How to Write About the French

Whenever possible, use the word Paris in the title. If you say Paris, even if you are not talking about Parisians, you are still talking about the French as far as most audiences are concerned, so don't worry. Possible subtitles may include Eiffel Tower, Napoleon, Socialism, or Fashion.

If you feel inclined to include pictures of French people in your article, make sure that all of the men are wearing very tight clothing, have mustaches, and, above all, that they have a long cigarette in hand. The women should also be smoking, be abnormally thin, and have a slight hint of armpit hair, barely seen beneath her knee-length dress. And berets. Regardless of gender, berets are a must.

It is advantageous to show only images of the French sitting at a table at an outdoor cafe. You could go the extra mile and show one of the typical gray-skinned french sitting beside and Algerian immigrant if you wanted to be extremely political, and show that you are aware of the country's hot political topics. Even better, you could show an Islamic woman without a burka.

Make sure you talk about the food. It is, after all, the heart and soul of the country. Depict lavish breads, delectable chocolates, and slimy snails (if you can actually find them anywhere) but make sure that you avoid showing anything that could just as easily be found in America. Especially avoid Mac-Do, as Americans would be confused by seeing the restaurant in Paris.

Throughout the book, make sure that you iterate how rude, arrogant, and judgmental the French are. Tell stories of how scandalized you were when a woman refused to give you directions to a popular tourist site or how unappreciative a man was that you country "saved his ass" in World War II. Make sure you mention how you had the feeling that you were always being judged as "the ignorant American."

One of the most important rules however is that you must compare everything to the United States. Make sure you spin it in a light that makes it seem so wrong. Their evil universal healthcare system, their lazy 35 hour work week, their blatant alcoholism for drinking wine with most meals, racist treatment of immigrants, etc. You are, however, allowed to point out that the bread is significantly better. In fact, if you don't mention this, or if you say the contrary, you will likely undermine the credibility of your entire article.

Keep in mind that your readership has no clue about what is going on in French politics. Take this opportunity to explain the strangeness of having so many viable political parties,  socialism in everything government related (you don't need to explain this, socialism stands for itself), and, most importantly, make a point of the fact that President Sarkozy is married to a supermodel. You may also wish to make note of how strangely small the French are.

Don't bother talking about anything regarding films or literature. All of the good movies in France are just French-dubbed versions of all the good American films anyway. You can mention a couple bits of music, but only if it is rap and partially in English. You have a pretty good chance with having people enjoy some of MC Solaar's raps.

Finally, make sure you end by talking about how wonderful it was sitting at a cafe in the evening, sipping on some fancy wine and watching the sun set over Paris, bathing the ancient buildings in a soft light, the Seinne glowing slightly, as as the Eiffel Tower lights up for the night.

War, Liberty, and the Whole Damn Thing

I will be the first to admit that I am a fan of all of the nerdy fantasy novels that give nerds their reputation. I don't spend my time playing Dungeons and Dragons, but a sit down with a novel involving swords and magic is just my cup of tea. Lately I've been reading this story called Faith of the Fallen by Terry Goodkind. The book hits a lot of interesting themes about reasoned thought, self-interest, capitalism, and social justice, all wrapped up in a fantasy world that makes things interesting. The main conflict is between two different factions: the oppressive Imperial Order and the freedom-fighting D'Haran Empire. The former proposes that Man is inherently bad and that self-sacrifice to a "greater good" is the only way to salvation and that anyone who expresses thought on self-enterprise is branded a selfish sinner and publicly executed. The latter, in opposition to these ideals, tries to bring down the Imperial Order in the name of social justice.

The reason that I find this conflict so interesting is that, if you consider the perspective of a person living on either side, they are fighting to preserve their way of life against a dogma that they think to be evil or unjust. This isn't fictional, this is how it is in every war. Our recent "War on Terror" is a perfect example of this. So logically, because of a difference in ideology, opinions on war are largely subjective.

Derrida gives us an interesting look into this sort of situation. He proposes the idea of the "center." That there is something about X that is at once the core, yet something completely separate. He points out that describing something, really describing it is not really possible. The closest that we can get is with metaphor and metonymy. So how does this relate to my nerdy novel? Here we have two opposing factions, who are both asserting their moral superiority to justify their war. But what the hell is morality? Apart from it being something filled with cultural bias, what is it, really? Try to thing of what morality means, what it is at it's "center." You can think of examples, you can give a beat-around-the-bush generalizations, but you can't really come up with anything concrete, and certainly not anything that is universal. I would be surprised if you could come with with a universal definition for morality that would be agreed upon by everyone in the world.

Let's try another idea. Liberty. What does it mean? As an American, my first instinct is that which has been indoctrinated into me: that I am a free person. I can go where I want, do what I want, and say what I want, all within some societal limits. But is that what Liberty is? For me, perhaps, but that my definition certainly isn't universal, and could not really be said to be the core definition of what the word really entails.

Apart from the lame joke I tried for in the title, we can make this a broader reference by trying to analyze the "Whole Damn Thing" i.e. everything else. While war and liberty might be great examples for this indescribable "center," Derrida points out that we really can't describe anything with any degree of fundamental reality. But I will admit that I don't really like the idea. The whole  "there is this center that is the foundation for something but its not really there, its somewhere else" thing bothers me. So I go back to my fantasy novel. I have this whole world that is made up and follows its own rules and reality. I question why I enjoy reading this geeky stuff. Then it hits me. In this novel, in any story, and even in real life, it doesn't matter if you can describe something at it's core. While Derrida and Lacan point out the problem, for me, it stays on a philosophical level. When I read about the atrocities of the Imperial Order in this book, I don't care about what morality is at a fundamental level. I care simply that it is in conflict with my sense of morality. No ideology will ever be universal, and so why not embrace our subjectivity to do or think what we believe to be the "reality" of something, even if its inexplicable?

Le choix du cid and our metonymic unconcious.

In the 17th century, famous French dramaturge Pierre Corneille wrote his famous adaption the Spanish fable, which he titled Le Cid. The play covers a broad range of issues which reflected French society in the 17th century. Through the piece, we see the emergence of the ideas of Absolutism, inspired by Cardinal Richelieu, conflicts of court dueling, conflicts of familial honor, and one of the most tragic tales of love that has ever been written.

To give you a general sense of the story, the play opens with the leading lady, Chimene, in her room with her lady-in-waiting. She is the daughter of the Count, who is the champion of the king. She talks about how excited she is to marry a man named Don Rodrigue. The set-up seems like everything will be happy between the two families. Perhaps it would have, but in an audience with the Count, Don Rodrigue's father, who was a military hero in his younger days, is insulted. Unable to defend his honor, the father asks Don Rodrigue to avenge him, and return honor the the family name. Torn between his love for Chimene and his need to regain his honor, Rodrigue challenges Chimene's father to a duel (which at the time were strictly forbidden, due to the loss of life of so many members of high-ranking society) which results in the death of the Count. Despite her fierce love for Rodrigue, Chimene is forced to demand justice from the King, in order to restore the tarnished honor of her family. Throughout the story, we get glimpses, from both characters, that they both love each other and that, in choosing these terrible actions, they are really trying only to be worth of the love of the other. Thus, the primary conflict in the story is how one balances love and honor. Evidently, the choice is not easy. If you would like to read more on the story (which is relatively short and extremely interesting) a somewhat good translation can be found here. Although its hard to tell by reading it in English, the actual French version is very lyrical, with non-stop rhyme throughout the entire piece.

So how might we interpret this classic tale of love and loss in terms of literary criticism? In his essay, Agency of the letter in the unconcious, Jacques Lacan argues that our human desires are metonymy, that is, something that is meant to represent a part of the whole. What he describes with this idea is that we are never truly satisfied by whatever it is we want, and in fact, we always tend to want more. One interpretation of his essay might assert that what we really want is to want something. In Le Cid, this idea manifests itself in what became known as le choix du cid, or "the choice of the cid," an expression which describes a situation where one loses everything no matter which action is taken. In the play, this is Rodrigue's decision between killing Chimene's father and losing her love, or losing his honor and being unworth of her love. What le choix du cid means in terms of Lacan is that not only do we lose no matter what we choose, but our choice will still render us unsatisfied and wanting. For example, after the death of her father, Chimene seeks the death of Rodrigue from the king. Although she claims to staunchly desire this, it is evident that she does not really know what she wants, and is really only pursuing what she thinks she wants, driven by societal context. And certainly, no matter what action is taken on her part, she will still be left wanting when all is said and done. I wont spoil the ending for you, but I will suggest to you that the final resolution itself is the epitome of this idea of "desire=metonymy." What makes Corneille's work so interesting and so well-studied, and what makes Lacan's work so conflicting, is that there really is no solution. The characters in Le Cid do not have any good option laid before them. We, as desiring human beings have no real solution to our endless desires. But is that really a bad thing? One could say that our obsession with material things makes us petty and shallow. I would assert that it is rather what makes our lives interesting. We always have something to strive for, even if we really don't know why we strive for it. Le Cid would be a wholly uninteresting bit of literature if there was no struggle for what the characters really want. Desire is the spice of life, after all.