Books: Little By Edward Carey (2018)

"In 1761, a tiny, odd-looking girl named Marie is born in a village in Switzerland. After the death of her parents, she is apprenticed to an eccentric wax sculptor and whisked off to the seamy streets of Paris, where they meet a domineering widow and her quiet, pale son. Together, they convert an abandoned monkey house into an exhibition hall for wax heads, and the spectacle becomes a sensation. As word of her artistic talent spreads, Marie is called to Versailles, where she tutors a princess and saves Marie Antoinette in childbirth. But outside the palace walls, Paris is roiling: The revolutionary mob is demanding heads, and . . . at the wax museum, heads are what they do."

In essence, Little is Edward Carey’s novelization of Anna Maria "Marie" Tussaud (née Grosholtz) life (though he used her autobiography as a template, along with other references, some are very unreliable), which offers a more fictional take on the legendary sculptress. This narrative device gives us a less dry look into real history, and can concentrate more on Marie than times she lived, which encompasses the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror. The book is often macabre, darkly humorous, and sometimes too Dickens-like (there is even a sly comment towards the end of the book where Marie is ruminating on the coming end of her life and has many visitors, including Charles Dickens “A thief, of course. I tell him everything. He takes notes”).

There has been some criticism of the authors’ choices to be loose with real people like Marie Grosholt and Philip Curtius, using some untrustworthy information, especially those of Louis-Sébastien Mercier, a prolific writer of novels, plays, and essays of the era, to help the narrative along. Even her own claims are suspect: During the French Revolution, Marie asserted in her memoirs that she became employed to teach votive making to Élisabeth the sister of Louis XVI; that she was privy to private conversations with the royal family; that she lived with the family for nine years because they adored her work. But there is no evidence today that can confirm these statements.

The book does drag and I often raised an eyebrow on the Widow Picot, who was clearly molded on many Dickens characters, both male and female. Still, the prose is interesting, though it does take getting used to. But it’s an enjoyable book, even if takes a little liberty with real history.