Brioche by Caroline Vié (review)

Reviews 285 stage of twentieth-century history, and “improved” the lot of the Chinese people, except, of course, for the millions murdered during the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution. Astonishing also for its style, a pastiche of the classical Chinese novel, informed by a postmodern perspective, at once cynical and distanced. Mao is not treated gently. His military and political acumen is questioned, his poetry derided simply by being quoted, and his once famous“sayings”revealed in all their staggering banality:“Le fleuve Bleu est profond, c’est un bon endroit pour nager”(515). However, his contemporaries are no better served. Chiang Kai-shek is a senile thug, Mao’s collaborators are referred to by their less-than-dignified nicknames, Deuxième-Couteau, Tête-de-Fouine, Serpent-Blanc, an American President is Tricky Dick, and the Allied Powers share with China the desire to control as much of the earth as possible.Whether serving Lenin or the Lord, everyone’s real interest is self-interest. Politics is all over this novel, yet it appears not to be the principal concern. The pastiche element, Mao’s constant references to classical Chinese texts as well as the incredible success of the Petit livre rouge (“Aucun auteur vivant, sur les cinq continents, ne surpassait par ses vents Le Président Mao” [587]), and the hovering postmodernism that provokes a constant, jaundiced laughter (“Personne au monde n’est plus perfide que Chiang Kai-shek. C’est possible, mais pas certain”[279]), all insinuate that this novel is about literature—specifically, one of literature’s more ambiguous functions. If literature can reflect reality, it can also create, or contribute to the creation of reality. Mao’s love of the arts and his sense of his involvement with them, along with his respect for the power if not the veracity of words, makes one wonder to what extent did the fables of an invented Chinese past give form, direction, and justification to his acts? To what degree did he mitigate somewhat the suffering engendered by the Long March, the military carnage, and the internecine purges by filtering these events through the lenses of China’s heroic literary tradition? This is what Dîner de gala suggests, thus reminding us how dangerous literature can sometimes be. A revolution may not be “un dîner de gala,” but literature is not always a moveable feast. Florida State University William Cloonan Vié, Caroline. Brioche. Paris: Lattès, 2012. ISBN 978-2-70963-963-7. Pp. 222. 17 a. In her first novel, film critic Caroline Vié invites readers into a world she knows well. Movies, stars, agents and journalists populate the pages of Brioche, and they are not treated gently.A current of violence traverses this novel and makes its presence felt long before the reader discovers the identity and fate of the “tu” to whom the narrator is speaking. Is it a baby? A pet? A lover? “Tu es de ces brioches qu’on mange pour le goûter, sans autre valeur que celle d’un plaisir gourmand”(19). Given this first reference to the title, we can imagine that“tu”might bring our narrator pleasure but details will be a long time in coming. In the long soliloquy that constitutes this novel, the narrator alternates between speaking to “tu” directly about their present situation and telling her personal story. We do not know if he is listening to her, but we certainly are, and with growing curiosity. While the device feels somewhat forced, the flow of information is not devoid of verisimilitude. We learn that our narrator is a wife, a mother, and a film journalist with a long series of movie star interviews to her credit. The offhand manner in which she talks of her family and her job makes it clear that, in fact, her life is of absolutely no interest to her (which, ironically, makes it more interesting to us). And then a certain someone spills a Diet Coke on her sweater, apologizes and the die is cast:“Le mal n’avait plus qu’à incuber”(60). Her obsession begins like a bolt of lightning. It develops over time, and she recounts...