Belgae, belgaeing, belgone! *

What fun! It was great to do this again. Learning a language is a great exploration. There is always a new perspective. While there were other things I wanted to read in Dutch, and one I was reading before starting this book, I had not thought of Belgium in 1933. I think that learning a language forces you to be more open. As I wrote in the last blog, books are marketed to facilitate judging them by their covers. It's harder to do that in another language. This is not a book I would have chosen on my own. Where Dutch is concerned, I have to be even more open than I do in other languages. Such material is hard to find in Southern California. I read whatever there is.

In some ways, this book was more challenging than De eeuw van mijn vader (My Father's Century). Kaas is fiction. Fiction assumes a lot of prior knowledge. There you are, suddenly in the author's world. By contrast, nonfiction assumes that you don't know. When I started this book, I knew it took place in the Depression. I did not know about the position of Flemish people in relation to Belgian Francophones and their fellow Dutch speakers across the border in the Netherlands. It was easy relating to Frans Laarmans, his hard work and his dreams of better things for himself and his family. Having started a business and worked on someone else's start-up, I can say that Willem Elsschot got the atmosphere of such things exactly right. The business world is a place where people go to reinvent themselves. It means membership in all sorts of clubs and artificial elites where everyone is glad to be there.

Linguistically, I made a lot of progress, but I tried too hard. I have kept listening to Dutch language media as I did before. I understand more, but I am not a fluent listener. Reading is much easier. Dutch syntax and verb conjugations are starting to sink in. I don't know every word, but I know what part of speech every word is. Still, reading in such a new language can be daunting. I agonized for a long time over Laarmans' name. After I was halfway through, I read over the inner cover flap for the first time. There it was.

Before starting this book, I had gotten about halfway through Bill Bryson's Het verloren continent (The Lost Continent), which I had read in the original. Because I was familiar with the book, I read straight through, as I would in English. Reading known material in another language helps you focus on language learning. Because I am a translator, I also noticed what choices were made in rendering Bryson's work into Dutch. I would not have converted the distances into kilometers. That was jarring.

As you learn a language, you develop some affinity for where it's spoken. Before I started, I found myself rooting for Belgium. The urge to visit came together with the need so many commercials have for parodies and my own background in advertising. There is an orthodoxy that says all vacations must have perfect weather. Belgium's current campaign to attract visitors is a disaster. I went to work and had a great time.

There were two commercials that never made it. I couldn't work them out, but one is worth mentioning. It featured a disappointed family at a ski resort. They would love to see beautiful scenery but are confronted with the mountain problem. Everywhere they look, mountains get in the way of what would otherwise be an expansive view. Long lines and high prices for bad quality ski resort food make their vacation worse. Both problems are solved when the family decides to go to Belgium. It's easier to see more of Belgium's flatter landscape. Belgian food is a major improvement.

From here, it's on to other books.

*The title of this post is a pun. It combines the Latin word for the Belgian people and what baseball announcers say during a home run. "It's going, going, gone!"

Chapter 24

This is the shortest chapter in the book. It is one page long. Laarmans is back at home, where Edam cheese is no longer served. The faces are relaxed, and he is grateful for his wife and children as they are.

With this, the book ends. This blog ends in a few days.

Chapter 23

In a way, this chapter takes us back to the beginning. Frans Laarmans is headed to the cemetery, where he goes every year. This is the first year he's going to see both parents.

On the way there, he buys some flowers. As in the beginning of the book, he is far from perfect. While carrying them around, he wonders about how he looks to others. Is he beyond reproach, or is the bouquet so big that he looks silly? Similarly, once he is before his parents' graves, he makes a conscious effort to grieve in the correct way, doffing his hat for a minute of silence.

While looking around for their graves, there is some surprise grief as he passes by the marker that reveals the existence of a second daughter who died as a little girl.

Once again, Dick Matena's scenery brilliantly adds to the story without being distracting. My favorite scene is on p. 279. We see Frans from the side, and he is looking away. Our attention is directed to what he is looking at, a grey scene of hats, umbrellas and bowed heads as Antwerp gets pounded by rain and snow.

Chapter 21

Two out of three.

Laarmans begs off again, citing illness. In this very short chapter, he sends in his resignation to Hornstra, "For health reasons." Three days later, he gets a letter from his rep in Bruges saying that sales are going well. "Perhaps I'll get my five percent."

Chapter 20

Back to work.

In this short chapter, Frans Laarmans returns to his old job. He is hailed by everyone, and he settles into his old desk and routine. It becomes clear that he was well liked and had friendships there.

I found this chapter unusual in a way. In the stories I have seen in this vein, the protagonist either goes straight to the top of his new profession or sets a new record for depths of ruin. Willem Elsschot takes a more realistic approach. While the cheese venture didn't go well, some sales were made. The old job may have been a dream crusher, but it wasn't so bad that he couldn't go back.

Dick Matena's drawings show what has changed and stayed the same since 1933. The office interiors at General Marine look like any modern office in an old building. Just add computers, and you're in 2010. The exteriors are another matter. Outside, there is the heavy cast iron, steel and brickwork of old industrial Europe.

Chapter 19

This is another poignant chapter, but there is some comic relief. Mr. and Mrs. Laarmans get a visit from Mr. Hornstra. Rather than face the owner of the cheese company, they hide behind drawn curtains.

While Mr. Hornstra is looking in to see if anyone is home, Mrs. Peeters helps out by pressing her face to the doorbell and ringing it herself. Horstra offers her cash, but she turns it down.

At the end, Mr. and Mrs. Laarmans cry together, alone. It's as if the whole world has been blotted out. It is always nice to see some love between them.

On another note, while I'm against filling in back stories and making this longer on film, I have to say that Mrs. Peeters has the greatest potential for a spinoff. She is the classic nosey and annoying neighbor, long before such things became cliches. She could carry her own project.

How to promote Cheese, a graphic novel in English.

1. Send Dick Matena and his drawings to Comic-Con. This is where most of the likely audience can be reached. There are lots of similar events.

2. Promote to the academic world. This helps build prestige. Belgian literature is not well known here.

3. Promote to the art world. Art in museums always gets respect. Print signings at galleries would also be a good idea.

4. Do cross promotions with other Belgian products. Beer congescenti would be especially receptive. Belgian chocolate is also a good starting point. Also, there is travel, which always attracts attention. "Win a trip to Willem Elsschot's Antwerp!" The same trip could also be raffled off as Dick Matena's Antwerp, depending on whether the promotion emphasized the text or the drawings. So far, I have been able to pair the book's cover and a scene where Laarmans takes a nighttime walk in Chapter 14 with photos of the Brabo Statue.

5. Finally, cheese should be served at all promotional events. Dutch Edam cheese is a must, because it is mentioned so much in the book. Belgian cheese is also a must, even though the book concerns imported cheese from the Netherlands. With the book's title and origin, people will expect it.

Chapter 18

This is one of the longest, most poignant chapters in the book. As a result, it's hard to read.

It opens with another cliche endemic to stories of failing businesses. This time, it's a man proposing a complicated takeover deal.

Laarmans feels like an idiot. He takes stock of everything, looking at his office and everything in it. He continues in this vein, heading for the basement, where he repackages his cheese to send it away in a taxi. Half a ball of Edam is positioned flat side down, so that the crate will look complete at first glance.

From there he goes walking through a rainy Antwerp, stopping at a bar. There is a great interior monologue about his responsibilities to his family. He is very remorseful over what has happened. Best line: If I weren't such a miserable free thinker, I wouldn't have a prayer.

It is during this walk that Dick Matena shows his mastery. While the text is strictly internal, Matena sends Laarmans walking through Antwerp without being distracting. The reader gets into the text, looking on the people around Laarmans with a bit of wonder and envy, the way a person under a lot of stress might. Are they going through all this? Are their lives any better? There are enough extras in this story to make one wonder, but they offer no consolation nor additional pain. The protagonist is still very much alone.

Chapter 17

This is one of the book's shortest chapters, coming in at 3 pages.

Frans Laarmans is back at home, and his kids are fighting. His son has sold a case of cheese. He taunts his younger sister, because she hasn't sold any. She finally physically attacks him.

The chapter ends as Frans intervenes by sending his son to his room and kissing his daughter.

Chapter 16

Frans Laarmans is never confident. Each piece of news is greeted with an internal, "Oh no," and panic. The chapter begins with a letter from Hornstra, the Dutch company he sells for. They're coming for an inspection. His panic leads to a cliche well known to employees of sinking companies: He goes to a consultant. He describes himself as, "Like a man going behind his doctor's back and running off to a quack."

The advice given is fairly standard. He is told to carry himself with confidence, and speak as though he had the backing of the entire Dutch cheese industry.

From there he goes to a cheese shop, and stops to gaze in the window. His visit is ill-timed, coming when the store is clogged with customers. He tries again when it's empty. He tries again, with a perfected pitch that is not understood. He wonders why this only happens when he tries to sell something.

Still, he gets a meeting with the boss. He is ushered into the office, where an order is placed for 14 tons. Then, the boss finds out that Frans is with Hornstra and decides to forget the whole thing.

Chapter 15

The action begins at Van Schoonbeke's perpetual party. For Laarmans, the endless congratulations are wearing thin. He senses that any prestige is for his host, not for him. Van Schoonbeke ups the ante by proclaiming to all that Frans Laarmans is the new chairman of the cheese trade association.

The next morning, he gets a letter confirming what he was told. From there, he meets with four other members who have been in the business their whole lives. They go to a meeting with a government minister, who proposes that 10% of their profits go to local cheesemakers.

Frans blows up, saying that he has, "Had enough." Surprisingly, the minister proposes a better deal, and the cheese men thank him on the way out.

Before the meeting, he had tried to beg off for the reason that got him a leave from his old job, illness. Afterwards, he asks if his chairmanship has come to an end. "We don't need you anymore," is the ominous reply.

Is this a new genre?

Maybe it's at least a new subgenre. If this is not a new idea, it's definitely different. I would call it a, "Graphics added novel." The original text of Willem Elsschot's work is there in its entirety. Dick Matena drew around it.

Chapter 14

I have always been fascinated by the difference between period pieces and works produced at the time. With too many TV channels, everything is a rerun, but it's still easy to tell the difference. Period pieces fixate on details people want to remember. Watch Mad Men, and you'll see the camera linger on the furniture. Cars are beautiful, and the camera lingers there too. For contrast, watch Breakfast at Tiffany's. Cars and furniture show up in the background, and they stay there. Although the movie was clearly made at the time, it was as well produced as Mad Men. The attitude towards its surroundings gives it away. In Breakfast cars are polished, but many of them are ugly. Off-brand makes and models show up. Cars simply go by, as they do in real life.

Dick Matena's adaptation of Kaas falls into both categories. The text was written in 1933, while the drawings were copyrighted in 2008. To his credit, Matena does not beat The Depression to death. He could have populated his drawings with the Belgian equivalents of veterans selling apples and, "Brother, can you spare a dime?" but he didn't. Instead, he stayed true to the author's vision of the events as they unfolded. As a result, I was a bit surprised to finally see The Depression become part of the story in Chapter 14.

Until he leaves his job at General Marine, Frans Laarmans lives in a closed world. He goes home and to work. When his mother dies, he meets different people, and his world starts to open. He decides there might be more money and glory in the cheese business.

In this Chapter, his world opens enough for him to see society's margins. All sorts of people come to his house, looking for jobs or a ball of cheese. Even his youngest brother-in-law shows up, a diamond cutter trying to live in an era when work is way down.

From there, Frans goes to Brussels to look in on his reps. He is unable to find either of them. One would seem to have given a bogus address, though the mail gets there. He goes to the other's house, only to find a man who says he's, "Not interested in the cheese story."

Chapter 13

This chapter has a lot of comedy, like a 1960s movie. It begins with some irony, as he goes to visit his neighbor, Mrs. Peeters. She is sick in bed, looking very ill. In Chapter 11, Frans had been put off by her nosiness. He had said, "As far as I'm concerned, Mrs. Peeters can drop dead!"

From there, the chapter goes on in the same vein, with too many people coming over at the wrong times and saying the wrong things. The only thing missing from the movies that would popularize this later is the long hallway, with excess people running in and out of the rooms, opening and closing doors.

The first visitor was his brother. After listening to a summary of the business, he points out that it will take 30 years to sell the first shipment of cheese.

Then, he decides to double down, and he runs an ad looking for salesmen. Tons of letters come in. The doorbell rings, and it's people from his old job, with some commemorative gifts. They hope he'll come back.

The chapter ends with his wife wistfully cooking dinner.

Chapter 12

Chapter 12 is a triumph of polyphony. The interaction set up between the text and illustrations is masterful. Matena's drawings show what happens to Frans as he walks around Antwerp. Meanwhile, Frans' thoughts are in the office at his old job, tracking the day's progress.

In this chapter, Frans starts pounding the pavement to sell his cheese. He is soon distracted by his earlier obsession of getting office accessories. He starts looking for a desk and a typewriter to go with his stationery. To help his sales, he buys a St. Joseph statue, which he soon discards, leaving it on a windowsill.

After a day of aimless walking around, he takes some cheese to Von Schoonbeke's, where it meets with great approval. His image starts to become undone when he asked about GAFPA's other products. He doesn't want to tell the truth, that he only sells cheese.

Chapter 11

Frans goes home. There is one crate of cheese for sampling. There is no ceremony, but great anticipation as they finally open it and taste it.

His brother walks in as usual, and he says it's the best cheese he's ever tasted.

Frans himself is the one person who doesn't want any. He tries it because everyone is looking.

The chapter closes with his brother pointing out that Frans needs to get started. They will be expecting him to sell lots of cheese, and this order is just the beginning. From there, he heads out into the streets of Antwerp.

Chapter 10

This was a short chapter, but the reading was slow going.

Frans takes delivery of his load of cheese. While trying to look like he's in charge, it becomes apparent to everyone that he's a rookie. He questions the delivery expenses and the opened crate. One of the warehouse men explains that the crate was opened by customs. He also hears that there was a "gift" along the way, and that the manifest is falsified, with less high tax cheese written up than is actually included.

Once again, there is more great scenery. The warehouse is a giant underground room, with a big arch. Frans also goes walking in the port area, where we get to see more people, machinery and fog.

While I have joked a lot about Belgian weather, Matena's drawings point to how Belgium might be promoted. In current travel advertising, there is a prevailing orthodoxy that everything has to be a bright tropical day or a sunny ski trip. Matena's Belgium has a calm cool beauty that would translate well to travel posters and a larger campaign.

Some Observations

I wonder what inspired Dick Matena to make Kaas into a graphic novel. Was it the movies? It's hard to say, never having seen any of them. The main character and his brother look exactly like pictures of Elsschot himself at different stages of his life. I'm guessing it wasn't the movies.

It's hard to say what moves an artist. I suppose Matena was born to draw, and he was able to visualize Kaas as a graphic novel.

That being said, it's a great achievement. This is not a visual story at all. Most of the action takes place inside Frans' head. He thinks over social situations and wonders what is on the minds of others. There is almost no action. Still, as I wrote about Chapter 6, the reactions and expressions of the letter reader fit remarkably well. The drawings bring Antwerp in the 30s alive with great detail. Matena's other artistic achievement is that he knows when to stop drawing. His visuals help carry the story forward, but they are never cluttered.
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Because this book is relatively short, there is a lot of room for back stories. Again, I hope anyone who adapts the graphic novel to the cinema resists the temptation to fill in details as to the achievement gap between the brothers and why the doctor seems to be a bachelor. Any such additions would make the story drag.
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It seems that for Frans, being Flemish adds weight to his almost hapless existence. As the book begins, he works for an English company. The big boss is a Francophone. The cheese business happens in Dutch, but it's across the border in Amsterdam. Although it was a big modern city, Elsschot's Antwerp was a backwater.

Chapter 9

This post also includes the end of Chapter 8.

It seems that my volume is a collectors' edition. There are missing pages. In their place, pages from earlier in the book are reprinted. Anyway, I got through it using links from deBuren. The drawings and the complete text are free on the web. They are also great tools for anyone who wants to follow along and lives in an area where Dutch language books are hard to find.

Chapter 8 ends with the protagonist's bossy wife getting accustomed to using the phone to harangue local businesses.

Chapter 9 opens with another trip to Van Schoonbeke's, where he gets to show off his new stationery.

All of his holding forth comes to a halt as his kids show up. The cheese he ordered is due to arrive. Suddenly, he's like the speculator joked about in economics classes, faced with taking delivery of an impossibly large order of a commodity. From there, it's back home, where everyone remains mad at him.

In this chapter, his wife addresses him directly, and we find out that his name is Frans.

One thing I don't quite understand is how he refers to his daughter. He says, "She looked like a hinny.*" At another point, she is referred to as, "The young donkey in question." I wonder if this is particular to Elsschot or if referring to little girls this way is a common Belgianism. I remember a Spanish teacher who talked of her days learning English with dismay, "Why should clams be happy?**"

*A hinny is a hybrid animal similar to a mule, but it is made from the opposite gender combination of horse and donkey.

**In Spanish the saying is, "Happy as a worm." Feliz como una lombriz.

Chapter 8

I have always liked scenery. I started watching for it when I bought a used travel book with a 1957 postcard of Veracruz inside. Shortly after that, I saw the movie Danzón. It's about a woman in Mexico City whose dance partner disappears. She goes to Veracruz to look for him. She falls in love with someone else, and the camera leaves her and her new acquaintance alone to wander the city.

In Chapter 8, Dick Matena takes us on a walk through Antwerp. While the main character is thinking of what to name his company, we go people watching. There are people running errands, walking their dogs, and chatting. The scenery behind the inner dialog is fantastic.

The decision process runs through Dutch names, French and finally, English. He settles on the far from idiomatic "General Antwerp Feeding Products Association," whose acronym, "GAFPA" appears to sound good in Dutch. He translated a slightly deceptive cognate too literally. It should have been, "Food Products..." In the context of 1933, the name he chose sounds like a company selling accessories for feeding livestock, though the word would have been, "Feed." In a modern context, it sounds like a specialized medical supply house that would sell products having to do with G-tubes, which as far as I can tell, were invented in 1979. In considering names, he goes up the local socioeconomic scale, from Dutch to French to English. His old job was at an English company run by a Francophone.

In a surprisingly modern twist, we see him deciding on a home office, instead of one in the city. He proudly orders a phone, letterhead stationery and some office supplies.

In this chapter, there is a break in his wife's unwavering dismay and skepticism. We see her resigned to go along for the ride.

There is an interesting bit where he decides on a telegram address, consisting of a few letters. The format makes me wonder how technology took a different route in Europe. American telegrams were sent to physical addresses, while what he is mulling over looks more like what would evolve into Telex in later years. I vaguely remember hearing of Telex as a child, but when I went to Europe for the first time, it seemed like every business had a phone and Telex number.