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The Literary Cafe

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Oh, there are some advantages to being an Irishman living in Paris.  This afternoon, while I was walking on Rue Monge, from behind me, I heard a voice from home shout, “Stephen!” and I spun around.   It was Jack Casey, who I hadn’t seen in months.  “Fancy seeing you still here” he exclaimed.  “Since the Irish Free State, I would‘ve thought you’d gone back home by now.”

“Last I heard, the Black and Tans still have my name on a list,” I said with a smile.  Then added, “I have nothing to go back to anyway,” unable to suppress the sorrow in my voice.

After the Easter Rising in ’16 Jack had to flee to France.  After some troubles of my own a few years after that, I decided it would be safer there for me too.  It was Jack who put me up in his place in Paris until I could land on my feet.

“Are you still pouring coffee at Les Cafés Littéraires?” Jack asked.

“Aye, I’m still working for Lizzie.”

“How is she?”  

“Ah, Lizzie hasn’t been so happy lately, but things may have just changed for her, if you know what I mean.”

“How is that?”

“It took me several weeks of low-key diplomacy with her.   You know--casually planted comments here and there, but I finally convinced Lizzie to hire, Le Quintet du Hot Club de France for the week, and last night, their leader, Django Rheinhardt was in keen form.  The band started off playing some gypsy songs, and then nearly blew the curtains off with some of the latest American Jazz tunes.”

“Good crowd?”

“Too much, I’m afraid.”

“How so?”

Well, one of the regulars, Francois Rabelais was sitting over in the back.  He likes to tell tall ones, and last night, I heard him spinning a yarn about Django.  It was something about how, in his youth, Django been on a journey through the Basque Mountains.   Late one night he met the devil himself but disguised as a hermit, which were known to be in the area.   The devil said, “If you give me your soul, I can give you anything you desire”.

Django said, ‘I want to be able to make music like that heard in heaven.’    And so, just as they were about to shake on the transaction, an angel appeared, and she turned the devil into a raging fire.  He howled like the devil he was, and collapsed into a burnt brown crisp on the ground.   But before he dropped, he lunged at Django and managed to swipe him with the flames.   His left side and his left hand got scorched, and the tips of the last three fingers of his left hand—the ones he used to fret the guitar--were incinerated.

Django fell to his knees, holding his hand in agony, as the angel stood by.   When Django was able to look up, she said to him, “You shall have your wish, to make Divine music.   You will keep your soul, but your fingers will not be restored.”

“Django said, ‘Who are you?  Where did you come from?”

“I am called Cecilia,” she said and vanished.

To tell you the truth, I've heard so many of Rabelais' dirty tales, the next time he tells one I feel like throwing a bucket of water over him.

A friend of mine, another fellow from Dublin stopped by, name of James Joyce.   I didn’t know him in Ireland.  I met him over here in Paris and I felt sorry for him.   I know what the old country is like and these Frenchmen don’t.  He says he’s a writer, and he hangs out with a lot of fancy talkers and dandies.   I don’t have a heart to tell him he ought to give up the pipe dream and get a regular job.  

Most nights he gets soused at one of the gin mills down the street.   Halfway through the night, his wife Nora always comes looking for him, up and down the street.  So he comes over here for coffee, to try and sober up before she arrives.    She comes in accusing him of drinking too much again.   James always says, “I don’t know what you are talking about?”   I’ve been sitting here all night drinking coffee and talking to my friend Stephen from the old country. ”   

She isn’t ever fooled of course.   I hate this.   I hate it when people ask me to lie for them.  I hate seeing another poor sad Irishman going into the ditch because of what the old country did to him.   I hate being witness to this whole sordid, sorry scene every night.   But I know they love each other dearly.

After James had been coming here for awhile, Lizzie snapped at me, “Tell that drunken lay-about to go somewhere else the next time he needs to sober up.”

I said, with a hint of indignation, “His name is James Joyce.  He’s from Dublin, and he’s a writer.”

“And I’m Queen Elizabeth,” she scowled.   “I come from London, and I rule the British Empire!”

You won’t believe it, but Andrés Segovia stopped in for a listen.   From advertisements, I knew Segovia was in the city for a concert, and apparently, he and Django were old friends.  I was sitting behind the bar when I saw him come through the door, Fedora hat and all.  I was so surprised I almost spilled my coffee.  
I seated him at table, and he ordered a glass of port wine.  I feared he would leave if I told him we didn’t serve any alcohol.   It looked like Lizzie had stepped out, as she has more often these days, and so I retrieved a bottle from a cache I keep under the bar that Lizzie doesn’t know about.   I keep it there just for circumstances like this.

After I served him a second glass, I told Señor Segovia that I was familiar with his music and had a brief exchange with him.   I casually mentioned, “Should the gentleman care to dance, the proprietress, mademoiselle Rapsodicsindhu is an avid dancer.”

“Oh.  Please introduce me then.”   So I found and brought Lizzie over, made the introductions, left and took over the bar again.  Lizzie had sat down with the maestro and was smiling happily.  

And then they started to dance.  Django and the boys knew just what to play and how to play it.   After just a few moments, there was no doubt that Señor Segovia’s dance legs had been nurtured in the finest soils of Spain.   See, I knew Ms. Lizzie took jazz dance lessons well enough, and what she couldn’t exactly follow from Segovia right-off, he was able to show her, and she picked it right up.   It was thrilling to see him do flamenco and who knows what other Spanish dance forms and to see Ms. Lizzie adding flair with her jazz dance moves.

When they stopped, Lizzie passed by me on the way back to his table and she snapped, in a whisper, the way only women can do, “Damn-it, where is my wine!”  

Wonders never cease!  And obviously she has been onto me and my stash under the bar!   So I served them each another glass and went back to the bar.   I expected to be fired at closing time.    I got really depressed and morose thinking about it.   It wasn’t because I needed the job--I could always get another job in Paris.   It was because I loved Lizzie so much.

When I looked over again, the two of them, Lizzie and Segovia, had their chairs side-by-side but facing each other.  Off and on, they would intertwine their arms together, with wine glasses aloft; one would make a toast and then they would sip in unison!  This was wine from my personal stash, mind you.  And Lizzie laughed!   I hadn’t heard her laugh or seen her smile in months!  Eventually, when the maestro had to leave, I deliberately turned my back on the door until he was well gone.  I couldn’t bare it.

At the end of the evening, when we were closing up, Lizzie had a rip-snorter of a  temper tantrum at me, as I expected might happen.    But she was shouting at me saying, “Why didn’t you tell me to hire that band sooner.”  And, “Why didn’t you introduce me to Andrés earlier in the evening!”   

Mon Dieu, now he was Andrés!    She wanted to know why I didn’t keep the bar properly stocked with wine.  I started to mumble something about her not wanting to serve alcohol, and she shouted at me, “Who said we don’t serve alcohol!  I never said that!  I want us to always be stocked with the very best Tawny Port.  It is Andrés’ favorite.”   

After a while she calmed down a bit, and only said to me, “If Andrés… I mean if the gentleman Segovia should ever visit again, you are to notify me right away even if I am not here.  Send someone for me.  Interrupt whatever I’m doing.   A gentleman of his stature deserves the very best.  Seeing as you are so often slack in your duties with the customers, I must see to it myself that he receives the very best service.”

And she told me I was now in charge of picking the entertainment too.

When I got home to my room, I was so moved, I pulled out the one recording of Segovia that I have, The Intimate Guitar and put it on the victrola.  The feeling of the music flowed through me and over me, and when that sad song Dipso came on my cheeks went wet with tears of happiness for Elizabeth.
An evening at Les Cafés Littéraires--the life of an Irishman living in Paris in the 1920's.

The Location:

Rue Monge: a street on the Left Bank of Paris, France.
Les Cafés Littéraires: [link] The Band: [link]


The Characters:

Stephen: me
Jack Casey: a make believe character
Lizzie: [link] , [link]
Django Rheinhardt: [link]
Francois Rabelais: [link] His dirty tales: [link]
Cecilia: [link]
James Joyce: [link] , [link] [link]
Nora Joyce, nee Barnacle: [link]
Andres Segovia: [link] [link]
© 2004 - 2024 kabloona
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onewordatatime's avatar
Oh, there are some advantages to being an Irishman living in Paris. - I suggest that you leave this as a one-sentence paragraph. The following sentence does not continue with the theme, but begins on a description that will explain it, right? It’s a shift in mood, and a new paragraph will demonstrate that.

This afternoon, while I was walking on Rue Monge, from behind me, I heard a voice from home shout, “Stephen!” and I spun around. The sentence here is divided by too many commas – giving it a sing-song quality. I’d suggest something like ‘This afternoon, while I was walking down the Rue Monge, I heard a voice from home shout, “Stephen!” and I spun around.’ By deleting ‘from behind me’, you haven’t taken away the implication that Jack comes up from behind. When Stephen spins, that’s made clear, and the sentence doesn’t chant so much.

who I hadn’t seen in months. I think that should be ‘whom’, not ‘who’.

Then added, “I have nothing to go back to anyway,” unable to suppress the sorrow in my voice. You could delete ‘Then added,’ and make it: ‘”I have nothing to go back to, anyway.” I was unable to suppress the sorrow in my voice.’ OR you could change it to ‘Then I added’ and leave the rest of the sentence as it is. But you need the pronoun.

After the Easter Rising in ’16 Jack had to flee to France. If you were saying the sentence out loud, you might pause after ‘16’ – the sentence requires a comma there. Also, since you are narrating an event in the past (meeting Jack) and then narrating an event that happened even further back in the past (leaving Ireland) you need to change your verb tense: ‘Jack had had to flee…’


You know--casually planted comments here and there, but I finally convinced Lizzie to hire, Le Quintet du Hot Club de France for the week, and last night, their leader, Django Rheinhardt was in keen form. - I think the problem is that you’ve used commas, where instead you should have split this into two – or even three - sentences. ‘You know – casually planted comments here and there. But I finally convinced Lizzie to hire Le Quintet du Hot Club de France for the week! Last night Django Rheinhardt was in keen form.’ Also, I think that maybe you don’t need to explain Django Rheinhardt as the lead singer. Back then, Jack would have known – it was common general knowledge, yes? The reader already does know, thanks to your links (good move, there) and so won’t need to hear it.

You’ve used Jack Casey to gently lead the reader up to the events of the night before. You’ve moved on to answer jack’s question – to the reader. There’s no more conversation with Jack, and one is left wondering what happened to him, what the speaker and he did later. Did they go to lunch? Did they talk for five minutes and then go their separate ways? It’s a small detail which worries at one.

There are two things you could do. One is to put the entire following passage into the dialogue – quotation marks.. That will fill out the piece, since you will have some amount of interruption from Jack. (You will also then have to finish off the conversation: “So, Lizzie’s in love at last? Hope it goes well.” “Me, too, Jack” etc would be the bare bones of the simplest ending to that.) If you don’t want any more conversation with jack, you could simply separate the scenes – since you already have double-line spacing between paragraphs, you could use ‘*****’. With this, you show that you’ve moved the scene away from Jack, and it doesn’t seem odd when you don’t return to him.


Late one night he met the devil himself but disguised as a hermit, which were known to be in the area. ‘But disguised as a hermit is a rather awkward way of putting it. Try instead ‘late one night he met the devil, who was dressed as a hermit’ There’s no real need for the explanation of why the devil was dressed as a hermit, but you can leave it in.

And so, just as they were about to shake on the transaction, an angel appeared, and she turned the devil into a raging fire. By saying ‘and so’ you make the angel’s appearance sound like a natural follow-up to the transaction. Use ‘But/However’ instead. It marks the fact that what happens is not what was intended.

His left side and his left hand got scorched, and the tips of the last three fingers of his left hand—the ones he used to fret the guitar--were incinerated. - I suggest you make this a part of the next paragraph, and this will make the burning an important issue, all on its own. “Django’s left side and his left hand were scorched, and the… incinerated. He fell to his knees...” and continue from there.

I haven’t read the Rabelais link yet, but is this a myth you made up, or is it something he really did tell, and you’ve adapted for this story?? It’s a fascinating myth, something you expect to grow around an amazing artist.

…the next time he tells one I feel like throwing a bucket of water over him. Replace ‘I feel like’ with ‘I think I’ll’ – it still remains an intention, and puts it in the future tense, where it should be. I like this sentiment, by the way. It indicates a long association with Rabelais, and a weary sort of disdain for what he is and thinks of… it’s neatly handled.

A friend of mine, another fellow from Dublin stopped by, name of James Joyce. Quick comma lesson: Commas are used to separate items in a list, and to separate different ideas in a sentence. This one should be “A friend of mine, another fellow from Dublin, stopped by – name of James Joyce.” Even better would be “Another old friend from Dublin stopped by – name of James Joyce.” The sentence must read smoothly, and not drag. Being succinct is always helpful.

Nice comments by the speaker here, btw. The irony of what his non-literary peers must have thought, compared to what we now know of him, is good.

Halfway through the night, his wife Nora always comes looking for him, up and down the street. You can delete ‘up and down the street’ – It’s unnecessary.

“I don’t know what you are talking about?” I’ve been sitting here all night drinking coffee and talking to my friend Stephen from the old country. ” Delete the first ”.

She isn’t ever fooled of course. Comma after ‘fooled’.

After James had been coming here for awhile, Lizzie snapped at me,.. This whole thing can be replaced with ‘Lizzie once snapped at me,…’ – It’s a less bulky sentence, and it’s taken for granted that Lizzie would snap after JJ has made his presence felt for a while…

From advertisements, I knew Segovia was in the city for a concert, and apparently, he and Django were old friends. You can delete ‘From advertisements, I knew’ – and leave the rest. You’ve established that the speaker keeps up with the latest events by the general tone of his thoughts and by the fact that he has acquaintances in the literary/artistic sets.

(If this narrative is being made by Stephen to Jack, then it would be good to put this sentence in the present tense.)

I seated him at table, and This could be, “I led him to a table”, unless you intend to convey the impression that he actually held Segovia’s chair out. Also, ‘table’ needs an article.

I feared he would... Can be expressed more naturally as ‘I was afraid he would…”

as she has more often these days, - ‘Has’ should be replaced by ‘does’ - or ‘ahs been doing’ – remember that this is an action. ‘Have’ is not an action verb, per se, it cannot fill in at every circumstance.

And obviously she has been onto - I would have written ‘She’s been” – it fits in with the casual tone of the sentence.

When I looked over again, the two of them, Lizzie and Segovia, had their chairs side-by-side but facing each other. This can be (must be) redone either of two ways: “When I looked over again, the two of them had their chairs side-by-side but facing each other.” OR “When I looked over again, Lizzie and Segovia had their chairs side-by-side but facing each other.” There’s no need to specify them twice. You’ve kept the scene clean of any other character/s, so the reader is focussed entirely on these two at the moment. (Django, being the man who plays for them, doesn’t count.)

then they would sip in unison! I think that ‘sip in unison’ should end with a full stop. It’s not very surprising, them drinking together. At least, not that the reader can see.

I couldn’t bare it. I think that should be ‘bear’ = to endure.

At the end of the evening, when we were closing up, Lizzie had a rip-snorter of a temper tantrum at me, as I expected might happen. – “At the end of the evening, when we were closing up, Lizzie threw a rip-snorter of a temper tantrum, as I expected she would.” This takes care of the grammar.

But she was shouting at me saying You can delete the underlined bit, because you’re ending up in a muddle of verbs (shout, say), and it’s also clear whom she is shouting at.

When I got home to my room, I was so moved, I pulled out the one recording of Segovia that I have, The Intimate Guitar and put it on the victrola. Put a comma after “Guitar”. This isn’t a list of items, see.

The feeling of the music flowed through… - Perhaps this would sound better as ‘The music flowed through…” It makes a more direct connection between the music and the speaker.

sad song Dipso came on I haven’t actually addressed this before, but I think that you should put every single group/song/record/album name in italics, or in quotes. It’s not essential, but it’s clearer.
Then, after ‘came on’, use a comma.

my cheeks went wet with tears of happiness for Elizabeth. - Instead of ‘went’, maybe you could try ‘were’. “My cheeks were wet”… or even a completely new phrase – “I began to cry with happiness for Elizabeth.”

Actually, I’m a bit puzzled by exactly why Stephen/the speaker/you are so happy for Elizabeth. You must remember that the reader will most likely not know you, or Lizzie, and will not have much of an idea of what is wrong in Lizzie’s life until Segovia turns up, nor will they know the real Lizzie. You need to add a little bit to the entire text, adding more background, in order to make Lizzie’s newest flirtation (love life?) take on the importance that the speaker/you give/s it.

I liked the cameo appearances of Joyce and Rabelais – though I would have liked to have seen more conversation with them. It adds to the murky background of the speaker.

I further like the fact that you’ve kept to one setting. This isn’t a story which spans the entire city, and sometimes it’s nice to see something so contained. The Literary Café becomes a vast bustling place, full of highbrow intellectuals (and others).

I gather that this is a personal story, honouring your friend, which probably means that the authors/musicians mentioned strike a personal chord with her. It’s a nice effort, and needs only a little fleshing out.

:sun: