A Bel-Air Caprice

What does a French accent buy you in Los Angeles when you have nothing else? Los Angeles, October 1988. He is 29, French, broke. A dishwasher at Bouchon Wilshire for $4.25 an hour, a part-time valet, a windowless studio in Westlake. Rent is late. At the Cercle Francophile on Wilshire Boulevard, he meets Kathleen R. and her daughter Camille R. Kathleen R. is everything he is not: Sorbonne-educated, translator of René Daumal's Mont Analogue, L.Ac., PhD, OMD, pioneer of acupuncture in California, student of Gurdjieff's teaching, collaborator of Carlos Castaneda, pianist for dance classes and memorial services. Camille R., 24, is a Franco-American artist trained at the Lycée Français, Paris American Academy and École des Beaux-Arts, already exhibited in Montmartre. They live behind wrought-iron gates in Bel-Air. He takes the bus. A Bel-Air Caprice is Volume 27 of the Sovereign Streets Collection - a work of Ludic Literature. Part memoir, part literary noir, it follows five years of invitations to the other Los Angeles: sports clubs, opera evenings, a black Mercedes-Benz M-Class W163 smelling of leather and perfume, and the quiet humiliation of having nothing to offer in return. It is a story about: The American Dream from the bottom of the kitchen Class and hospitality — what it means to be welcomed when you can't repay The French myth in America — when an accent opens a door but doesn't furnish the room Late understanding — written 38 years later from Marseille A caprice is a musical form. It can change direction without warning. It can be playful, difficult, extravagant, or tender. It does not always explain where it has gone. For readers of literary fiction, French expat memoirs, Los Angeles noir, and coming-of-age stories about immigration, identity, and social class.