The Old Money Book

It’s been eventful here recently, hence the extended absence from the blog.

On the professional front, I’ve been digging into revisions on the novel (an Italian renaissance trilogy) for the past couple of months. The manuscript is finally in a presentable condition, even though involved parties (agents, editors, and publishers) will certainly have their comments in the future. So it’s hardly ‘finished’, but it has reached a stopping point.

Now, the next step, finding a literary agent, begins.  I’m confident, but I am not naive about the journey ahead.

The heat wave that baked France and is still wreaking havoc throughout Europe was quite an experience for us here in Paris. No stranger to physical discomfort, I shrugged when news outlets and local authorities cautioned all of us about what was coming. It was quite an ambush. ‘Debilitating’ is the word I would use, as my wife and I were exhausted and dazed from the extended 100-degree plus days and 80-degree nights (Fahrenheit). We did not sleep well. We drank water relentlessly, sweated like pigs at Christmas, and did as little as possible for days at a time. Progress on the novel stalled, and any thought of a blog post evaporated as soon as it came to mind. Mea culpa.

I thought I would be fine: I was raised with heat and humidity as a child. But I was also raised with air conditioning, an amenity rarely present in centuries-old Parisian apartments, even here in the tony 16th arrondissement. Parisians tend to leave the city during the summer, anyway, (it is a ghost town now, this first day of August) and have a longstanding aversion to this modern, very American convenience of cold air blowing in an enclosed space. A couple more summers of this kind of climate change, however, and I think attitudes are going to change. The heat has gone past being inelegant and now borders on the unbearable.

But that’s first world problems for you.

More serious issues face some of our friends in southern France and Spain where wildfires have raged.  Our thoughts are with them and the firefighters who brave the elements to save property and lives.

Watch for bolder measures to combat the effects of global warming by European governments as they realize that this is now more than just a change in the weather but a threat to their security. The millions of euros that currently go to fighting floods and fires could be more effectively used by these already debt-heavy countries. (Increased military spending and aging populations.) This issue will cut through traditional liberal/conservative loggerheads and be legislated quickly and implemented with astounding speed.

Also watch for a related trend: raising goats for meat instead of cows as a way of moderating the environmental impact that expensive, resource-intensive cattle have. As a vegetarian, I’m not crazy about the idea of killing Billy, but it’s better than the mass devastation that’s happening now. This will be a battle, though, as the United States congress and federal regulatory agencies are lobbied heavily by the beef and dairy industry. But if the food conglomerates can see a greater profit, they’ll jump on the idea and fashion themselves as (almost) animal rights activists.

On a personal note, my wife and I recently lost a dear friend we’d known for decades. Known in Hollywood as ‘The Last Gentleman’, he was quite a figure in the entertainment industry, an attorney whose client list was full of household names and whose word was as good as any contract you could negotiate. He cast a long shadow, striking fear into adversaries who ran afoul of his clients and fostering a fierce loyalty among those same clients. When the movie or television star died, and the children were left to manage multimillion dollar estates and vast catalogues of intellectual properties and rights, they trusted our friend to guide and protect them. He represented generations with integrity, vision, and class.

But to us he was simply a great, wonderful guy with a razor sharp mind and a wicked sense of humor. His children, productive and happy, are his greatest legacy. And I feel for them. My wife and I knew him for years, but he was their rock for a lifetime. His friendship was a privilege, and even though he was in his 90s when he died, we never really were prepared to say goodbye.

On a lighter note, I will be celebrating the birthday of my best friend with a rendezvous in Dublin this fall. We’ve known each other for over 50 years. Since I’ve moved to Paris, we haven’t seen each other as often as we’d like, so this will be a moment to catch up. He is generous, patient, down-to-earth, and kind. People often wonder what we have in common.

So there will be visits to cathedrals, castles, prisons, and pubs during our weeklong adventure. We’ll absorb culture and Guinness in equal measure, admire Ireland’s literary giants, and pity ordinary people who don’t have someone they can call a lifelong friend.

But for now, I enjoy Paris in August, that is to say, without the Parisians. I have found a new cafe here in this very affluent but aloof arrondissement. Far from the familiar, even boisterous camaraderie of the 4th arrondissement’s Ile Saint Louis, the ambiance of this cafe is more reserved, more refined, and more elegant. The clientele is a mix of upscale tourists (a five-star hotel is just down the street), local merchants (boutiques abound), and the well-heeled residents sporting Gucci loafers, inherited handbags, and a practiced disdain for the Ferraris and Lamborghinis that whine past on a regular basis.

The staff, however, are jewels. I am a regular now. I dress well. I speak French. I tip. They chat with me when they have a moment. They leave me alone when I am scribbling something in my notebook or staring out into space, lost in thought.

To them, I am the American writer who lives around the corner. To me, they are the guardians of paradise: an Eden of white tablecloths, sparkling silverware, and world-class service, where I can be as social or as solitary as I please.

I hope you’ve all been well. More to come…

• BGT