Vive la Rentree 2014!

IMG_1469The French have long since formally embraced September as the start of a New Year. Of course children go back to school, but the real collective upheaval of ‘Re-entry’ is the wholesale shift of population from its (at least) two-month long summer diaspora back into the cities. Politicians wake up, unions strike, boutique windows unveil incomprehensible fashions, hopeful new shows fill the 400+ theaters, traffic snarls, pollution spikes.

This year’s Rentree feels different from previous years. Even though my summer away was unusually long, there’s a reverse Rip van Winkle effect: everything seems exactly as I left it last spring. The economy is still flatlining. Incompetent President Hollande’s popularity has sunk another few points, to 13% (!) yanking that of his manacled Prime Minister, Valls, down with it. (Study question: Can a government still govern once it reaches negative ratings?) The ultra-rightist, charismatic Marine le Pen continues to solidify her hold on the cringing hearts of far too many Frenchmen, and when one sees so many useful local stores – hardware and office suppliers, lotto-tabac cafés, etc. – disappearing overnight, to be replaced by either banks or designer handbag boutiques, one might secretly sympathize with their conservative instincts. (By the way, how long until the banks and luxury bag companies simply merge?)

So why are people in the street so darned happy? A long stretch of Indian summer weather helps, of course; nothing raises dopamine like a few hours grilling in the park. Something literally deeper could be at work as well: the experience of hitting what seems like bottom, looking around, and finding that the world hasn’t ended; bottom is a place where life goes on. There’s relief in this, and release.

Rotting leaves create fertile soil. Moribund or sclerotic societies are often associated with an outpouring of fresh art. So in the Weimar era, so during the Soviet Union. In France, this Rentree, there’s a remarkably rich and audacious theater season moving into full swing with full houses–because however broke Parisians are, they’ll wangle a ticket for a show. And the literary Rentree is a stunning spectacle in itself, with new books cascading into and practically sliding off the tables of the bookstores–607 novels alone!

And now, enough writing.  I’m off to the park, to read.

IMG_1459IMG_1461DSC02458

Advertisements

5 comments

  1. […] going on there — you can read a news-wire, or the very fine blog by Kai Maristed, Pointe De Vue Paris.  Her latest post is up. Check it […]

    1. Nick, thank you for the emphatic ‘oui’! Every time I click on Call of the Siren I’m drawn in for a long read…

  2. How nice to have found you via Nick Owchar’s Call of the Siren blog. Paris. If only… I’ve visited and spent a glorious two weeks wandering, but like any Paris junkie, I want more more more. Best wishes, Janet

    1. Bonjour Janet, indeed, a mere two weeks in paris is like eating only one escargot! But I’m sure you’ll be back. Thanks for your kind comment,
      Kai

  3. equinoxio21 · · Reply

    Couldn’t agree more. I have a half-planned blog in mind called “Douce France. La crise? Quelle crise?” Everything looks normal. Because of RMI and other subsidies. when those run out, families kick in, parents, brothers and sisters. The level of blindness in France is rising as the votes for Le Pen! “Le petit village Gaulois” thinks they can shut the doors to the world. Ashhh!
    Bon. Il va quand même falloir faire quelque chose.
    Thanks for the follow. (Sharing I find a better word)
    Have a nice week
    Brian

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: