[leahjhburton]

Perfume by Patrick S?skind

Patrick S?skind's novel is an extraordinary read; an onslaught against the senses almost from the opening words, as he conjures an olfactory description of 18th century Paris to make the mind whirl.

And there is little let up from then on, as we are drawn into the story of Grenouille, an unwanted accident who barely escapes his mother's murderous intentions before his own cries send her to trial and execution.

This is a child with a difference; beyond his almost feral nature and ability to survive, he has an extraordinary gift ? a nose that can discern scents way beyond what normal humans can. Yet as he stands amidst the smells of the French capital, catching the scents with his mouth open ? like a cat flehming, Grenouille himself is devoid of odour, an olfactory blank on the pungent pages of life.

Despite his disadvantageous start in life, Grenouille decides to follow his perfect career path as a perfumier. But as he learns the essential skills of his trade, so he starts his subsidiary career as a murderer.

Remarkable storytelling from S?skind, Grenouille is a character who repulses and fascinates at the same time.

It slows down a little in the middle section, where Grenouille becomes a mountain hermit, but the subsequent events and denoument are again first rate.

But for me, one of the most interesting aspects of reading this is the questions that it raised of what constitutes literature and how we read it.

On the back of my edition, Peter Ackroyd is quoted as saying of the book that it is "a meditation on the nature of death, desire and decay". Yet these are not the thoughts that I was left with. As I read, I found myself considering a number of questions:

? the demands of capitalism and progress ? Baldini bemoans that development of a perfume industry where fashion and faddiness demand that new scents are created with increasing regularity (and which itself is partly to blame for the success of Grenouille); where is the balance between a sane approach and the development of new things;

? difference and how we view it ? Grenouille is 'different'; what is the nature of that, how does it occur and to what degree is it responsible for his criminal behaviour (much of what he does is an attempt to be 'ordinary');

? what is 'normality' and 'morality';

? the easy and unthinking malleability of the masses ? satirised gloriously at the end of Grenouille's trial;

? and if you smile with Grenouille at the previous point, what does that say about your own 'morality'?

Are these ideas, raised by the book, any less than those raised for Ackroyd during his reading of it? Are Ackroyd's right and mine wrong or visa versa? Or do they simply reflect the creative process of reading ? no two readers will ever see the same thing in the same book, or respond in an identical manner. Every time someone reads a book, it becomes a new creative process, coloured by the experiences, tastes, philosophy and prejudices of the reader in question.

And that, it seems to me, is primarily what differentiates literature from any other work of fiction.

Literature makes you think. It provokes thoughts and musings and contemplation that go beyond the plot. That's not to say that a damned good yarn isn't a damned good ? and entirely acceptable ? read. But the ability to provoke is, I think, what marks literature out from the yarn.

And S?skind's Perfume is a dark, fascinating and deeply satisfying example of literature.