The Cranky Editor: Life Beyond the Facebook Quarter of Paris

Preparing France Revisited’s Cranky Issue has made me one happy editor.

My call for cantankerous texts from residents and travelers willing to demonstrate that all is not beautiful, tasty, sunny and cheerful in the City of Light brought a wonderful variety of ornery submissions from which I’ve selected five irritable pieces for publication: The Cranky Urbanist, The Cranky Parent, The Cranky Foreign Resident, The Cranky Host and The Cranky Pedestrian (all links below).

Why all this crankiness? Because not everyone is privileged enough to the live in the Facebook Quarter of Paris—you know, the quarter where it’s always sunny, where angels sprinkle serendipity dust every day, where people would rather photograph food than friends or family because good food always smiles back, where speaking one’s heart means declaring whether one prefers the macaroons at Ladurée or Pierre Hermé, where the word Parisian is so special that it assumes the role of superlative, adjective and noun modifier all at once (e.g. in a Parisian café I watched the Parisian colors on the Parisian streets where the Parisian trees are in bloom and the air is so Parisian), where one posts images and news of life in Paris and of death back home, and where every day is more blissful, cultured and well-fed than, well, yours.

Residents of the Facebook Quarter of Paris are loath to acknowledge that Paris is an actual city because the word city calls to mind places like Mexico City or Kansas City whereas Paris is spelled something like paradise.

Nevertheless, it is now mid-April, spring has sprung in Paris after a prolonged and cranky winter. This evening I attended the final rehearsal for the sound-and-light show in the courtyard of the Invalides, a complex that has borne witness to the wounds, glories and arms of monarchy, empire, revolution and republic. General Baptiste, director of the Army Museum, hosted a gathering where we drink wine and eat photogenic finger food. The general invited me to call him to discuss the museum’s First World War section. The Eiffel Tower was blinking the hour as I left the building: 11pm. The gendarmes by the gate were facing toward the final cries of the evening’s hard right wing demonstration. It was breaking up as I crossed the esplanade to the Invalides metro station. People with rolled up banners and flags stood around like bewildered dinosaurs nearing extinction looking for someone at whom to direct their anger. We looked at each other—friend or foe?—as I passed. I heard echoes and rumors of revolution, dictatorship, death of the family, and domestic terrorism. Security forces stood wearily in position, checking Facebook pages, e-mail and Grindr on their handhelds. Such a beautiful Parisian evening—what’s there to complain about?

Let’s put this Cranky Issue to bed.

1. The Cranky Urbanist: Paris Doesn’t Need the Triangle Tower by Patrice Maire

2. The Cranky Parent: Maman, Bébé and Unsolicited Advice by Melinda Mayor

3. The Cranky Foreign Resident: I Love the French, Sometimes by Justyna Gawąd

4. The Cranky Host: A Shuffle Through Montmartre by Ellen Lebelle

5. The Cranky Pedestrian: The Barefoot Photographer Rants Against Bicycle Cadavers by Va-nu-Pieds