However, it's now 7:28am so I've decided to write some brief thoughts (but not an official 'review' as it would ruin it for others) on another novel set also in France, not that long before the troublemaker Jean Valjean's antics.
Patrick Suskind's 'Perfume: The Story of a Murderer'.
Firstly, a confession; I’ve been meaning to read this book for a long time. Not exactly worthy of the book-lover confession booth until I admit my longing to read it came about from hearing so much about the film when it first came out– the shame! The promise of Ben Whishaw (who I’d just seen in a production of Chekhov’s The Seagull at the National and fallen madly in love with at the time) was too enticing to resist. Fortunately, while my teenage lust for a rather attractive actor may have subsided (if only slightly), my intrigue in how perfumery creates a murderer hadn’t.
I read a translation by John E. Woods (Penguin Modern Classics) and plan to read the original German when I can get my hands on a copy (I don’t trust the translations of others as much as I trust film adaptations). It’s a stonkingly good read though, however true to the original it may be; the narrative is positively captivating making what would be a queer and slow story into a beautifully woven and enticing journey. Long bursts of description on the various processes of perfume making are somehow fascinating and one finds oneself surrounded by the most unusual aromas due to the pulchritudinous description of scents (intentional irony in my choice of word).
Our protagonist (or is he the antagonist?), the bizarre creature Grenouille, has an extraordinary gift in his nose. However, this gift (I use this word as in German it means ‘poison’) leaves him without what we consider human attributes. He feels no real emotions; happiness escapes him and fear eludes him. Like a computer, our anti-hero’s behavior is completely controlled by his one task; he loves and indeed avoids only for scents. He has an inept loathing for humanity due to their stench but finds the scent of virgins on the verge of womanhood heavenly. It’s through this contrast that Suskind seems to be exploring the concept of humanity. Grenouille’s (or Jean-Baptiste) scentless natural state forces him to extremes; a complete isolation from society initially which drives him to his creation of the ‘perfect’ scent making the world drunk on admiration for him. Both ways suffocate the anti-hero and it’s in Suskind’s disturbing ending that a resolution to this paradox is achieved.
It’s an incredibly clever little novel. Exploring a range of themes from heaven and hell to the nature of humanity and what makes us human (I could write essays on the symbolism and hidden layers) in a very quick read. Slightly disturbing in nature at times (it’s not exactly the type of story you’d wish to give a rough outline to a friend), I’ve found myself reflecting on it since I’ve finished and I appear to be blessed with a more acute sense of smell.
Please note, I've just written this at this silly time in the morning having not had even a wink of sleep last night so I'll probably come back and edit later. I just needed something to amuse myself for a while (though I've got another two hours before I'm going out)!
Oh, and this little review means I can put a picture of a topless Whishaw up... it's artistic and linked to the book and all that jazz.
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