Theme: Paris

Dominique Fabre's The Waitress Was New is the kind of little book that comforts and subtly surprises with it's tenderness and wisdom. We meet Pierre, a Parisian bartender at cafe on the outskirts of the city, who is fifty-six and finds out that Le Cercle, the cafe where he works, is closing. The slim novel takes place over three days and during this time Pierre's perceptiveness and sensitivity portray the world around him with equal parts humor and honesty.

I'm only a barman, and when I forget that, the world around me seems like a bunch of different movies running at the same time. There are romance movies and sad movies, and if you pay attention most of their stories start to get all mixed together, till there's no way you can go on telling them to yourself. It's like they're all chasing after each other, and then, just when you're ready to decide how they end, you have to serve two beers and wipe down the counter again, and empty the ashtrays and scrub out the coffee machine, and now and then leave the bar butterflies in your stomach to go hear the results of the blood test or chest x-ray, and then it's to hell with the film, and good riddance. It came back to me a little while later, I was alone, the evening's first customers were drifting in.

Fabre gives us the ultimate Parisian bartender who listens when he is supposed to and offers up advice if absolutely necessary. He creates a subtle philosophical tone that creates a sense of security with the reader. It's not about what happens in this book--the new waitress, the broken couple who owns the cafe tense because the husband is having an affair, the temperamental Sengalese chef, or the fact that they are all losing their livelihoods--but it's about how Pierre, with his witty, gentle way, makes each one of them feel better yet has no real direction of his own.

When the boss open he was always a little chattier than usual till eight in the morning, after that he pretty much kept his mouth shut, apart from the standard how-are-you-how-are-yous with the customers or phone calls from his pals. I gave the bar a good wipe with the mop rag. It didn't really need it, but that was something I liked doing, so why not indulge? You really are a useful thing in other people's lives when you're a barman. The customers don't realize it outright, of course, but when all's said and done, in good times and bad, there's a bar in their lives, and a barman, a bit wizened but very professional, to serve them whatever they want, and then when they're done they snap out of their little reverie, unless they've been thinking of nothing at all, and when it comes time to go the barman had told them thank you, goodbye, and have a good day. You're rambling, Pierrot. I ran out to get the croissants and baguettes for breakfast. The bakery's right on the corner. The last baker died of the same illness I had three years ago, or so I've heard. I didn't stand around twiddling my thumbs for long. Right away I served three separate coffees, one of them an espresso with extra water, and another with a dash of milk, plus one full breakfast with tea.

We read about what happens to all of us--that life is filled with pain and beauty and if we are lucky, we see both. And then we can talk about it with someone like Pierre.

I am a huge fan of Archipelago Books with their elegant taste and beautifully designed books, and this one has to be my favorite. I read it in an evening and since then, I think about it frequently, especially when I am not sure what direction I am going in or when I am lucky enough to make someone else feel better or when a friend has helped me feel better. This may seem trite, but after reading this novel, I am more convinced that empathy is positive and something to not take for granted in myself or anyone else.

The Waitress Was New
By Dominique Fabre
Translated by Jordan Stump
Archipelago Books
Paperback
ISBN: 978-0-9778576-9-2
117 Pages
$15.00