Ford Madox Ford

While reading the short piece entitled A Paris Letter by Ford Madox Ford, his infamous use of the unreliable narrator adds a level of complexity to the story, yet simplifies it. 

While making observations of Paris or the Parisians which reside in the city,  it can become quite easy, and almost natural to fall into the style of an unreliable narrator. It is highly unlikely that you posses the proper credibility to make judgments about the city, its inhabitants, or visitors, yet we do so anyways. It is an extremely natural way in which to observe your surroundings, and allows you to connect with your environment. 

In the context of this piece, the style of writing leads to the polarization of its readers. It is hard not to take notice of his labeling, such as "The musicians begin to be a little noisy. . .," "Next come, bracketed equal, the architects and sculptors. . ."and "The painters are never silent, individually or in groups."

 
As a student studying in Paris for less than half a year, it requires little effort to relate to short descriptive passages within the story. As mentioned above, the labeling in Ford's word is frequent and this method of comprehending your surroundings is likened to my method. However, the conclusions I swiftly draw such as Ford's narrator are replaced by deeper thoughts that yield different results. 

For example, there are specific cafes in Paris that cater to the start-up culture, which has exploded in the last decade or so. Specifically a cafe named Numa, which is located not far from the abhorrent Rue Saint Denis. After spending fewer than 10 minutes inside the cafe, I took note of the overly confident customer, who was indeed partaking in his own start-up venture. If I were to start my own version of A Paris Letter, it would undoubtedly go like this:

And now we lift the weighted top of the beehive off and peer into its belly. The start-up bees with honey flowing from their mouths destroy their weaker kin and look down upon anyone who fails to yield such high intelligence.  They know no rights and no wrongs.

However, if I were to reconsider my thoughts and ponder on such ideas, I would understand that such rigid definitions of culture rarely exist except in worlds that revolve around the quick and minuscule decisions that we as humans make on our first observation of humanity. 

Proudly placing myself in the group of brief Parisians who find the historical romanticism of the city to be false, I find that I am able to better discern where such fallacies stem from. It appears to me that the use of the unreliable narrator finds no better home than in the description of Paris.