Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name

Sometimes its all in the title. This book has been sitting in my shelf for awhile now and every so often my eyes would light upon it and the title would resound in my head, progressively tugging at my mind till finally, I picked it up. The title is certainly arresting enough and the much of the story takes place in the exotic landscape of Lapland.
The story begins with the death of Clarissa’s father and a discovery that changes her life. She learns that the father she’s just buried is in fact not her father. This discovery poisons her life and pushes her to find answers and her mother who had disappeared from their family 14 years earlier. And her search takes her to the little known lands of the Sami people, from whom she is descended.
Much of the novel’s strength lies in the control author Vida wields over her heavy subject matter. There are secrets built upon other secrets and she reveals them slowly while ensuring that we stay engrossed in Clarissa’s story. In a way the exoticness of the story’s locale underscores the psychological terrain that Clarissa’s character explores. There is an overlapping theme of searching for identity, making a new one at the same time creating multiple lives to fit these different identities. And it is extremely interesting to read a character that is able to do so completely without regard to the emotional cost to those who love her. I think one of the most brutal lines I’ve ever read comes about almost at the end of the book, where Olivia, Clarissa’s mother tells her “you poor thing…you always tried so hard to get a reaction from me. Can you put another log on the fire?” A cold character to say the least, but the story is so well told, that while I was horrified, there was a basis from which I could see how it could come about and even felt a sort of sympathy or empathy for her. Ultimately its ending is consistent with its theme of finding, renewing and creating identities that finally, allow one to live. Re-reading it now, as I write, I find that it is a gratifyingly hopeful one.

What happens when you go looking for something beyond the mundane and you find more than what you bargained for? This is by no means an easy topic to tackle but John Green does a magnificent job of doing just that in his book “Looking for Alaska”. It’s the story of Miles “Pudge” Halter, avid biography reader and fan of famous last words (his abiding motto is to go and find the great perhaps—as Rabelais) and his transfer to the Culver Creek Boarding School. It is at Culver Creek that he meets and befriends Chip “Colonel” Martin, Takumi and Alaska Young with whom he falls hopelessly in love with. Never mind that she is out of his league and as she puts it “totally in love with her boyfriend”. And since this is a book about teenagers, it is full of class room life and pranks (industrial blue colored dye in hair gel being involved in one) but it veers from such a simple direction once tragedy strikes.
This is an immensely likeable novel. It is one of those novels whose language just flows, is poetic and often beautiful. Add the fact that it captures perfectly the rhythm and cadence of teenage life without once resorting to cliché or is in any way condescending for their concerns. There are deeper things afoot in the novel and it is framed by Alaska herself when she poses that most existentialist of questions “how do we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?” As questions go, this has been the focus of countless minds and the subject of books far too numerous to recount. And author John Green is able to handle such a topic in a graceful and humorous way. If I had a quibble with this book, it would be to say that perhaps the characters are a little aware and philosophical for teenagers but at the same time, it cannot be denied that teenagers now are much more worldly and knowing than grown ups give them credit for. But that is just the tiniest quibble in this otherwise excellent novel that ends in the most satisfyingly positive way. “That part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail.”

On our all too brief Spanish sojourn, it was a must of course to partake of tapas. But in a city where literally every street had a tapas bar, it could get difficult to choose one that is actually good and not a tourist trap. On our first night, famished after a rather long day, we took the chance to ask our hotel for a suggestion. And we lucked out because the restaurant was one of the nicest tapas bars we’ve ever tried.
Ciutat Condal is nestled comfortably in the stretch of Gran Via Cort des Catalans and is certainly one of the happening places. On the night we visited, it was jam-packed full of cool Catalans dressed to the nines and ordering copious amounts of tapas. The restaurant serves a good variety of tapas divided roughly into cold, hot and specials of the day. Of the tapas we tried, what was particularly special was the lightly battered baby squid fried to a golden crisp and served piping hot. It is so good you’ll be sure to order a second round. Another worthy dish was the fried green peppers, apparently a Catalan specialty, though it has a particular taste that perhaps needs some getting used to.

For me however, THE discovery of the whole weekend was this delightfully tiny hole in the wall place serving delicious churros con chocolate. We originally had in mind another place which was once again recommended by our trusty old Lonely Planet but was unfortunately closed for the summer. Undaunted, we asked the closest seemingly local resident if there was another one around the area and was told rather vaguely that there was in fact another, just down the street. We nearly missed it except for the sign above the door which read Dulcinea. It helped that there was a display window of churros. It was a rather old fashioned place with plenty of locals enjoying their afternoon merienda. What luck! They served deliciously thick hot chocolate that was just the right blend of sweetness and chocolateyness. It was absolutely divine to dip the piping hot churros into this molten cup. Together they form a mélange of tastes in the mouth that is just unforgettable.

Despite all the great things I saw that day, I have to say that this just about made my day!

Premier roman

Elliott Perlman avait écrit l'excellent Ambiguités, qui l'avair propulsé sur le devant de la scène littéraire. Le roman explorait déjà la déchéance humaine dans ce qu'elle a de plus normal. Le thème est aujourd'hui plus que d'actualité, vu l'économie mondiale.

Trois dollars continue dans la même veine. Comment une famille appartenant à la classe moyenne peut se retrouver un jour avec trois dollars en poche? L'auteur sans jamais répondre à la question, donne des pistes afin que le lecteur puisse lui-même réfléchir à la question.

Les deux romans se ressemblent mais semblent davantages complémentaires que concurrents, si concurrence il y a lorsque l'on parle de littérature. Trois dollars semble se concentrer davantage sur le problème économique, et Ambiguités sur le problème émotionnel.

Les personnages semblent sortis de notre quotidien, et ne peuvent que toucher le lecteur par la véracité des sentiments et situations. La description de la dépression est particulièrement poignante.

Un premier roman auquel j'adhère totalement, un auteur que je suis donc de près. Reste à savoir quand sortira son prochain roman...

If I’m not careful, I could get use to the French way of having mini-breaks every so often. This time the holiday was thanks to Bastille day and we took the opportunity to fly to Barcelona, queen city of Catalonia Spain. But we were certainly not lacking in French company as it seemed that the Spanish capital was chock full of travelers from Gaulle.
Arriving late at night, the difference was immediately apparent. The air was warmer and filled with that ineffable Mediterranean scent of pine mixed with a slightly salty tangy air. It immediately felt like vacation. For the days we were there, we were blessed with the most incredible weather—sunny and clear blue skies with fresh wind to refresh us as we walked. The rain had the good sense to pour only in the evening. That’s what I call cooperative weather.
Walking around Barcelona, we noticed right away the proud distinction that they make with their city. We were in Catalonia and as such, the language was Catalan and Spanish came only second. Street names were Passeig and Carrer instead of Paseo and Calle. Still and all, we were in Spain so we filled up on tapas and we exercised our meager Spanish. I found myself struggling to remember all the basic words I knew, and 400 years of occupation notwithstanding, all I could mutter was a regretful lo siento, no hablo espanol.

There is so much to see in this city that numerous visits are required. When you have only a limited time, choices must be made. Undoubtedly, the must sees are definitely the Sagrada Familia, the Picasso Museum and to my mind, the lush Park Guell.

The Sagrada Familia is probably the city’s most famous monument. It is an impressive site; the vision of Modernist genius Antoni Gaudi, who left quite a mark on the city. The first glimpse of the Sagrada is one to remember. Its’ only finished façade greets you as you exit the metro. There is almost too much to take in at once—the walls frescoed and sculpted with flowing lines so that every inch is covered in figures, both mystical and fanciful. At the same time, you see at once that it is still an on going project. Huge cranes loom alongside the towering spires and inside is a mass of impressive scaffolding covering a great deal of the interior. There is something moving about the people’s ongoing commitment to finish this vision of Gaudi, who lived only to see a very small part of his dream completed. And since the project is completely funded by private donations and the entrance fees, it could easily take decades for it to reach completion, if ever. A long queue towards the lift is well worth it once we reached the top and beheld the magnificent views of the city. From this height, you can see the Mediterranean Sea stretching as far as the eye can see. And it is from here also that we can see the words of praise frescoed onto the upper reaches of the tower. Gaudi, a devout man, when asked why the need to inscribe such words where no one could see them famously replied that “it mattered not, as angels could see them”. Its easy to see why he felt he could take his time to finish his project, since God, his client was in no hurry.

After the modernism masterpiece that is the Sagrada, the city’s second most visited place is the Picasso Museum. Situated in the atmospheric La Ribera, it is a surprisingly rich collection featuring numerous early pieces by Picasso. It helps the visitor a great deal that the collection is housed in such an elegant manner. In fact it is housed in 5 medieval stone mansions gracefully linked together to form a wonderfully cohesive whole. We later learned that the collection was started by the personal secretary and life long friend of Picasso, Joachim Sabartes who donated all the pieces given to him by his friend. The artist later continued the collection by donating a huge amount of his works directly to the museum.
Having our fill of cultural and artistic monuments, it was a real pleasure to board the local bus and head towards the upper reaches of the city to visit the Park Guell. Funnily enough, it was originally conceived as a housing project with Gaudi as designer and landscape artist. Unfortunately, the idea was perhaps a little too ahead of its times as it was a commercial flop. Fortunately for us, Gaudi had enough time to design 3 kms of rambling walks and pathways, the delightful Hansel and Gretel gatehouses and plaza. It is here that you see his fertile imagination at work and up close. Clearly he was not a believer in straight lines, the paths and walks curve and double back, the stone columns that make up the plaza are slanted and there are sinuous curves everywhere. It is also here that his work is at its most accessible. It is a delightful place to explore especially on a beautiful Sunday afternoon with the sun shining and the air is scented with pine.

Sight seeing aside, it was nice just to stroll around and soak up the atmosphere. I loved the wide avenues which were wide enough to create islands in the middle with trees, creating both shade and walkways and where there are both, enterprising cafes put chairs and tables and voila you had the perfect place to watch the other people walking by. Inevitably, one’s steps take you to Las Ramblas, that stretch of road which starts at Placa de Catalunya and meanders its way towards the old port, now refurbished with Barcelona’s own version of a mall. Walked straight on, Las Ramblas takes a total of 30 minutes to traverse except that once you go off on the numerous side streets that take you in to the heart of Barri Gotic, you can get derailed much longer. Oh but what distraction it is when you walked into the nearly labyrinthine streets and discover hidden charming little plazas.
And because food is a subject quite close to my heart, it was an experience to discover a few choice restaurants including a gem of a place serving delightful churros con chocolate. Ah but that is a tale for the next time.

Every now and then, I feel like reading a good mystery novel. Fred Vargas was a name I knew vaguely. I'd seen them around but have never had the opportunity to start one. My interest was further piqued when I learned that one of her books had been turned into a movie. Even more interestingly, the movie (Paris Vite and Reviens Tard) was filmed on the street just down our house. That sealed the deal so I plunged into the universe created by Vargas.
And what a universe it turned out to be. Fortunately I decided to start with one of the earlier novels starring, if I may use that term, Police Commisaire Jean Baptiste Adamsberg, who at the start of “Have Mercy on Us All” (just as an aside, I have no idea how they came up with this translation of Paris vite and reviens tard!) has just been appointed head of a newly formed murder unit. Adamsberg possesses an almost uncanny knack for finding the bad guys, hence the appointment. But we meet Adamsberg just after we meet Joss Le Guern, a modern day town crier who has set up a rather thriving business barking out the news three times a day in a square just of Edgar Quinet. As towncrier he receives a number of odd messages but none as odd as some messages which start hinting at the return of the dreaded Plague. Yes, the plague which as we all know have been eradicated. And the plot thickens when victims start turning up showing the deadly signs. It was at this point that I realized I’ve entered into a completely different murder mystery story altogether.
It is an intriguing and well written story that surprises you till almost the last page. Through out all the inventive twists and turns, Vargas manages to keep a tight hold of the story so that there is a seamless narrative and anything loopy or out of the ordinary becomes possible in the world she creates. There is a impressive amount of historical data in the story which can only come about from much research. It turns out the Fred Vargas, whose real name is Frédérique Audouin-Rouzeau is a historian and archaeologist, hence the wealth of details in her story. Another enjoyable aspect in her books is the engaging humor with which it is written. While it is true that this crime fiction, it is written with a lighter hand than most and it is peppered with genuinely humorous situations. Have Mercy on Us All is certainly a great introduction to Fred Vargas’ universe and now I know why people are so taken in by it. Definitely a worthy addition to my shelves.

Here is Al Pacino, again!

Entre Al Pacino et Colin Farrell, mon coeur balançait. Al Pacino est certes un excellent acteur, mais mon scepticisme envers le talent de Colin Farrell réduisat quelque peu mon enthousiasme à voir La Recrue. Scepticisme complétement infondé, je l'admets, n'ayant jamais rien vu de lui, mais après tout on est snob ou on ne l'est pas.

J'ai beau en arriver toujours à la même conclusion -mes jugements sont complètement erronés- je continue d'avoir des préjugés. Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop.

Donc, oui Colin Farrell est bon dans son rôle (et je comprends désormais mieux l'engouement qu'il provoque auprès de la gente féminine, comme diraient certaines de mes connaissances "il n'y a rien à jeter"), et Al Pacino est toujours aussi bon (même si pour lui, il est plutôt passé de l'autre côté de la barrière question physique, mais là n'est bien évidemment pas la question).

Je pensais m'endormir devant un mauvais polar, je suis restée en haleine devant un excellent polar américain (on savait que les Américains avaient quand même quelques qualités...). Et qu'y a-t-il de mieux que de dévouvrir un bon film quand on s'attendait à un navet.

Et promis j'ajoute dans ma liste de résolutions (qui ne fait que s'allonger): arrêter d'avoir des préjugés.

J'avoue, j'ai cédé. A force d'entendre parler de la trilogie "Millenium", j'ai voulu savoir de quoi il s'agissait. Alors quand on me l'a prêté, j'ai sauté sur l'occasion. L'occasion fait le larron...

Je n'ai donc lu que le premier tome (étant assujettie aux aléas de mon prêteur), peut-être l'excitation autour de cette trilogie est due à la trilogie et non pas au premier tome en lui-même. Parce que certes, ce premier tome est un bon polar, parfait pour les vacances, mais il n'y a pas de quoi en faire un succès international.

Le roman mêle (habilement d'ailleurs) histoire familiale, économique, journalistique, sociale. Le lecteur y trouvera forcément donc son compte. L'énigme est bien ficelée, et tellement sadique qu'on n'aurait pas pu y penser, même si on n'est pas surpris quand la lit.

En revanche, j'admire l'auteur pour avoir su résister à un happy end, qui en plus ouvre la porte au second roman... Opinion donc à infimer ou confirmer après la lecture des deux autres tomes...

I’ve always said that French countryside was one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. There’s so much variety depending on which part of the country you find yourself in. Recently, I had a very good occasion to visit the beautiful Loire valley which is literally strewn with castles all along the length and breadth of the Loire river. Since we were limited to a weekend, we decided to visit just three castles all closely located within the environs of Blois, an ideal base to start your explorations of the Loire castles.

The first castle we visited was Chambord. It was built at the behest of Francois I, who at the end of his long 32 year reign ended up staying at Chambord for a total of only 72 days. It was originally conceived as a hunting castle but viewing its dimensions now, it is hard to imagine Chambord as merely a hunting castle. It measures 156 metres long, 56 meters high with 77 stairways, 282 chimneys and 426 rooms! It is immense. Despite its immensity, it is gracefully built and it is only when looking at pictures taken from high can one really see its grand size. The double stairway built in the middle of the castle is impressive in its size and quite renowned. It was constructed in such a way that two people going up on each side of the stairway could see each other but would not meet each other on their way up or down. It is truly unique. From atop the battlements, there is a magnificent view of the estate as far as the eye can see. Chambord is definitely an impressive start to a visit to the Loire castle region.

After the immensity that was Chambord we took ourselves to pay a visit to the pretty little castle of Cheverny. From the beginning, Cheverny has always belonged to the Hurault family who have always rendered service to the kings of France. Cheverny was constructed in the purest Louis XIII style which would explain its delicate and graceful symmetry. Built at the aegis of Count Henri, the castle’s main architect, builder and master mason was Jacques Boyer who also worked on the Castle of Blois and the Luxembourg Palace in Paris. Unfortunately he died before he could see the work completed. Nonetheless the castle retains the gracefulness and beauty of his original designs. What I loved about Cheverny were its beautiful interiors which looked pretty livable, if you could imagine living in a castle, that is. All too often, castle interiors are hard and cold, and seem all around uncomfortable but Cheverny was a different matter. Perhaps because it was a family castle, and not a royal one, it was full of furniture that looked comfortable, if classically lovely, and decorated with family pictures. I definitely could see myself reclining in one of the living room’s sofas reading my book while occasionally glancing outside at the grounds. For Tintin fans, Cheverny is also recognizable as Mounlinsart. Hergé appropriated Cheverny for his own use and it was funny to discover a little Tintin museum within the castle grounds.
With our weekend drawing close, there was only enough time left to visit just one more. And we decided on Chaumont- sur- Loire. It is situated on a promontory of the Loire river. As such, up within the castle walls, you get a good bird’s eye view of the river as it wends its way through the valley. Given its location, it was originally built as a fortress but was twice razed to the ground. There is hardly any trace of its origins and what we see now is its graceful Renaissance façade. In 1560,it became part of the power struggle between Catherine de Medici and her husband’s mistress Diane de Poitiers. Catherine forced Diane to give up Chenonceau for Chaumont who later left for the castle of Anet. Despite the exchange, Chaumont now retains more traces of Catherine’s presence than Diane. Catherine’s room is connected to that of Ruggieri, the Queen’s astrologer and there is a passage way linking the room to the tower observatory. One can well imagine the Queen and her astrologer asking their questions before the starry heavens above the castle.

It is certainly during times like this that history comes alive in a way that it doesn't when simply reading about it in musty tomes of history and lore.

One book I read lately that was a refreshing change from my usual reading material is Jeanne Birdsall's The Penderwicks (subtitled A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits and a Very Interesting Boy). I found after a bit of research that this is Birdsall's first book and was extremely well received by both critics and readers. In fact it own the National Book Award for Young People's Literature in 2005. It is the story of four sisters—Rosalind, Skye, Jane and Batty, who together with their widowed father and faithful dog Hound, set off for vacation, one fine summer day. Their destination is Arundel cottage. It is there that the sisters meet and befriend Jeffrey, the lonely son of the snobbish owner of Arundel. And because it is an adventure filled summer, they become involved in a number of high spirited games and various scrapes, including one with a bull and loose rabbits wreaking havoc everywhere.

This is a sweet summer read for children that is equally appealing to more adult readers. If you’re a fan of such classics as Noel Streatfeild books, L.M. Montgomery and Astrid Lindgren’s Pippi Longstocking, you will surely enjoy the Penderwick sisters and their adventures. I really liked the fact that the sisters Birdsall has carefully delineated each with distinction. There is Rosalind, who is responsible and kind, Skye, tomboyish and fierce in her emotions and loyalty, Jane dreamy and determined at the same time and Batty who bravely proclaims that “we’re allowed to choose the people we talk to”. While previous children’s books reflected the mores of the times, oftentimes with the girl characters being limited in the depiction of choices before them, the Penderwicks has a much more modern sensibility. Skye for example loves math and excels in it. Both she and Jane are excellent soccer players. In previous literature, it would’ve been the boy characters that would’ve loved math and played soccer. More tellingly, it is Jeffrey who is under “lock and key” so to speak and it is the girls who rescue him and encourage him to speak his heart out to his mother. Much as I loved the children’s classics I read while growing up, it always seemed to me that boys got much of the adventures and games while girls where much more sheltered and its refreshing to read spirited girls with their own dreams and aspirations that don’t involved finding the prince and living happily ever after.

The return of a hero

AS far as iconic film idols go, Indiana Jones no doubt ranks among the top. Right next to Luke Skywalker in fact. It helps a great deal that the winning tandem of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg are the producer and director respectively of this great film franchise. I’ve always loved the trilogy and to my mind, Harrison Ford was always Indiana Jones, never mind all his other movies like Working Girl, Sabrina and Presumed Innocent to name a few.
A few months ago, I was reading the Vanity Fair article on the upcoming 4th (and hopefully last) Indiana Jones, and was surprised to learn that George Lucas had found the McGuffin, that perfect, long elusive idea around which to build the last story in the series. More ominously, he added that, most fans and critics will probably not like it but that he was doing the movie anyway. And true enough, when Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull did show last May, critics and even fans were less than enamored of it. Two months after it first showed, I finally went to see it with some trepidation. I have to say that I was warned by a number of people that it wasn’t as good as the other three. Maybe because we are easy going movie goers or true fans of Indy, we liked the movie a great deal. It proved to be engrossing, fun and full of tongue in cheek humor.
All the elements that make a great Indiana movie are present. Safe to say that trio that is Lucas, Spielberg, and the ever charismatic Ford, have once again worked their magic. There’s Indy, who the movie makes no secret has gotten on in years, though not so old as to be unable to outwit and outrun the baddies, there’s the exotic locale, in this case Peru, the hold your breath, edge of your seat action sequences, and then there’s the added bonus of cheeky youth in the person of Mutt, who it turns out is much more closely related to Indy than first appears. Of course it wouldn’t be complete without the villain, and I loved that it was the fabulous Cate Blanchett with her butch completely kick ass bowl cut hair. As always there’s the treasure hunt and if the critics and fans were disappointed at the end with what finally turns up, I found that it was in keeping with the era in which the movie is set in. The movie is after all set in the 50s, a time where paranoia was rife over aliens and communism. And if this is giving a little bit away, have no fear, the pleasure that comes with letting ourselves be carried away by the swagger and bluster of Indy as he takes us along for a heck of a ride is still very much present.

Excellente trouvaille

Il est de ces films dont vous ressortez enthousiasmés. D'autant plus quand vous ne vous y attendiez pas. Vous pensiez regarder un film fait pour le dimanche soir, c'est-à-dire pas trop dur, pas trop fatigant donc assez peu exaltant.

G:MT ne rentre certainement pas dans cette catégorie. Quasiment inconnu en France (d'où l'intérêt d'avoir des amis au profil international), ce film sans prétention est pourtant une pure merveille. Pas une merveille au sens hollywoodien, genre Pretty woman, plutôt une merveille au sens anglais genre Petits meurtres entre amis. Noir donc, très noir, mais tellement plus réel.

G:MT retrace de la vie d'adolescents anglais face à leur vie d'adulte telle qu'elle peut être dans toute sa cruauté. On est loin du film pour d'adolescents, ayant pour cadre à la fac, et ayant pour but d'exposer les problèmes existentiels d'études et d'histoires d'amours.

Un groupe d'amis tentent donc de mettre à profit leur talent et leur passion pour se réaliser. Malheureusement la vie est rarement linéaire.

On en ressort estomaqué par cette histoire si pleine d'espoir et pourtant cruellement réaliste. Le talent des acteurs sautent aux yeux, et on se demande comment ce film est resté inaperçu jusqu'à aujourd'hui.

Soirée jazzy

Une soirée à écouter du jazz, ça fait intellectuel, hype, voire romantique. Donc c'est bon à placer dans les conversations soirées mondaines. Concrètement, je ne connais personne qui va régulièrement écouter du jazz (mais je ne traîne probablement pas avec des intellectuels hypes), et moi-même je n'ai jamais fait l'expérience (enfin, j'ai tenté, suis allée à Londres dans un café programment du jazz, et me suis retrouver à écouter un concert de rock -très bien d'ailleurs-. Ah ces Anglais...).

Quand on m'a proposé, j'ai donc sauté sur l'occasion, et ai assité au concert suivant:

Jeudi 3 à 20h30 IN THE MOMENT Le groupe d'Aldridge Hansberry se retrouve une fois de plus au Habana Jazz. Cette fois ci en trio avec au piano Jobic Le Masson et le vocaliste Ken Norris, venu spécialement de Hambourg. In the Moment, Compositions ou arrangements, originaux ou spontanés. Piano, percussions, flûtes, batterie, et voix seront au rendez-vous. Paf 10€

Etant novice en jazz, toute composition jazzesque sonnera probablement pareille à mon oreille (que j'ai en plus très mauvaise), et n'ayant aucune oreille, il est vraie que les musiques qui me touchent le font notamment par les textes. Donc un morceau de jazz sera toujours très agréable à écouter, mais ne me rendra jamais folle d'excitation (c'est pour cela qu'il vaut mieux que mon mec soit doué à la guitare qu'au piano).

Donc selon mon avis d'amateur, le concert fut très bien, mais il vaudrait mieux que je commente le lieu, ma critique sera davantage contructive. Le café fait aussi restaurant (grosses portions pas chères et excellentes, spécialités cubaines), et est extrêmement agréable pour discuter. L'ambiance est familiale (dans le sens convivial, pas dans le sens pesant), et on s'y sent bien. Le service est souriant et disponible ce qui n'est pas la caractéristique des cafés français...

Bref on y passe un excellent moment, à conseiller pour une soirée agréable!

Pour la programmation (et les menus), c'est ici:

http://www.habanajazzparis.net/index.html

Picture time!

Vous connaissez forcément Annie Leibovitz. Soit par vos lectures de Vogue, Vanity Fair, Rolling Stone et autres magazines aussi divins sur le plan photographique et modesque, soit par votre intérêt pour la photographie.

Annie Leibovitz est LA photographe (ok, il y en a quelques-uns: Mario Testino, David Bailey, Richard Avedon, et j'en passe...) des stars (souvenez-vous Demi Moore enceinte en couverture, c'était elle!) et même si elle ne photographait que Brad Pitt, serait-ce si dommage (cf photo)?

En l'occurence, Annie Leibovitz a d'autres cordes a son arc.

L'exposition au Musée Européen de la Photographie (décidément un excellent musée), retrace son parcours photographique et personnel à travers plus de deux cent tirages, utilisés pour la plupart pour son livre A photographer's Life 1990-2005. La photographie étant aussi présente dans sa vie personnelle que dans sa vie professionnelle, Annie Leibovitz a décidé de ne pas faire la part des choses, et d'exposer clichés publics et personnels.

C'est surprenant, mais pas inintéressant, même si il y a un petit côté voyeur à regarder les photos de ses fêtes de famille, ou pire l'hospitalisation de sa compagne. C'est sûrement plein d'humanité, mais parfois un peu de discrétion n'est pas de trop. Certes sa fille est superbe, mais les nombreux clichés n'appartiennent pas plus à l'album familial?

J'aurais donc préféré une exposition un peu plus centrée sur sa vie professionnelle (reportages politiques, paysages, portraits), mais après tout toute immersion photographique est bonne, surtout quand les photographies sont passées à ce stade de renommée. Et puis vu le prix du livre, je n'auras jamais pu me l'offrir, donc l'exposition m'a permis de combler cette frustration.

Pour les infos pratiques, c'est ici:

http://www.mep-fr.org/expo_1.htm