Archive for the ‘Last Train From Paris’ Category


Responsibility and the Unattached Male

January 22nd, 2010 by Stacy Cohen

If asked to explain why poor nations are poor and rich nations are rich, you’d probably be able to list of any number off contributing factors:

  • An abundance or lack of natural resources
  • Free enterprise vs. planned or dictatorial economies
  • Exploitation by stronger nations via “free trade”
  • Much more controversially, you might cite education or differences in tested IQ averages.

Untitled1What you likely wouldn’t cite is the most basic of social structures: marriage, or the relationship between men, women, and families within the society.  But that’s exactly what George Gilder argued is the most fundamental cause of either poverty or prosperity within a society.  And whether you agree with it or not, it’s a fascinating argument.

In fact, the book in which Gilder published this argument, Wealth & Poverty, became a New York Times best seller and declared a Capitalist (and specifically a supply-side capitalist) manifesto that became an intellectual cornerstone of conservative ideology during the 80s.  In a very brief nutshell and a very loose paraphrase/summary, here’s part of what Gilder claimed:

Men are brought to responsibility and maturity through marriage and fatherhood.  It is their commitment to family that changes them – and in turn changes the society around them – from operating on a short term and wasteful timescale – to a longer term, providential, and ultimately prosperous mindset.  When you break up the family and you let societies’ tenor and tempo be dictated not by intact families, but by unattached males, you end up with incredible waste, entrenched poverty, and a cycle of un-fathered children becoming absent fathers (or single mothers) themselves.

Not the most politically correct train of thought, for sure.  But I think anyone would see the nascent “family values” platform being built upon that argument.

And while Gilder’s broad outlines don’t necessarily hold true for all individuals, most people personally know more than a few perfect examples of what Gilder terms “unattached males”  – the kind we all hope will grow out of it and into some kind of solid relationship.

Actually, at the beginning of my novel, The Last Train from Paris, my hero fits this mold painfully well.  Jean-Luc is an unemployed artist, womanizer, and, well, something of a rogue (albeit a good-natured rogue).  He actually makes fun of his friends for holding down a job in almost the same breath in which he flaunts his latest sexual conquests.

Then, following Gilder’s pattern, he is brought to maturity – and economic maturity as well – through the influence of the women in his life.   At first it is the tears of his landlady and de-facto mother, Madame Cordier, which motivates him to get a job.  This scene even forms the basis of a whole chapter: “Madame’s Tears.”

Later, it becomes the love of Natasha, the love of his life, actually, which forces him to grow still more responsible, not only to his immediate family, but to the greater good of his country as well – that never would have happened without Jean-Luc moving out and away from his unattached bachelor days.

I can see why some people might think this sounds a bit too conveniently conventional, but is it too far off to say that every good man actually needs a good woman in order for him to become a good man?  That men need a partner to put away his more impulsive and notional pursuits in order to build something more permanent and lasting?


Channel Matrioshka Doll Handbag

January 20th, 2010 by Stacy Cohen

As an update to my earlier post about Russian Nesting Dolls (aka Matrioshka Dolls), I wanted to show readers Channel’s new Matrioshka Russian Doll handbag, as reported by StyleByMe.net.  Take a look at the photo bellow:

Channel Bag

Again, I think this really just shows how uncommonly identified with Russia and how iconic an item these dolls remain

But as the StyleByMe blog post says, as a purse, the Russian Doll is kind of a hard look to pull off…


Faire La Grasse Matinee

January 13th, 2010 by Stacy Cohen

dog-picture-photo-funny-sleeping-face“Faire la grasse matinée” means to stay in the thickness of sleep for a long time, or more literally, “I can do the ‘fat’ morning”  – in other words, I can sleep late and just be lazy.

It’s a neat way of saying, “sleep in,” isn’t it?  But it really emphasizes the “fat and lazy” aspect of it, which is perfect for my story’s hero when the reader first meets him at the beginning of The Last Train from Paris.

It’s perfect because Jean-Luc IS lazy.  And rather complacent about it, frankly, even to the point of casually stating that he deserves a “grasse matinee” every morning.   We come to see that as charming as Jean-Luc may be, he trades on that charm a bit too much altogether.  Which is only one of several character blocks he’ll be forced to struggle against and overcome by the end of the novel.

Of course, there’s plenty to invoke a reader’s sympathy for Jean-Luc as well, but any story worth telling is a story of personal discovery, one way or the other.  Right at the beginning, I wanted to frame the parts of Jean-Luc’s life that required his self-discovery and self-awareness.  I wanted readers, if only subconsciously, to compare the opening and closing scenes of the novel and see just how Jean-Luc transformed.

And I think life imitates art that way (or vice versa), in that we often need similar events or settings, or points to take stock of change.  It’s why we tend to reflect on the last 12 months at New Years, or why returning to a city in which you lived, or your hometown, or even to your old college/high school carries such a punch. It’s because you can’t help but contrast your situation upon the return with the last time you were at that place (or the first time you arrived there).

Again, we’re better at seeing the change through comparison than in seeing it outright.  So as a storyteller – and aren’t we all storytellers? – what you want is to work with that tendency by making the comparison easy.  Give your audience a mental version of “before and after” snapshots.

So what about you?  Have you had a return trip or an anniversary date of some kind that was loaded down with emotional freight because of all the comparisons you couldn’t help but make in your mind’s eye?

What’s the most memorable experience of that you’ve ever had?  And how have you used this technique in telling your story?


The Man Who Would Be Stalin

January 10th, 2010 by Stacy Cohen

BeriaOne of the fun parts about writing an historical novel is researching historical figures and then weaving historical figures into the plotline.  Some are the kind you wish you could have met.  And some are monsters you’re sorry anyone had to meet.

Since The Last Train from Paris featured a Russian ballerina living in occupied France, I did some research on pre-WWII Russia, looking for characters.  During that search I learned about Lavrentiy Beria:

  • Leader of the NKVD, conducting “The Great Purge” of Russia
  • Scourge of the NKVD – leading an interior “purge” within the NKVD
  • Protégé of Stalin’s
  • Self-claimed murderer of Stalin
  • Key instrument in the creation of the Soviet’s first nuclear bomb
  • Last major road-block to Khrushchev’s ambition

Quite the biographical bullet points, aren’t they?  So here’s the larger story:

Beria rose to power within the Georgian secret police through absolutely ruthless behavior, and then set a precedent for himself by executing 10,000 people in putting down the Georgian Nationalist Uprising.

Meeting opposition, either real or anticipated, with mass murder and strategic execution was one of Beria’s hallmarks.  As an early ally of Stalin’s, Beria ran the soviet purge of counter-revolutionaries in all of the caucuses.  When Stalin brought Beria to Moscow in 1938 and placed him as the deputy head of the secret police, or NKVD, Beria ran the purge of Russia proper.  And this is the point in time in which Natasha would have fled from Russia, during the Great purge, which historian’s have described as a Soviet Holocaust.

Later, Beria was to turn the purge onto the NKVD itself – or more specifically rivals within the NKVD.  Later, by using the NKVD and the gulag labor camps, Beria was able to provide the raw labor needed for Uranium mining, as well as to run the spy program which brought the much needed information from US Nuclear Program.

Later, when Beria’s political power base was eroding and he was vying for power in the anticipated post-Stalin era, Beria would turn on his old ally by poisoning  (or so he would claim) him.  Whether Beria actually poisoned him isn’t provable, but evidence from the autopsy shows that he was poisoned, and Beria was in a position to do it.

In the post-Stalin power struggle, Nikita Khrushchev would eventually have Beria arrested, tried, and executed.  As the saying goes, he who lives by the murderous politically motivated ruthlessness dies by…

I won’t spoil anything for readers by going into how Lavrentiy Beria becomes a character in my book, but I will say that he has a small cameo appearance, and that his actions have far-reaching effects for the principal characters of the story.


Fake Nylons

January 8th, 2010 by Stacy Cohen

2009-06-15_0224In an era of designer blue jeans and business casual attire, it takes a bit of effort to imagine a time when women almost always wore dresses and skirts, and when stockings were de rigueur.

Back then, stockings were seemed, creating the look seen in these pictures (and almost every movie from the era).

But during World War II, most countries diverted nylon production to the war effort, so there were almost no stockings to be had.  Just one of many hardships, similar in kind to the widespread food rationing.  But while coffee could be cut with chicory, there really was no substitute for nylon stockings.

And that’s when inventive women of the era “penciled” in the seem on their bare legs with eyeliner and the like.  The seem alone was apparently enough to fool onlookers into thinking a young woman was wearing nylons.

nylonsThis is why, in my novel, The Last Train from Paris, my female “lead” is ecstatic to find out about this trick – and why her friend felt superior for a moment because she had real stockings to flaunt, and no need for this new-found trick.

Again, in an age where a bare (and tanned) leg has largely replaced the stockinged leg for most non-dressy occasions, it’s hard to think about desiring nylons so bad that you’d fake having them (although stockings certainly still have a special place in the hearts of most guys and gals).  In fact, I’m really not sure what would make a good modern day comparison or analogy.  What would you say it is:

o      Blue Jeans?

o      High healed shoes?

o      Sunglasses?

SunglassesActually, living and traveling in fashion-conscious and sunny climates, I might have to say Sunglasses.  Imagine that, due to a war effort or a global economy breakdown, there’s simply no more real glass or polycarbonate lenses for sunglasses.  The glass is imported and the polycarbonate has to go toward more important things.

Do you think that people might try to create “knock-off” sunglasses just for the fashion statement?  Would someone wear low-magnification, tinted sunglasses just for the look?  I think some would do it if they had no other options.

What about you?  What fashion item couldn’t you live without?  What would you be compelled to figure out a substitute for?


Insights Into French Culture from a French Anthropologist and Psychologist

January 5th, 2010 by Stacy Cohen

608reptilemarketingYou may have heard his name in association with The Hummer / SUV marketing and/or advertising in general.  He also featured rather prominently in Frontline’s documentary, The Persuaders.   His name is Clotaire Rapaille and he’s thought of as a secret weapon by the marketing departments of the largest corporations in the world.

Clotaire believes that companies have to appeal to the emotions and impulses of the “reptilian” brain instead of consumers’ conscious, stated, and rationalized desires.   And he further believes that, to do this, one has to probe into the deepest emotional “imprintings” made on consumers by their culture.

It is these imprintings – the deeply emotional, largely subconscious, and highly emotional associations – that determine the “code” for a given culture.  So different cultures will have differing codes (or emotional associations) with the same item, product category, life event, etc.  And those codes will be entirely different than how the members of that culture will normally think about the item.  Here’s an example:

Folgers hired Clotaire to uncover the code for coffee in America.  And according to Clotaire, coffee aroma = home.  Here’s Clotaire explaining it during an interview:

For example, aroma is number one. Why? Because we imprint the aroma first, not the taste. Aroma is imprinted at a very early age, when you are around 2. Ah, and it means home, mother, feeding you, love and so on. A large majority, 90-something percent of Americans, love the aroma of coffee. Only 47 percent like the taste.

I don’t know if you remember this commercial, but it was really on code. You have a young guy coming from the Army in a uniform. Mother is upstairs asleep. He goes directly to the kitchen, “Psssst,” open the coffee, and the smell — you know, because we designed the packaging to make sure that you smelled it right away. He prepares coffee; coffee goes up; the smell goes upstairs; the mother is asleep; she wakes up; she smiles. And we know the word she is going to say, because the code for aroma is “home.” So she is going to say, “Oh, he is home.” She rushed down the stairs, hugged the boy. I mean, we tested it. At P&G they test everything 400 times. People were crying. Why? Because we got the logic of emotion right.

Fascinating, right?  Well here’s what he has to say about French Culture:

  • The French code for France (it’s hidden self-image) is IDEA.  The French consider themselves thinkers.  In fact, Clotaire says: “…for the French, the code is “to think.” That’s it: to think. “I think, therefore I am” — not “I do,” “I think.” The French believe [that they are] the only thinkers of the world and that they think for the rest of the world.”

  • The French Code for Luxury is “the freedom to do nothing and to own useless things – things that provide beauty and harmony, but have no practical function.  A common French expression translates as ‘What is useless is what I cannot live without.’”  Clotaire further explains, “To the French, Luxury is something that offers the highest level of pleasure – the finest food, the most elegant clothing, the most refined fragrance.”  And this differs from Americans who typically seek luxury in things they can use – high-end laptops, expensive handbags, big homes with professional-grade cooking ranges and refrigerators, etc. 

  • The French Code for Alcohol has to do with refined pleasure – for adding to the taste, pleasure, and enjoyment of food.  This is why wine is not so much a luxury or a “drug” in French culture, but a necessary part of daily life – because the pursuit of aristocratic and refined pleasure is what life is all about for the French.

I found Clotaire Rapaille’s book, The Culture Code, fascinatingly packed with these kind of cultural insights, and I think the first two that I repeated here really help to explain why Paris is such a mecca for art, dance, fashion, and intellectual life.  All of those things perfectly fit both French cultural identity in terms of ideas, along with the French sense of luxury as non-utilitarian refinement, elegance, and pleasure.

And so in my novel, The Last Train from Pairs, that city becomes a natural draw for both the painter and the ballerina – a place where the ideas and the beauty of art are cherished and supported.

Have you ever had the experience of either growing up in or moving to a city or area whose culture and values perfectly synced with your own?  Of arriving and feeling that “this is the place for me” (or leaving and realizing that you’d been living in your ideal environment all along)?


The Artistic Temperament

January 4th, 2010 by Stacy Cohen

SalingerIf an artist flairs his temper, showcases some eccentricity, or generally fails to be a dependable adult, most of us (mentally at least) chalk it up to “artistic temperament”.

As far as I can tell, an artistic temperament covers everything from a high-functioning manic-depressive, to an ADD daydreamer, to hedonistic-bohemian searcher, to an anti-social J.D. Salinger.   It covers a multitude of sins, so to speak.

And that’s its problem: the excuse, and even the expectation, of “artistic temperament” has allowed many an artist to slide in ways that weren’t good for them or their art.  To quote G.K. Chesterton, “The artistic temperament is a disease which afflicts amateurs.”

Jean-Luc begins my novel, The Last Train from Paris, with a serious case of “artistic temperament” – he actually thinks being late by about an hour is not only OK, but better than expected, he routinely skates by without paying rate or even paying for his food at the café.  Moreover, he has to be persuaded to actually take a paying job with Matisse.

Now that’s an artistic temperament.  But oddly enough, it produces no art worth saving – or at least not for Jean-Luc.  Only when he abandons his more irresponsible behaviors and begins working for the greater benefit of all, does he start producing great art.

And regardless of your temperament, that’s a lesson anyone can and should learn.  When you start devoting even a little of your time, energy, and money to charity, you’ll invariable find new creative energy within your life.  Everyone I know or have asked about charitable giving has attested to it.  In fact, it’s been my experience in working with Camp Okizu, the largest summer camp in Northern California for children undergoing cancer treatment, that I have always returned from those experiences with a “helpers euphoria” which invariably leads to increased creative output for me.

So what are you trying to make happen?  And is there a worthy cause you’ve been meaning to support?

Could be the two most important, creativity-boosting questions you’re every likely to hear.


Frenemies

December 31st, 2009 by Stacy Cohen

FrenemiesYes, it’s actually an official word, with “frenemy” added to Webster’s Dictionary as of this July.  As a portmanteau word made up of friend and enemy, the word most often denotes a relationship in which a surface level friendship hides a nastier competitiveness and dislike felt by at least one of the two parties.

And long before the word was coined, this style relationship was hardly unknown amongst colleagues and peers competing for the same promotion, date, political office.  And if you can believe the book publishing world, there’s definite ways to watch out for these so-called friends, at least according to, Friend or Faux by Heather Wagner, and Friend or Frenemy? by Andrea Lavinthal, this Elle quiz, and even this e-how article

In my novel, The Last Train from Paris, my hero’s love interest, Natasha, sees her relationship with her roommate in terms of sisterhood and family, repeatedly saying that Anna is all the family she has left.  And while Anna reciprocates the sibling-sentiment, her frenemy-like behavior extends far past sibling rivalry.

I won’t go into any plot-spoilers here, but suffice it to say that Anna gradually comes to see Natasha as a frenemy and that the devolution of that relationship sets into motion many of the central events within the last 3rd of the novel.

So with this notion of frenemies freshly in mind, what I wanted to ask was, how many of you have or have had a frenemy?  And did both of you consider each other in that category, or was only one of you competing with the other?  Finally, if you’re not still “friends” with this person, what happened to finally sever the relationship?

My thoughts are that it IS possible for real friends to venture into frenemy territory and to come back out the other side to regain true friendship, but I’ve never seen it actually happen that way.  What about you?


American Cheese and Artificial Wine in World War II

December 30th, 2009 by Stacy Cohen

american-cheeseLots of things were scarce during World War II.  Every country involved put the majority of its domestic product towards fighting the war, leaving little left over for the civilians.

It’s why people made due by cutting their coffee with nuts or chicory.  And why they’d use wooden soles for their shoes instead of leather.  In America, it’s why there was rationing of items like gas, butter, and why American developed a new-found love for American cheese.

Yes, American Cheese wasn’t the brainchild of some marketing wiz but by American scientists looking to make a cheese substitute that made better use of Cheese Scraps, used less Rennet, and melted uniformly when heated.  Some people say that Rennet – the group of enzyme that are used to harden hard cheese – was scarce during the war.  Some say that America just wanted to reduce the use of imported food products during the war.  Whatever the case,  the American people still wanted cheese, and processed American cheese quickly became a staple, setting the stage for the introduction of sliced American cheese in the 50s.

And that’s the story behind that little slice of Americana that’s still with us to this day.  Which is a lot more than can be said of artificial wine.  For much of Europe – and especially for the French – wine wasn’t a luxury to be done without; some ersatz wine substitute had to be made.  So here’s what they did:

Rather than crushing the grapes, naturally fermenting them, aging the young wine in wood, the inventive French took grape juice, blended it with sulfites, and mixed it with cheep grain alcohol.  Presto, fake wine that sort of, almost, maybe, tasted like the real stuff.   Needless to say, the French never drank it if they had any other choice, and the stuff was never produced again on French soil as soon as the war was over.

But, it sufficed for the time being.  In fact, in my novel that’s set in occupied France, The Last Train from Paris, my protagonist turns to a few too many bottles of the stuff during a dire personal crisis.  And, as you might guess, this method for rapidly imparting an “aged” flavor to immature or too-young wine did find a home in the efficiency-obsessed United States, which is exactly how much of the low-end fortified wine was and is still produced here.

Kind of cool, right?  Well, maybe not so much the fortified wine part, but the American cheese part is a neat story.  And while I don’t advocate eating too much diary, who can resist the kind of childhood comfort food that a grilled cheese – made out of American singles – represents?

What’s your most vivid memory of American Cheese (or Jug wine if that’s more your style)?


The Infamous Molotov Cocktail

December 29th, 2009 by Stacy Cohen

molotov1Almost any insurgent group will attempt to create makeshift bombs, or in current terms, Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs), and the French Resistance was no exception – they created their own bombs along with many other under-provisioned armies, reserves, and civilians-under-fire during WWII.

Molotov2And the most infamous IED from that era was and is the Molotov Cocktail.  In fact, several scenes from my novel, The Last Train from Paris, depict the French fighting back and throwing Molotov Cocktails.  So I thought my readers might be interested in learning a bit more about this device and its history.

After watching Germany advance unopposed into Poland, the Soviet Union determined that it was time to expand its empire as well by invading Finland.  This attempted invasion and the unbelievably heroic repelling of soviet forces by the vastly undermanned Finns became known as the Winter War.  This war marked the birth – or at least the naming – of the Molotov cocktail.

According to historians, the Soviet Foreign Minister, Vyacheslav Molotov, denied bombing civilians and claimed that Russian planes were simply dropping bread so as to help starving Finns.  You can imagine the Finn’s outrage.  So, the Finnish people darkly named the bombs Molotov Breadbaskets and joked that the gasoline-filled bottles, rigged as makeshift firebombs, which they prepared for fighting soviet tanks, were meant to repay Molotov’s gift of bread with the gift of an alcoholic beverage, hence a Molotov Cocktail.

And here’s a modern day meathead demonstrating how a Molotov cocktail actually looks when lit and thrown:

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Finally, here’s a dramatic film clip of how the Finns actually used Molotov Cocktails to overcome better armed, armored, and provisioned Russian troops:

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So how effective were the Finn troops in repelling the Soviets?  Well, consider that the Russians outmanned the Finns 4:1 and had 218 times as many tanks as the Finns.  Given the odds, what would you have predicted?  Well, the Finns won out, despite singing a peace treaty that signed over 9% of Finland’s pre-war land to the Soviets.  And the Molotov Cocktails were definitely a key weapon in that fight, as well as an enduring cultural touchstone.


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