Chapter 13
13
10 NOVEMBER
Christmas lights are twinkling up and down the avenues as the afternoon darkens. Each year, Parisians seem to decorate earlier, and I get swept away by the sight of so many festive window displays. I itch to do more Christmas decorating in the hotel but can’t until the messy work has been completed.
We chatter as we walk, sidestepping around people who walk at a slower pace.
‘Where are we headed?’
Juliette throws me a wide smile. ‘To the wall of The Drunken Boat. Have you heard of the poet Rimbaud?’
‘ Non, I don’t think so.’
Juliette’s eyes twinkle with excitement. ‘You’re in for a treat. Rimbaud was a genius who was way ahead of his time, although he’s sometimes called l’enfant terrible of poetry, probably because of his age and precociousness. He was a libertine who had a rather disreputable private life. It’s rumoured that he had an affair with the married poet Paul Verlaine, who later shot him! It was all very scandalous for the nineteenth century.’
‘He shot him?’ I gape at her, as this true story has taken an unexpected twist.
‘ Oui , in the wrist. But that all came later. Rimbaud was a literary prodigy. Well educated and widely read. He wrote ‘The Drunken Boat’ in 1871 when he was still a teenager. Here we are.’
We stop at Rue Ferou. A poem is inscribed in French along the length of wall down the block. I read as we slowly walk. It’s beautiful. It’s about a sea voyage and a sinking boat, a metaphor for torment perhaps? It’s dark, haunting.
‘It’s believed he first recited the poem near this location, which is why they chose to display it here.’
We shuffle slowly as I continue to absorb the words written on the wall. ‘At seventeen, Rimbaud had what he described as a “visionary experience” that inspired him to write mystical, almost hallucinatory poems that broke the traditional rules of rhyme and meter. He was known for his experimental way of writing, which I’m sure ruffled a few feathers.’
Juliette goes on ahead as I take my time to finish reading. ‘After much success and at the young age of twenty, he abandoned his gift and never wrote another word.’
‘Never? Not one more poem?’
‘Never. He never wrote another poem. He left France and travelled the world. At one point he enlisted in the Dutch army, but later went MIA in Sumatra. On his many travels he landed in Ethiopia where he became a trader and an explorer. Sadly, in 1891 he discovered a tumour on his knee, so he returned to France where his leg was amputated. He died the same year from bone cancer. He was thirty-seven. And, sadder still, his work went on to become much lauded, studied by other greats, gaining him much recognition… after his death. Not only were poets influenced by his style, but singers were too, like Jim Morrison and Bob Dylan.’
My eyes are wide as I try and process these fascinating snippets of the poet’s life. ‘It sounds so fanciful, as if it couldn’t all be true.’
‘There’s so much more to it. Arthur Rimbaud led an interesting life even though he died so young.’
‘ Oui .’ I blow out a breath. ‘I’d love to read more about him, include his works in the hotel library.’
‘“A Season in Hell” is another poem I think you’ll like.’
I make notes in my phone to research more about Arthur Rimbaud and to find his books and biographies about the poet.
‘Now for something lighter? I’ll take you to 12 Rue de l’Odéon, where we’ll find a very small plaque. It’s the original site of the very first Shakespeare and Co. English bookshop, run by the American-born Sylvia Beach. She sold books and had a lending library that all the literary greats at the time borrowed books from, including Hemingway. Most people think George Whitman’s Shakespeare and Co. on the Left Bank is the original site, but it is not. He named it in ode to Sylvia’s bookshop. And here we have another fascinating life…’
Juliette goes into great detail about Sylvia Beach, who was more than a bookseller; she was a fierce cheerleader and confidante for her literary pals.
‘Here it is.’ Juliette points to an unassuming plaque on the wall that reads in French, In this house Sylvia Beach published Ulysses by James Joyce .
‘It’s lovely she’s recognised like this. I only wish it was more about her than James Joyce, although I suppose without her there would be no Ulysses .’
‘ Oui , it’s always about James Joyce.’ Juliette laughs. ‘Sylvia bankrolled and published it despite many obstacles of the time, her efforts leaving her in debt. Sylvia moved heaven and earth to help the struggling writer publish Ulysses, even though it was banned in many places for “obscenity” and was confiscated at customs in England and America as it was deemed a scandalous novel, when really it’s nothing of the sort. But it was seen that way at the time. Not too bad for her first venture into publishing.’
‘She was a visionary. And I’ll have to stock biographies about her.’
Juliette smiles. ‘And let’s not forget Sylvia’s dear friend and companion Adrienne Monnier, who had a French bookshop at 7 Rue de l’Odéon.’
We cross the street and find the second plaque for the bookshop La Maison des Amis des Livres, which translates to The House of Friends and Books. Even though these small plaques might seem insignificant to some, I find it special that these two women are recognised and honoured for their work in literature all those years ago.