I recently received copies of the latest additions to the Cahiers Series (a joint venture between Sylph Editions and the Center for Writers & Translators at the American University of Paris), a lovely collection of short, illustrated texts, ideal little coffee-table books that can be read (mostly) in a single sitting. They’re always a joy to try, and this time around, the two works take the reader on very different journeys. In a while, we’ll be heading to the Greek islands for some alone time, but first we’re off to Paris, where, as you’ll see, things can be quite a bit busier – even if there’s still always time for quiet reflection at the end of the day…
*****
Anna-Louise Milne’s A General Practice is a story set in a doctor’s surgery in central Paris, where Dr. Hoda Al Asadi spends long days tending to the needs of a steady stream of drop-in patients. We see how she calmly treats each person, newcomer or old acquaintance, with all of her notes kept on small, white cards, which are then carefully stored away in one of the many boxes filling the space behind her. The first part of the story is simply a record of one day in her life, and we meet several people, seeing the kinds of issues both they and the doctor face.
As the story develops, it takes a slightly different direction, though. For one thing, the view shifts to Ollie, the doctor’s cleaner-cum-receptionist, as she arrives to restore order to the practice at the end of another long day. Then, when we return to the doctor, we begin to see a pattern. There are new faces, it’s true, but there are also returning patients, and with each visit, we (and the doctor) become more familiar with their issues, and ever more involved.
A General Practice is a lovely little piece, part of a collection of works Milne has written chronicling life in a particular area of Paris. This is a practice for the poor and the homeless, for those whose French isn’t perfect, with the good doctor doing her best to put each patient at ease:
Address? He takes out some papers from the file he is holding on his knee, pushes them across the desk, a pay cheque, a business card, his residency permit. She copies his surname, first name, address, glances at the phone on the desk: 18.13. She notes the time. The pay slip declares 80 hours in the month. No way of knowing how many he has really worked. Nor where he sleeps, or if this address corresponds to a place where sleep is possible.
p.8 (Sylph Editions, 2022)
Whether they are homeless or not, the doctor takes the time to explore each patient’s story, doing her best to persuade them to slow down and listen to their body, even if the need to work and earn money makes this a secondary consideration at times.
You sense that the practice is just as much a labour of love as of work, and the further we go on, and the more we learn about the doctor (and Ollie), we see how true that is. Where the story starts with the appearance of a lonely woman checking items off a list, it ends with collaboration, and an act of compassion. This is not a doctor who’s prepared to give up on her patients, and as she ventures out into the Parisian night, we can rest assured that she’ll do her best to help those in need – and that there’s someone there beside her lending a helping hand…
*****
Rachel Cusk’s Quarry is a rather different story. Here we have a female writer spending some time on a Greek island with her family, and while she’s ostensibly there to write a commissioned essay on marble, you suspect that the truth behind her stay isn’t quite that simple. She seems to have come to a turning point in her life, and this getaway is acting as breathing space, allowing her to reflect on the past and ready herself for the future.
While many of you will undoubtedly have encountered Cusk’s work before, this was my first time trying her writing, and for the most part it was an enjoyable experience. She’s certainly not averse to using (in teaching jargon) low-frequency words, and there’s a pleasing flow to her prose, with the outside world there, but often kept at a bit of a distance. Occasionally, she does return to earth, for conversations with a noisy neighbour and a trip to a neighbouring island, but for the most part we’re simply alone with the writer and her thoughts.
Quite what to make of Quarry is also a puzzle. It’s a rather autofictional piece, and you’d be hard-pressed to decide how much of it is fiction and how much gilded reality. She frequently returns to the reason for her visit, the essay on marble, and the substance crops up every few pages, either in reality (e.g. the marble table in the garden of the house she’s staying in) or in her musings:
One might almost have said that the rock’s sufferings, its experience, had brought about its immortality. It was tempting to translate this notion into a metaphor for human development, yet for me the hardening of age felt so much like a move into powerlessness. The power of change receded, to be replaced by a sort of helplessness before the facts. The past had become larger than the future, and its inalterability perhaps came as a shock, because to be embroiled in living, in formation, is to forget the hard outcome of reality.
p.22 (Sylph Editions, 2022).
It’s tempting to think that Quarry actually is the piece she was commissioned to write, one that has somehow drifted around the topic of marble and branched off into other areas.
But what are these other areas? Well, there’s a distinct sense of, if not a mid-life crisis, then a need to take stock, to reflect before moving on with her life. You can also discern a focus on the writer’s dual role as a mother and an artist as she wonders whether the approach she took to balance these two parts of her life was the right one. Perhaps most importantly, Cusk, or her (auto)fictional self, is pondering change and movement, recalling a youth spent on the move and wondering whether it’s better to be in flux or settle down for good. As you may have guessed, she opts for the former, despite the example set by all the different pieces of marble she encounters along the way…
*****
As always, both of the cahiers here are adorned and enhanced by art. A General Practice is accompanied by Andy Robert’s abstract oil paintings while Quarry has Cusk’s partner, Siemon Scamell-Katz, contributing some rather minimalist works. If I’m honest, I don’t think the art here is essential to the text (as is the case, for example, with Max Neumann’s images for László Krasznahorkai’s animalinside), but let’s face it – I’m no art expert. In any case, whether you’re an art fan or not, the latest cahiers contain fascinating stories and look rather nice, so I think we can call that a success 