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53 pages 1 hour read

Valérie Perrin

Fresh Water for Flowers

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2018

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Themes

The Power of Names

In Fresh Water for Flowers, names are often given special significance. The novel shows that names—whether given at birth, chosen later, or ascribed by others—have power. Violette was born nameless, and when she was given a name for administrative purposes, it referred to the fact that the people present at her birth believed she was dead. The name “Violette” refers to the color—presumably, the color she was when it appeared she suffocated during her birth—as well as the flower, a motif that appears often throughout the text. Her last name was plucked from the French jazz singer Charles Trenet. Both of Violette’s names are arbitrary, never intended to belong to a real person and reflecting no familial ties, so they became hers all on their own.

The men in Violette’s life also carry notable names—or don’t, in one instance. Julien enters Violette’s life early in the novel, but he isn’t given a name in the narrative until page 84, almost 60 pages later. This makes him a blank slate on which Violette can begin building a new story. When his name is revealed, however, his surname is “Seul,” which is French for “alone.” (It is worth noting that according to the acknowledgments section, Julien Seul is the name of a real person.) Violette does not comment on his surname, though Julien’s mother, Irène, does; she dislikes her husband’s name because it is in the masculine form (compared to the feminine “Seule”), and she feels like she is making a grammatical error when she applies it to herself.

Contrary to Julien, who remains nameless for a long time, Philippe Toussaint is consistently given two names for more than half the novel—it is always “Philippe Toussaint” and never just “Philippe.” Violette thinks of him as first name and last name joined together into one title. After their first meeting, she reflects: “With a name like that—the day for visiting the cemetery—I should have been wary” (14). In French, “Toussaint” means “all saints,” and refers to All Saints Day, or the day of the dead. Since Philippe’s parents share his name, always referred to as “Mother and Father Toussaint,” it foreshadows their later role in Léonine’s death.

It is not until page 272 that Philippe is referred to by his first name only, while Violette is meeting with the love of his life, Françoise. This introduction of his first name alone suggests that the story is now exploring his humanity beyond the layer Violette is exposed to. While he is never shown as a good person, from this point on he becomes a more complex human being who loved and was loved.

Other powerful names used in the novel are those of Elvis and Nono—the former as a nickname that reflects the character’s love of the singer and the latter because it better reflects the character’s personality. The cemetery’s 11 cats all have distinctive names: “I recited their names, it sounded like a poem by Prévert” (345). The names of everyone in the cemetery form a powerful part of the community dynamic which is so essential to the story.

Responsibility to the Dead

Out of all three cemetery keepers, Violette raises the most questions about their responsibilities to those who have passed. Although she doesn’t believe in ghosts or the afterlife, this subject is something she regularly incorporates into her practice as the cemetery keeper. As she says, “I won’t tolerate the resting place of the dead not being respected” (77). elsewhere, she remarks, “Maintaining [the cemetery] is all about caring for the dead who lie within it. It’s about respecting them. And if they weren’t respected in life, at least they are in death” (22), elaborating on her sense that the dead still enjoy basic human rights.

She cleans the plaques and photos of the graves and maintains their flowers to keep the graves from falling into disrepair. Violette and the gravediggers are aware of the city’s practice of exhuming remains from dilapidated graves, and they do everything they can to keep this from happening. This may feel counterintuitive to someone who isn’t spiritually minded; the graves are essentially empty, and the land can be reused for more practical purposes. Regardless of whether she shares this pragmatic perspective, Violette feels a responsibility to respect her “neighbors” and do right by them, even if there’s no one around to see it.

Julien’s pilgrimage to bring his mother’s ashes to Gabriel’s grave also echoes the sentiment of responsibility to the dead; he delivers her ashes, even though the man is someone he has never even heard of. Despite his misgivings—he doesn’t understand why Irène doesn’t want to be placed alongside her husband and Julien’s father, Paul—he follows her wishes out of respect. It is this venture in his mother’s name that puts him in Violette’s path, changing his life and the lives of several others forever. While Violette is curious about Irène’s story, she is not surprised by the request; every one of the mourners she sees through her work has a different relationship with the deceased. One woman brings a radio to a grave so that the deceased man can keep up with the local news, while another girl shares a new album with her deceased friend.

While Violette’s relationship with the deceased and her position is the focus of the story, this question of responsibility is one that all the characters revisit at some point during their life. It is a deeply personal philosophy that may look different to different people; the characters may not always agree about the deceased or what happens to them beyond death, but each of them tries to do the best by their philosophy that they can. One of the undertakers, Paul Lucchini, says, “[W]e’re the midwives of death. We deliver death, so make the most of living, and earn a good one” (126).

The Spiritual Versus Material World

Most of this novel is set in a cemetery, and the setting provides a foundation from which to explore personal, spiritual, and theological questions of the tangible versus intangible worlds. Violette says she doesn’t believe in ghosts or life beyond death, yet the spiritual forms an integral part of her life; Nathan and his cousin Valentin are intrigued by the ghosts of the cemetery, and it is a belief in ghosts that helps Violette finally scare the rowdy teenagers away from the graves. Questions of spirituality often infuse her conversations with her friend Father Cédric.

Then, of course, there is the question of her daughter’s remains, which lie in the cemetery. Violette’s attitude toward her deceased daughter suggests that deep down, she may not be as dismissive of spirituality as she may want to believe. When she visits the seaside with Célia after Léonine’s death, Violette muses: “I immediately sensed you, I sensed your presence. […]. I sensed that you were fine where you were. I sensed that you were not afraid” (193). She often thinks about her daughter and knows that wherever she is, she is not six feet underground in between the headstones. When she meets Sasha for the first time, she tells him, “My daughter isn’t in your cemetery. There are only ashes here” (213), implying a distinction between her daughter’s physical remains and the essence of who she was (or is).

This sentiment is echoed later as Violette speaks with the countess about her wishes for her death. The countess doesn’t want to be buried with her husband for fear of eternal boredom. This prompts Violette to say, “But you’ve just told me it’s the leftovers that are buried here” (369), and the countess replies, “Even my leftovers could be bored beside the count” (370). Conflicting beliefs surrounding death are not limited to Violette alone; logic cannot define humans’ feelings and beliefs about death.

It is long after Léonine’s death when Violette thinks, “The only ghosts I believe in are memories” (87). This suggests a different way of understanding the spiritual—as an internal experience that is nevertheless deeply real. She also finds a sort of spiritual healing through learning to garden beside Sasha—the same healing that Philippe experiences while working on his motorbike. While both of these activities are firmly rooted in the material world, they bestow a contemplative frame of mind similar to religion. This teaches the reader that the spiritual and material may not be in conflict, nor even two distinct sides of one idea, but can be blurred together in inextricable ways.

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