I’ve been in Paris a lot lately. Not literally, but in my reading – and therefore in my thoughts.

I read the Elegance of the Hedgehog, by Muriel Barbary, which I have mentioned a few times here already. This book was a singular read. At first, I was almost bemused by it, but it quickly charmed me. The themes of unlikely friendship and noticing the beauty in life have stayed with me. I would dearly love to join the characters in their habitual tea drinking and talking. (As an aside, over on Substack, Lucy Fuggle wrote a great article about the companionship of reading.) This story takes place in Paris but, with one or two exceptions, the reader doesn’t really travel further than one building in it. This is where Renée Michel lives and works as a concierge. Her best friend, Manuela, works there as a cleaner. As the story develops, Renée is befriended by Paloma Josse, a highly intelligent teenager, and Kakuro Ozu, who both live in the building. These characters are all outsiders in different ways, and frequently find themselves frustrated by the blind spots of the cultured but unfeeling society in which they live. Nevertheless, Renée’s way of seeking beauty is a quality that her friends share. It rubs off on the reader, too.

Next, I read Brother Lawrence’s Practise of the Presence of God, which, although differing in tone, style and genre, does share some themes with Barbary’s novel: friendship; figuring out life together; the loneliness of being in an “unseen” role and delight in the natural world around us. I didn’t find this book as engaging as I had expected. At the time of reading, I was struggling with reading male voices. Not only that, but the preachy tone slightly grated on me and did not keep my interest as well as I thought it would. Perhaps this is a book to come back to, or perhaps it just isn’t for me.

And then I came to Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo. This classic is a long book with many digressions and diversions from the central plot. It contains swathes of historical, social and moral commentary. These ‘off-piste’ chapters include some that are fascinating, for example detailed descriptions of the Battle of Waterloo, and some that are less so. Low points for me include a bizarre take on ‘the virgin’s toilette’ and several chapters on the history of the Parisian sewers.

I found that Hugo’s views on women are in some ways progressive for his time, for example the way he shines a light on Fantine’s demise, and the blend of strength and vulnerability in Eponine. His depiction of Cosette, however, frustrates me. The emphasis on her transformation from ‘plain’ to beautiful feels disappointing. Not only that, but if I were Cosette, I would ask a lot more questions along the way. Cosette seems to float about, accepts the vaguest of explanations about her mother, and lets the men move her about like a doll.

Marius, too, is a character I had problems with. He is such an interesting character for a few chapters, then he falls in love with Cosette and becomes quite ridiculous: foolish, incompetent, miserable and incredibly dramatic. I like a romance, but theirs feels problematic to me, especially the way Marius essentially stalks Cosette in the early days. And yet, despite all my misgivings, I still liked the two of them, and I was invested in their story all the more because of those around them, and those who go before them, not least Jean Valjean.

In the end, this epic book is a story of love, redemption, justice and hope against the odds. Hugo wrote it to shine a light on the injustices of French (and other) societies. In it, he leaves no stone of despair unturned. The story of Jean Valjean – and the others – remains deeply moving.

Les Miserables is not a read for the faint-hearted, and my reading afterwards veered off in a completely different direction. I read Lisa Rudzen’s When the Cranes Fly South, in the space of days, and wept through half of it, but found it very life affirming and refreshing. I quickly followed this with a re-read: The Hunger Games, which is another favourite of mine that I read in days.

Whilst on the subject of books and reading, I had a rare day-off this week, and visited Tipsy Books, where I was served excellent coffee and cake, made to feel very welcome and given some great recommendations. If you live in the area, I would very much recommend a visit.