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Review: The Elegance of the Hedgehog

This is one of those rare times when I can say of a book, This is Capital-L Literature, and it is beautiful.

(Also depressing, but that's something else again.)

I've been trying to figure out how to describe it while doing it justice. "A meditation on art, beauty, and class in modern Paris" makes it sound deadly dull and pretentious, which it isn't. "How a concierge, an immigrant, and a twelve year old become friends" makes it sound too precious. The book itself is both and more. And the prose fucking shines.

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