Review of Armand Chauvel\u27s The Green and the Red: A Novel

Gersie, Jenna

English

Wilfrid Laurier University

The GooseVolume 14No. 2 Tenth Anniversary Issue Article 52-29-2016The Green and the Red: a Novel by ArmandChauvelJenna GersieSIT Study AbroadPart of the French and Francophone Literature Commons, Nature and Society RelationsCommons, and the Place and Environment CommonsFollow this and additional works at / Suivez-nous ainsi que d’autres travaux et œuvres:https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegooseThis article is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Goose by anauthorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please contact scholarscommons@wlu.ca.Cet article vous est accessible gratuitement et en libre accès grâce à Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Le texte a été approuvé pour faire partie intégrantede la revue The Goose par un rédacteur autorisé de Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Pour de plus amples informations, contactezscholarscommons@wlu.ca.Recommended Citation / Citation recommandéeGersie, Jenna. "The Green and the Red: a Novel by Armand Chauvel." The Goose, vol. 14 , no. 2 , article 5, 2016,https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol14/iss2/5.The Gourmand’s Dilemma  The Green and the Red by ARMAND CHAUVEL Ashland Creek Press, 2014 $15.95  Reviewed by JENNA GERSIE  Translated from the French (Le Vert et Le Rouge) by Elisabeth Lyman, Armand Chauvel’s first novel is an entertaining tale of two people with strong career goals and stronger opinions on what to eat. Léa is the chef and owner of La Dame Verte, a vegetarian restaurant in Rennes, France. Passionate about her work and her goal to recruit others to vegetarianism through delicious cuisine, Léa hasn’t yet been able to stabilize her bank account and fears her whole venture will go bankrupt. Mathieu is the marketing director for Nedelec Pork, a family business, and creator of the garlic-flavored cocktail sausage and the wild-berry sausage, which have been met with great success. While vying for the opening general manager position at the company, Mathieu suggests building a museum devoted to pork, which will include a stand where visitors can sample Nedelec Pork products.  But the prime location for the sausage-shaped museum is right next to La Dame Verte. Mathieu goes undercover as a vegetarian to learn more about Léa and how he might be able to put her out of business. Love affairs, a pet miniature pig, and a symbolic piggy bank add both drama and humor to the conflict that breaks out between the vegetarians and the carnivores. As is true in contemporary culture, the lack of understanding and tolerance about others’ food choices come to the fore in the novel. Stereotyping against both vegetarians and meat-eaters is rampant, but the satire makes for a light and funny read, no matter where one falls on the dietary spectrum between herbivore and carnivore. For example, Mathieu and the Nedelecs feel threatened by the “salad-eaters” (157), though they make up a rather small portion of France’s population. But the flesh-eaters certainly don’t know their enemy very well. Léa is the first vegetarian that Mathieu has ever met, and he is befuddled by their conversation:   It was like encountering an alien.  Except there was no visible  deformity—green skin, antennae  sprouting from her head,  crooked little finger—to indicate  that she was any different from  normal people. (52)  Besides thinking that vegetarians are alien-like, the Nedelec Pork team sees them as “bloodthirsty maniacs” (72), not realizing the irony. “‘We’re dealing with fanatics—vampires who want our hemoglobin. Any member of the Nedelec family knows that’” (72). The attacks are not one-sided, however. Though the pork producers may appear to be extremists in their insecurity at the potential success of a small vegetarian restaurant and their claims of the nutritional benefits of processed meat products, the vegetarians can be just as extreme, instigating a violent brawl at a Veggie Pride event, to Léa’s embarrassment. Beneath the satire, though, are real questions about food consumption. One man struggles with maintaining a vegetarian diet and confesses to Léa that 1Gersie: The Green and the RedPublished by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2016sometimes, he slips. Léa’s assistant, Pervenche, berates Léa for not carefully reading labels on food products. Mathieu worries about a pain in his gut and wonders if it is related to his meat consumption. And Léa herself struggles with her morals as she buys a packet of foie gras in order to create the perfect vegetarian imitation foie gras recipe. For the first half of the novel, it is hard to tell whether the “carrot-munching ayatollahs” (13) or the “murderers” (54) will come out ahead, but ultimately, The Green and the Red is a case for vegetarianism, or at least reduced meat consumption. (The author is vegetarian and the translator is vegan.) The book opens with Léa wondering how much mercury is in the tuna she has wrongly been served, and she doesn’t hesitate to drop statistics about the horrors of meat production—from an animal rights and environmental perspective—throughout the rest of the book. A gastroenterologist advises a patient on the benefits of a plant-based diet. The comic struggle of Mathieu and his date getting stuck in a giant pile of seaweed while horseback riding on the beach is really an explanation of the effects of nitrate runoff from hog manure into the ocean. And a visit to an industrial pig farm by Léa and other members of the Rennes Vegetarian Society reveals some of the sorry details of meat production about which many omnivores are happy to remain ignorant. Vegetarian, omnivore, or carnivore—whether you prefer the “pumpkin wonton soup . . . mushroom and polenta mousseline . . . and flourless chocolate cake” (48) or the “pork tenderloin with truffled potato croquettes” (154)—this book is sure to leave you with a growling stomach. Perhaps it will leave you thinking a little more carefully about your food choices, too. Léa asks a disgruntled meat-eater at the conclusion of the tale: “‘And you, can you tell me that the smell of grilled eggplant with shallots, garlic, thyme, and Espelette pepper doesn’t make you hungry?’” (170). The meat-eater walks away with a frown, but Léa can only hope she has given him some food for thought.  JENNA GERSIE is a Program Associate for SIT Study Abroad programs in the Middle East, North Africa, and Europe, an Editor at Green Writers Press, and a copyeditor for The Goose.  2The Goose, Vol. 14, No. 2 [2016], Art. 5https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol14/iss2/5

The Green and the Red: a Novel by Armand Chauvel

Scholars Commons

The Goose
Volume 14
No. 2 Tenth Anniversary Issue Article 5
2-29-2016
The Green and the Red: a Novel by Armand
Chauvel
Jenna Gersie
SIT Study Abroad
Part of the French and Francophone Literature Commons, Nature and Society Relations
Commons, and the Place and Environment Commons
Follow this and additional works at / Suivez-nous ainsi que d’autres travaux et œuvres:
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose
This article is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Goose by an
authorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please contact scholarscommons@wlu.ca.
Cet article vous est accessible gratuitement et en libre accès grâce à Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Le texte a été approuvé pour faire partie intégrante
de la revue The Goose par un rédacteur autorisé de Scholars Commons @ Laurier. Pour de plus amples informations, contactez
scholarscommons@wlu.ca.
Recommended Citation / Citation recommandée
Gersie, Jenna. "The Green and the Red: a Novel by Armand Chauvel." The Goose, vol. 14 , no. 2 , article 5, 2016,
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol14/iss2/5.
The Gourmand’s Dilemma 
 
The Green and the Red by ARMAND 
CHAUVEL 
Ashland Creek Press, 2014 $15.95 
 
Reviewed by JENNA GERSIE 
 
Translated from the French (Le Vert 
et Le Rouge) by Elisabeth Lyman, Armand 
Chauvel’s first novel is an entertaining tale 
of two people with strong career goals and 
stronger opinions on what to eat. 
Léa is the chef and owner of La 
Dame Verte, a vegetarian restaurant in 
Rennes, France. Passionate about her work 
and her goal to recruit others to 
vegetarianism through delicious cuisine, Léa 
hasn’t yet been able to stabilize her bank 
account and fears her whole venture will go 
bankrupt. 
Mathieu is the marketing director 
for Nedelec Pork, a family business, and 
creator of the garlic-flavored cocktail 
sausage and the wild-berry sausage, which 
have been met with great success. While 
vying for the opening general manager 
position at the company, Mathieu suggests 
building a museum devoted to pork, which 
will include a stand where visitors can 
sample Nedelec Pork products.  
But the prime location for the 
sausage-shaped museum is right next to La 
Dame Verte. Mathieu goes undercover as a 
vegetarian to learn more about Léa and 
how he might be able to put her out of 
business. Love affairs, a pet miniature pig, 
and a symbolic piggy bank add both drama 
and humor to the conflict that breaks out 
between the vegetarians and the 
carnivores. 
As is true in contemporary culture, 
the lack of understanding and tolerance 
about others’ food choices come to the fore 
in the novel. Stereotyping against both 
vegetarians and meat-eaters is rampant, 
but the satire makes for a light and funny 
read, no matter where one falls on the 
dietary spectrum between herbivore and 
carnivore. 
For example, Mathieu and the 
Nedelecs feel threatened by the “salad-
eaters” (157), though they make up a rather 
small portion of France’s population. But 
the flesh-eaters certainly don’t know their 
enemy very well. Léa is the first vegetarian 
that Mathieu has ever met, and he is 
befuddled by their conversation: 
 
 It was like encountering an alien. 
 Except there was no visible 
 deformity—green skin, antennae 
 sprouting from her head, 
 crooked little finger—to indicate 
 that she was any different from 
 normal people. (52) 
 
Besides thinking that vegetarians are alien-
like, the Nedelec Pork team sees them as 
“bloodthirsty maniacs” (72), not realizing 
the irony. “‘We’re dealing with fanatics—
vampires who want our hemoglobin. Any 
member of the Nedelec family knows that’” 
(72). 
The attacks are not one-sided, 
however. Though the pork producers may 
appear to be extremists in their insecurity 
at the potential success of a small 
vegetarian restaurant and their claims of 
the nutritional benefits of processed meat 
products, the vegetarians can be just as 
extreme, instigating a violent brawl at a 
Veggie Pride event, to Léa’s 
embarrassment. 
Beneath the satire, though, are real 
questions about food consumption. One 
man struggles with maintaining a 
vegetarian diet and confesses to Léa that 
1
Gersie: The Green and the Red
Published by / Publié par Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2016
sometimes, he slips. Léa’s assistant, 
Pervenche, berates Léa for not carefully 
reading labels on food products. Mathieu 
worries about a pain in his gut and wonders 
if it is related to his meat consumption. And 
Léa herself struggles with her morals as she 
buys a packet of foie gras in order to create 
the perfect vegetarian imitation foie gras 
recipe. 
For the first half of the novel, it is 
hard to tell whether the “carrot-munching 
ayatollahs” (13) or the “murderers” (54) will 
come out ahead, but ultimately, The Green 
and the Red is a case for vegetarianism, or 
at least reduced meat consumption. (The 
author is vegetarian and the translator is 
vegan.) The book opens with Léa wondering 
how much mercury is in the tuna she has 
wrongly been served, and she doesn’t 
hesitate to drop statistics about the horrors 
of meat production—from an animal rights 
and environmental perspective—
throughout the rest of the book. A 
gastroenterologist advises a patient on the 
benefits of a plant-based diet. The comic 
struggle of Mathieu and his date getting 
stuck in a giant pile of seaweed while 
horseback riding on the beach is really an 
explanation of the effects of nitrate runoff 
from hog manure into the ocean. And a visit 
to an industrial pig farm by Léa and other 
members of the Rennes Vegetarian Society 
reveals some of the sorry details of meat 
production about which many omnivores 
are happy to remain ignorant. 
Vegetarian, omnivore, or 
carnivore—whether you prefer the 
“pumpkin wonton soup . . . mushroom and 
polenta mousseline . . . and flourless 
chocolate cake” (48) or the “pork tenderloin 
with truffled potato croquettes” (154)—this 
book is sure to leave you with a growling 
stomach. Perhaps it will leave you thinking 
a little more carefully about your food 
choices, too. Léa asks a disgruntled meat-
eater at the conclusion of the tale: “‘And 
you, can you tell me that the smell of grilled 
eggplant with shallots, garlic, thyme, and 
Espelette pepper doesn’t make you 
hungry?’” (170). The meat-eater walks away 
with a frown, but Léa can only hope she has 
given him some food for thought. 
 
JENNA GERSIE is a Program Associate for 
SIT Study Abroad programs in the Middle 
East, North Africa, and Europe, an Editor at 
Green Writers Press, and a copyeditor for 
The Goose. 
 
2
The Goose, Vol. 14, No. 2 [2016], Art. 5
https://scholars.wlu.ca/thegoose/vol14/iss2/5


https://scholars.wlu.ca/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1155&amp;context=thegoose

The Green and the Red: a Novel by Armand Chauvel

Abstract

Similar works

Full text

Available Versions

Wilfrid Laurier University

Scholars Commons