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shewhomustI learned about this book from an article in the Guardian. Not a review, an article: the curator of Paris's Père Lachaise cemetery had written about his job, and about living in the house that goes with it, within the cemetery. The article describes the book as "enchanting", and deserving of the attention even though it was not yet available in English (it is now).
I resisted for a time, but eventually I cracked and ordered a copy (I try not to use Amazon, but it didn't seem likely that I'd be in France any time soon,so ...) and yes, it's a charming and entertaining read. Gallot hadn't set out to write a book, but had been approached by publishers after the success of the photos he posted to Instagram during lockdown, of his wanderings in the rewilded cemetery which was also his home. Knowing this, you can see signs of the author looking around for material to bulk out his (perfectly adequate but not exceptional) photos into a book: a bit of autobiography here, some history of Paris there, the pros and cons of rewilding a cemetery which is also a major tourist attraction... And I'm not complaining, it's all good, readble stuff. I'm happy to know how you get to manage a famous cemetery (it's in the family) and how you get to be buried at Père Lachaise (you have to be Parisian) and why some of the people buried there died long before the cemetry was founded.
But I stumbled over the explanation of why the chrysanthemum is so very much the flower of funeral (at the briefing course before the year I spent in France as a student, we were warned never to take them a gift for a hostess): the President, explains M. Gallot, gave the order that to mark the first anniversary of the Armistice, flowers were to be placed on the graves of all of France's war dead: since the day falls in November, the chrysanthemum which blooms at that season was a popular choice. I looked for the source of this information, but found only the same assertion on the official website of the city of Paris; the same assertion in very similar words: "Le chrysanthème, qui n’avait pourtant rien demandé mais déployait fièrement une floraison spectaculaire à ce moment-là, fut choisi." I was briefly very pleased to have learned this, but almost immediately realised that 1919 is too late for the origin of this tradition: after all, Howards End was published in 1910:
More than you need to know about chrysanthemums and the Puccini connection.
But with that exception, entirely recommended.
I resisted for a time, but eventually I cracked and ordered a copy (I try not to use Amazon, but it didn't seem likely that I'd be in France any time soon,so ...) and yes, it's a charming and entertaining read. Gallot hadn't set out to write a book, but had been approached by publishers after the success of the photos he posted to Instagram during lockdown, of his wanderings in the rewilded cemetery which was also his home. Knowing this, you can see signs of the author looking around for material to bulk out his (perfectly adequate but not exceptional) photos into a book: a bit of autobiography here, some history of Paris there, the pros and cons of rewilding a cemetery which is also a major tourist attraction... And I'm not complaining, it's all good, readble stuff. I'm happy to know how you get to manage a famous cemetery (it's in the family) and how you get to be buried at Père Lachaise (you have to be Parisian) and why some of the people buried there died long before the cemetry was founded.
But I stumbled over the explanation of why the chrysanthemum is so very much the flower of funeral (at the briefing course before the year I spent in France as a student, we were warned never to take them a gift for a hostess): the President, explains M. Gallot, gave the order that to mark the first anniversary of the Armistice, flowers were to be placed on the graves of all of France's war dead: since the day falls in November, the chrysanthemum which blooms at that season was a popular choice. I looked for the source of this information, but found only the same assertion on the official website of the city of Paris; the same assertion in very similar words: "Le chrysanthème, qui n’avait pourtant rien demandé mais déployait fièrement une floraison spectaculaire à ce moment-là, fut choisi." I was briefly very pleased to have learned this, but almost immediately realised that 1919 is too late for the origin of this tradition: after all, Howards End was published in 1910:
Evie said: "But those chrysanthemums - "
"Or coming down to the funeral at all - " echoed Dolly.
"Why shouldn't she come down? She had the right to, and she stood far back among the Hilton women. The flowers - certainly we should not have sent such flowers, but they may have seemed the right thing to her, Evie, and for all you know they may be the custom in Germany."
"Oh, I forget she isn't really English," cried Evie. "That would explain a lot."
More than you need to know about chrysanthemums and the Puccini connection.
But with that exception, entirely recommended.
