The Elegance of the Hedgehog
by Muriel Barbery
On This Page
Description
The lives of fifty-four-year-old concierge Rene Michel and extremely bright, suicidal twelve-year-old Paloma Josse are transformed by the arrival of a new tenant, Kakuro Ozu.Tags
Recommendations
Member Recommendations
labfs39 Both have incredibly well-drawn, quirky characters that are lovable in their unique humaness. Both have highly intelligent characters that are vulnerable because of their very gift. In both books I learned things in fields not particularly close to me: math in Housekeeper and philosophy in Elegance.
Also recommended by chrisharpe
161
lauranav Both show relationships and point of view of a young girl.
64
morsecode The English-language editions (published by Europa Editions) of both novels are translated by Alison Andersen. There isn't a lot of similarity between the two novels (beyond the fact that both are quite literary), but I do think that someone who enjoys one will enjoy the other.
31
tinyteaspoon Strong young female protagonist
Also recommended by krist_ellis
21
bluepiano Both are modern French novels written by philosophy teachers, both protagonists are awkward and isolated, both authors mask their sentimentality with a calm tone and both remind us that pedestrians should look both ways before crossing a road.
albavirtual Una historia oscura e intrigante y, al mismo tiempo, llena de profundas reflexiones sobre la risa, el arte y la libertad del hombre.
18
klerulo Not so much the commonality of a French setting but that of a very enigmatic, obscure heroine who attracts the attention of others who are discerning and sensitive enough to perceive the hidden depths.
bluepiano Of no earthly relevance to the Barbery except that the death of one author is exploited by the other one.. Comment dit-on 'Look both ways before you cross' en français?
jll1976 There is the obvious 'Paris connection'. But, also a similar slow almost dreamlike quality. About the beauty of a 'simple' life.
Member Reviews
This struck me as one of those books that looks better the closer you are to it. The language, the observation, the range of topics and the acuteness with which the two narrators comment on them are all a great pleasure. There's something eminently quotable on practically every page.
On the other hand, if you zoom out a bit and look at the book as a whole, there doesn't seem to be very much there. The notion of the narrator as the only clever person in a world full of unappreciative, stupid people is a literary trope as old as the hills, and having two such narrators in the same book just comes over as arrogant. There's also an odd incongruity between the narrative conventions applied to the two narrators, Renée and Paloma. Renée, the show more widowed, fifty-something concièrge who reads Tolstoy and Hegel, is a believable, naturalistic portrait: I've certainly met many people like that over the years (if you have anything to do with an institution like the Open University, you soon realise that the world is full of highly intelligent people who missed out on formal education). Only her somewhat Dickensian childhood seems a bit anachronistic for someone born in France in the 1950s. The adolescent Paloma, on the other hand, obviously isn't meant as a naturalistic portrait. Her insights into the world around her are clever and often very amusing, but they are those of an adult, based on an adult's experience of life. There's nothing wrong with this technique, in itself, but it's oddly disturbing side-by-side with Renée's narrative. Barbery foregrounds the difference by presenting Renée's narrative as a simple train of thought, but Paloma's as a series of written documents (numbered Pensées profondes and Journaux du mouvement du monde).
The central message of the book — that life is worth living after all, because it contains moments of beauty and the pleasure of helping others — is presented very cleverly, but it's ultimately rather a banal thought.
It's a very French book, moving at a glacial, Proustian pace for the most part, but with clever injections of action in the style of le chick-lit anglo-saxon here and there to take us off our guard. Essentially nothing happens in the first 200 pages or so, which are used to establish to the reader just how anti-social both Renée and Paloma are. Even when things do start to happen, the pace is kept tantalisingly slow. When Renée goes out to dinner, it takes her three chapters to get from the front door of her host's apartment to the kitchen, then a further two to go to the toilet. If you are happy to read it slowly and pause to enjoy the language, that's fine, but you would probably get very irritated with it if you were skimming through the philosophy and looking for the storyline. If you are a madeleines-and-tisane sort of reader, you'll probably enjoy this (especially if you can read it in French); if you're looking for fast-moving action or romance, other novels are available. show less
On the other hand, if you zoom out a bit and look at the book as a whole, there doesn't seem to be very much there. The notion of the narrator as the only clever person in a world full of unappreciative, stupid people is a literary trope as old as the hills, and having two such narrators in the same book just comes over as arrogant. There's also an odd incongruity between the narrative conventions applied to the two narrators, Renée and Paloma. Renée, the show more widowed, fifty-something concièrge who reads Tolstoy and Hegel, is a believable, naturalistic portrait: I've certainly met many people like that over the years (if you have anything to do with an institution like the Open University, you soon realise that the world is full of highly intelligent people who missed out on formal education). Only her somewhat Dickensian childhood seems a bit anachronistic for someone born in France in the 1950s. The adolescent Paloma, on the other hand, obviously isn't meant as a naturalistic portrait. Her insights into the world around her are clever and often very amusing, but they are those of an adult, based on an adult's experience of life. There's nothing wrong with this technique, in itself, but it's oddly disturbing side-by-side with Renée's narrative. Barbery foregrounds the difference by presenting Renée's narrative as a simple train of thought, but Paloma's as a series of written documents (numbered Pensées profondes and Journaux du mouvement du monde).
The central message of the book — that life is worth living after all, because it contains moments of beauty and the pleasure of helping others — is presented very cleverly, but it's ultimately rather a banal thought.
It's a very French book, moving at a glacial, Proustian pace for the most part, but with clever injections of action in the style of le chick-lit anglo-saxon here and there to take us off our guard. Essentially nothing happens in the first 200 pages or so, which are used to establish to the reader just how anti-social both Renée and Paloma are. Even when things do start to happen, the pace is kept tantalisingly slow. When Renée goes out to dinner, it takes her three chapters to get from the front door of her host's apartment to the kitchen, then a further two to go to the toilet. If you are happy to read it slowly and pause to enjoy the language, that's fine, but you would probably get very irritated with it if you were skimming through the philosophy and looking for the storyline. If you are a madeleines-and-tisane sort of reader, you'll probably enjoy this (especially if you can read it in French); if you're looking for fast-moving action or romance, other novels are available. show less
3 stars
Paloma and Renee live in the same building. Paloma is the daughter of rich parents, and Renee is the concierge. Both spend their lives hiding their intelligence, essentially who they are from those around them. Renee delights in misleading the paying residents of the building and playing to what she sees as stereotypes for a concierge. Paloma, for all her intelligence, is a typical 12 year old girl, with all the drama that entails.
When I first started reading this, I was not impressed. I thought the author was pretty sure that she was smarter than everyone around her, and was making sure that everyone knew they were beneath her. (I'm still not convinced that that isn't so.) And I thought that because it sounded smart, with words show more that are not commonly used and ideologies and someone who is cultured (*snort* Reads Tolstoy! Appreciates the Dutch artists! Loves Japanese filmmaker Ozu!), people might think it was smart. (I'm still not convinced that that isn't so.) And I thought it was pretentious, with really nothing new to say, or anything shocking, such as an idea that goes against the grain. (I'm still not convinced that it did.)
However, I kept reading. And while I didn't gain any appreciation for the author or the story or the characters, to be honest, something happened: I was completely shocked by a turn the book took. I cannot remember the last time that I was not at all prepared for something that happened while reading. Sometimes I might be surprised, or intrigued, or "oh! Huh. Didn't see that coming." But not completely thrown. And after I got over my shock, I started thinking. (Dangerous: very, very dangerous.) I'm not sure that the author really wanted me to start thinking, especially with the directions my thoughts took.
So. Renee hid herself because she thought that if she reached above her station, above the category she was born to, there would be retribution. And, I'm sorry, but the ending COMPLETELY reinforced that. So, essentially, the author is saying (I would be interested to know what category/class the author was born to), that ideology is right. Because pretty much the second that Renee did something that wasn't her stereotype of a concierge, took off her cloak of invisibility, she got punished. Drastically. I mean, maybe she did save Paloma in a way, but what good did that really do? If people are supposed to walk on their treadmills and never venture outside of it, what was really accomplished? Paloma can turn out just like she predicts/fears? Yeah, that sounds awesome.
So, to sum up: a whole BUNCH of navel gazing that never leads anywhere, a kind of cardboard catalyst, ... Oh, right. I never mentioned the catalyst. The catalyst is a new resident who is Japanese! (It's exciting because Paloma is half Japanese (not really, but she reads Manga, and eats Japanese food, loves Japanese poetry, and apparently that's enough? Don't get me started on the presumption of it all.) and Renee LOVES Yasujiro Ozu films.) He sees both Paloma and Renee, and effects to draw them out their hiding. Quite honestly, I was more taken with his assistant.
So, to sum up (again): navel gazing, pretentious faradiddle (redundancy, I know), pretend intellectualism, self-congratulatory writing, stagnant culturalism, cardboard catalyst, and a "don't get above yer raising" attitude. So why did I rate this 3 stars instead of 1 or 2? Basically because I am very rarely completely shocked by an ending anymore, and it was (a little) refreshing. Soooo, general reading ennui for the win? show less
Paloma and Renee live in the same building. Paloma is the daughter of rich parents, and Renee is the concierge. Both spend their lives hiding their intelligence, essentially who they are from those around them. Renee delights in misleading the paying residents of the building and playing to what she sees as stereotypes for a concierge. Paloma, for all her intelligence, is a typical 12 year old girl, with all the drama that entails.
When I first started reading this, I was not impressed. I thought the author was pretty sure that she was smarter than everyone around her, and was making sure that everyone knew they were beneath her. (I'm still not convinced that that isn't so.) And I thought that because it sounded smart, with words show more that are not commonly used and ideologies and someone who is cultured (*snort* Reads Tolstoy! Appreciates the Dutch artists! Loves Japanese filmmaker Ozu!), people might think it was smart. (I'm still not convinced that that isn't so.) And I thought it was pretentious, with really nothing new to say, or anything shocking, such as an idea that goes against the grain. (I'm still not convinced that it did.)
However, I kept reading. And while I didn't gain any appreciation for the author or the story or the characters, to be honest, something happened: I was completely shocked by a turn the book took. I cannot remember the last time that I was not at all prepared for something that happened while reading. Sometimes I might be surprised, or intrigued, or "oh! Huh. Didn't see that coming." But not completely thrown. And after I got over my shock, I started thinking. (Dangerous: very, very dangerous.) I'm not sure that the author really wanted me to start thinking, especially with the directions my thoughts took.
So. Renee hid herself because she thought that if she reached above her station, above the category she was born to, there would be retribution. And, I'm sorry, but the ending COMPLETELY reinforced that. So, essentially, the author is saying (I would be interested to know what category/class the author was born to), that ideology is right. Because pretty much the second that Renee did something that wasn't her stereotype of a concierge, took off her cloak of invisibility, she got punished. Drastically. I mean, maybe she did save Paloma in a way, but what good did that really do? If people are supposed to walk on their treadmills and never venture outside of it, what was really accomplished? Paloma can turn out just like she predicts/fears? Yeah, that sounds awesome.
So, to sum up: a whole BUNCH of navel gazing that never leads anywhere, a kind of cardboard catalyst, ... Oh, right. I never mentioned the catalyst. The catalyst is a new resident who is Japanese! (It's exciting because Paloma is half Japanese (not really, but she reads Manga, and eats Japanese food, loves Japanese poetry, and apparently that's enough? Don't get me started on the presumption of it all.) and Renee LOVES Yasujiro Ozu films.) He sees both Paloma and Renee, and effects to draw them out their hiding. Quite honestly, I was more taken with his assistant.
So, to sum up (again): navel gazing, pretentious faradiddle (redundancy, I know), pretend intellectualism, self-congratulatory writing, stagnant culturalism, cardboard catalyst, and a "don't get above yer raising" attitude. So why did I rate this 3 stars instead of 1 or 2? Basically because I am very rarely completely shocked by an ending anymore, and it was (a little) refreshing. Soooo, general reading ennui for the win? show less
Alternating between engaging, sharp, interesting writing and sentimental manipulation, this book drove me crazy. On the one hand, the main character was extremely interesting with so many fascinating inner debates about art, beautiful, class conflict, personal responsibility, happiness and more. On the other hand, the romance in the latter half of the book betrayed the convincing portrait of that main character and substituted maudlin, superficial romantic drivel for the philosophical musings that were so wonderful. I tore through it and found it hard to put down, but was annoyed about half the time.
Well, I finished this book yesterday and I'm still trying to decide whether to give it three stars or five. There are many elements that are preposterous, such as the characterisation - if there were a million Parises you still wouldn't find one Renee Michel; the ideas - a novel about class in a developed country in this age of globalisation is instantly redundant; and the plot, which is both ludicrous and predictable.
On the positive side, the writing is wonderfully light and very enjoyable. Both of the narrators dip their toes into serious thought in a way that leaves the reader feeling satisfied but not taxed. And this, I have decided even as I write, is why I shall give it three stars. There is a certain cynicism to the way the show more author performs this trick, of providing a veneer of cerebralism with the likes of Marx and Husserl without ever challenging the reader. It’s a cynicism which also drives the most basic appeal of the novel - the fact that apart from a very select few, most readers feel a bit like Renee Michel. We feel like our sensitive aesthetic dispositions are unvalued by our everyday lives, we imagine that we’re intellectual butterflies just waiting to emerge from our quotidian pupae. Mightn’t it be more interesting to have this belief challenged than to have it reinforced?
So, having said all of that, why did I give it any stars? Well, I was entertained by it. This book is an enjoyable read, provided you don't take the philosophical and aesthetic asides remotely seriously, but it just doesn’t have enough power or depth for four or five stars. I’d recommend it if you are going on holiday or to hospital or any other situation where entertainment is more important than challenge and it's OK that the kind of fun that comes from self-satisfaction triumphs over beauty or truth. show less
On the positive side, the writing is wonderfully light and very enjoyable. Both of the narrators dip their toes into serious thought in a way that leaves the reader feeling satisfied but not taxed. And this, I have decided even as I write, is why I shall give it three stars. There is a certain cynicism to the way the show more author performs this trick, of providing a veneer of cerebralism with the likes of Marx and Husserl without ever challenging the reader. It’s a cynicism which also drives the most basic appeal of the novel - the fact that apart from a very select few, most readers feel a bit like Renee Michel. We feel like our sensitive aesthetic dispositions are unvalued by our everyday lives, we imagine that we’re intellectual butterflies just waiting to emerge from our quotidian pupae. Mightn’t it be more interesting to have this belief challenged than to have it reinforced?
So, having said all of that, why did I give it any stars? Well, I was entertained by it. This book is an enjoyable read, provided you don't take the philosophical and aesthetic asides remotely seriously, but it just doesn’t have enough power or depth for four or five stars. I’d recommend it if you are going on holiday or to hospital or any other situation where entertainment is more important than challenge and it's OK that the kind of fun that comes from self-satisfaction triumphs over beauty or truth. show less
2025 Advent, Day 12 (a reread): This one is a reread but honestly the only thing I remembered about it at all was "wes Anderson vibes". And yeah, that still just about sums it up.
It is now my dearest hope that Anderson will read this and turn it in to a film as only he can do.
This book is artistic and eccentric and full of characters I absolutely do not know in real life but nonetheless feel real to me and whom i would no doubt be friends with. Perhaps liking this book makes me pretentious or reveals a level of disturbance or unfounded grandiosity in my mental faculties, but I'm finding joy in this world and with these characters, and that's no one's business but my own
It is now my dearest hope that Anderson will read this and turn it in to a film as only he can do.
This book is artistic and eccentric and full of characters I absolutely do not know in real life but nonetheless feel real to me and whom i would no doubt be friends with. Perhaps liking this book makes me pretentious or reveals a level of disturbance or unfounded grandiosity in my mental faculties, but I'm finding joy in this world and with these characters, and that's no one's business but my own
Why I Stopped Reading: Apparently the author believes that extreme intelligence makes a character sympathetic. This is not so. This is especially not so when said intelligent protagonists bemoan their isolation from all the stupid people of the world while simultaneously flaunting their intelligence to the reader and putting down all those stupid people who don't deserve to know their true selves (but isn't it sad that they're so misunderstood?). Two of the most self-absorbed and unlikable characters I've encountered in quite some time. I know they're going to bond and all before the end (over their shared misunderstood genius of course), but I couldn't care less what happens to either of them.
Muriel Barbery The Elegance of the Hedgehog
I was careful not to read any reviews before starting Hedgehog. Halfway through I was alerted to the question of similarity in the ‘voices’ of the two main first person narrators, Renee, the reclusive autodidact concierge, and Colombe, the precocious 12-year old whose ambition is to burn down 7 rue de Grenelle and commit suicide. Naturally after this I was paying attention and yes, it is true, the voices are remarkably similar. In such an otherwise clever book, how can this be?
Hedgehog is primarily about class and blindness. How we see and hear only what we expect to see and hear. What does the internal dialogue of an autodidact or a brilliant 12 year old sound like?? Could they possibly be show more similar? Do I think Barbery is toying with us? Gallic shrug.
Interchangeability is a theme: Paloma’s sister’s name is Colombe... a third daughter, perhaps would have been named Dove? Renee wonders about singularity vs universals, concluding sensibly yes and no. When Renee dresses up and gets her hair done, her employers don’t recognize her. However similar Renee and Paloma's voices and interests are (Japanese, beauty, meaning), their true concerns are different. Paloma is looking for a reason to live, Renee is firmly part of the world determined to make the best of what she can of it.
I found plenty to be interested in and to think about and was not bothered by the similarity.-- I wouldn’t make a judgement without looking at a French version anyway. Paloma uses more slang than Renee - but both of them heave around big latinate words with abandon. I would remind English speakers that we have more options linguistically that are not available to the French, although perhaps Alison Anderson made the decision not to get into that because the written French language has a formality to it -- and these two, prodigious thinkers and readers, could conceivably have very formal, writerly, internal voices. But once more, gallic shrug.
All told it is a very French novel -- lots of philosophizing, pronouncing, discovering, illuminating insights, humor (Paloma’s mother struggling for possession against another proper matron for tiny lace underpants from the sale rack), and enjoyment of moments of beauty and good food. The excellence and interest is in the details, the flow, if you will.
There were some oddities -- the description of the Claesz painting merges two separate paintings into one..... but it is a ‘copy’ so maybe that is ok. I swear too, that somewhere Renee discusses her love of both high and low culture, saying she rather likes to watch tv (albeit with the sound off) but then later she is scornful of television.....
There are many moments of the sort that both Renee and Paloma cherish:
“Then let us drink a cup of tea. Silence descends, one hears the wind outside, autumn leaves rustle and take flight, the cat sleeps in a warm pool of light. And with each swallow, time is sublimed.”
I could quibble there too, since I didn’t know sublime could be a verb, but I liked it.
**** show less
I was careful not to read any reviews before starting Hedgehog. Halfway through I was alerted to the question of similarity in the ‘voices’ of the two main first person narrators, Renee, the reclusive autodidact concierge, and Colombe, the precocious 12-year old whose ambition is to burn down 7 rue de Grenelle and commit suicide. Naturally after this I was paying attention and yes, it is true, the voices are remarkably similar. In such an otherwise clever book, how can this be?
Hedgehog is primarily about class and blindness. How we see and hear only what we expect to see and hear. What does the internal dialogue of an autodidact or a brilliant 12 year old sound like?? Could they possibly be show more similar? Do I think Barbery is toying with us? Gallic shrug.
Interchangeability is a theme: Paloma’s sister’s name is Colombe... a third daughter, perhaps would have been named Dove? Renee wonders about singularity vs universals, concluding sensibly yes and no. When Renee dresses up and gets her hair done, her employers don’t recognize her. However similar Renee and Paloma's voices and interests are (Japanese, beauty, meaning), their true concerns are different. Paloma is looking for a reason to live, Renee is firmly part of the world determined to make the best of what she can of it.
I found plenty to be interested in and to think about and was not bothered by the similarity.-- I wouldn’t make a judgement without looking at a French version anyway. Paloma uses more slang than Renee - but both of them heave around big latinate words with abandon. I would remind English speakers that we have more options linguistically that are not available to the French, although perhaps Alison Anderson made the decision not to get into that because the written French language has a formality to it -- and these two, prodigious thinkers and readers, could conceivably have very formal, writerly, internal voices. But once more, gallic shrug.
All told it is a very French novel -- lots of philosophizing, pronouncing, discovering, illuminating insights, humor (Paloma’s mother struggling for possession against another proper matron for tiny lace underpants from the sale rack), and enjoyment of moments of beauty and good food. The excellence and interest is in the details, the flow, if you will.
There were some oddities -- the description of the Claesz painting merges two separate paintings into one..... but it is a ‘copy’ so maybe that is ok. I swear too, that somewhere Renee discusses her love of both high and low culture, saying she rather likes to watch tv (albeit with the sound off) but then later she is scornful of television.....
There are many moments of the sort that both Renee and Paloma cherish:
“Then let us drink a cup of tea. Silence descends, one hears the wind outside, autumn leaves rustle and take flight, the cat sleeps in a warm pool of light. And with each swallow, time is sublimed.”
I could quibble there too, since I didn’t know sublime could be a verb, but I liked it.
**** show less
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Published Reviews
ThingScore 67
Barbery’s sly wit, which bestows lightness on the most ponderous cogitations, keeps her tale aloft.
added by Nickelini
Le Figaro has described this book as 'the publishing phenomenon of the decade'. Elsewhere, there were comparisons to Proust. It sold more than a million copies in France last year and has won numerous awards. Does it match up to the hype? Almost. It is a profound but accessible book (not quite Proust, then), which elegantly treads the line between literary and commercial fiction.
added by Nickelini
Even when the novel is most essayistic, the narrators’ kinetic minds and engaging voices... propel us ahead.
added by Shortride
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GROUP READ: The Elegance of the Hedehog in The 12 in 12 Category Challenge (May 2012)
***Group Read: The Elegance of the Hedgehog in 75 Books Challenge for 2010 (March 2010)
Author Information
14 Works 15,286 Members
Writer and philosophy professor Muriel Barbery was born in Casablanca, Morocco on May 28, 1969 and raised in France. She attended the École Normale Supérieure de Fontenay-Saint-Cloud from 1990 to 1993 and then taught philosophy at the Université de Bourgogne, in a lycée, and at the Saint-Lô IUFM. Barbery has published the bestselling novels show more L'Élégance du hérisson (The Elegance of the Hedgehog) and Une Gourmandise (Gourmet Rhapsody). She will be at the Adelaide Writer's Week for the 2016 festival. (Bowker Author Biography) show less
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Awards
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Series
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Has the adaptation
Common Knowledge
- Canonical title
- The Elegance of the Hedgehog
- Original title
- L'élégance du hérisson
- Original publication date
- 2008-09-02
- People/Characters
- Renée Michel; Paloma Josse; Kakuro Ozu; Manuela Lopes
- Important places
- Paris, France
- Related movies
- Le hérisson (2009 | IMDb)
- Dedication
- For Stephane, with whom I wrote this book
- First words
- "Marx has completely changed the way I view the world," declared the Pallieres boy this morning, although ordinarily he says nary a word to me.
- Quotations
- Thus, the television in the front room, guardian of my clandestine activities, could bleat away and I was no longer forced to listen to inane nonsense fit for the brain of a clam - I was in the back room, perfectly euphoric, ... (show all)my eyes filling with tears, in the miraculous presence of Art.
(p.17)
In the heat of the cinema, on the verge of tears, happier than I had ever been, I was holding the faint warmth of his hand for the first time in months. I knew that an unexpected surge of energy had roused him from his bed, g... (show all)iven him the strength to get dressed and the urge to go out, the desire for us to share a conjugal pleasure one more time - and I knew, too, that this was the sign that there was not much time left, a state of grace before the end. But that did not matter to me, I just wanted to make the most of it, of these moments stolen from the burden of illness, moments with his warm hand in mine and a shudder of pleasure going through both of us...'
(p.71)
I flinched when she said bring and at that very moment Monsieur Something also flinched, and our eyes met. And since that infinitesimal nanosecond when - of this I am sure - we were joined in linguistic solidarity by the shar... (show all)ed pain that made our bodies shudder, Monsieur Something has been observing me with a very different gaze.
A watchful gaze.
And now he is speaking to me.
(p.130)
What is the purpose of Art? To give us the brief, dazzling illusion of the camellia; to carve from time an emotional aperture that cannot be reduced to animal logic. How is Art born? It is begotten in the mind's ability to sc... (show all)ulpt the sensorial domain. What does Art do for us? It gives shape to our emotions, makes them visible and, in so doing, places a seal of eternity upon them, a seal representing all those works that, by means of a particular form, have incarnated the universal nature of human emotions.
(p.199) - Last words
- (Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.)Because from now on, for you, I'll be searching for those moments of always within never. Beauty, in this world.
- Blurbers
- Dirda, Michael
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- French
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