Antwerp’s Marketplatz

Aaron came along to Antwerp. Since he has no interest in type, he spent the week sightseeing and touring breweries. Poor guy. Meanwhile, I attended a workshop on designing diacritics and sat through lectures on the design, history, and culture of type. Here’s one random fact I learned: the band KISS has an alternate version of their logo for use in Germany. Why? The lightening-bolt-shaped letters “SS” are forbidden because the use and display of Nazi symbols is outlawed.

After the conference, Aaron and I traveled to Paris and settled into a room in Paris’s 2nd Arrondissement. We spent the three days wandering the streets and soaking in the sights. We toured Saint Chapelle, gazed at the dome at Galeries Lafayette, and wandered through markets and gardens. We also walked around Ile St. Louis, the smaller of Paris’s two islands. Louise Dillery, one of the two translators I worked with, lived on Ile St. Louis during the war and I have heard many amazing stories of her years living on Ile St. Louis.

Standing in front of 6 Rue de Regrattier, Ile Saint Louis, Paris, the WWII home of Louise Dillery.
The apartment where she Louise faced the courtyard, not the street,
and we were unable to go inside the building to see more.

Several people, when they heard about our forthcoming trip to Paris, inquired whether Aaron would finally get to see Les Invalides, the museum he had hoped to see in 2012—but wasn’t able to—after Valentine generously offered to take us to Berchères-la-Maingot (page 297 of Marcel’s Letters).

During the previous six years, whenever Aaron joked that I still owed him a trip to Les Invalides, I promised he would get there someday. I’m happy to report that we spent an entire afternoon viewing the museum’s incredible collection of Medieval armor, military uniforms, detailed models of 18th Century forts, and more. 

I made Aaron pose inside the Musée de l’Armée’s Court of Honor so I had photographic proof
he finally got to visit! The gold dome in the background sits above Napoleon’s Tomb.

Thursday morning, Sept. 20, Aaron and I took a RER train to Villemomble, one of Paris’s eastern suburbs. There, at the station, Agnès (Suzanne’s daughter) greeted us with outstretched arms and cheek kisses. Agnès’s daughter, Eugénie, was there, too; Eugénie would do a masterful job of translating all afternoon. At the station we also had the honor of meeting Valerie (Eliane’s daughter/Agnès’s cousin) for the very first time.

When I visit with book clubs, readers often ask whether Marcel’s letters have brought the family together. “Families are complicated,” I’ll often reply. But, it sometimes feels like his letters are indeed slowly stitching back together seams that had come apart. That day was the first time in fifteen years Agnès and Valerie had seen each other in person. For Nadine (Suzanne’s daughter/Agnès’s sister) and Valerie, it was closer to twenty-three years. Valerie had never met Eugénie in person before.

We walked to a nearby restaurant, where Nadine joined us. It didn’t take long to settle into laugh-filled banter as if no time at all had passed.

Agnès handed a framed certificate across the table, one that I was happy to finally see. In late June, Marcel’s Letters was named a winner of the biography/autobiography category at the Paris Book Festival. I was not able to attend the award ceremony—but Agnès and Nadine did! I was so happy they attended the evening’s dinner and celebration, accepted the award, and were—and are—a part of this story as it continues to unfold.

As we ate lunch, I shared anecdotes I have heard from readers, we talked about Eugénie’s film-school studies, Nadine’s three rambunctious grandsons, their continuing genealogy research (they are up to 1,200 names), and much more. The time went fast, and before we knew it, Nadine had to return to work, and it was time for the rest of us to continue on our adventure.

Left to right: Agnès, Aaron, Eugénie, Carolyn, Valerie, Nadine.

Agnès drove us to the nearby suburb of Montreuil-sous-Bois. Montreuil is the place Marcel and Renée lived before and after the war. As we stood in front of the home that was once theirs, I absorbed every new thing they told me about Renée’s garden, about the pigeons Marcel raised, about the layout of the home.

I also learned not only were Aaron and I seeing the home for the first time—Eugénie was as well. I was delighted she was getting to know more about her family throughout this process, too.

Whereas Agnès and Nadine had many childhood memories of time with their grandparents in the village of Berchères-la-Maingot, many of Valerie’s childhood memories were made in Montreuil. Valerie’s family lived in a rural village, so traveling to another rural village didn’t hold much appeal. Instead, she explained, she and her parents would come to the city to visit Marcel and Renée.