The Elegance of the Hedgehog

A book I found in the apartment that looked interesting, The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery, is a touching, stream-of-consciousness gem that, I think I can say, moved me.


I read it in English (grace à the copy available) though it was originally written and published in French. The story revolves around a concierge named Renée in a ritzy Parisian apartment building who has had to hide her intelligence and love of art and culture all her life, and a 12-year-old girl  named Paloma living in the apartment building, daughter of a university professor and a French parliamentarian, who has the same problem.


I liked the book from its cover, which originally made me want to read it. Also, Johanna collects hedgehogs, and I wondered if this had been given to her based on the title.


It turns out, Renée is compared to a hedgehog by Paloma: tough and prickly on the outside but soft and uassuming on the inside. For some reason that makes them elegant. Not the word I would choose, but whatever. Eventually Renée and Paloma develop a friendship, and become confidants for each other's inner lives, until tragedy strikes. 


The format of the novel is a bifurcated narration, half Renée, half Paloma, and centers a lot on interior monologue and journal entries. Literary and high-brow cultural references abound, as well as some pop culture stuff, mostly pertaining to France. The book is very French - that is, catering to a French audience and written by a French person. It has the same sort of set-up, mistakes, poignant details and allusions as a Truffaut film, with tone and style elements borrowed, it seems, from a Marguerite Duras play, or a Philippe Claudel novel.


The extreme intelligence of both main characters is at first a bit hard to believe, as we only have their opinions to go on, and irksome later on, when they seem so absorbed in absorbing culture, literature, the beauty of the world, etc., that they become static - unmoving, uninterested, and yes, even selfish - vessels of such intelligence. If there really were two geniuses residing at 7, rue de Grenelle, Paris, shouldn't they be doing something more proactive and constructive than whining about how they're so smart that no one will understand them, and the world is so bleak that it's best not to get involved - or just end it all? 


That's not to say Barbery didn't pull off the characters. The book did have remarkably funny parts, and was great fun to read.  Considering myself an intellectual, and tickled especially when I come across obscure references to things I like (Mozart, Kant, Tolstoy, etc.), I loved the characters and the idea behind what Barbery was trying to accomplish. But upon finishing The Elegance of the Hedgehog, I found the idea underdeveloped as a whole. It lacked a certain je ne sais quoi.