentence stands out, dropped haphazardly and dismissively in the middle of a paragraph that drowns in descriptives:
Within the house of aeolus, twelve children have been born, six daughters and six sturdy sons, and here he gave his daughters to his sons to be their wives.
homer
Yep. Read that doozey again. Say what? How the hell is a book like this still taught as a classic in the era of #MeToo? This is a rhetorical question, of course. But now, perhaps, you understand a bit of the impact of living in Paris.
Time.
Paris has gifted me with time. Time to absorb and process the world in detail, whether that detail is a sentence in an excruciatingly boring book or the way a parisienne matches her scarf to her covid-deflecting face mask. Time to get righteously angry in detail, whether over literature or social injustice. Time to understand how to love, whether it is for cornices and architects’ stamps of pride on the sides of two hundred year old buildings or a beautiful and kind man.
And this odyssey is so much better than the one Homer drones on about.