Last month I experienced something I am not used to: I actually met the author of one of the books I have just read. Given that I am more a fan of Zola than of Stephanie Meyer, this is rare enough. In addition, the book was not of the literary type, but instead deals with a sociological theme which I found very interesting. La Séduction: how the French play the game of life, by American journalist Elaine Sciolino, explores the idea that the French - from head of state to local butcher - use subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) seduction techniques in their everyday life.
During a meet-the-author evening organized by an Anglophone women’s group, Ms. Sciolino, Paris correspondent and former Paris bureau chief for the New York Times, told us about the difficulties she encountered when trying to adapt to French life. As the daughter of an Englishwoman, I know the hardships that a non-native French speaker can be faced with. I recall numerous telephone battles between my mother, struggling to sound polite and get a task done efficiently in a language she does not fully master, and some member of the French administration, whose emissaries are known for not being particularly patient or understanding. A telling episode in the book is when the author is faced with a similar situation (only she was negotiating an interview with the Minister of culture), yet she manages to charm the receptionist by a well-placed compliment which takes all the strain out of the conversation. Non-French readers take note.
What I found most interesting is the opposition between Anglo-Saxon and Mediterranean points of view on seduction. I thought that the part about sexual harassment at work was highly enlightening: it is said that the rules of non-professional conversation between two co-workers of the opposite sex are extremely strict in the States and the UK, where someone can get in trouble just for saying that your new haircut looks good (I am not exaggerating). It is true that in France, if you take the seductive aspects away from a conversation, not much is actually said. I am not necessarily talking about full-on flirting, but just the usual agreeable way of talking we use when we want something. For example, as class representatives, my “colleague” and I have to be particularly charming to teachers if we want our options to be heard during the meetings we are required to attend. Flattery and banter are a part of our everyday life, and it is this subtle dosage that can help you get your point across in the best possible way - a perfect example of the French seduction. Yet there is a fine line: Ms. Sciolino recalled a particular interview with a certain elderly politician and notorious flirt, during which his hand seems to linger on the journalist’s assistant’s backside. When, I ask myself, does using seduction in professional relations stop being beneficial and becomes plain creepy?
The difference between the two cultures is also highlighted in the choice of the book cover. For the English version, everyone I have spoken to has wondered why such a cleverly written and altogether “serious” work was clothed in typical chic-lit attire, namely a suggestive drawing of a fishnet-clad feminine figure, supposed to be the embodiment of French séduction (see first picture).
Familiar with the chick-lit-style books favoured by my mother which generally involve the misfortunes of some confused English or American woman living in France, I naturally expected another Petite Anglaise1 type of story. And therefore I actually found myself hiding the book cover when reading this book on the métro, where one is judged by the book one is flaunting – or in some cases desperately trying to conceal.
However, the French edition is nothing like its English counterpart (second picture): the format, first of all, is the one used for “serious” books, such as political or sociological works which are flourishing at the moment, in the context of the looming presidential election. The choice of public is thus radically different, and even if the telling title remains the same, the cover illustration of the French pavé2 clearly depicts a clearly political scene: a picture of Jacques Chirac using one of his classic seduction techniques, le baisemain3, on American political scientist and diplomat Condoleezza Rice. The French publisher clearly chose a different approach: behold a cleverly-written and carefully-researched work about an unusual theme, explained thanks to the author’s political knowledge and interesting view of France as a foreigner.
I particularly salute the research. Bernard-Henri Lévy and his wife Arielle Dombasle are fairly well-known and are often described as being the epitome of the French intellectual couple (although I assure you NO ONE vouvoies4 each other in a couple, except in old age, and when all sensuality has long vanished…), but I was pleasantly surprised when I read about lesser-known figures – at least, outside France – such as Raphaël Enthoven. Even if he is mostly known for having been one of Carla Bruni’s former lovers, Enthoven is a French writer, philosopher and proud member of France’s select circle of intellectuals – even if most people remember him for his good looks. Ms. Sciolino’s detailed descriptions of the France profonde5 also denote her solid knowledge of French values, which will certainly score her a few well-earned points with the French reading public.
Unsurprisingly, Ms. Sciolino charmed us all. I admit that as a prejudiced young French girl, I did not expect her to be quite so well turned-out: impeccably dressed, eloquent and clearly at ease with her subject. Down-to-earth and approachable, she warmly welcomed my shy request to write this article. So it seems that, after living in Paris for 10 years and conquering the very exclusive 7th arrondissement (read the book to find out how she manages to befriend a typically French surly fishmonger), Ms. Sciolino has fully embraced and understood the French way of life. And it makes this book a truly riveting read.
Légende
- Petite Anglaise: the story of an English woman coming to live in and trying to adapt to France. She wrote a successful blog under the pseudonym of Petite Anglaise which resulted in a best-selling book.
- Un pavé: literally a cobble-stone, it qualifies a large and dense book, often dealing with a serious subject
- Le baisemain: the perfect example of French seduction, this traditional greeting generally consists in a man kissing a woman’s hand. Other variations are sometimes chosen: not touching or lightly brushing the woman’s hand can often be even more suggestive.
- Le vouvoiement: saying vous, a respectful and formal way of saying “you” as opposed to the tu used in closer relationships.
- La France profonde: literally the “deep” part of France, its remote countryside, often estranged from what is going on in the higher spheres.
First picture : author Elaine SciolinoSecond picture : English edition of La SéductionThird picture : French edition of La Séduction
