Vidya Iyer

Bookpacking Alphabet

This trip has been more formative and experiential than I could have ever imagined: I truly did not anticipate learning so much not only about literature and these cities, but also about life, and the ways in which I would like to live it.I have gained so much knowledge about myself, and have realized that, at some point in my life, I would love to live in both London and Paris. I love both of these cities so much now, and I am so excited to try and learn some French so I can be prepared the next time I find myself here. I was thinking about what to do for my last blog, and I thought of the idea to make a bookpacking alphabet: each letter with something(s) from bookpacking or the books or my personal adventures in London and Paris. Here it is!

Stained glass in the Eglise Saint-Severin

A is for 

  • Asking for things in French when I know that I won’t be able to understand their answer 

  • Avenue des Gobelins, next to the Gorbeau tenement.

B is for 

  • Barricade, of course

  • Baron Hausmann and his big boulevards

  • Brick Lane and the Bangladeshi community

C is for 

  • Cosette and Lucie, the paragons of purity and light as written by their respective male authors. They are too young to be married, according to me, and too blonde for a personality, according to Dickens and Hugo.

D is for 

  • Darkness into Light: Thenardier “rescuing” Jean Valjean rescuing Marius in the sewer, Jean Valjean revealing his identity in court, Javert taking his life

E is for

  • Eros and Psyche embracing in the Louvre with such love and devotion as if they aren’t being stared at by tourists from across the world; very French of them.

F is for

  • Fortnum and Masons tea parlor and luxury foods

  • 70 famines in India in 200 years of British colonialism

G is for

  • The Gherkin…

H is for

  • Hotel de Ville, where executions used to take place and the blood spilled and lives taken can be felt in the ground

I is for

  • Intimacy, where the French seem to thrive and their reputations precede them

  • Les Invalides, Napoleon Bonaparte’s massive mausoleum where his massive tomb sits in a crypt beneath a sunny fresco. He has a great view, but I can’t seem to think he is very happy in his death; the tomb itself conjures images of being pressed to death.

J is for

  • Jarvis Lorry, up in Temple Bar, scribbling away at some financial report with heads staked outside his window

  • Jarvis Lorry, in St-Germain-de-Pres, watching the Parisian mob sharpen their bloody instruments of death covered in rags and odd clothes, equally bloodied.

K is for

  • King Louis XIV and his Palace of Versailles, King Louis XVII and his Palace of the Tuileries, the Reign of Terror, and the return to the monarchy after it all.

L is for 

  • Lightness into Dark: Fantine’s descent into poverty, watching Marius choose to join Enjolras on the barricade, _____

  • Liberty Leading the People, at the risk of being trite.

M is for

  • Musée De L’Orangerie: every piece of art I have ever made, I am convinced, is inspired by Monet’s Water lilies. Ever since the first time I saw these paintings in a book or magazine when I was a child, I think that they have lived in my mind and informed every color, brushstroke, line, and word in everything I’ve ever created.

N is for

  • Nighttime: the ways in which a city changes when the sun goes down

O is for

  • Opulence, and all its manifestations: in Buckingham Palace, in Versailles, in tea parlors, in luxury brand department stores. Ostentatious displays in 1789 and in 2023

  • The Opera; if I were a phantom, I would haunt this place too.

  • Old money

P is for

  • Peter Pan-funded Great Ormond Street Children's Hospital

  • Perseverance, as was needed on some of the longer, hotter, colder, or rainier afternoon excursions 

Q is for

  • Quaint streets in both Paris and London, with old stone facades, trailing ivy, adorable awnings, cobblestone paths, old books, and signs whose origins span centuries.

R is for

  • Russell Square station, right by our London accommodations, and Russell Square Gardens, which we walked through to get to the station.

S is for 

  • Stained glass

  • Sainte Chapelle 

  • Saint Germain 

  • Saint Antoine 

  • Saint Severin 

  • Saint Sulpice 

  • Snow, John

T is for

  • Tavistock Square and Virginia Woolf’s bust, aghast

U is for

  • Underground: the trains, the sewers, the crypts, the Catacombs

V is for 

  • Victor Hugo’s crypt in the Pantheon or Victor Hugo’s house or Victor Hugo Avenue  

  • Vidya takes on London and Paris, alternatively

W is for 

  • West End’s Sondheim theater and leaning over the row in front of us to see Les Miserables on stage

  • Westminster Abbey and the poets corner; did any of those people really want to be buried there?

X is for 

  • Xenophobia: I’m thinking about the ways in which Paris and France have cemented themselves as places for refugees and immigrants from across the world to go to, but yet is one of the most anti-immigrant places in the world. After going to the mosque, the idea of Frenchness as the primary identity was a little terrifying.

Y is for 

  • Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, where Charles Dickens ate his meals and I had fish and chips for the first time; I’m still not sure how to feel about it.

Z is for 

  • zed

Uncomfortable Stuff: Spirituality and the Universe

After going to the Grand Parisian Mosque, I couldn’t help but think about the comparisons between “Eastern” and “Western” religions. The Mosque was beyond beautiful: multicolored tiles, intricate sculpture and design, three different gardens, fountains, sunlight, greenery, and so much more. I think back to some of the churches we have gone to with a similar touristy appeal: they too were intricately tiled, sculptured, and painted. However, these places were silent, dark, high-ceilinged, somewhat mournful, and all indoors, for the most part. Some churches had outdoor spaces, but these were usually cemeteries or stone courtyards. The stained glass windows added so much color and brightness, but the spaces were still so enclosed. The mosque had doors, but all were open, and there were many archways in place of doors to signify a passage into a different part of the mosque. There was much to think about after going to the mosque, and much to compare with my own religious upbringing and with Christian institutions. 

Sainte-Chapelle

I think what struck me most was the difference in volume: the churches we went to were silent, and if you weren’t silent, they would shush you. Even with many people inside the churches, they were silent except for footsteps and whispers. It seemed as though if we spoke too loudly, something would shatter around us. In the mosque, it was so different: people were talking, laughing, children were screaming and playing and crying, the fountains were rushing, and, since it was all open to the outdoors, noises from the city drifted in as well. During prayer, I would imagine the muezzin calling for prayer floats over the ambient sound, and the empty space it leaves is replaced by the rushing water, footsteps, talking, singing, and praying. The difference was incredibly stark to me.

Stained glass reflection in the Eglise St. Germain

Growing up as Hindu, my experiences in religious spaces were much closer to the mosque than the church. Taking off our shoes to enter the prayer space, gardens and courtyards, outdoor designs with many arches instead of doors were all mirrored in my experiences. Our prayer spaces, in Hindu polytheistic tradition, included idols and statues of our gods draped in South Asian textiles, gold jewelry, flower garlands, and scattered bills and coins at their feet. We would ring a bell as we walked into the temple, or koil in TamilThe idols were usually white or black marble, and the priests would bathe them in milk and water and offer honey, yogurt, fruit, and plants to the gods. We would be given a small bit of food to eat as our gift from god, usually a handful of almonds and kalkandu, or rock sugar, along with saffron water. We would drink some of the water and put the rest on our heads. We would walk around the room with idols, saying our prayers, and do laps around the temple interior; some temples have the gods that represent the planets and moon, of which there are 9 in total, so we would walk around their altar 9 times. I remember making wishes to the nandi, or sacred cow that the god Shiva rides on, by whispering in the ear of the idol. The atmosphere of the temple was one of joy: balavihar is the equivalent of Sunday school, where we would learn stories and prayers and philosophy. I took math classes at the temple for a period of time. Children in traditional clothes were always running around, and the stone floors were covered in mismatched carpets and rugs donated by patrons. Whenever it rained a lot, there would always be a leak in the ceiling; there were free meals on the weekends; at some point, we would all sit down for a ceremony and sing songs and chants together while the priest bathed the idol in milk. There was never a moment of silence in the temple unless there were only a couple families worshiping. 

Minaret of the Grand Mosque of Paris

I have had an interesting relationship with my faith, and have ultimately settled on a spiritual connection to the universe as opposed to organized religion. It is hard, when raised to believe in god, to relinquish that belief. It is somewhat lonely to be left alone and responsible in the world; Hugo and Dickens both believe this too. The existence of some Higher Power or at least trusting the universe to do well by you is something that I need in order to feel grounded. I believe that everything has its own magic, and that includes me as well. It is up to me to take care of my magic and my spirit, but it doesn’t mean I have to do so alone. I have the universe at my side, and the power of everything around me as well. I believe in the power of breathing and grounding and spirit because these are things I’ve retained from my religious upbringing; I do not subscribe to organized religion or religious institutions, however, and I’ve slowly been learning more about my own relationship to What I Can’t Control and how to trust my ancestors to keep me safe. I think that so much of my cultural practice is also involved in religious practice, and I appreciate these things as well; I’m not going to stop celebrating Diwali or Pongal or other things. However, I do believe that the institution is harmful in most ways. I have good memories of my temple, but I wouldn’t force my children to ever go. I have a spirituality and a faith. I believe in the power of my own spirit and the spirits of those around me. I believe that surrounding myself with good energy and reclaiming what has been taken away from me guides me into new forms of spirituality. I believe taking care of my body and mind and being joyful and creative allows me to be more spiritual. I believe that having trust in the cosmic, universal power allows me to live a more grounded life, and I have taken a long time to come to terms with that. I remembered this even more clearly in the mosque: why do they have such gorgeous tiles, plants, fountains and more? And I remembered that so much of spirituality and faith is the relationship to our world and universe and I just breathed in the courtyard for a little bit. 

Part of the Jardin d’Eden in the Grand Mosque

Barbie et la Revolution!

I recently had the great pleasure of watching Greta Gerwig’s latest masterpiece starring Margot Robbie and Ryan Reynolds, unpacking the female experience in a satirical, comical, and, yet, very real way: Barbie. Barbie follows the story of Stereotypical Barbie, who lives in Barbieland, a utopia where Barbies are given all of the power and Kens are left to be an accessory. All of a sudden, Barbie starts to experience an existential crisis when the girl “playing with her” in the Real World also experiences an existential crisis. She eventually goes to the real world to fix the issue by finding the person playing with her, and learns about how women are treated in the Real World. Most importantly, she realizes what women in the real world think of her: how her idea that Barbie solved all women’s issues with their diversity was incorrect, and how women in the Real World see her instead as an unattainable and unrealistic expectation. While Barbie is figuring all of this out, Ken has learned about patriarchy, and decides to reweave the social fabric of Barbieland into a patriarchal society like he had seen in the Real World. Eventually, Barbie returns and sorts everything out, but the movie is packed with plot that I will leave you to watch by yourself.

I was startled by the similarities between Ken’s patriarchal takeover and the French Revolution as written by Dickens. Bookpacking includes going to locations and places of interest to the books we are reading ie. Les Miserables and Tale of Two Cities. However, I would say that the bookpacking adventures extend beyond the scope of seminars or class explorations. Seeing similarities to our books, literary or historical, in other forms of media or in other landmarks has added to the bookpacking experience as well. While Barbie is an experience I could have anywhere in the world, seeing it with my friends from this class, with the deep knowledge and awareness of Dickens and A Tale of Two Cities, was extraordinary. My bookpacking did not stop with the Place de la Concorde, and the revolution did not stop with Robespierre. The notion of western revolutions extended throughout this movie as well, and I saw almost perfect parallels between Barbie and our literary portrayals of the French Revolution(s). While the movie itself was far from radical, I think the plot itself mirrors that of Revolution like we study. 

Through reading A Tale of Two Cities, my understanding of the French Revolution has much increased; but at the same time, the French Revolution was, at its core, people fighting for rights they didn’t have before. The sans-culottes having little political and social power is paralleled in the lack of agency for Kens in Barbieland. Obviously, this movie wasn’t made showing brutal beheadings of Barbies or violent revolution, but Ken’s patriarchal “revolution” is the response to his lack of power in Barbieland combined with him learning about the power men have in the Real World. Similarly, the French Revolution is precipitated by the lack of power the French citizenry have in their society, combined with the knowledge that they could violently reform in the way that the American Revolution happened. (This story is much, much more complex than this: I am merely drawing parallels between the ideas of Western Revolution as seen in America, France, and other Western countries, and the media that is created in turn.)

The concept of the revolution devouring itself was mirrored in Barbie as well. The phenomenon of the revolution destroying itself from the inside played out in France, Russia, China, and more, and Barbieland was no different. Again, revolution followed by brutal repression and violence was not the aim of this movie, and I don’t mean to lessen the impact of these events. However, on a lighter scale, the Kens ultimately destroy each other with a seed of doubt planted by the Barbies. If anyone has been in the situation of experiencing an unsolicited serenade, you will understand the fragile masculinity so easily shattered behind their actions. The Barbies play off of this, turning the Kens on each other, and thus the revolution is devoured. 

Luckily, the Kens discover their “worth” and no Reign of Terror follows, but the idea of the leaders of the revolution being the ultimate end of the revolution is mirrored almost exactly in this film about dolls. Our class discussion really made me think about this, and I wrote my first essay on this: the circularity of time and how it forces the circularity of narrative, whether fictional or not. Barbie is obviously not a true story, and yet Gerwig’s portrayal of the rise of Kendom in place of Barbieland was startlingly similar to the way that the French Revolution began and ended. Ultimately, the Barbies regain control, and things return to as they were before, not too different from the return to monarchy in early 19th century France.

Tower dedicated to Napoleon in Place Vendome

This movie was meaningful to me in ways that were much bigger than the plot progression similarities to revolutions across the world, but I think that this was one of the things that stood out to me as I watched it. Gerwig managed to fit so much plot and information and morals into a 2 hour period, and I am still gathering my thoughts about it. The day we saw it was Thursday, July 27. The exploration that day had followed the path that the tumbrils took while carting Conciergerie prisoners to the Place de la Revolution, which was a shocking and haunting walk despite the throngs of tourists along the Louvre. Having had this adventure prior to seeing the movie was, I think, one of the reasons why the parallels were not lost on me. Our walk that day had followed the worst of the social upheaval that the revolution brought, the brief stint of Napoleon’s imperial rule, and the ultimate return to monarchical rule. The idea was to go to see Barbie to get out of the rain and lighten up a bit. And while this goal was achieved, the movie presented very real, very tangible ideas about revolution, intent and impact, circular time, women’s rights, patriarchy, the humanity in all of us, and so much more that should not be forgotten in the millennial humor and pink cartoon embellishments. Watching this movie was amazing not only because I have wanted to see it for so long, but because of the opportune timing in our bookpacking that I was able to watch it. I would say it added to my understanding of revolution, and added to my understanding of how both literature and history repeat themselves, from 1789 to 1911 to 2023.

Storming of Versailles, 1789-

Going to Versailles was something of a dream: I can say with certainty that it was one of the most memorable experiences of my life, but maybe not in the way the Sun King thought it would be. Walking through hall after hall, room after room, filled with grand portraits flaunting unspeakable wealth, velvet-covered walls, classical statues of French monarchs going back to the 11th century, and more was astonishing. As I wandered from floral jacquard cushion to floral jacquard cushion, I did not need to remind myself that King Louis XIV spent most of France’s wealth on such an ostentatious home. 

What impressed me even more than the palace itself were the extensive gardens. The map of Versailles left an impression: the palace, scaled on the 11x17-ish map, was around 3 inches, the legend took up the bottom 4 inches, and the gardens took up the rest of the map. Even the excessiveness of the palace paled in comparison to the reflecting pools, swathes of forest, fountains displaying marble tableaus of Greek mythology, pillars, vast flower beds, palatial staircases, and labyrinthine hedges of the gardens. 

Palace of Versailles vs. gardens, to scale

Walking through the literal maze of foliage in the gardens made me really think about how I would have felt if I was a peasant at the storming of Versailles. I imagined myself in tattered clothes, hungry, angry, and bloodthirsty, ready to drag the King and his court out of their ivory tower to pay for their crimes. I imagined myself holding a pitchfork and torch, ready to avenge generations of my family that suffered under the absolutist tyrants who called themselves Kings of France. I imagined the legions of brothers, sisters, children, parents, friends, and lovers who died of starvation when families were too poor even for a proper burial. I imagined all of this and then I imagined how I would have felt standing at the gates of Versailles, seeing the Sun King branded in gold in front of the biggest building I’d ever seen. I imagined walking through those crushed velvet halls, seeing riches beyond my wildest comprehension, more food than I’d probably eaten in my life, and I imagined how unspeakably angry I would have been at the King. I’m not saying the Reign of Terror and indiscriminate violence born of paranoia and bloodlust is justified, but the violence of the revolution can be traced back directly to the violence of the Ancien Regime against the working class. 

Exterior of Chateau Versailles

It made me think a lot about the different locations we have also seen bookpacking: I remember when we met by the Pont Neuf, and the huge department store by the bridge. It was filled with luxury clothes and brands, with an equally massive Louis Vuitton store opposite it. I remember on the Champs Elysees, the street was lined with luxury stores and boutiques flaunting wares only the very wealthy could buy. When we were in Versailles, it was brands like Louis Vuitton that were donating to the upkeep of this palace. How ironic: the great palace of the Sun King, being donated to by everyone from household name brands to the most inaccessible high fashion brands. These are brands that have fashion shows in the Hall of Mirrors for the elite to attend. These are the brands that bring the term “luxury” to a new level, selling things that the common person won’t ever buy. Some of these brands are so exclusive, we probably don’t even know the names. It reminded me, in such a sick way, of the extraordinary wealth of the Parisian nobility circa 1789, exclusive and wealthy parties in palaces surrounded by filth, poverty, and hunger. While these extremes may not be visually replicated, the sentiment stands strong. Wealth and excess in Paris is surrounded by suburbs full of people who have been gentrified out of their old neighborhoods, refugees, immigrants, and communities of color. Nanterre was the site of the horrific murder of Nehel Mezouk, a 17-year-old French Algerian murdered by police in June. 

Paris retains its reputation as a revolutionary hotbed, but Paris remains a location where the ends of the capitalist spectrum are expected to exist in harmony. With a president who does little for the most affected, actively perpetuating systems of oppression, no wonder the Parisian sentiment is so often one of anger and revolution. So much of Paris is filled with people who have only their fists and voices. This is not to say that Paris is the only city that faces systemic inequality; this is so far from the truth. From Los Angeles to Beijing to Tehran, inequality faces anyone oppressed by the dominant systems. Paris just happens to be a city in the western world known for its tumultuous nature, and a city that so many of the world’s refugees have fled to. Sri Lankan Tamil refugees fleeing from genocide, Pakistani refugees fleeing political disruption, Sudanese refugees fleeing war, and so many more communities have found a home in Paris and its suburbs, allowing for a vibrant community. However, this also means that the Parisian and French governments have waged a war on these communities, spreading hate, racism, and Islamophobia through the city and country. All of this and more was swirling through my head as I walked through the unimaginable wealth displayed at Versailles.

Many have said that the French Revolution never really ended: we know that the revolutions kept happening in 1830, 1832, 1848, 1871, 1968, and more insurrections sprinkled throughout. The Parisian students, workers, and marginalized communities have created a French tradition of revolution and of fighting back against that which pushes them down. Paris is far from perfect, and the most influential Parisians retain the most wealth in the city. However, Paris has created a precedent for itself that the downtrodden citizens can literally fight the system, and that is somewhat of an empowering thought. Versailles was an emotional trip: there was a lot to think about, and even more to compare to today’s world. I don’t know how much we have learned since then, but it doesn’t seem like a whole lot.

What we take for granted: the advent of sanitation

Imagine yourself as a character in 1830’s Dickensian London. The Industrial Revolution is in full swing, and the city is smothered in coal smoke and soot; the river Thames appears as a gash of sludge spreading miasmatic fumes through the city. If you are a common citizen of the city, your lifespan is, at best, unpredictable. At this point, the Thames is mostly sewage, and the slow-moving river is a cesspit of bacteria and disease. Cholera, a relatively new illness, is the most prolific and has spread like wildfire, claiming lives indiscriminately as it blazes a path of death through the poorest neighborhoods of the city.

By 1866, London had experienced 4 major cholera outbreaks, along with outbreaks of typhoid fever and influenza. The disease was first “found” in London in 1831; I use quotations here because the leading theories of the day did not know cholera was a water-borne disease as we know it to be today, and it had before been a disease found only in the East. A scientific school called the Miasma Theory was dominant, where people believed disease to be caused by bad smells in the air. This had been the dominant school since the Black Plague, and no one questioned it. Cholera was only the latest in a long line of diseases caused by this “miasma”. 

In 1842, a man by the name of Edwin Chadwick connected the dots between cholera and living conditions. He was one of the first people to realize that cholera deaths were highest in areas where people lived in their own filth. As a social reformer, Chadwick published his notes, and was appointed to the Board of Health for the city of London in 1848 as the very first sanitary commissioner. While Chadwick believed correctly that cleanliness and separation of waste from people would stem the outbreaks, he too thought the bad smells from human waste were responsible for the disease. 

While the miasma theory was the dominant theory of the day, some scientists did believe other origins for disease, and germ theory as we know it today was slowly being formulated across Europe. It was a slow process: miasma had been the most popular theory for centuries at this point. It wasn't until 1854 that Vibrio cholerae, the cholera bacteria, was isolated. Even then, germ theory did not gain real traction until decades later. 1854 also marked the fourth and final cholera outbreak in London. Centered in Soho, specifically Broad Street, it killed over 600 people in the span of about a year. Scientist John Snow noticed the correlation between the location and the spread of disease, creating the map below to map his process, and published these notes with collected data of cases surrounding one particular water pump, the one on Broad Street. 

John Snow had previously written a paper in which he challenged the miasma theory, saying that cholera was not caused by bad smells but rather infectious agents in the water. This paper was largely ignored, until he published his addendum with solid statistical and geographical data tracking the disease. While the worst had already passed, John Snow famously and single-handedly ended this outbreak by simply having the handle on the Broad Street pump removed by Dr. Edwin Lankester. Unfortunately, the head of the Board of Health at the time, William Farr, refused to accept Snow’s germ theory over miasma theory. He understood the correlation, and allowed the deactivation of the pump, but introduced no other changes to the London water and sewer systems. 

In 1866, London experienced its final outbreak of cholera, where Farr himself collected data showing the epicenter of disease around the Old Ford Reservoir. Germ theory was well on its way to acceptance after Farr’s paper was considered conclusive, and Dr. Lankester was appointed the first Medical Officer for Health in the area of the 1866 outbreak. After the acceptance of germ theory, the worldwide cholera pandemic drew to a close. While epidemics in India and other parts of the world still existed, those in Europe specifically were never as bad as they were before, and epidemiology was changed forever. John Snow saved millions of people’s lives with his discovery of cholera as a water-borne illness. His work has earned him the title “Father of Sanitation Engineering”, among others, and he spearheaded the creation of the Sanitary City across the world. 

After his research, Snow was never appointed to any positions within the British health system, but his work has not been forgotten. As an environmental engineer, Snow’s work is seminal. When I consider the classes I take and the work I do as an environmental engineer, so much of it revolves around the work that John Snow contributed to science. In my environmental engineering principles class, for example, we learned about the creation of the Sanitary City. London was considered one of the first sanitary cities, and actions like narrowing the Thames, creating wastewater treatment plants, and reforming sewer construction helped speed this process up. None of this would have happened without the help of Snow and his work pinpointing cholera as a waterborne illness. 

 In a place like London, the fact that water purification is possible is sufficient; the Thames has more than enough water for the city. However, in a city like Los Angeles with no natural sources of water, we need to take John Snow’s research one step further. Wastewater reuse is a burgeoning field within environmental engineering, and so important at this point in time where we find ourselves struggling with freshwater supply. Desalination could be a great way to recover water, but it only returns about 50% fresh, potable water; the rest is a toxic and concentrated brine which is just disposed of. Wastewater reuse creates a brine as well, but the yield is much higher and creates a circular waste system where freshwater is available as long as humans create waste. I am fortunate enough to be able to contribute to this science in my lab: I create catalysts that convert carcinogens in treated wastewater. Sanitation science is about 30-40% of what environmental engineers study, and this whole field rests on the strong foundation of John Snow’s groundbreaking research and findings. His work not only revolutionized the way cities are planned and how disease is studied, but also helped create a field of work which only grows as our relationship with the environment worsens.