Thursday, August 27, 2009

BOOK REVIEW: "The Elegance of the Hedgehog" by Muriel Barbery

Time is deceptive; that hour you spend stuck in traffic seems a lot longer than the hour you spend on the beach, yet according to the clock, they have the same duration. Time is also valuable; we spend it, save it, or make the most of it whenever we can. But can we make time stand still?

According to Muriel Barbery in her delightful philosophical novel The Elegance of the Hedgehog, time does indeed stand still when there is perfect consonance in the world; indeed, such consonance between what we see and what we feel is what defines Art. Through the thoughts of one of her protagonists, Barbary asserts that great paintings share this ability to stop time, to make us appreciate the exact moment pictured, while forgetting all our own cares and desires. For that moment, we are experiencing "existence without duration."

This is a novel of essays, disguised as thoughts and diary entries of the two primary characters, that cover a diverse set of topics: art, the nature of beauty, our animal natures, and houseplants, to name just a few. (As you might expect of the author of a philosophical novel, Barbery is French, and the novel was originally published in French. The English translation was nicely done by Alison Anderson.) Barbery's diverse musings all follow the same thread: how do we find meaning in our individual lives that are so evidently insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe? What are the little charades that we erect around ourselves to try to convince others, and ourselves, that we matter?

The story follows the inhabitants of a smart Parisian apartment building, in particular two seemingly very different, but in the end quite similar women: Madame Renee Michel, mid-50s, who is the long-time concierge of the building (sort of like the superintendent); and Paloma Josse, 12, a precocious young woman whose family lives on the fifth floor of the building. They know each other only by sight, since the typical posture of an inhabitant of a smart apartment building is to speak to the concierge only when necessary.

Much of the first half of the book is taken up with introducing us to these two characters by way of listening in on thoughts (Mme. Michel) and reading diary pages (young Paloma) that encompass the aforementioned philosophical essays. From this, we conclude that neither woman is what she seems, that both are playing the roles that their circumstances find them occupying. Mme. Michel is careful not to let on to the snobby residents that she is anything more than a simple concierge, while in reality she spends hours reading literature, especially Russian literature, and thinking sophisticated thoughts about life and philosophy. Young Paloma is obviously smart--she is a good student--but her very adult outlook is kept secret from her family, whom she believes to be stupid.

Midway through the novel, the narrative pace picks up as the stable world of the apartment building is turned upside down by the arrival of a new resident, a wealthy Japanese gentleman, who sees beyond the facades of the two women and undertakes to introduce each to her true self. Suddenly the charades are exposed; the careful walls that Renee and Paloma have erected to keep the world out are knocked down by the subtle and measured actions of Monsieur Ozu. That Barbery has done a masterful job of creating her characters through their essays became apparent as I found myself rooting for Monsieur Ozu to keep pressing Renee to knock down another brick, to have the courage to display in public her true nature that has been kept so carefully hidden in her apartment all these years.

Barbery's technique of characterization by essay has its weaknesses, among them that the plot is slow to unfold, leaving the reader wondering at some points early on whether the whole story has come to a stop. Also, the peripheral characters, whose thoughts and diaries we are not privy to, are not as well developed. Even Monsieur Ozu is only a shadow; I was left wondering much about where he came from, and how he got to be so wise as to see in a short time the interesting, intelligent women that so many others had missed.

But these are mere quibbles, for once Monsieur Ozu befriends the two women, the story picks up pace steadily, and our care for Renee and Paloma pulls us right into the stunning denouement. Once the walls are down, we find that the two women, who seemingly had nothing in common other than an address, are soul sisters in a very special way.

Through it all, Barbery challenges us to a new appreciation for the Art of life; for those moments in memory that seem like "existence without duration." Next time you are at a museum, go to a masterpiece painting and stand before it. Gaze at it and notice that you can almost sense what the moment was like that the artist captured, whether it was 50 years ago or 500; it seems as if everything is just where it should be, that it is just as you would have recalled it had you been there. In that moment, you are experiencing existence without duration, and time is, in a way, standing still, since you are sharing that moment with everyone who has ever looked at the painting.

I think about memories I have that share that same sense of being timeless. I think of the birth of each of my children; I don't recall every detail, but the impression in my memory is of a perfect moment--the smile of my wife; the press of her hand in mine; the wet tears striping my cheeks; the jerky first movements of the infant; the excitement of new life. That is a timeless memory; what I saw and what I felt were in perfect consonance; at that moment, life was Art.

May we all find many such moments that add meaning to our otherwise insignificant lives.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

When Fast Fails

John Freeman writes thoughtfully in today's Wall Street Journal about the destructive effects of speed on our lives, particularly the relentless speed of communication that we now feel obligated to keep up. Email offers fantastic benefits, of course, but as he points out, those benefits do not come without costs, and he at least gives reason to ponder whether we are near a point where the costs are beginning to exceed the benefits.

My favorite question he asks is this: "How many of our most joyful memories have been created in front of a screen?" My guess is that your answer is the same as mine: none. Yet we spend more and more of our lives in front of screens, from the 24" monitors on our desks to the 2" screens on our phones. The more time we spend staring at screens, the less time we have for creating, building, and sustaining the relationships, experiences, and memories that yield the true wealth of life.

So what will you do this week to reduce your addiction to email? How can you manage your inbox instead of letting it manage you? Let me know your ideas.

Monday, August 17, 2009

The Philosophy of Present Tense Living

Present Tense Living is about appreciating life in the here and now.

Our consumerist society, for all the advantages it offers, has the big disadvantage of relentlessly pulling us toward a promised future of bliss. Happiness is always just one more promotion, or one more purchase, or one more move away. Once we gain something we think we want, our pleasure in the gain often is all too fleeting, as quickly our thoughts turn to the next big thing.


Does the following sound familiar? 

You seek to be “happy.” Happy is some combination of health, wealth, and relationships.
So you go to work to earn money. You try to work at something “meaningful” or that somehow contributes more than money to your happiness. Work—and the commute—takes more time than you would like. So you start trying to “save time.” You multi-task. You time-shift (e.g., you work a flex schedule from 7a to 4p). You place-shift (e.g., you Blackberry at your kids' soccer practices). You let work seep into personal life and personal life seep into work. You tell yourself this is “balance.” You try to optimize this balance of money and time.

All this happens against the backdrop of our culture that says you can “have it all.” You can make the most of every opportunity. You can be a great dad, a perfect mom, a smart investor, a buff athlete, a desirable lover, and a dedicated volunteer, all at the same time. It’s hard to fit all that in, but you feel like you should. (After all, the magazines and TV shows say you can and should.) So you sleep a little less. You try to become more “efficient.” You multitask even more. You rush. You hurry. You demand that others do too. (How many times a week do you tell you kids to “Hurry up!”)  Welcome to the rat race! You’ve entered the track and you’re well on your way to a life of hurry and scurry.

So: are you happy?

For many people, the answer is: "not exactly." Yes, there are material benefits to our efforts. Yes, the kids are in a good school and get lots of cool stuff. Yes, we have the big house and the big TVs and the big cars. But somehow, we don't feel as happy as, in theory, it seems that we should. Why?

I believe we get so caught up in the rat race--the chase--that we fail to appreciate the milestones that we pass along the way. The idea of present tense living isn't to abandon the race and get off the track; instead, the idea is to slow down and enjoy the route. Notice the buildings along the road; slow down to chat with the spectators lining the way; stop and smell the roses growing in the field beside the turn.

Does that mean you have to give up on winning the race? Perhaps....or perhaps not. (Remember the tortoise and the hare!) I think it is more helpful to redefine "winning": it is not he who crosses the line first, or with the most stuff collected along the way, who wins. Rather, a winning race is a race well run, with a big collection of relationships and experiences enjoyed along the way. Who among us knows how long our race will be, anyway? Better to enjoy it as we run, lest we save all our enjoyment for a future that never comes.

Present Tense Living is about deciding what is important to you, and making that the focus of your life. Don't let a consumerist, materialistic culture decide for you how much to work, and what to spend your money on, and with whom to socialize. Be deliberate about what you will do; do one thing at a time; take time to do it right; enjoy and appreciate the benefits that today offers. Don't ignore the future, but don't be beholden to it either. Live in the present tense!

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

The Background of Present Tense Living

I've just spent two weeks of vacation in the Smoky Mountains during which I did no writing, but did do lots of thinking about writing. Specifically, while gazing at distant peaks, I found myself inspired to return to first principles and describe, for myself and my readers, just what I mean by "Present Tense Living" and what is the philosophy that drives my musings.

But before I set forth the philosophy, I think it will be helpful to provide the background for my thinking about matters of time and life. It is now a trite observation that life in the 21st century moves very, very fast. The immediacy with which we can communicate, research, and share information would be unthinkable to anyone living just 75 years ago. With current technology we can do more work, alone, from our living rooms than our grandfathers could do in their offices with an assistant or two at their disposal.

And as these things seem to go, once we CAN do work anywhere, it quickly becomes the norm that we SHOULD do work anywhere. The pressure to be always available, productive, and active is relentless, both from our employers and from our families, friends, and even ourselves. We can do more in less time, the thinking goes, which is unquestionably good because if we do more, we can have more, and then we will be happy.

As I pointed out in this early post, I was eventually struck by the fact that all my busyness wasn't necessarily directed at things I meant to be, or wanted to be, doing. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that a lot of the busyness was a front; that in a culture that worships work, to appear NOT to be busy is to be a misfit, a "nerd," as it were. Plus, if the do more=have more=be happy equation holds, then all the busy people around me should be very happy. Yet, my own observations of my friends and colleagues, plus anecdotal evidence from articles and surveys, shows that Americans as a whole aren't any happier now than they were 40 years ago. Could it be that the entire premise under which we are all living is false?

So, against this background of pressure to constantly do more, to be better, to have it all, I began wondering if there was another way. I eventually realized that all this searching for the next big thing, for the key to happiness, caused me constantly to be living in the future. (Once I get _______, then....." or, "As soon as I finish_______, then........") On the other hand, when things didn't go just right, the thing to do was search my past for something or someone to blame. ("If my parents hadn't _______, then.....", or "If my old boss had only _________, then......") In essence, like most people, I was always either looking forward or backward--anywhere but in the here and now, appreciating what I had today. I began wondering: how much of life right around us do we miss, because we are scanning the horizon in front of us or behind us looking for something else? What if I could learn to live in the present, appreciating and enjoying the world around me, today, and what I already have rather than getting caught up in the constant scramble for more, more, more? Perhaps that could be a happier existence, even if it meant doing less or having less over the long run.

Thus began my reading, thinking, and writing about life in these fast-moving times, and how to "live in the present tense." Over the next few posts I'll outline my philosophy as it exists today, based on my reading and writing and thinking so far. Some of it will be new, some of it is just explicitly stating some of the principles I've already referred to in this blog. You may agree with it or think I'm crazy, but I hope to at least encourage you to think about why you are doing what you are doing, and whether it is the best way to live a full life. Let me know what you think.