Leaving America Questionnaire #1
Jake Lamar, author, Paris 18th arrondissement
What drives Americans to leave home and settle elsewhere? That question has been on my mind for many years. This series, Leaving America, seeks to uncover the multitude of reasons and lessons learned—beginning with Americans in Paris. The questionnaire that follows will be the same for each guest.
I first met former Time Magazine journalist and author Jake Lamar at The Red Wheelbarrow bookstore when he was celebrating the launch of his latest novel, Viper’s Dream. That same year, we spent more time together as speakers at the inaugural Angers Literary Festival but there was plenty we didn’t get to discuss, including the impetus for his move to Paris in 1993. The Bronx-born writer has published a memoir, seven novels, countless essays and is at work on another work of non-fiction. Here, he kicks off the Leaving America questionnaire.
Where was the last place you lived in the U.S.?
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Did you intend to leave permanently or was the move temporary?
I had planned to come to Paris for one year. I published my first book, a memoir titled Bourgeois Blues, in September 1991. Eight months later, I won the Lyndhurst Prize, a three-year grant. It wasn't something you could apply for. Someone from the Lyndhurst Foundation called me up and told me I had won. I would get a check in 1992, one in '93, and a final one in '94. It was enough money to live on. And I had just signed a contract for my second book and first novel, The Last Integrationist. So, I decided to go to Paris to live and to write for one year. That was 31 years ago.
Was there a pivotal moment when you knew your life would be best pursued elsewhere?
It was never a question of "elsewhere." I had always been curious, specifically, about Paris. It started when I read James Baldwin and Richard Wright in junior high school. Knowing that both these great African American authors had lived in Paris fueled my desire to discover the place for myself. Once I arrived, in September 1993, I immediately fell in love with the city. And I soon met older Black American writers—Ted Joans, James Emanuel, Hart Leroy Bibbs—who would help give me the confidence to try to make a life for myself as a writer in Paris. Getting to know these three wise elders in my first months here: that was the pivotal moment.
At what age did you leave? Looking back, was that too soon or too late?
I was 32 when I arrived in Paris, thinking I would stay for one year. It was actually the perfect age for me. I was single with no dependents. I was already a published author, so I didn't arrive in Paris hoping that the vibes here would magically turn me into a writer. Thanks to the Lyndhurst Prize and the second book contract, I could support myself. I was having such a good time, I stayed for a second year. Then a third. Then, at 35, I met the love of my life.
When did you know you'd made the right [or wrong] call?
After three years in Paris, in September 1996, just when I was contemplating a return to the USA, to teach creative writing at a university, I met Dorli. It was a coup de foudre. A European actress and singer, she'd built a wonderful career in Paris. We met through a mutual friend and were both part of an international community of creative people. I knew I wanted to spend my life with Dorli in this city we both loved.
What does Paris offer you that your native home couldn’t and, perhaps, still can’t?
A sense of myself as a writer. When I arrived in Paris, I was making the transition from nonfiction to fiction. It felt like a natural development for me, but that can be a sensitive moment in a writer's life. I've already mentioned such Paris elders as Ted Joans and James Emanuel. Later I would get to know Mavis Gallant, Diane Johnson, Ward Just, Edmund White, Barbara Chase-Riboud and C.K. Williams. Major writers who encouraged me as a young colleague. All of them loved Paris and the respect the French have for the arts in general and for writers in particular.
Can you share any anecdotes about your highest and lowest moments in Paris?
Highest moment in Paris: Our wedding day in September 1999. Dorli and I were joined by only a half dozen or so friends for the ceremony at the mairie of the 18th arrondissement that morning. Our wedding party that night was at the home of C.K. Williams, the American poet who had introduced us, and his wife, the French artist Catherine Mauger. There were only about 30 guests but the ambience at the party was ecstatic. Ted Joans was there with his partner, the painter Laura Corsiglia. I think our wedding party was the only time that these two giants of American poetry, Charlie Williams and Ted Joans, ever hung out together.
Given how dark the 21st century has been, our crazy fête in the waning days of the 20th century incarnated the spirit of the Prince song: we partied like it was 1999!
Lowest moment: March 29th, 2015. Two days after my 54th birthday, I learned that I had been born with a defective aortic valve. I discovered this by almost dropping dead in my living room on a Sunday afternoon. It was the start of a six-month long ordeal that involved two weeks in an Intensive Care Unit, open heart surgery, and a total of 47 nights in hospitals.
But there was a silver lining to this giant storm cloud in my life. Because of France’s social health care system, I received top-notch treatment of a sort I could never have afforded in the U.S.
Are there aspects of American life that you long for?
The one thing I miss is spending time with friends and loved ones from the first half of my life. But it's always a pleasure to see them in Paris.
What book or movie do you most associate with the American experience abroad?
'Round Midnight. Bertrand Tavernier's 1986 film about a Black American jazz musician in Paris. Set in 1959 and starring one of the greatest saxophonists who ever breathed, Dexter Gordon, the film meticulously recreates Paris's Blue Note jazz club. I saw the movie when it premiered at the New York Film Festival. I was 25 years old and it just added fuel to my longing to go to Paris and experience the city for myself.
If you had to narrow it down to one, what is the greatest lesson living abroad has taught you?
I've learned to be humble in the face of what I don't know or can't understand or need to learn. During my early years in France, I was constantly being introduced to different social codes. Then, once I started to learn the language, I had to accept feeling dumb much of the time. But my ten years of study with tutors in Paris was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.
I think it was Jacqueline Bouvier, before she was named Kennedy, then Onassis, who said: when you learn a second language, you "double your life." Since becoming fluent in French, I have had many very good friends with whom I have never spoken English. Learning, in my second language, about the experiences of French-speaking people from Europe, Africa, Asia, the Caribbean and the Middle East, is a constant education for me.
“Paris isn't perfect, but it's perfect for me.”
Have you ever considered going back?
No. Not since meeting Dorli, after I had been living here for three years. Next year, when I turn 64, I will have spent half my life in Paris, and all of that in one arrondissement, the Eighteenth. I like to paraphrase Grace Jones, who sang,"I'm not perfect, but I'm perfect for you." I say Paris isn't perfect, but it's perfect for me.
For those contemplating leaving the U.S., what do you suggest they consider most about the decision?
Three things, when it comes to France: 1) Make sure you're able to earn a living here. 2) Learn the language. 3) Find a way to handle the administrative bureaucracy, because it will be a constant part of your life.
"Not perfect, but perfect for me." Brilliant.
This story really captivated me!