Reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog transported me back to the monotonous and mind-numbing moments of Literary Theory courses; those horrible hours filled with graduate students who were having love affairs with their own voice. Usually, their eagerness to prove their worth and IQ by stringing together infinitely tedious observations about Hegel, Kant, and life in general left me feeling like nihilism really was the only logical answer to the universe. It took about an hour of fresh air, some normal human conversation, and chocolate to rescue me from the swirling, black hole of graduate student philosophers. In my opinion, meandering observations and questions about the universe are better left to ones self. Muriel Barbery, author of this book and a professor of Philosophy, definitely didn't get this memo.
Boring and pretentious are the two words that best describe this book. Gifted, disturbed characters are usually interesting, but Renee and Paloma were such stuffy, self-absorbed, uninviting examples of "genius" (geniuses usually aren't very fun, I suppose) that I was rolling my eyes after the first couple of chapters. Renee has bad breath and a high IQ. Paloma is a privileged 12 year old who fantasizes about burning down her apartment and committing suicide when she turns 13. Hmmm. I'm beginning to see that International Bestseller's are highly overrated and I think I'm going to abandon the 21st Century for a while and go back to my beloved 19th century. The English countryside dotted with sheep, a barouche, dashing gentlemen in breeches, and a quadrille are just the thing to lift my spirits!
