Summer Reading: Dora Bruder

As promised, a reading recommendation from the works of France’s newest Nobel laureate. Unusually for Patrick Modiano, Dora Bruder(1997) is actually non-fiction, but it reads so much like his novels that many of its early readers thought it was one.

The story begins when Modiano comes across a brief article in an old French newspaper, dated 31 December 1941, at which point France was under Nazi Occupation. The article was a plea for information about a missing girl, with a description of her appearance and the clothes she was last seen wearing. Here it is:

PARIS
ON RECHERCHE une jeune fille, Dora Bruder, 15 ans, 1 m. 55, visage ovale, yeux gris marron, manteau sport gris, pull-over bordeaux, jupe et chapeau bleu marine, chaussures sport marron. Adresser toutes indications à M. et Mme Bruder, 41 boulevard Ornano, Paris.

PARIS. A young girl, Dora Bruder, is missing, 15 years old, 1 m. 55, oval face, grey-brown eyes, grey sports coat, dark red jumper, navy blue skirt and hat, brown sports shoes. Any information to M. and Mme Bruder, 41 Boulevard Ornano, Paris.

 

For some of Modiano’s readers, this petite annonce was already familiar, since it had appeared in an earlier novel of his, with no indication at that point that it was a genuine newspaper article. As Modiano explains in Dora Bruder:

 

Je n’ai cessé d’y penser durant des mois et des mois. (…) Il me semblait que je ne parviendrais jamais à retrouver la moindre trace de Dora Bruder. Alors le manque que j’éprouvais m’a poussé à l’écriture d’un roman, Voyage de noces.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it for months and months. (…) I felt that I would never manage to find the slightest trace of Dora Bruder. So the lack that I was feeling pushed me into writing a novel, Honeymoon.

 

In returning to Dora’s story in non-fiction, Modiano isn’t simply writing her biography. Indeed, the story of the troubled Jewish girl who runs away from home, returns, and some months later is arrested, interned in Paris, and finally sent to her death in a concentration camp, has left so little mark on history that Modiano struggles to find the barest details of who she was and what she experienced.

Rather, he gives us the story of his investigation, exploring archives for mentions of her name, revisiting the places she lived to absorb their atmosphere. In the  course of his research, he discovers police reports on the arrests of French Jews, desperate pleas in letters from the relatives of those taken, and letters home from the internment camps on the eve of deportation. Many of these find their way into Modiano’s book verbatim, so that at some points Modiano’s own account fades behind a collage of documents from the Occupation. And intertwined with these strands of Dora’s story, the story of Modiano’s research, and the fragments of other stories of those caught up in the Holocaust, comes one further narrative strand, which is Modiano’s own story, and the roots of his obsession in his own troubled family background. Modiano’s father, we learn, was a Jewish man who survived the Holocaust through his close association with a band of collaborationist thugs, the Rue Lauriston Gang, who at one point intercede after he has been arrested to save him from deportation to the death camps. This difficult legacy of a father who was both Jew and collaborator, victim and accomplice in the Holocaust, lies at the root of all Modiano’s writing, but rarely as clearly shown as here.

Like all Modiano’s books, Dora Bruder is short, written in simple, accessible French, and a very powerful piece of writing.You’ll find no better introduction to France’s années noires, and the uneasy memories of those years in contemporary French society. Here, to finish, is a short extract from the book, in which Modiano visits the military barracks where Dora was held with other Jewish people, before being sent to Drancy, and thence to Auschwitz:

 

Le boulevard était désert, ce dimanche-là, et perdu dans un silence si profond que j’entendais le bruissement des platanes. Un haut mur entoure l’ancienne caserne des Tourelles et cache les bâtiments de celle-ci. J’ai longé ce mur. Une plaque y est fixée sur laquelle j’ai lu :

ZONE MILITAIRE

DÉFENSE DE FILMER

OU DE PHOTOGRAPHIER

Je me suis dit que plus personne ne se souvenait de rien. Derrière le mur s’étendait un no man’s land, une zone de vide et d’oubli. Les vieux bâtiments des Tourelles n’avaient pas été détruits comme le pensionnat de la rue de Picpus, mais cela revenait au même.

Et pourtant, sous cette couche épaisse d’amnésie, on sentait bien quelque chose, de temps en temps, un écho lointain, étouffé, mais on aurait été incapable de dire quoi, précisément. C’était comme de se trouver au bord d’un champ magnétique, sans pendule pour en capter les ondes. Dans le doute et la mauvaise conscience, on avait affiché l’écriteau « Zone militaire. Défense de filmer ou de photographier ».

The boulevard was deserted that Sunday, and lost in such deep silence that I could hear the rustle of the plane trees. There is a high wall around the former Tourelles barracks which hides its buildings. I walked along this wall. There’s a sign on it, on which I read:

MILITARY ZONE

NO FILMING OR PHOTOGRAPHY

I said to myself that nobody remembers anything any more. Behind the wall stretched out a no-man’s-land, a zone of emptiness and oblivion. The old buildings of Tourelles hadn’t been destroyed like [Dora’s] boarding school in the Rue de Picpus, but it came down to the same thing.

But under this thick layer of amnesia you could still feel something now and then, a distant, stifled echo, although you couldn’t say what exactly. It was like being on the edge of a magnetic field, without a pendulum to capture its waves. In doubt and troubled conscience, they had put up the sign: “Military Zone. No Filming or Photography.”

 

Dora Bruder

Dora Bruder is available in French, as a paperback or e-book, or inEnglish translation.

Summer Reading: Un coeur simple

posted by Simon Kemp

Is it time for a classic? After a couple of recommendations of recent novels, I think it’s time we had a go at one of the great masters of French literature, Gustave Flaubert.

The French novel, like the English one, had a real golden age in the nineteenth century, when writers like Honoré de Balzac, Stendhal, Émile Zola, and Flaubert wrote novels of sweeping social panoramas and vivid details of everyday life which have come to be known as French Realism. There are many masterpieces among them, including Balzac’s Le Père Goriot, Stendhal’s Le Rouge et le Noir and Zola’s Germinal, but at many hundreds of pages, they can be a daunting prospect, particularly if, as a learner of French, you’re tempted to tackle these authors in the original language. We’ll come back to them some other time, but for now, I’d like to recommend a more modest way in to discover Realist literature: Flaubert’s short story, Un cœur simple (A Simple Heart).

Flaubert said he wanted to write ‘un livre sur rien’ (‘a book about nothing’), and in Un cœur simple he’s not far off. Félicité is a poor and uneducated woman in rural France, who, after disappointment in love, takes up service in a middle-class household.

She is loyal to her widowed mistress and devoted to the children of the house. Her life has small pleasures and larger sorrows; she is generous with her kindness, which is not often repaid. In later life, her dearest love is a parrot.

Later still, her dearest love is a deceased parrot, stuffed and mounted on a perch.

Then, a gang of international art thieves mount an operation to steal the parrot, which they mistakenly believe to be an ancient Maltese statuette of inestimable value.

(Actually, not that last one.)

The story is funny, sweet and sad, and has the most beautiful ending. If you’d like a little introduction to the world of the Realist novel, and are prepared to consider that there might be more ways to write a great story than dramatic incident, extraordinary people or complex plotting, then you should give it a try.

You can get it as a single volume, as one of Flaubert’s Trois contescollected together, or, of course, in English translation. If you like it, there are two places to go from here. One is Julian Barnes’s brilliantFlaubert’s Parrot, the tale of a Flaubert obsessive’s attempt to track down the actual stuffed parrot Flaubert used for inspiration while writing Un cœur simple.

The other, of course, is Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, most famous of all nineteenth-century French novels, where the same setting of humdrum small-town life in northern France is the backdrop to a rather more eventful life story, as the young heroine’s dreams of romance, passion and high-society glamour cannot be reconciled with her apparent fate as the wife of a country doctor whose only aspiration is a pair of slippers by the fireside.

 

Summer Reading: Un secret

posted by Simon Kemp

If you’re looking to read a novel in French that’s fairly short and accessible, but a serious piece of literature that will stay with you long after you finish it, then Philippe Grimbert’s Un secret would be a good choice. It won the Prix Goncourt des lycéens when it was published (France’s only literary prize to be awarded by a panel of sixth-formers), and has since been made into a film by Claude Miller.

The autobiographical novel is about the terrible family secret Philippe uncovers during his childhood. The story begins with his unusual quirk, as a child, of having not an imaginary friend, but an imaginary brother:

 

Fils unique, j’ai longtemps eu un frère. Il fallait me croire sur parole quand je servais cette fable à mes relations de vacances, à mes amis de passage. J’avais un frère. Plus beau, plus fort. Un frère aîné glorieux, invisible.

[An only child, for a long time I had a brother. You had to take my word for it when I served up this tale to people I met on holiday or casual acquaintances. I had a brother. Stronger, more handsome. A glorious, invisible older brother.]

 

But not only does Philippe have an imaginary brother, he also knows the brother’s name, Simon, and owns the cuddly toy dog that once belonged to him. Simon, it begins to appear, is not so imaginary after all, but pieced together from half-remembered whispers and silences about Philippe’s parents’ lives before he was born. And the mystery seems somehow connected to the fact that their real name isn’t Grimbert at all, but the Jewish surname, Grinberg. What Philippe finally discovers is a history of love and betrayal among his parents and their circle of friends during the German Occupation of France in World War II, culminating in a dramatic event, the ‘secret’ itself, which, once you learn it, you won’t forget for a long time.

Summer Reading: Antéchrista

 

 

Adventures on the Bookshelf is on its summer holidays this month. We’ll be back with new posts from the first Wednesday in September. In the meantime, if you’re looking for some summer reading, you’ll find some of our favourite French novels here as we re-post our top choices for recommended reading through the month of August.

nothomb

One of the aims of this blog is to point interested readers in the direction of French books which are worth your time, and which are accessible to language learners who are prepared to make a bit of an effort to get to grips with a real French novel. In schools, when novels are recommended or (increasingly rarely these days) set as part of a course, Albert Camus’s L’Étranger is the go-to option, followed some distance behind by Joseph Joffo’s Un sac de billes and Françoise Sagan’s Bonjour tristesse. Good novels all, with Camus’s book in particular in a league of its own for its combination of accessible language and thought-provoking content. I’ll be getting round to pointing out a couple of interesting things about it in a later post. But I’d like to take you a little off the beaten track, and introduce you to novels and writers you’ll hopefully enjoy, but which you might not otherwise have come across.

First up, cult Belgian author, the award-winning Amélie Nothomb, who attacks the French bestseller lists every September with a new short novel. All her books are spiky, funny, attention-grabbing reads, often built around a high-concept premise: Métaphysique des tubespurports to be her autobiography from the womb to age three;Attentat is a love story between the ugliest man and the most beautiful woman imaginable; the prize-winning Stupeur et tremblements (now a film by Alain Corneau) recounts the descent of the hapless ‘Amélie’ down the hierarchy of a Japanese corporation from office-worker to lavatory attendant as she repeatedly fails to grasp the niceties of Japanese etiquette. Any of these is worth reading, but what makes her particularly popular with young people is her writing about the dramas of adolescence in novels likeAntéchrista, which lay out in often blackly comic fashion the teenage hell of social anxiety and loneliness, or problems with body-image and eating disorders.

Despite the title, Antéchrista has nothing to do with religion, beyond the fact that it’s about a girl called Christa who makes life hell. The novel’s heroine, Blanche, is a shy sixteen-year-old, unhappy in her skin, who is flattered and astonished to find herself suddenly friends with the prettiest, boldest, most popular girl in college, Christa. Christa, though, lives far away, and could do with a place to crash on Monday nights before the girls’ 8 a.m. class on Tuesday mornings. Blanche’s parents agree to let her stay over in the family’s flat, on a camp bed in Blanche’s room. She’s a delightful house guest and a hit with the parents. Only with Blanche herself, when the two are alone in their room, does Christa begin to show a darker side to her personality.

Then she moves into the family home full time.

Charming and helpful, graceful and sophisticated, she’s the kind of the daughter Blanche’s parents must have dreamed of having. Already she’s starting to seem as much a part of the family as Blanche herself, maybe even more so. By the time Blanche learns the true nature of this cuckoo in the nest, it may already be too late to fight back.

At only 150 pages long, it’s a fast-moving story, with a twisting plot that will keep you turning the pages, but it’s also a memorable description of what it’s like to feel an outsider in life, and ultimately even in your own family. You can find it here, and find out more about Amélie Nothomb and her other novels here.

Discovering Simone de Beauvoir

posted by Simon Kemp

One of my favourite French writers to teach is Simone de Beauvoir, the twentieth-century writer and thinker who more or less kick-started modern feminism with her monumental essay, Le Deuxième Sexe (The Second Sex). A startling amount of what she says about the roles women are expected to play in society, in childhood, marriage and motherhood, retain a lot of truth more than sixty years on. Her analysis of how women are represented in literature, art and folk culture is eye-opening. Read it, and you’ll never watch the female characters in a Hollywood movie in quite the same way again. Some students are provoked by Beauvoir’s ideas; others are inspired. Nobody is indifferent to them.

But enough from me. The writer and comedian Nathalie Haynes is a fan of Beauvoir, and recently wrote in The Independent about her experience of discovering the writer for the first time. The full article is here, and here’s a short extract.

“I hesitated for a long time before writing a book on woman. The subject is irritating, especially for women; and it is not new.” That’s an audacious way to begin your masterwork. And this witty, astringent tone pings throughout Beauvoir’s writing.
No wonder, when you consider who she was reading. On the second page [of Le Deuxième Sexe], Beauvoir quotes one of my favourite lines from Dorothy Parker: “I cannot be fair about books that treat women as women. My idea is that all of us, men as well as women, whoever we are, should be considered as human beings.”If I had to summarise my own feminism, it would boil down to this: women are the same thing as people. That’s it. They aren’t a weird, incomprehensible sub-group, they’re just people. This is why Freud’s ponderings on what women might want have always annoyed me: women don’t all want the same thing any more than men do. Why on earth would we? We’re not members of some bizarre cult, we’re just people. So we tend to want the same thing as some other people would want. In this particular instance, I wanted to go on reading The Second Sex, because it’s hard not to like someone who likes the same bits of Dorothy Parker as you do.

We’re so used to seeing austere photographs of Beauvoir, her eyes slightly hooded and her mouth set in a straight line, as though she was thinking high-minded thoughts about a complicated thesis. She was half a head taller than Sartre, and she had the slight stoop of a woman who didn’t want to use her height to intimidate. Why bother, when you had a brain that could crush a person without breaking a sweat? But there are a couple of pictures of her where she was caught in a less formal pose, and a smile rearranged her features. The hooded eyes crinkled with merriment and – in her later years especially – there was something joyously expectant about her. It reminds you that she was probably a lot happier than Dorothy Parker, even if Parker was funnier.

If you’re interested in discovering Beauvoir for yourself, I have three recommendations for you. Mémoires d’une jeune fille rangée [Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter] is her celebrated autobiography of her childhood and adolescence, using the example of her own life to show the social and familial pressures on women to conform. If you’d prefer to try her fiction, and to start with something shorter, the title story of the collection, La Femme rompue [The Woman Destroyed] is a good place to start: it tells of what happens when a woman who’s defined herself as a wife and mother finds that neither role is needed by anybody any more. Lastly, if you want to tackle her ideas directly, the Mythes section at the end of the first volume of Le Deuxième Sexe is her take on how society’s view of what women are and how they should behave has been shaped by images, myths and stories from the Virgin Mary to  D. H. Lawrence’s Women in Love.

Bookshelf Film Club: Intouchables

 

posted by Simon Kemp

A Maserati is racing through the crowded streets of Paris at top speed, weaving through the traffic. A young black man is at the wheel, an older white man in the passenger seat is slumped against the window. A police car begins to give chase, and forces the sports car to stop. Driss, the driver, explains frantically that he is taking his disabled passenger to the emergency room. With one look at the gasping, groaning man beside him, the police realize that this is serious, and offer to accompany them to the hospital. Sirens wailing and lights flashing, the new convoy resumes the high-speed dash through the streets. Once the policemen have left them at the hospital door, the two men in the Maserati collapse in helpless laughter.

This is the opening to Intouchables (2011, released in the UK as Untouchable), France’s most successful film ever at the box office barring the all-conquering comedy, Bienvenue chez les Ch’tisIntouchables has a bit more substance to it than that film, and had a whole lot more international success, but will still leave you with a big smile on your face.

The film, based on a true story, follows Driss, an unemployed young man from the banlieue, who must apply for unskilled jobs in order not to lose his benefits. One such job is a post as live-in carer to a quadriplegic millionaire. Driss shows up at the Paris mansion of the paralysed Philippe, concerned only to get the form signed that proves to the benefits office that he showed up to the interview. Unexpectedly he lands the job, and moves into the mansion.

What follows is a steep learning curve for both men. An initially prickly relationship turns into a firm friendship based around a shared love of mischief. Philippe rediscovers a taste for life that he’s struggled to find since the accident that left him in the wheelchair, and Driss realizes the new possibilities that his own life now offers.

See it now, before the upcoming Hollywood remake starring Colin Firth ruins it all for everyone!

 

 

 

Employability (Part Two)

posted by Simon Kemp

A couple of weeks ago we examined the statistics that show modern languages to be one of the best subjects to study at university in terms of the employability of its graduates. Today I want to tell you about some of the jobs my own students have gone into after graduation, to give you an idea of the range of opportunities open to people with a modern languages degree.

Let’s start with the City:

International business and finance are popular destinations for modern languages graduates, especially those who thrive in an atmosphere of high stakes, high pressure, and high salaries. Increasingly interconnected global markets need global communicators, and people with the ability to conduct business in languages other than English are much in demand. A former student of mine now works in the Gherkin, with access to the exclusive private dining under the panoramic glass dome on the top floor. What’s it like? I’ll tell you after she’s remembered to invite me.

Frankfurt_Deutsche_Bank_Skyscryper

 

There’s no need to stay in the UK, of course. As we saw earlier, more modern languages graduates get their first job abroad than graduates from any other subject. One of our former students now works at the Deutsche Bank headquarters in Frankfurt (above). Another, who maybe has slightly different priorities in life, headed straight back after graduation to the Caribbean island of Martinique, where he’d spent his year abroad during the degree, to carry on teaching English to local children.

Another major destination for our students is law. While it’s possible to become a lawyer by doing a three-year undergraduate degree in law, it’s also possible, and very popular, to take an undergraduate degree in another subject, followed by a one-year ‘law conversion’ course at masters level.

The combination of a modern languages degree and law conversion is a common route into the profession, with the obvious advantage that it also opens doors into international law. The reverse method, by the way, doesn’t work: you can’t top up an undergraduate law degree with a year-long modern languages course. That’s because it takes time to gain fluency in a foreign language: it’s not just a matter of learning the rules, but of letting them percolate into your brain through practice and reinforcement over a period of years.

Then, there’s the civil service.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the British Foreign Office are desperate for qualified linguists. There are posts in Britain, or also working abroad in British consulates with the diplomatic service. Plus, there is the European Union: many modern languages graduates go on to work as translators, interpreters, administrators or political analysts at the EU. And, of course, there are the Security Services, for whom languages are of utmost importance. On-screen, James Bond has to date been seen speaking fluent French, Spanish, Danish, German, Russian and Egyptian Arabic, which is quite some achievement. Have any of my students followed in his footsteps to GCHQ, MI5, MI6? Would I be able to tell you even if I knew…?

Journalism is another destination for our graduates. I now have several of my former students working for the national and international press. Not only do your language skills enable you to become an effective foreign correspondent, you’ll also learn through your degree to become an expert user of the English language, gradually honing your skills in expressing compelling arguments in clear and precise prose, as well as your skills in meeting deadlines for your copy (possibly by staying up very late and pressing ‘send’ at 11:59 pm on the due date).

Talking of writing, there are other, more creative routes into which your degree can take you. None of my former students is a famous writer yet, but give them time. My predecessor as the Fellow in French at Somerville, Dr Enid Starkie, though, made an impression on one of her modern languages students. Julian Barnes, recent winner of the Booker Prize, hilariously and unkindly immortalized her in his great novel, Flaubert’s Parrot. Other modern linguists who went on to become writers include John Le Carré, and J. K. Rowling, whose French and Latin degree clearly shows through in the made-up words, names and spells of the Potterverse. Studying culture and communication at university is a good grounding for your own creativity, and many modern languages graduates go on to creative roles, writing, composing, performing or presenting. We can’t guarantee you a media career like modern linguist celebs Nigella Lawson, Bear Grylls or Derren Brown, but we can certainly inspire the artist and performer you have hidden inside you.

Lastly, you don’t have to use your modern languages degree just to make a lot of money or have a fascinating and fulfilling career. You can also use it to change the world. Several of my former students have gone on to work for (and in one case, found) a charity or Non-Governmental Organization. International relief and development work needs skilled multi-lingual communicators, and modern languages graduates are in high demand. So if you’d like to make a difference, a background in modern languages would be a good start.

We’ll return to this topic in a later post with some tales from actual former modern languages students from Oxford. Until then, I hope this has given you some food for thought.

Shock News: France Better than Britain!

The Daily Telegraph, a newspaper not always known for its warm and fuzzy feelings towards our continental neighbours, recently made a shock announcement.

France is better than Britain.

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you maybe suspected this already, but to see it confirmed as fact in black and white by the Daily Telegraph must nevertheless come as something of a surprise.

The full article, written by Alex Proud, is here. Below is an extract:

To be fair to us, the French do have a better starting point. They hit the geographic jackpot. Their country comes with everything included. They’ve got Europe’s highest Mountain (get lost, Elbrus, you’re Eurasian at best). They have a second mountain range which is still better than anything we have. They have a third mountain range (the Massif Central) which is also better than anything we have. They have proper sunny beaches in the south, booming surf beaches in the west and Brittany in the north. They have one of Europe’s biggest canyons. In between all these stunning attractions, they have tons of beautiful and varied countryside, some quite like England, but less spoilt.
By comparison, we have a lot of islands, which, while beautiful, are off Scotland where they are too cold and wet to be particularly useful. Our mountains are big hills which lack the requisite altitude to ski on reliably or hold pretty glaciers. We do have a lot of coastline. But honestly, much of this is chilly or badly located. It’s true that Cornwall is great but the French have Brittany, which is like Cornwall, but warmer and with better food.

OK, so France is pretty. You knew that. But there’s not much we can do to change our landscape, climate or population density. However, there are quite a few things the French just do better – and these we could learn from.

Next we have the food. Yeah, yeah, I know that London is probably a more exciting place to eat than Paris these days. And I know that there is good food to be found outside London. I even know that the French quite like McDonald’s. But the fact is, if you pitch up to eat at random in the middle of nowhere in the UK, you’ll probably get average pub grub, quite possibly made in a factory in the Midlands and reheated, and likely pretty expensive. If there is somewhere serving decent food, it’ll be full of people from London congratulating themselves on being there.

In France, by contrast, you can get a good meal anywhere. It may feel a bit retro (there won’t be a horribly Anglicised Thai green curry in sight) but it’ll be honest regional cooking, inexpensive, and come with wine. What’s more, the person on the table next to you might well be a local farmer or a builder.

Aha, you say. But what about the economy? Here in the UK, we’re lucky enough to enjoy an endless stream of right-ish propaganda about how the French economy is dans la toilette. But these claims really don’t really stand up to much scrutiny.

For starters, France’s growth figures for the first quarter of this year were twice as good as ours. It’s true they do have significantly higher unemployment, but they also have extremely high productivity. In fact, as The Economist recently noted, “The French could take Friday off and still produce more than Britons do in a week.” This is not something you hear very often from our chancellor. They also have a rather better balanced economy and a considerably lower Gini Coefficient, the preferred measure of inequality. While we’re at it, they beat us on GDP per capita, earn roughly the same and have a lower cost of living.

So, maybe (and this hurts) those lazy, boozy, holiday taking, socialism-loving Frogs are actually better at making money than we are. But this shouldn’t be such a surprise. The French don’t focus obsessively on their economy. They don’t bend over backwards to please businesses or foreign billionaires. They have a healthy disdain and distrust of the wealthy. And they’re better at making the rich share. Perhaps the French realise that they live in a society first and an economy second – and this actually makes them all richer.

Employability (Part One)

paris_italy_2011_33-1posted by Simon Kemp

The Higher Education Statistics Agency recently released their latest report on what happens next to university graduates . They asked four hundred thousand ex-students, who had finished a degree at a UK university in the 2013-14 academic year, what they were doing six months later. The results, in spreadsheet after spreadsheet of data, are all here, if you’d care to explore them.

So, how does modern languages do? How does it compare with other subjects in terms of the employability of its graduates?

Well, as it turns out, it does pretty well. Six months after graduating, 88% of modern languages graduates were in employment or post-graduate education. That’s above the average for all subjects, and better than physics, chemistry, business studies, social studies, history and philosophy (all at 87%), or media studies, agricultural studies and computer science (all at 86%). It equals maths, biological sciences, design and engineering, and is bettered only by medical science, architecture, law and education. Given that the last two of those are also available to modern languages graduates via one-year teacher-training or law-conversion courses, and very popular destinations among our students, it seems fair to say that there’s hardly a better passport to a career than a modern languages degree. (Except maybe architecture or medicine, I guess, but we can’t all spend our working life doodling skyscrapers and getting coughed at by people with the flu. If that’s what you fancy, then please go ahead with the medicine and/or architecture. Everyone else, though, ought to think seriously about a modern languages degree.)

Looking deeper into the data, it’s no surprise to see that modern languages graduates top the charts for people getting their first job abroad, with 6% of the cohort working overseas. The subject also has one of the highest percentages of people going on to further study, with 19% of students studying for a postgraduate qualification, and a further 7% combining postgraduate study with work. Modern languages are useful in so many fields, that it’s common for students to follow up their degree with a one-year masters course in business, law, international relations or some other specialist area into which they will take their language skills.

This is, incidentally, why modern languages often get overlooked when newspapers publish ‘top ten’ lists of employable degree subjects: since the criterion  is to be in full-time work six months after graduation, the large number of modern languages graduates doing masters courses messes up our stats. Another chart on the HESA site looks at current employment levels for people who finished their degree in the previous year, 2012-2013. There, modern languages is riding high, with 92.2% of graduates from full-time degrees in employment, again beating physics, chemistry, maths, engineering, computer science (still at a startlingly low 86.5%), history and business studies. Once again, only medicine-related subjects, law and teaching have higher employment rates than modern languages.

 

So those are the statistics; what about the reality? Next Wednesday I’ll tell you about some of the destinations my own modern languages students have gone on to after their degree. (And, by the way, if there are former Oxford modern languages students reading this who’d like to share their own stories of life after university, do send them to me at simon.kemp@some.ox.ac.uk, and I’ll include them in a later post.)

Jessica’s DANS LA MAISON

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Our annual competition to rewrite the endings of French films in creative and unusual ways allows all kinds of entries. You can do it in English or in French, as a script or a story, or even as a youtube video. We’re always hugely impressed by the amount of talent and hard work that goes into these entries, and so, to celebrate that, here’s one of this year’s winning entries from the Years 12-13 category. It’s a new ending for Francois Ozon’s film, Dans la maison, written by Jessica Harlap Binks, who has taken the ambitious route of producing a fully-fledged shooting script for a new ending, written entirely in French. Here’s the whole thing:

Dans La Maison: An Alternative Ending

By

Jessica Harlap Binks

EXT. JOUR- DERRIÈRE DE LA MAISON

CLAUDE: Je suis venu vous chercher Esther.

Esther regarde Claude pour voir si ce qu’il dit est vrai. Elle le serre dans ses bras. Ils ne bougent pas pour un moment.

CLAUDE: Allons-y, vite.

ESTHER: Où irons nous?

CLAUDE: N’importe où. Je veux être avec vous, et seulement vous. Je vous aime.

ESTHER: Je t’aime aussi. Tu me manquais.

Ils s’embrassent, puis ils partent en courant, se tenant par la main.

INT. SOIR- LE SALON DE GERMAIN

Germain s’assied sur le canapé, un stylo et du papier dans les mains. Il se parle partiellement lui-même, et partiellement à Jeanne, qui prépare le dîner.

GERMAIN: Peut-être option D. Mais non, il n’y a aucune option qui marche bien de celles-ci. J’ai besoin d’une nouvelle option.

JEANNE: Arrête! Tu t’écoutes? C’est ridicule!

Elle range la table en colère. Germain s’assied à la table.

GERMAIN: Tu ne me comprends pas, Jeanne. Cette histoire a tant de potentiel.

Jeanne s’assied, désespérée.

JEANNE: Ce n’est pas ton histoire.

GERMAIN: Je sais, mais il veut que je la finisse.

LE PAPIER VIERGE EST VU SUR LE CANAPÉ.

INT. NUIT- LA CHAMBRE DE GERMAIN

Germain ne peut pas dormir. Il se lève, agité, et s’habille. Il prend ses clés, son manteau et son sac, dans lequel il place le papier vierge. Il sort de l’appartement, silencieusement.

INT. NUIT- LE COULOIR DE L’APPARTEMENT DE GERMAIN Germain trouve son portable et téléphone à Anouk.

GERMAIN: Anouk?

PAUSE.

Oui, c’est moi.

PAUSE.

Je sais, je sais. Mais Anouk?

PAUSE.

J’ai besoin de l’adresse d’une élève. PAUSE.

Je t’en prie. C’est la seule façon dont je peux… dont je peux l’aider.

PAUSE.

Oui. Rapha Artole.

PAUSE.

Germain écrit une adresse sur sa main, avec le sac sous le bras, et le portable entre l’oreille et l’épaule. Non, je ne le dirai à personne.

PAUSE.

Merci, Anouk. Dor bien, toi.

Germain finit le coup de téléphone.

 

INT. NUIT- LA CHAMBRE DE RAPHA

Claude est au lit. Le bruit de quelqu’un en bas et celui de la télé forte le réveille. Claude se lève, et commence à écrire au bureau avec une ferveur frustrée.

EXT. NUIT- DANS LA RUE

Germain cherche la maison avec l’adresse sur la main, et il découvre que c’est celle d’une petite maison miteuse. Il la vérifie, confus. Il supposait qu’il trouverait la maison de l’histoire. Il sonne, et attend. C’est Rapha Jr. qui ouvre la porte.

RAPHA: (trop épuisé pour être très surpris) Monsieur?

GERMAIN:

Est-ce que Claude est là?

RAPHA:

Claude? Qui est Claude?

GERMAIN: Hein? Claude, ton ami!

RAPHA: Dans nôtre classe?

GERMAIN: Oui…

RAPHA: Ah, non, je ne le connais pas très bien. Désolé.

GERMAIN: (sans le pouvoir de s’arrêter) Mais il vient ici presque tous les jours!

RAPHA: (nonchalant) Quoi? Je ne comprends pas. J’ai dit, je ne connais pas bien Claude.

GERMAIN: (confus et soudain anxieux) Merde! C’est vrai?

RAPHA: Mais oui! Il ne passe pas beaucoup de temps avec les autres élèves. Les seules fois que je l’ai vu avec quelqu’un, il était avec vous… a part ça, Il est toujours en train d’écrire.

Germain réalise qu’il y a quelque chose qui cloche. Il décide de le vérifier.

GERMAIN: Tes parents, comment s’appellent-ils?

Rapha voit que c’est un sujet sérieux, donc il ne questionne pas Germain. Il arrête d’essayer de comprendre ce qui se passe.

RAPHA: Pierre et Suzanne. Pourquoi?

GERMAIN: Rapha, as-tu une liste avec les adresses de tous les élèves dans la classe?

RAPHA: Peut-être, mais pourquoi?

GERMAIN: (qui ne veut pas expliquer) C’est une urgence. Trouve-la, vite!

RAPHA: Oui monsieur!

Il court à l’intérieur.

(en croyant que son rôle est très important) Je le ferai tout de suite!

Germain est seul, est il se frotte le visage avec les mains, confus et inquiet. Rapha retourne.

RAPHA: (fier) Voilà!

Germain saisit la liste, et la lit. Il n’écoute pas Rapha, parce qu’il cherche l’adresse de Claude. Je ne pouvais pas la trouver parce qu’il y avait un grand tas de papiers dans le bureau, donc j’ai passé longtemps à la chercher, avant de réaliser qu’elle était dans ma chambre. Désolé. Ça c’est tout, monsieur?

Germain trouve l’adresse et lève les yeux.

GERMAIN: (préoccupé) Oui. Merci, Rapha. Je suis désolé de ce qui s’est passé avec ton devoir. J’avais tort.

RAPHA: (acceptant les excuses avec un sourire) Bonsoir, Monsieur.

Rapha ferme la porte et Germain cour dans la rue, dans la direction de la maison de Claude.

INT. NUIT- LA CHAMBRE DE RAPHA

On entend la voix d’un homme qui crie en bas. Claude pleure pendant il écrit, et il s’essuie les yeux . Il écrit ’Option E’ en haut de la page.

EXT. NUIT- DANS LA RUE

Germain se parle à lui-même en courant. Il cherche la maison de Claude, à bout de souffle.

GERMAIN: Qu’est-ce qui se passe? Qu’est-ce qui se passe? Où est la maison? Pourquoi Claude a-t-il menti? Ce n’est pas bien. Pas bien du tout.

Il voit la rue dans laquelle la maison est située (selon la liste), et il y tourne.

MONTAGE DE SÉQUENCES AVEC COMMENTAIRE (Le rythme de cette scène augmente d’un bout à l’autre.)

CLAUDE CONTINUE À ÉCRIRE, VRAIMENT BOULEVERSÉ.

COMMENTAIRE CLAUDE: Option E. L’histoire est vrai. Il y avait un garçon dans une maison.

ON VOIT CLAUDE DANS ’LA MAISON’, OÙ IL MANGE DU PIZZA SUR LE CANAPÉ À LA PLACE DE RAPHA. ESTHER LUI FROTTE LES ÉPAULES DERRIÈRE LUI.

GERMAIN COURT DANS LA RUE.

Sa mère est tombée enceinte. Elle est partie.

ESTHER ET RAPHA SENIOR SE DISPUTENT PENDANT QU’ELLE FAIT UNE VALISE.

GERMAIN S’ARRETE POUR VERIFIER LE NUMÉRO DE LA MAISON. LE PAPIER DIT ’15’, ET IL EST EN FACE DE LA MAISON 1. Son mari est tombé malade. Il boit toutes les nuits.

LE PASSAGE DU TEMPS À TRAVERS LE MOIS MONTRE RAPHA SENIOR QUI DEVIENT DE PLUS EN PLUS FÂCHÉ ET COMMENCE À BOIRE AU SALON PENDANT QUE CLAUDE LE REGARDE.

GERMAIN SE DEPÊCHE APRÈS LA MAISON 2.

Le garçon tombe amoureux de son camarade de classe.

CLAUDE REGARDE RAPHA, QUI JOUE AU BASKET AVEC SES AMIS À L’ÉCOLE.

Il ne peut pas s’empêcher de penser constamment à lui.

LE PLAN DE RAPHA QUI S’EMBRASSE CLAUDE, SUIVI PAR L’IMAGE DE CLAUDE QUI A UN CAUCHEMAR AU LIT, COMME RAPHA AVAIT EU PLUS TÔT.

GERMAIN COURT APRES LES MAISONS 3, 4, 5.

Quand son prof lui donne le devoir d’écrire, il décide d’écrire une histoire.

UN PLAN DE GERMAIN, QUI ÉCRIT LE DEVOIR AU TABLEAU. L’histoire de sa vie. Mais il ne veut pas que ce soit son histoire.

CLAUDE S’ASSIED SUR LE BANC, OÙ IL COMMENCE À ÉCRIRE. Donc, elle devient l’histoire de son camarade de classe, la seule personne dans sa tête qu’il puisse supporter.

UNE IMAGE DE CLAUDE DANS ’LA MAISON’ AVEC RAPHA SUPÉRIEUR ET ESTHER DEVIENT UNE IMAGE DE RAPHA AVEC EUX.

GERMAIN CONTINUE APRÈS LES MAISONS 7, 8.

La maison est démolie. Ce n’est plus une famille normale. Il continue à écrire pendant des semaines- des mois.

UN MONTAGE DE PLUSIEURS JOURS, OÙ CLAUDE EST TOUJOURS EN TRAIN D’ÉCRIRE AU BUREAU DE SA CHAMBRE, AFFECTÉ.

GERMAIN COURT PLUS RAPIDEMENT APRÈS LES MAISONS 1O, 11, 12.

Il pense que peut-être, son prof pourra l’aider. Il peut le sauver de cette vie.

LA SÉQUENCE OÙ CLAUDE DONNE SON PREMIER DEVOIR À GERMAIN

EST RÉPÉTÉE, MAIS DU POINT DE VUE DE CLAUDE, POUR QU’ON PUISSE VOIR LE DÉSESPOIR DE CLAUDE, QUI VEUT L’AIDE DE SON PROF.

LA MAISON 13.

Mais non, le prof veut seulement l’histoire, pas la vérité.

LA SÉQUENCE OÙ CLAUDE DONNE LES QUATRES OPTIONS À GERMAIN EST RÉPÉTÉ, MAIS DU POINT DE VUE DE CLAUDE. APRÈS QUE GERMAIN EST PARTI, CLAUDE CONTINUE DE SE BATTRE, EN SE COGNANT LA TÊTE CONTRE LES MURS. IL SAIGNE ET PLEURE.

LA MAISON 14.

Esther ne se retourne pas.

LA SÉQUENCE DE CLAUDE ET ESTHER OÙ ILS S’ÉVADENT EST INVERSÉE, ALORS CLAUDE DEMEURE SEUL.

Elle ne trouve pas Claude, et ils ne s’évadent pas ensemble.

EXT. NUIT- DANS LA RUE

Germain arrive à la maison 15, haletant, et voit par la fenêtre que Claude s’est pendu. Il est dans la même salle de bain et dans la même position que Rapha était dans la scène plus tôt, ce qui suggère que quand il l’a écrite dans l’histoire, c’était un appel à l’aide.

COMMENTAIRE CLAUDE: Fin.

A blog for students and teachers of Years 11 to 13, and anyone else with an interest in Modern Foreign Languages and Cultures, written by the staff and students of Oxford University. Updated every Wednesday!