I just need the anglophones to know that in french the expression "faire chanter [qqn]" lit. "to make [someone] sing" means to blackmail/extort someone.
The entirety of phantom of the opera is just a massive pun. You're welcome.
Lindsay Ellis Alladin vs. The thief and the Cobbler video (in relation to a discussion about orientalism)
The chronological error in chapter 22, noted by @fdelopera - Daroga asks Erik about the chandelier before Christine even sees Erik's face, let alone is kidnapped (which should happend for the first time right after the chandelier fall)
Notes from the different bookclub for chapters 22, 23 and 24 (this last one has an exellent model of Erik's room!)
Erik jokingly referring to his lake as the lake Avernus in Italy - reference to the entrance to the Underworld as per writers such as Vergil and Homer (this painting is by J. M. W. Turner)
The 'you great booby!' sentence and it's different translations from @paperandsong (it's still 'great booby' for me, no matter what Coward says)
Kyrie eleison is the start of a Roman catholic mass, and is in Greek - apparently, because Rome was essentially bilingual until 3-4th century AD, with most common folk (who formed the main audience of the church) speaking common Greek
The Hong Hoa Tham, the De Tham that Erik claims to have taught to use the reed breathing trick along with his troop of men, and which had helped them escape the authorities supposedly, - is actually a Viietnamese leader of revolutinary resistance who fought against the French occupation, and is currently viewed as a national hero in Vietnam (thank you Ribiere notes once again).
The beauty and the beast fairytale had been written in 1740 by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve , so Daroga might be referring to the actual fairytale
The difficulty of translating the 'genie' part of the 'I am not an angel nor a genie nor a ghost...I am Erik!' was discussed by WIll
I had not known thet Harry Houdini took his name in honour of Jean-Eugène Robert-Houdin - very cool
The torture chamber post from Alex! And another one!
as @englishmajorloser noted, the continuous poking by erik about the people with noses and how they fall into his torture chamber
How wet Erik is all the time!
Also, on reading @or-what-you-will's discussions of the translations - I hadn't even known what will-o'-the-wisp was, - both a ghostly, flickering light seen over the bogs, and a metaphore for the unatteinable (from chapter 1 I think) (painting by Hermann Hendrich).
And also an addition to the astrakhan cap discussion from the previous post
Alright time for my thoughts on this month's book!
Spoiler Free Thoughts
Pics come from the 1960s Swiss edition that I thrifted. It's funny to see what they put on the spine and the cover.
I really enjoyed this one! Actually even more than the first one, tbh. I found the plot had a bit more emotional engagement and I even found myself on the edge of my seat and turning pages quickly. There were also several moments that made me laugh! I think around the middle it definitely slowed down a bit and the pacing could have been better, but this is often an issue with serials that are republished as novels. I think it's interesting to see Leroux grow as a writer though and I'm really curious to see where things go next!
Spoiler Thoughts
Having read Phantom, one of the first things I noticed was the striking similarities between Rouletabille's backstory and Erik's! They both run away at a fairly young age, but we don't get nearly as much detail about Erik's backstory. From Rouletabille, we learn that as a child he travelled with the bohemians and the Romani, and that the Romani specifically thought that he was fleeing a side show that had him on display.
Later, Gaston Leroux writes himself into the story, meeting our young protagonist. This part made me laugh, especially where Leroux describes himself as such an inspiring journalist that young Rouletabille decided to follow in his footsteps. He even included a fictional article by himself about young Rouletabille fishing for oranges. There's thinly veiled self insert, but no he just had to go and full on name himself XD
This book was also far more personal, with Rouletabille discovering his parentage, but also revealing his father, Larsan, to be disguised as Darzac, the man who was supposed to marry his mother. And not only that, but that Larsan had Darzac committed, rather than immediately disposing of him. I enjoyed seeing how it played out, especially since it wasn't cut and dry as a lot of stories with this trope often are. The disguises were a fun detail, reflecting both on similar tropes we see with Erik disguising himself to go out, but also with Leroux himself who was known to put on disguises to interview prisoners in jail or to report on news from around the world.
The ending again was fascinating, breaking from some of the more formulaic murder mysteries (though the genre was still fairly fresh at this point) especially with the way that Rouletabille viewed the whole thing in such a practical, almost detached manner. It was more focused on what would have the lesser impact on Mathilde's life, rather than pursuing a traditional police justice. Rouletabille's attitude towards the whole affair definitely reminded me a bit of Sherlock Holmes in some ways, but also almost...messier? in a way. Like the previous book, it also wasn't specifically looking to catch a bad guy and throw him in jail.
Overall, I liked this one even more than the last, and I'm really looking forward to further getting to know Rouletabille and reading more about his adventures! Please feel free to share your own thoughts as well! Even if it's just a comment or a tag to say which book you preferred or whether or not you saw the ending coming.
Inspector Mifroid parallels with Simpsons cops; 'still, perhaps Inspector would not have been quite so pleased with himself if he'd known…'
that post about how PotO offers crazier explanations than any supernatural stuff would've been - thank you for finding it Alex!
@or-what-you-will's post on the astrakhan/karakul hat; I remember seeing them quite a bit in Soviet films and in general in life back home:
A discussion on how so much information and details were lifted by Leroux directly from real people's lives (some of it referred to in the previous notes, but there is so much more, - Carlotta, the Persian, literal real life people Leroux constantly mentions in the smaller episodes...)
A link to Edward Said's Orientalism from Alex @englishmajorloser - that was an interesting discussion; also, Lindsay Ellis's 'The most whitewashed character in literary history' on this topic
Older book club's notes on chapters 19, 20 and 21
How the Palais Gernier's underbelly's description sounds similar to descriptions of the levels of Hell, and the Persian leading Roul through them - of the trope of a knowling guide leading the hero through the labyrinths of the underworld @paper-faces
On the same note - I thought the desription of the Opera house like a magic dollhouse evoked the settin from the Phantom of the Opera from Theater in Quarantine! (see also their side by side backstage video)
Now, the note from Ribiere's translation regarding the Punjab lasso:
And my favourite - the description of the Communard's road! Here's the historical excerpt from @paperandsong on the mentions of the Commune in the book
I also wrote a short summary of the chronology of building the opera house, because I got confused at which point exactly Erik had his input into building it (and I am still uncertain regarding that part). Anyway, the Palais Garnier was commissioned by Napoleon the III and the construction started in 1861; he ordered to take down the building scaffolds in time fo the Exposition Universelle, the world fair in 1867, though the building was far from finished; then the 1870-71 Franco-Prussian war started, and between March and May 1871 the Paris Commune used the opera building as a military camp, prison, food distribution point, shelter, and temporary storage for munitions (I loved the passage about them using the opera room for sending the hot air balloons with their messages). In the aftermath of the war and the massacre of Commune there was little desire for the arts and investing in continuing the building. But, when in the 1873 Salle de Peletier, the main Paris opera house, burned down, and the city desperately needed to rehouse the opera, the building works recommenced, and the Palas Garnier finally opened its doors in 1875. Still would like to know at which point Erik comes into play, - or had he been there the whole time?
Some observations on gendered clothing items and accessories in the Phantom's wardrobe
Or, why some historical context reveals that quite a bit of it is traditionally womenswear, if you know what to look for. I wonder - was this intentional?
Most of this has been said better and in greater detail by other people, so please check out the reference links throughout this post! More than anything I am making this to compile the various sources in one place.
Onward to some extremely nerdy discussion!
Part 1 - hats
I will start with the easy one! In the musical, the Phantom wears four different hats - the fedora seen in the title song (which also reappears in the All I Ask of You Reprise), the winter officials' hat that goes with the dragon robe, the hat that forms part of the red death costume, and the feathered hat in the mausoleum scene.
Phantom hats galore! One of these is not like the others.
Of those, two are fancy-dress pieces - the winter officals' hat and the red death hat - and, surprisingly, the other two were actually both viewed as womens' headwear in the 1880s. Thank you to @or-what-you-will for giving some excellent detail on that point in this wonderful and very thorough post - I highly recommend giving it a read! I had always wondered if anyone else picked up on the womens' feathered hat detail, and I never knew the origins of the fedora! A surprise Sarah Bernhardt appearance! I love learning new things.
The likeliest explanation that I can come up with for the hat design choices is that none of the typically acceptable formal mens' hats of the era had a particularly wide brim, and were therefore not very useful in the pursuit of hiding one's face. Women, meanwhile, were expected to protect their skin from sun and weather damage, and therefore fashionable womens' hats often had a wider brim. That is just a guess though, so interpret this information as you see fit. One observation I will make is that it seems that the red death costume hat is drawing stylistic influence from the spanish cavalier hat, and as the hat in the mausoleum scene is similar in style, it is possible that was the inspiration there too. But there is nothing in the costume sketches to explain this specifically, and I have not seen it discussed anywhere either, so who knows.
Part 2 - the dragon robe
This is another really beautiful wardrobe piece and such a wonderful choice for communicating character details through costume. Within the world of the story, it is designed to be either an authentic court dress garment from China or an accurate replica of one, the likes of which were available for sale in western Europe as a domestic luxury item.
Qing dynasty court robe - image from Augusta Auctions.
The rank badges, diagonally striped lower border, and dragon motifs are consistent across both mens' and womens' court dress, and variations in colour were related to season, occasion, and rank, rather than gender. But there are two explicitly feminine items of clothing that appear in court dress in China during this era - the cloud collar motif and the fringed tabard - and both of these appear on the Phantom's costume.
Two examples of the dragon robe costume from west end - the left is one made from genuine antique materials for John Owen-Jones, the right is one made from modern replica materials a few years later, for Marcus Lovett. Both clearly show the cloud collar with its stiffened, scalloped edge, and the fact that this costume has a tabard-like construction with fringed trim at the lower hem. Both pictures via operafantomet.
A cursory glance at traditional court costume from China in this era reveals that the tabard-like overgarment seen above, usually with a fringe at the lower hem, was only worn by women. The cloud collar detail, however, is a little more challenging to track down accurate historical details about. I am very grateful to this article which I came across while browsing operafantomet's research into the same topic. In summary of the relevant points of the article - at the time of its origin several centuries earlier, the cloud collar motif appeared on clothing regardless of the gender of the wearer. However, by the Qing dynasty it seemed to have become a merely vestigial ornamentation in China, and was thus relegated to womens' clothing, the fashion for which was slower to change than that of mens' court dress and therefore adhered more closely to the mediaeval design -
"The cloud collar itself did survive for women's robes down into the Ch'ing period, since the women's costume was essentially more conservative: sometimes woven into the robe, more often appliqued, and sometimes detachable. But as this had become merely ornamental by the eighteenth century, with its original significance apparently forgotten, it became to all intents merely a background for trivial ornamentation, and at times even tended to lose its traditional shape."
So, at the time when the phantom story is set, the cloud collar was indeed an exclusively feminine article of clothing.
I then had a look through my copy of Auguste Racinet's Le Costume Historique, which I find to be an invaluable resource for understanding the contemporary european perception of traditional clothing from around the world (ie. it was published in the 1880s, so it shows how people living when phantom is set would have viewed these garments, without any 20th- or 21st- century bias. The caveat being that there is a large amount of dated and sometimes offensive language). These images are from the section on Qing dynasty China -
The image on the left shows a typical mens' robe from this era, complete with the embroidered square badge showing rank and the patterned lower border. I would love to know what the animal on the badge is meant to be! In the image on the right, note that the tabard-like overgarment, and similarly the cloud collar, is only worn by the women.
For completeness' sake, here is another image which shows the difference between mens' summer (left) and winter (right) attire -
The winter hat is also visible here! I am very curious about the capelet-like item on the right - it does not fit the definition of a cloud collar, but I do not know what else it might be and the description from the book is not specific enough to be useful in that regard. Any clues, anyone?
The illustrations from Le Costume Historique clearly support the notion that both the cloud collar and the fringed tabard were specifically female garments, even if the descriptions in the book do not explicate this. Maria Bjørnson clearly knew her stuff, so I will go ahead and assume this was a deliberate choice, which is even more fascinating.
In summary - the Phantom's comfy at-home lounging clothes? Also womenswear.
Part 3 - mourning traditions
With the exception of the red death costume in Masquerade, all of the Phantom's attire and accessories in the musical are black - a choice which strongly evokes the tradition of mourning attire in 19th-century France. The point of this post is not to investigate the why behind this choice (there has been plenty of discussion about that too, all of it interesting, but I will resist the temptation to go into that here or this will never get finished). What is both fascinating and relevant to this post, however, is that mourning attire conventions in western Europe in the late 19th century were both elaborate and strict, and while rules existed for all genders and ages, the extended and extravagant display of grief through clothing accessories that appears in the Phantom's wardrobe was only done by women at the time.
The visual design of the musical really runs with the idea that the Phantom is perpetually in a state of mourning, as evidenced by props and accessories that would also have demonstrated this at the time the story is set. He seems to stick to this behaviour well beyond the permissible extent of the mourning period for men in 1880s France, which would be a fairly bold statement in the story's historical context. As an example, the "notes" sent by the Phantom in the musical all have a black border, which was an expected feature of correspondence sent by someone recently bereaved -
The French word used for this black border is even etymologically related to an antiquated term for a grieving woman (link in German as there is no equivalent English-language article, sorry! Image from operafantomet, as usual)
In essence, the Phantom is the 1880s equivalent of a goth girlie. Even his one colourful costume - the red death - is still, you know, about death. But jokes aside, some very interesting things bubble to the surface when looking at the Phantom's wardrobe in the context of late 19th-century mourning attire, particularly with regard to gender norms and how the 'performative' aspect of this tradition differed between men and women.
Firstly, there were much stricter stipulations about mourning attire for women and children than there were for men, and womens' mourning was much more publicly obvious - partially because mens' mourning differed significantly less from their ordinary dress. In formal situations men generally wore black anyway, the only main difference being the colour of the waistcoat. Interestingly, the expected duration of the mourning period was actually considerably less in France than elsewhere in Europe - so by engaging in mourning traditions in an attention-grabbing manner, and for a length of months or years, the Phantom is definitely making a point, and a gender-non-typical one at that.
One clothing item that throws a spanner in the works is the bead-embroidered cloak - it most closely resembles a woman's opera cloak. The beading decoration on the back and across the shoulders was never seen in mens' attire of this era. Even the spanish cloak, which was an exclusively masculine garment and was very popular throughout western Europe at the end of the 19th century, is not decorated with this kind of embellishment. Faceted black beads were seen as acceptable decorations for women in the later stages of mourning, for those who wanted to add some embellishment to their wardrobe but still retain the black hue for the requisite mourning period. Many of the cloaks used in the stage show are actually decorated with authentic jet beads from exactly this kind of mourning dress - which, may I reiterate, was only worn by women.
Beaded appliques made from antique jet on the oh-so-sparkly cloak - west end, US, and west end again.
Similarly, the pocket watch chain that appears on a few Phantom costumes has a black beaded chain - at the time both gold and silver chains were common for men, but black was not. Where black beaded chains do appear historically is on womens' chatelaines.
Bringing up the colour of the Phantom's waistcoat feels a lot like beating a dead horse in this community, and other people have made excellent posts about the historical context of black waistcoats and white-tie dress in the 1880s, so I am not going to reiterate all that here. What I will say is that I am surprised at not having seen this colour choice mentioned in the context of mourning attire. It would have been inappropriate, for instance, for a man to wear any colour waistcoat other than black to attend a funeral in late-19th-century France, and given what I have outlined above in terms of the Phantom's penchant for mourning traditions, I do wonder if this at least partially informed the decision to give him a black waistcoat rather than white or cream.
Basically what the above all boils down to is that while mourning dress was observed by both men and women in 1880s France, there were strong differences between the two based on gender, and the way that the Phantom engages with mourning attire, accessories, and behaviours is far more closely aligned with what was expected of women at the time.
Closing thoughts
To conclude, I think that whether this all means anything really depends on whether one chooses to believe that the use of traditionally feminine clothing in the Phantom's costume pieces was a deliberate design choice. While the cynical angle exists that (like in many period TV dramas) it was simply an oversight, the fact that there are several instances which come from vastly different contextual backgrounds means that I am strongly tempted to say that it was an intentional decision on Maria Bjørnson's part. Why - we may never know.
Thematically, the story certainly does explore the concept of gender and gendered expectations, in multiple ways. In my mind there is something to be said for the fact that the costume pieces with unexpected gendered connotations turn up when he is pretending to be an angel or some otherworldly entity - deprived of mysterious pretenses, the Phantom does end up being simply a man in fairly gender-typical attire, and he does, of course, wear a mens' suit that challenges no gender expectations whatsoever for most of the musical. (Historically the suit is also weird, by the way. But delving into that is for a different post).
With regard to the phantom story more broadly, there are definitely other discussions to be had about gender, gender expression, and how that can lead to assumptions based on appearances. Again, these are all things that have been said elsewhere and better by people other than me. I think it is interesting how these themes translated into the visual design for the musical - whether consciously or not - and how that may inform what an audience takes away about the characters based on the clothing that they wear.
Of course, to an audience with only a superficial familiarity with historical and global fashion history, all this is going to read simply as 'old-timey clothes with lots of texture and sparkle' and to be clear, that is essential as well - one of the things that stuns me time and time again about Maria Bjørnson's designs for this production is how faultlessly she achieves that difficult balance of portraying accuracy and showing character detail through costume for the well-informed, while also creating designs that speak to an audience with no background knowledge of clothing history whatsoever. It is a monumental achievement.
I hope this has been an interesting read. If you have questions or comments or further sources to add - please say hello! As always, I would love to hear others' contributions.
Welcome to our first ever Leroux Book Club book! This month we are starting with one of Leroux's most famous books:
Le Mystère de la chambre jaune // The Mystery of the Yellow Room
Le Mystère de la chambre jaune was first published Sept 7-Nov 30 1907 as a serial in L'Illustration and is the first book in Leroux's Rouletabille mystery series.
It was first published as a novel in 1908 and first translated into english the same year by an unknown translator. It was also translated into english in 2009 by Jean-Marc Lofficier and Randy Lofficier with the title: Rouletabille and The Mystery of the Yellow Room.
You can find copies of both the french and english on Project Gutenberg:
I have finished the book and have some thoughts to share!
I'll do these posts divided into two sections, the beginning will be spoiler free and then below the cut I'll put the spoilers, especially since so many of Leroux's books are mysteries.
Spoiler Free Thoughts
The edition that I read was part of the set I thrifted, which was published in Switzerland in the 1960s. It has illustrations which I'll share below the spoiler cut as well.
I really liked the book! I used to read a ton of murder mysteries, to the point that I started getting annoyed with them because I was figuring out what would happen too early or they all started to feel samey, but I found this one to be pretty fun and took an approach that was familiar but not too worn in.
I really appreciated the humanness of the characters and the complexity of the situation. Leroux also has a really cheeky sense of humour and that definitely showed up in this. However, I do still think there were some pacing issues and some things that were very long and explainy. It's hard to say if this is due to it originally being a serial, but at times it felt like there were a lot of explanations for things without anything happening and then everything happening all at once.
Spoiler Thoughts
The book opens in a similar way to phantom, with the narrator asking us to remember some crazy affair and how we are about to hear the full story and learn first hand what really happened all those years ago. I have a feeling this is going to be a pattern of his...
Rouletabille is a fun character, he's an 18 year old genius reporter who somehow manages to charm his way into a crime scene by telling them he's a theatre critic. I thought this was a fun nod to Leroux's work as a theatre critic and also his penchant for pretending to be an anthropologist in order to interview people in jail and share their stories. He even managed to clear a few names this way, and I totally see some of the self insert bits in Rouletabille.
One of the things I loved was how Leroux mentions both Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes and Edgar Allen Poe's The Murders in the Rue Morgue, both authors he's talked about loving. It makes it even funnier in context as the narrator is roasting police detectives, complaining about how everyone now thinks they can solve mysteries like Sherlock Holmes and it's making the police worse at their jobs XD
And of course the incompetency of the police continues throughout, with the narrator and likely Leroux reminding us how many innocents have been thrown in jail as a result.
I also liked how it ended with "justice" but not in the arrest and jail kind of ending but with a more complex situation. The bit where Rouletabille lets him escape and talks about how his justice is different from the way the legal system might see justice is really interesting and also takes into account more what Mathilde would have wanted and preserving some of her dignity in the process.
And those are my thoughts from the first book! I'll be back on the 1st to announce next month's book, but in the meantime I'd love to hear your thoughts as well!
Today I want to talk about a fun book detail from Phantom. The passage in question is from the masked ball chapter:
This ball was an exceptional celebration, given before shrovetide, in honour of the birthday of a renowned illustrator of the festivities of yesteryear, an emulator of Gavarni, whose pencil had immortalized the “chicards” and the decent of the Courtille. Thus, it must have had a more joyful, nosier, and more bohemian atmosphere than the ordinary masked balls. Many artists were in attendance, followed by a whole accompaniment of models and art students who, around midnight, began to make a huge racket.
Some of the details about the artists were cut from the de mattos translation. I’m assuming this was because they are more specifically french cultural details and references that de mattos or the publisher thought wouldn’t have been obvious to anglophone readers without context. But they are really fun details, so I am going to give them the footnote they deserve (honestly this was a whole can of worms that I was not expecting so please come on this wild ride with me).
Paul Gavarni
Paul Gavarni was the pen name of Sulpice Guillaume Chevalier who was a really famous French illustrator/caricaturist. He did a lot of satire cartoons in the newspapers as well as book illustrations for authors such as Honoré de Balzac, one of Leroux’s favourite authors.
Honoré Daumier
Leroux doesn’t give us a name for the artist whose birthday is being celebrated at the masquerade, however, he does tell us that he uses a similar style to Gavarni and that he was known for drawing the “chicards” and the “descent of the Courtille,” which has led me to the artist Honoré Daumier, who was another very famous illustrator/caricaturist, and whose birthday falls on February 26, which is usually right before the time that lent begins (marked by Shrovetide).
In 1878, there was an exhibition of his work at the 1878 World Fair/Universal Exposition, which Victor Hugo was the president of. February 1878 was also Daumier’s 70th birthday and there were several articles in the news discussing his work and contributions to French art.
Source: Gallica/BNF
This article was published on Jan 5, 1878 in L’Illustration (coincidentally also the magazine where Leroux would later publish The Mystery of the Yellow Room). It talks about his connections to Gavarni, shares a quote from Balzac comparing him to Michelangelo, and details his love of boating and how he eventually lost his sight.
Can of Worms 1: What are the “chicards”?
In English the cultural equivalent of a Chicard is a harlequin or jester of sorts, kind of like Pierrot, a clown character used in commedia dell’arte. The Chicard was essentially a character that would be dressed up in a crazy random costume, characterized by a hat with a tall feather, and would perform dances at the Paris carnivals in the mid 19th century. The costume was created by Alexandre Lévêque and took on the nickname Chicard because of its fashion or “chic.”
A series of different characters emerged at this time, each with their own associations and characteristic costume. Chicard was considered to be a very wild and expressive merchant, while Pritchard was more serious. There was also Queen Pomare and Mogador, and the rival of Chicard, Balochard. People began to dress as these characters and throw large parties where they would dance and parade in wild, dramatic, and often crude ways under the anonymity of their costumes.
In 1842 both Gavarni and Daumier illustrated a book called Physiologie du chicard which documents the idiosyncrasies of this character along with caricatures.
Can of Worms 2: What is the decent of the Courtille?
The “Descente de la Courtille” is essentially a parade that took place in Paris in the mid 19th century that was similar to Mardi Gras or Brazilian Carnival. On Ash Wednesday, people would get drunk and dress up in costumes and then parade from the city gates of Paris down through the streets to Place de l'Hôtel-de-Ville.
The first decent was started by the Cirque Moderne in 1822, when they paraded into the city after all the cafes and dance halls closed on Ash Wednesday and their carnival was all packed up. Newspapers and personal accounts from the time describe the event as pure chaos.
Welcome to our first ever Leroux Book Club book! This month we are starting with one of Leroux's most famous books:
Le Mystère de la chambre jaune // The Mystery of the Yellow Room
Le Mystère de la chambre jaune was first published Sept 7-Nov 30 1907 as a serial in L'Illustration and is the first book in Leroux's Rouletabille mystery series.
It was first published as a novel in 1908 and first translated into english the same year by an unknown translator. It was also translated into english in 2009 by Jean-Marc Lofficier and Randy Lofficier with the title: Rouletabille and The Mystery of the Yellow Room.
You can find copies of both the french and english on Project Gutenberg:
