Rudolph Chelminski

Another volume in the by now vintage Time-Life Great Cities series, beautifully printed and bound, in a large size with lots of visuals and a nice map of the important landmarks. A bit differently, the author has treated here substantially of the life and psychology of the common citizens of this fabulous world capital, and he makes no bones about their less than ideal characteristics: somewhat cantankerous, not very forthcoming, and somewhat suspicious of strangers. But this also gives the visitor or immigrant a handle on what to expect and how to get behind the forbidding shell the Parisians put on. The author seems to be a great food buff, and his descriptions show that this is a meat-eaters' paradise, but somewhat gross for a vegetarian like us in the sub-continent. An added point of interest to me is that the photographer is Raghubir Singh, a fellow- Indian, and the photographs bring out the mood of the urban environment nicely.… (mais)

It’s better than I initially gave it credit for, being somewhat a man of theory.

It’s a literary entertainment: foreign words and France, that kind of thing. A linguistic entertainment, you might say.

It's not big on reflection. There are no public health resources in the back. But I suppose that is what some people want.

You might learn about chefs, guys on the line of working-class culture and privilege. You might observe that he never bonded with his feminine mystique (#1) wife, that even a good relationship with his (#2) wife was not enough to save him, and that he worked too much. Yes, even though the book doesn’t always make an issue out of it, you might observe that he worked too much. [He took one day off a year, Christmas, like a wealthy version of an American slave, and one year when he had to close the restaurant for a month for remodeling, instead of taking a vacation he spent the whole time looking over the shoulder of the construction crews, giving advice.]

But it’s not going to beat you over the head with the meaningful stuff.

But that’s why you have me.

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It’s hard to feel sympathy for the somewhat superficial business-y picture they give of him; although it’s not entirely impersonal, it risks losing that layer of sympathy.

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But I don’t mind the specificity.

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You know what, it’s fine.… (mais)