I am bookending today's post with photos of my belle-mère, Marsha--in honor of the beautiful and inspiring woman my father married 20 years ago. I dropped off Dad and Marsha at Marseilles International airport today after an enriching, cozy and delicious visit (many great meals in la mijoteuse and many more by the sea, including here at La Plage du Bestouan in Cassis.).
la belle-mère (bel-mair)
: stepmother, stepmom
Beautifully renovated and decorated home in the Luberon. 4 bedrooms and a study with a sofa bed, each with ensuite (full) bath. This villa comfortably sleeps 7-9 adults.
MARIE HOUZELLE'S FRENCH NOVEL--in English!
Today we have the pleasure of reading an excerpt from Marie Houzelle's novel " Tita." Marie and I met at The Paris Writer's workshop four summers ago and I am inspired by her success ever since she rode off on her bike that last day of school. The following story gives many helpful insights into today's word: la belle-mère. Enjoy, and merci beaucoup, Marie!
Mamans et Belles-Mères
A MOMENT IN TITA’S LIFE:
an extract from Marie Houzelle’s novel Tita
Léonie veut aller à la fête (Léonie wants to go to the party).
Behind the tree there’s a hut with quinces, apples, nuts, some tools and, on a low shelf, a heap of books. I start reading Léonie veut aller à la fête. Léonie, the heroine, is invited to a dance for the first time. Her father, who is a sailor, is away in Africa. She’s excited about the party and would like to wear the dress her father sent her for her birthday, but there are a few snags. Her stepmother, madame Mercier, thinks she’s too young. Then Dora, the stepmother’s daughter, wants to borrow Léonie’s dress. As Dora is much larger than Léonie, the dress might not survive.
The story is good, but I’ve read it before. What catches my attention is the way Léonie addresses her stepmother. Léonie calls madame Mercier Belle-mère. Which is the French word for both mother-in-law and stepmother, and literally means “beautiful mother”. This sounds like a solution.
Because Coralie and I have a problem: we don’t know how to address our mother. She is a belle-mère to our older brothers and sister, but they just call her Odette. Justine even coined a pet name for her: Dette (which actually means “debt”). Coralie and I are supposed to say Maman, but we don’t. Ever. We don’t call her anything. At all. Which might get us into trouble. Because it’s not polite to just say “yes”, or “thanks”, or “please”; you should go on with the name or title of the person. As in “Thanks, Loli”, or “Please, Grand-Mère”. We can’t do it with our mother, we just can’t bring ourselves to pronounce the word maman, it sounds so babyish; so we try to avoid situations where we’d have to.
Now why not call our mother Belle-mère? She is beautiful.
I can’t wait. I run back to the house with the book. I find Coralie in the coal shed, grinding chunks of coal onto her hair with both hands.
“Hi,” she says. “Where have you been? I’d like to be a gypsy. Can you become a gypsy?”
“I guess. Shall I read you Léonie veut aller à la fête?” Coralie wipes her hands on her dress and follows me outside.
On the green bench under the wisteria I read aloud, practicing my Belle-mère responses. I notice that Léonie hardly ever says anything to her stepmother. Most of their exchanges consist in madame Mercier’s giving orders and Léonie’s answering “Oui, Belle-mère."
Then our mother calls from inside, “Tita, Coralie! Lunch!”
Normally, we’d just go. Silently.
But I answer, “Oui, Belle-mère.”
Coralie echoes, “Oui, Belle-mère.”
Our mother doesn’t seem to notice. She never pays much attention to words.
* * *
belle-mère beautiful-mother = mother-in-law or stepmother.The adjective beau or belle is used in French for all step and in-law family relationships, probably in order to encourage good feelings that might not arise naturally.
maman what little children usually call their mothers in France. It’s okay for children (other than Coralie and me) but the trouble is, some adults go on calling their parents maman and papa. As a term of address, I’ll bear with it: if someone wants to remain a baby, who am I to object? But you have to cringe when people use these words when talking to and about someone who’s no longer a child. As in “poor man, his papa just died”, or “her maman will come from Brittany to attend her wedding”.
(From Tita’s Glossary)
Marie Houzelle grew up in the south of France. Her work has appeared in the collection Best Paris Stories, in Narrative Magazine, Pharos, Orbis, Serre-Feuilles, Van Gogh's Ear, and in the chapbook No Sex Last Noon. "Hortense on Tuesday Night" was chosen by Narrative Magazine as one of the five top stories of 2011. TITA, the story of a precocious seven-year-old girl in a small, wine-producing town the south of France in the 1950s, is her first novel. Visit Marie's blog here.
To order Marie's novel, Tita, click here.
"Pass the salt," somebody says.
"Get it your selfie," Marsha smiles, when we are interrupted at the dinner table while taking this photo.
Thanks for forwarding this post to a friend who might enjoy these French words and their meanings.
P.S. More about Tita, via this Publishers Weekly review:
In Houzelle's first novel, Tita is a seven-year-old girl growing up in the south of France in the 1950s whose life seems to be defined by obstacles: the many foods that disgust her, the school that fails to challenge her, and parents who struggle to understand her. Tita is precocious and clever, but in some ways painfully inept. She is thoughtful but frail obsessed with rules and rituals, and determined to understand the nuances. Through Houzelle's sharp, straightforward prose (which captures Tita's perspective), the story of how Tita grows takes center stage. She learns the alternatives to those things that have held her back or held her down. She challenges social strictures that she feels are meaningless. She battles her mother to get what she wants, and when sometimes that turns out to be the wrong decision, she acknowledges it. At the novel's end, Tita is still a little girl, but her brilliance, potential, and unusual way of looking at the world will have won readers over.
Thank you for the time you've just spent reading this post. If you have learned more than a little vocabulary here and find yourself looking forward to the next story, please know that a one-time contribution helps me continue doing what I love most: improving this journal. Your support is vivement apprécié! Donating via PayPal is fast and easy when you use the links below. Merci infiniment!