Critic At Large: The Elegance Of The Hedgehog

The Elegance of the Hedgehog is, from the very beginning, a quintessentially French novel. It contains weighty meditations on philosophy, the aesthetics of Dutch still life paintings, and the absurdity of life. And it contains the most ridiculously effusive praise for the film The Hunt for Red October that you will ever see in print. The book is a glimpse into the interior lives of two characters who inhabit vastly different strata of French society, but have much in common. Renee is a concierge of a tony apartment building in Paris where she tends to the needs of its upper-class residents, most of whom she detests. Renee possesses a brilliant mind and is a self-taught intellectual, but she is determined to keep her fierce intelligence hidden from view and is content to play the part expected of her: that of the lower-class, poorly educated working stiff. Paloma is a 12-year-old girl living in the same building with her well-to-do but dysfunctional family. Like Renee, she’s bright and perceptive, but she’s quite taken with the idea of setting fire to herself and burning down the apartment in the process.

Renee and Paloma are little more than familiar faces to each other when the book begins, living separate lives and thinking dismal thoughts about most of the people around them. Unbeknownst to both of them, they share a love of Japanese culture and art. And when an elegant, charming Japanese businessman moves into the building, they can barely contain their excitement.

Muriel Barbery writes with wit and compassion; her fondness for these sad, lonely characters is evident on every page. As I was reading it, I kept wondering how an American writer would have written the same story. We seem more inclined to view class as a fluid concept rather than a fixed characteristic, when we acknowledge it all. If Hollywood tried adapting this book, it would probably end with Renee and her Japanese neighbor falling in love and Paloma reconciling with her family. The book’s actual ending is much messier and uncertain, which is as it should be. Perhaps this quote of Renee’s best sums up the tone of the book:

Human longing! We cannot cease desiring, and this is our glory, and our
doom. Desire! It carries us and crucifies us, delivers us every new day
to a battlefield where, on the eve, the battle was lost.