I had never read any of the Harry Potter books until this summer. It is not that I have anything against wizards or witches -I have always been a great fan of Celtic literature, and am a sucker for anything linked to The Knights of the Round Table, King Arthur, Excalibur, Lancelot and Merlin!...to the extent that I find Monty Python’s cinematographic interpretation of the theme a rather vulgar disgrace to humanity’s imagination. However, fantastic literature, -the type written by Edgar Allan Poe, or by Guy de Maupassant-, or any literature containing spectacular creatures and alien worlds, like The Lord of the Rings, or The Hobbit, or science fiction in general, is really not my cup of tea…with the exception of the rather poetic Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles.
What bothered me more was the fact that there would be more than one Harry Potter book and what if I read the first one and liked it and then had to wait for the next one to be released? I do think I am patient…except when it comes to books: for instance, I am constantly checking whether Andrei Makine is publishing a new book or not; I love his style of writing so much that I never can get enough of it, and then devour the published book within 2 days…to then mourn until the next one is released. Such is my literary enthusiasm that it leads me to abysses of despair when a favorite author takes his or her time to fill my hunger.
So when the final, number 7, Harry Potter book was released on July 22, I knew I could start digging into the series. Now, for those of you curious to know how long it took me to read all 7 books: 10 days exactly, and I was not on vacation, but since we do not own cable or satellite TV in our household, entertainment is rather Spartan, and I read every day from about 7:00pm until 2:00am, and more at weekends.
And…I fell in love with Harry Potter! The books brought back memories of other books of course, like the Mallory School series I avidly read when I was 12, about a British boarding-school. J. K. Rowling’s genius is to have used some recurrent themes dear to an Englishman or woman’s heart, such as…boarding school, or the witches and wizards whose fates have been legendary since Camelot and Stonehenge, or even Quidditch which is a transformed polo game, broomsticks instead of horses! From book 1 to book 7, the intrigue darkens, and here again the author smartly called on the eternal fight between good and evil.
What qualifies it originally as children’s literature disappears with the death of a young contestant in Book 4, and from that book on, Harry Potter targets a more mature audience in my opinion. Blood purity, which is a major motive in the series reminds the reader of the 20th and 21st centuries past and ongoing ethnic cleansing…”Mudblood” stands for all the racist epithets that have been proffered since the Armenian Genocide, or even earlier the Jewish Pogroms in Tzarist Russia.
It is also an interesting fact that Book 1 had to have a different title in the US. The original title, as published in the UK, is Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. In the US, it becomes ‘…and the Sorcerer’s Stone”, as if it would be politically incorrect to assign an enchanted stone to a philosopher…when anyone who has studied the Middle Ages knows that philosopher meant alchemist, therefore the stone!
Lots of critics wonder whether J. K. Rowling has not sold her soul to the devil. Surf the internet and read the satanic accusations launched against her by some right-wing Christians: one becomes ashamed of calling oneself a Christian in front of so much ignorance and lack of culture! Some even say that there is no God in her books. There might not be the conventional idea of God known to most of us, but if we look deeper, we realize that because Love (of Harry’s parents for their son, of Harry for his friends) is omnipresent in the books, with another very religious theme such as sacrifice (that is what Harry’s mother does to protect him!), and if we contemplate the fact that God is love, then J.K. Rowling’s books contain more God’s presence than Tolkien’s or C.S. Lewis’s oeuvres.
Others have trouble grasping the extent and the depth of her imagination: how can one woman (on top of it all!) have thought of so many characters, monsters, creatures, and so on? Well, this summer, after having achieved my goal of reading all the Harry Potters, I went for my routine early morning run. I happened to be running in a small village along the banks of the river Lot. If you have spent some time in France in July and August, you know that it was rather crispy and cold, not at all a remake of the 2003 heat wave. As I was running over the bridge, I looked at the river and thought: “Dementors!”…I saw dementors coming out of the river! And that is when I realized that the inspiration for some of the creatures found in the Harry Potter books come from an acute observation of Nature: my dementors may have been J. K. Rowling’s ones too, I will never know, but my dementors were those thin to thick clouds of fog that raise from the river waters when the water temperature is higher than the air…and with the winds they looked like creatures from another world, armies of them, slowly advancing to give me the Kiss of Death!
It is time for all of us grumpy grown-ups to rediscover the joy of imagination. Enjoy!
Sarah Pickup-Diligenti © 2007
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
A Republican's and a Democrat's Commonal Reactions to President Bush's Potential New Veto
One after the other: two positions from opposite side of the political spectrum (a short quote from a Republican Senator and a letter sent by Democrat and Evangelical Jim Wallis, better-known for his best-seller "God'sPolitics"). Point of convergence: the bill that would give US poorest children a chance at medical coverage.
Both the Republican and the Democrat justly fustigates President Bush for thinking of vetoing the bill.
I have always been a great fan of Jim Wallis and subscribed for a few years to his magazine "Sojourners". I also heard him speak at Politics and Prose a few years ago when his book was released. His letter to President Bush is right on the spot: the guy has lost all compassion!
Check sojourners@sojo.net
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You bet your sweet bippy I will."
- Sen. Orrin G. Hatch (R-Utah), when asked whether he would vote to override President Bush's threatened veto of a bill to expand the State Children’s Health Insurance Program (SCHIP). Sen. Hatch called the agreement "an honest compromise that improves a program that works for America's low-income children." (Source: The New York Times)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What Happened to You, Mr. President?
Dear Mr. President,
When I first heard that you were vowing to veto a bipartisan bill to expand child health care, my immediate thought was more personal than political: What has happened to you?
I vividly remember a call at the office, only one day after your election had been secured. It was an invitation to come to Austin to meet you and to discuss with a small group of religious leaders your vision for "faith-based initiatives" and your passion for doing something on poverty. I had not voted for you (which was no secret or surprise to your staff or to you), but you were reaching out to many of us in the faith community across the political spectrum who cared about poverty. I was impressed by that, and by the topic of the Austin meeting.
We all filed into a little Sunday school classroom at First Baptist, Austin. I had actually preached there before, and the pastor told me how puzzled he was that his "progressive" church was chosen for this meeting. You were reaching out. About 25 of us were sitting together chatting, not knowing what to expect, when you simply walked in without any great introduction. You sat down and told us you just wanted to listen to our concerns and ideas of how to really deal with poverty in America.
And you did listen, more than presidents often do. You asked us questions. One was, "How do I speak to the soul of America?" I remember answering that one by saying to focus on the children. Their plight is our shame and their promise is our future. Reach them and you reach our soul. You nodded in agreement. The conversation was rich and deep for an hour and a half.
Then when we officially broke, you moved around the room and talked with us one-on-one or in small groups for another hour. I could see your staff was anxious to whisk you away (you were in the middle of making cabinet appointments that week and there were key departments yet to fill). Yet you lingered and kept asking questions. I remember you asking me, Jim, I don't understand poor people. I've never lived with poor people or been around poor people much. I don't understand what they think and feel about a lot of things. I'm just a white Republican guy who doesn't get it. How do I get it? I still recall the intense and sincere look on your face as you looked me right in the eyes and asked your heartfelt question. It was a moment of humility and candor that, frankly, we don't often see with presidents.
I responded by saying that you had to listen to poor people themselves and pay attention to those who do live and work with the poor. It was a simple answer, but again you were nodding your head. I told my wife, Joy, also a clergyperson, about our conversation. Weeks later, we listened to your first inaugural address. When you said,
"America, at its best, is compassionate. In the quiet of American conscience, we know that deep, persistent poverty is unworthy of our nation's promise. And whatever our views of its cause, we can agree that children at risk are not at fault ... many in our country do not know the pain of poverty, but we can listen to those who do,"
my wife poked me in the ribs and smiled. In fact, you talked more about poverty than any president had for a long time in his inaugural address—and I said so in a newspaper column afterward (much to the chagrin of Democratic friends). They also didn't like the fact that I started going to other meetings at the White House with you or your staff about how to best do a "faith-based initiative," or that some of my personal friends were appointed to lead and staff your new Office of Faith-based and Community Initiatives at the White House. We brought many delegations of religious leaders, again from across the political spectrum, to meet with representatives of that office. Some of us hoped that something new might be in the air.
But that was a long time ago. We don't hear much about that office or initiative anymore. Most of my friends have long left. I don't hear about meetings now. And nobody speaks anymore about this new concept you named "compassionate conservatism." And now, you promise to veto a strongly bipartisan measure to expand health insurance for low-income children. Most of your expressed objections to the bill have been vigorously refuted by Republican senators who helped craft the bill and support it passionately. They vow to try and override your veto. During your first campaign, you chided conservative House Republicans for tax and spending cuts accomplished on the backs of the poor. Now Congressional Republicans are chiding you.
What happened to you, Mr. President? The money needed for expanding health care to poor children in America is far less than the money that has been lost and wasted on corruption in Iraq. How have your priorities stayed so far from those children, whom you once agreed were so central to the soul of the nation? What do they need to do to get your attention again? You will be literally barraged by the religious community across the political spectrum this week, imploring you not to veto children's health care. I would just ask you to take your mind back to a little meeting in a Baptist Sunday school classroom, not far away from where you grew up. Remember that day, what we all talked about, what was on your heart, and how much hope there was in the room. Mr. President, recall that day, take a breath, and say a prayer before you decide to turn away from the children who are so important to our nation's soul and to yours.
God bless you,
Jim Wallis
Both the Republican and the Democrat justly fustigates President Bush for thinking of vetoing the bill.
I have always been a great fan of Jim Wallis and subscribed for a few years to his magazine "Sojourners". I also heard him speak at Politics and Prose a few years ago when his book was released. His letter to President Bush is right on the spot: the guy has lost all compassion!
Check sojourners@sojo.net
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You bet your sweet bippy I will."
- Sen. Orrin G. Hatch (R-Utah), when asked whether he would vote to override President Bush's threatened veto of a bill to expand the State Children’s Health Insurance Program (SCHIP). Sen. Hatch called the agreement "an honest compromise that improves a program that works for America's low-income children." (Source: The New York Times)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What Happened to You, Mr. President?
Dear Mr. President,
When I first heard that you were vowing to veto a bipartisan bill to expand child health care, my immediate thought was more personal than political: What has happened to you?
I vividly remember a call at the office, only one day after your election had been secured. It was an invitation to come to Austin to meet you and to discuss with a small group of religious leaders your vision for "faith-based initiatives" and your passion for doing something on poverty. I had not voted for you (which was no secret or surprise to your staff or to you), but you were reaching out to many of us in the faith community across the political spectrum who cared about poverty. I was impressed by that, and by the topic of the Austin meeting.
We all filed into a little Sunday school classroom at First Baptist, Austin. I had actually preached there before, and the pastor told me how puzzled he was that his "progressive" church was chosen for this meeting. You were reaching out. About 25 of us were sitting together chatting, not knowing what to expect, when you simply walked in without any great introduction. You sat down and told us you just wanted to listen to our concerns and ideas of how to really deal with poverty in America.
And you did listen, more than presidents often do. You asked us questions. One was, "How do I speak to the soul of America?" I remember answering that one by saying to focus on the children. Their plight is our shame and their promise is our future. Reach them and you reach our soul. You nodded in agreement. The conversation was rich and deep for an hour and a half.
Then when we officially broke, you moved around the room and talked with us one-on-one or in small groups for another hour. I could see your staff was anxious to whisk you away (you were in the middle of making cabinet appointments that week and there were key departments yet to fill). Yet you lingered and kept asking questions. I remember you asking me, Jim, I don't understand poor people. I've never lived with poor people or been around poor people much. I don't understand what they think and feel about a lot of things. I'm just a white Republican guy who doesn't get it. How do I get it? I still recall the intense and sincere look on your face as you looked me right in the eyes and asked your heartfelt question. It was a moment of humility and candor that, frankly, we don't often see with presidents.
I responded by saying that you had to listen to poor people themselves and pay attention to those who do live and work with the poor. It was a simple answer, but again you were nodding your head. I told my wife, Joy, also a clergyperson, about our conversation. Weeks later, we listened to your first inaugural address. When you said,
"America, at its best, is compassionate. In the quiet of American conscience, we know that deep, persistent poverty is unworthy of our nation's promise. And whatever our views of its cause, we can agree that children at risk are not at fault ... many in our country do not know the pain of poverty, but we can listen to those who do,"
my wife poked me in the ribs and smiled. In fact, you talked more about poverty than any president had for a long time in his inaugural address—and I said so in a newspaper column afterward (much to the chagrin of Democratic friends). They also didn't like the fact that I started going to other meetings at the White House with you or your staff about how to best do a "faith-based initiative," or that some of my personal friends were appointed to lead and staff your new Office of Faith-based and Community Initiatives at the White House. We brought many delegations of religious leaders, again from across the political spectrum, to meet with representatives of that office. Some of us hoped that something new might be in the air.
But that was a long time ago. We don't hear much about that office or initiative anymore. Most of my friends have long left. I don't hear about meetings now. And nobody speaks anymore about this new concept you named "compassionate conservatism." And now, you promise to veto a strongly bipartisan measure to expand health insurance for low-income children. Most of your expressed objections to the bill have been vigorously refuted by Republican senators who helped craft the bill and support it passionately. They vow to try and override your veto. During your first campaign, you chided conservative House Republicans for tax and spending cuts accomplished on the backs of the poor. Now Congressional Republicans are chiding you.
What happened to you, Mr. President? The money needed for expanding health care to poor children in America is far less than the money that has been lost and wasted on corruption in Iraq. How have your priorities stayed so far from those children, whom you once agreed were so central to the soul of the nation? What do they need to do to get your attention again? You will be literally barraged by the religious community across the political spectrum this week, imploring you not to veto children's health care. I would just ask you to take your mind back to a little meeting in a Baptist Sunday school classroom, not far away from where you grew up. Remember that day, what we all talked about, what was on your heart, and how much hope there was in the room. Mr. President, recall that day, take a breath, and say a prayer before you decide to turn away from the children who are so important to our nation's soul and to yours.
God bless you,
Jim Wallis
Monday, August 6, 2007
Bill Maher on France
Bill Maher is being his usual truth-teller self...He loves us so much he slightly distorted the truth at the end: yes we are a green country but not the greenest; we are trying hard to be totally energy-independent but still depend on some Mideast oil, and our health care is not the best in the world..but not bad compared to the UK or the US.
Our worst fault might be accordion music but I would add our unemployement rate too.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Кто я без тебя - (Who am I without You)- TOKiO
This is EXCELLENT : the music goes so well with the clip. It could very well be a clip about the war in Iraq, if it were not in Russian...
TOKiO - When you crying (Когда ты плачешь)
This Russian group is musically gifted and very versatile. It's a change from Alla Pugacheva...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Sacco and Vanzetti
This painting I saw last August at the MOMA in New York has been on my mind a lot. The commentary on the audio-guide was not entirely satisfactory, it sounded as if something was amiss, as if the commentator was not fully knowledgeable. His interpretation was only historical and I cannot help but feel that he missed the symbolism used by Ben Shahn.
If I look first at the three men behind the coffins, I notice that two of them are holding lilies, particularly white lilies. Now white lilies are the symbolic flower used at Easter, symbolic of the Passion of Christ, but also in a more general way of all martyrs' passion. Indeed, these two men may be merely regular undertakers, with their top hats, black frock-coats and the customary long faces imposed by any death. But standing on both sides of what appears to be a judge, they evoke the Trinity.
There has been more than one Trinity painting, and the most famous is probably Andrei Roubleev's Icon of the Angels' Visit to Abraham. In the same way, Ben Shahn has given iconic dimension to the painting. The judge with his red sash confirms again the martyrdom, red being the color of martyrs in Eastern Orthodox iconography. As it is, one can think of the Roman centurion standing by Christ's cross and confessing that yes, they have killed the Son of God.
The judge also appears to be losing his life. Has he realized his mistake? His skin color is in the same tone as that of Sacco and Vanzetti's in their rigor mortis.
The two columns in the background stand as vertically as the two coffins are horizontal. All these black and white lines (columns, stairs, the border above the poster) echo the architectural dimension of the three persons standing above the coffins. The same tone of brown has been used for the closed door of what one can imagine to be the court, and the coffins. The background, also neatly delineated, remains in the distance and the eye is really drawn to the three characters standing above the coffins, more than to the coffins and the sacrificed Sacco and Vanzetti.
I am still at a loss at understanding the meaning of both the poster, except that it would appear to be someone swearing to tell the Truth, and only the Truth, as well a the column-style lamppost on the side, which, by its constrasting color theme, seems out of context.
Tempera on canvas, Ben Shahn, 1931-32.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Do they take the Hippocratic or the hypocritical oath?
Once more the world is upside down because of the recent terrorist bomb alerts and the moronic attack on Glasgow Airport...
But what is really and deeply bothering me is not so much that again the Muslim, home-grown or not, connection, is being quoted as responsible.
What is deeply unnerving is that these people, including the 8 arrested so far had nor just "advanced degrees or education" as some papers have reported, but that they were doctors, as in, physicians.
I wonder whether these guys, wherever they studied their medicine, Paskistan, Australia, India, the UK, or Planet Mars, took what I assumed what the traditional compulsory oath, i.e., the Hippocratic Oath. I am not sure that it allows murder or acts of terror! If we cannot trust our physicians any more, who?
I am includimg here the original Hippocratic Oath: there is no chance a radical Muslim would take that oath, because of the references to all the Greek Gods, for God's sake!
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/doctors/oath_classical.html
But the modern version is rather neutral and I am including it hereunder.
Now the secular version includes a paragraph that is indeed bothering. Here it goes: "But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God."
So are they thinking that it is in their power to try and take the Infidels' lives?
To me, it is simply playing God ...although it is clear that they should not even consider that!
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/doctors/oath_modern.html
Because if they did take this oath, then it was the hypocritical one, wasn't it finally?
There was a special oath created for Muslim doctors. It is based on the Qu'ran and can be found at
http://www.islam-usa.com/im2.html
The text states plainly: "Therefore, make us worthy of this favoured station with honor, dignity and piety so that we may devote our lives in serving mankind, poor or rich, literate or illiterate, Muslim or non-Muslim, black or white with patience and tolerance with virtue and reverence, with knowledge and vigilance, with Thy love in our hearts and compassion for Thy servants, Thy most precious creation.
Hereby we take this oath in Thy name, the Creator of all the Heavens and the earth and follow Thy counsel as Thou has revealed to Prophet Mohammad (pbuh)."Whoever killeth a human being, not in liew of another human being nor because of mischief on earth, it is as if he hath killed all mankind. And if he saveth a human life, he hath saved the life of all mankind." (Qur'an V/35)
If only the arrested physicians acted by what they profess to be The Truth!
But what is really and deeply bothering me is not so much that again the Muslim, home-grown or not, connection, is being quoted as responsible.
What is deeply unnerving is that these people, including the 8 arrested so far had nor just "advanced degrees or education" as some papers have reported, but that they were doctors, as in, physicians.
I wonder whether these guys, wherever they studied their medicine, Paskistan, Australia, India, the UK, or Planet Mars, took what I assumed what the traditional compulsory oath, i.e., the Hippocratic Oath. I am not sure that it allows murder or acts of terror! If we cannot trust our physicians any more, who?
I am includimg here the original Hippocratic Oath: there is no chance a radical Muslim would take that oath, because of the references to all the Greek Gods, for God's sake!
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/doctors/oath_classical.html
But the modern version is rather neutral and I am including it hereunder.
Now the secular version includes a paragraph that is indeed bothering. Here it goes: "But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God."
So are they thinking that it is in their power to try and take the Infidels' lives?
To me, it is simply playing God ...although it is clear that they should not even consider that!
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/doctors/oath_modern.html
Because if they did take this oath, then it was the hypocritical one, wasn't it finally?
There was a special oath created for Muslim doctors. It is based on the Qu'ran and can be found at
http://www.islam-usa.com/im2.html
The text states plainly: "Therefore, make us worthy of this favoured station with honor, dignity and piety so that we may devote our lives in serving mankind, poor or rich, literate or illiterate, Muslim or non-Muslim, black or white with patience and tolerance with virtue and reverence, with knowledge and vigilance, with Thy love in our hearts and compassion for Thy servants, Thy most precious creation.
Hereby we take this oath in Thy name, the Creator of all the Heavens and the earth and follow Thy counsel as Thou has revealed to Prophet Mohammad (pbuh)."Whoever killeth a human being, not in liew of another human being nor because of mischief on earth, it is as if he hath killed all mankind. And if he saveth a human life, he hath saved the life of all mankind." (Qur'an V/35)
If only the arrested physicians acted by what they profess to be The Truth!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Cogito, ergo sum?
When one thought one had understood Descartes's concept...Athena had a deep philosophical conversation with me on her way to summer camp. If what makes us know that we "are" is thinking, does a baby know he or she is thinking? Does it mean that only when we are counscious of our thoughts we "are"? And at what age does that happen?
I was quite at a loss and it was unnerving because WTOP news was just talking about stem cell research, Bush's veto, etc, and I felt I had no answer for my 12 years old daughter.
Indeed, when are we counscious that we think? When "are" we?
I was quite at a loss and it was unnerving because WTOP news was just talking about stem cell research, Bush's veto, etc, and I felt I had no answer for my 12 years old daughter.
Indeed, when are we counscious that we think? When "are" we?
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Listen to this rap!
I don't usually like rap, but when it denounces abuses towards women instead of belittling them, I am all for it!
Listen to this one, in farsi and watch the video: no need to understand the language, the images are telling enough!
http://fleetingperusal.blogspot.com/2007/05/female-rap-on-oppression-in-iran-by.html
Listen to this one, in farsi and watch the video: no need to understand the language, the images are telling enough!
http://fleetingperusal.blogspot.com/2007/05/female-rap-on-oppression-in-iran-by.html
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
A Corner of Paradise
My favorite place in the world is Hawaii. it has brought back to me memories of my childhood in the Caribbeans. One could argue how since the language is different, the locals are different...Well, to put it mildly, even though there are areas here and there on the islands that do remind you that it is after all a US State, it has also kept another rythm of life, a slower pace (OK, not on Oahu, where Honolulu reigns) and that is what makes it Paradise Rediscovered.
Hopping on an airplane to go island-jumping is not bad too and if one languishes after the XXI century, a three day trip to Honolulu can help.
Anyway, here is a picture of the view onto Molokaii from Maui.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Ma France à moi
Ma France à moi
J'essaie encore de comprendre comment copier/coller/lier/relier un lien audio/video... ARRGGHH! Bref, deux essais pour la même chose...Mais j'aurais bien voulu ne donner le lien que pour l'entretien accordé à Patrick Chaboudez plutôt que toute la page. Je rame!
J'essaie encore de comprendre comment copier/coller/lier/relier un lien audio/video... ARRGGHH! Bref, deux essais pour la même chose...Mais j'aurais bien voulu ne donner le lien que pour l'entretien accordé à Patrick Chaboudez plutôt que toute la page. Je rame!
Interviewee par la Radio Suisse le 28 mars 2007
Mercredi 28 mars :
Cette Française est directrice des cours à l'Alliance Française de Washington. Elle a gardé dans la voix quelques intonations de l'Occitanie et un brin de nostalgie pour Toulouse, où elle a passé son enfance. Elle vit depuis 12 ans aux Etats-Unis, dans la région de Washington. Et si elle se sent très attachée à la culture française, à sa littérature, elle a pris ses distances avec la France. Elle envisage d'ailleurs d'adopter la nationalité américaine et se voit très bien prendre sa retraite aux Etats-Unis.
http://info.rsr.ch/fr/rsr.html?siteSect=2011&sid=7626839&cKey=1174050624000
Cette Française est directrice des cours à l'Alliance Française de Washington. Elle a gardé dans la voix quelques intonations de l'Occitanie et un brin de nostalgie pour Toulouse, où elle a passé son enfance. Elle vit depuis 12 ans aux Etats-Unis, dans la région de Washington. Et si elle se sent très attachée à la culture française, à sa littérature, elle a pris ses distances avec la France. Elle envisage d'ailleurs d'adopter la nationalité américaine et se voit très bien prendre sa retraite aux Etats-Unis.
http://info.rsr.ch/fr/rsr.html?siteSect=2011&sid=7626839&cKey=1174050624000
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
About Women: 3 Books Recently Read
Where the Girls Are, by Susan J. Douglas is one of the first entertaining books I have read about “growing up female”. Books about feminism or the place of women in contemporary society too often leave the reader with a good but dry appreciation of the Women’s Lib’s chronology or history. Growing up female with the mass media, which also happens to be Douglas’ subtitle for the book (the title itself is an excellent pun on the movie ‘Where the Boys Are”) has the following advantage: it is a deep and witty review of all the songs, TV shows and major movies that pertained one way or the other to the female image up to 1992. For those of us who grew up in France but somehow managed to get a glance of what was done, TV wise, in the States, it is interesting enough because we may not have resented how sexist some of these shows, such as Charlie’s Angels, The Bionic Woman, etc were. Not all shows bore a male chauvinistic trend, and I am happy to report that some of my favorite childhood and teenage shows got positive marks: Bewitched, L. A. Law and Hill Street Blues. Even Peyton Place, one of the earliest TV series, very loosely based on the book of the same name, exposed feminist ideas. I was not surprised that both Dallas and Dynasty got fiercely attacked by the author. Indeed, these two 1980s shows were rooting hard for the Reaganistic conservative values that kept women subdued as mere trophies to the winning shark-male. My only regret when I reached the end of the book is that its analysis of the media stops in 1992. I would love for the author to write an addendum about the TV shows of the late 1990s and early 2000s: with the advent of political correctness and quotas for protected minorities, there are more females on TV, in politics, and TV shows such as Law and Order, ER, etc do give strong lead parts to women. However, as much as the songs of the 1970s and 80s (from Joan Baez to Madonna) expressed opinionated feminist and feminine points of view (yes, even Madonna!), the current trends that bring us Barbie-like Britney Spears, or trashy rappers’ groupies, seem to go along with the revival of the current Presidency’s conservative views. Is that to say that the female image and the place of women in society are threatened?
For a 30 something in the early 2000s, Elizabeth Gilbert could be the perfect illustration of the contemporary female image. She gathers the classical standards of beauty (in the eye of the male beholder: blond, blue eyes, slim and tall) with the achievements of a successful and career-oriented modern woman. She is a recognized author and journalist, an early achiever rather than a late bloomer. However, at 30 she has a mid-life crisis: a marriage that breaks on the realization that she did not want children after all followed by an unhappy love affair become wake-up calls that will lead her to Italy, India and Indonesia. This initiatic voyage is related in her new book, Eat, Pray, Love. Her wit helps the reader get over the fact that for all her complaints and genuine depression, she still is luckier than the average woman, especially in countries such as India and Indonesia. She mentions two particular examples of female hardships, and as much as the time she spends in India is a time of “praying” in an ashram, her constant narcissism can get on the reader’s nerves. I laughed as much as I became angry at her for falling into the ambushes of today’s society. The fact that she confesses not having been able to live without a male relationship from the age of 15 is in itself revelatory: how can you truly be a free woman, if you always need a man’s approval, or a man’s “appreciative” eyes to exist?
For true laughter, I will recommend Nora Ephron’s latest book, I feel bad about my neck. This last one allies the feminine and the feminist points of view with experience, wisdom and humor. Nora Ephron is better-known for having directed such chick flick as Sleepless in Seattle. Her book is a small treasure of essays on the art of aging…in and with style!
Sarah Diligenti-Pickup © December 2006
For a 30 something in the early 2000s, Elizabeth Gilbert could be the perfect illustration of the contemporary female image. She gathers the classical standards of beauty (in the eye of the male beholder: blond, blue eyes, slim and tall) with the achievements of a successful and career-oriented modern woman. She is a recognized author and journalist, an early achiever rather than a late bloomer. However, at 30 she has a mid-life crisis: a marriage that breaks on the realization that she did not want children after all followed by an unhappy love affair become wake-up calls that will lead her to Italy, India and Indonesia. This initiatic voyage is related in her new book, Eat, Pray, Love. Her wit helps the reader get over the fact that for all her complaints and genuine depression, she still is luckier than the average woman, especially in countries such as India and Indonesia. She mentions two particular examples of female hardships, and as much as the time she spends in India is a time of “praying” in an ashram, her constant narcissism can get on the reader’s nerves. I laughed as much as I became angry at her for falling into the ambushes of today’s society. The fact that she confesses not having been able to live without a male relationship from the age of 15 is in itself revelatory: how can you truly be a free woman, if you always need a man’s approval, or a man’s “appreciative” eyes to exist?
For true laughter, I will recommend Nora Ephron’s latest book, I feel bad about my neck. This last one allies the feminine and the feminist points of view with experience, wisdom and humor. Nora Ephron is better-known for having directed such chick flick as Sleepless in Seattle. Her book is a small treasure of essays on the art of aging…in and with style!
Sarah Diligenti-Pickup © December 2006
Bridges Between Books
As always I started this summer with a reasonable pile of “new” books. What I call “new” does not necessarily mean that the books had just been released. In general, I call them “new” because they finally came out in paperback; I eventually acquired them for pennies in a yard sale and at last found the time to read them. This is what happened this summer when I decided to dive into a few of these already ancient novelties, such as “The Secret Life of Bees”, by Sue Monk Kidd, The Memoirs of the Cardinal de Retz, “The Question of Bruno”, by Aleksandar Hemon and “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time”, by Mark Haddon, to quote but just a few.
Many will probably have read the books I am about to review and will probably deem extraordinary that I can find connections between Lily, the adolescent girl living in the US Bible Belt in 1964 (The Secret Life of Bees), and Christopher, the adolescent autistic boy living in England in our current times (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time). Indeed, all seem to indicate that they have nothing in common: geography, times, their perception of the world, the way they interact with people, and so on. Somehow, I felt that there were similarities between these two characters. Lily is not autistic but still suffers from psychological trauma, what one would call post traumatic disorder: not only did she lose her mother when she was 4, she is in fact responsible for her accidental death. Her memory is scarred by the event, as much as her body bears the mark of the tortures she endures at her father’s hands, while kneeling on grits. Her life is motherless and loveless, but for Rosaleen her proud African-American nanny. Christopher is autistic, on the highest part of the autism spectrum: he has Asperger Syndrome. Christopher shares the experience of psychological and physiological pain with Lily although in a different way. Christopher also lives with his dad, and thinks that his mother is “dead” and seems to only communicate best with Siobhan, one of his teachers at the special school he attends. Both characters are in fact prey and victim to the adults’ decision to hide the truth, or transform it, or lie about it.
Coping with the loss (real or not) of their respective mother is the main literary connection between the two characters. But beyond the obvious, one cannot help but make another literary bridge: 1964 is the year of the Civil Rights Act; fighting discrimination becomes Lily’s way of freeing herself from her father’s violence. Christopher is also suffering from discrimination, even more insidiously as he appears normal to the common people. Set in the UK, the book can’t help but indirectly reveal that Europeans still need to improve their records on discrimination against the physically and psychologically challenged.
Of course, each book could be read separately for its own merits: the beautiful descriptions, the intricately analyzed feelings and lives of May, June and August, the obvious literary knowledge and connotations cleverly used by the author (the bees themselves could be the subject of an entire critical chapter), make The Secret Life of Bees an entertaining read. On the other hand, seeing the world through Christopher’s eyes and autistic mind is at the same time challenging because we have to train our mind to think like him, and very humbling, especially if like me, you have such a child at home while all the time you thought it was just another bout of teenage rebellion. It is never too late to realize that one’s way of thinking is not the ultimate reference but it sure is hard to know what is the best way to show such a child that you truly love him.
© August 2006, Sarah Diligenti-Pickup
Many will probably have read the books I am about to review and will probably deem extraordinary that I can find connections between Lily, the adolescent girl living in the US Bible Belt in 1964 (The Secret Life of Bees), and Christopher, the adolescent autistic boy living in England in our current times (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time). Indeed, all seem to indicate that they have nothing in common: geography, times, their perception of the world, the way they interact with people, and so on. Somehow, I felt that there were similarities between these two characters. Lily is not autistic but still suffers from psychological trauma, what one would call post traumatic disorder: not only did she lose her mother when she was 4, she is in fact responsible for her accidental death. Her memory is scarred by the event, as much as her body bears the mark of the tortures she endures at her father’s hands, while kneeling on grits. Her life is motherless and loveless, but for Rosaleen her proud African-American nanny. Christopher is autistic, on the highest part of the autism spectrum: he has Asperger Syndrome. Christopher shares the experience of psychological and physiological pain with Lily although in a different way. Christopher also lives with his dad, and thinks that his mother is “dead” and seems to only communicate best with Siobhan, one of his teachers at the special school he attends. Both characters are in fact prey and victim to the adults’ decision to hide the truth, or transform it, or lie about it.
Coping with the loss (real or not) of their respective mother is the main literary connection between the two characters. But beyond the obvious, one cannot help but make another literary bridge: 1964 is the year of the Civil Rights Act; fighting discrimination becomes Lily’s way of freeing herself from her father’s violence. Christopher is also suffering from discrimination, even more insidiously as he appears normal to the common people. Set in the UK, the book can’t help but indirectly reveal that Europeans still need to improve their records on discrimination against the physically and psychologically challenged.
Of course, each book could be read separately for its own merits: the beautiful descriptions, the intricately analyzed feelings and lives of May, June and August, the obvious literary knowledge and connotations cleverly used by the author (the bees themselves could be the subject of an entire critical chapter), make The Secret Life of Bees an entertaining read. On the other hand, seeing the world through Christopher’s eyes and autistic mind is at the same time challenging because we have to train our mind to think like him, and very humbling, especially if like me, you have such a child at home while all the time you thought it was just another bout of teenage rebellion. It is never too late to realize that one’s way of thinking is not the ultimate reference but it sure is hard to know what is the best way to show such a child that you truly love him.
© August 2006, Sarah Diligenti-Pickup
Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety, by Judith Warner
Our book club enjoyed record attendance when we discussed this book last month, not only because of the topic at stake but also because we had the great chance and honor (Thanks to Laure!) to receive the author, Judith Warner.
Judith Warner lived in France and speaks fluent French. She enjoyed some aspects of our social system, such as our famous childcare (what do we do in the States when we have a baby? As women, do we stop working because there is either no affordable childcare or no childcare at all?). Judith Warner also enjoyed our more laid back attitude to life and child education, although some of us enlightened her on the French parental anxiety that seizes a parent once their children is of high school age (what will happen if our dear children cannot make it to a “grande école” or show more interest in becoming plumber or butcher or any other despised form of work in the eyes of the majority?). This educational anxiety is something both French and American parents share. However, what Judith Warner stressed, that we know only for those of us who live urban lives when in France, is the desire to find the “right school” from preschool to Ivy League and what consequence it has on a mother’s life. Driving the children around to more activities than they can really become experts at, finding the right doctor, the right preschool, getting the right kind of house, making sure that the life style is the right life style for what one would like one’s children to become, losing one’s identity as a woman on top of losing one’s job….these are some of the American mother and woman’s realities that Judith Warner details in her book. Her approach to a chronological study of motherhood behaviors in the US is fascinating although a bit difficult to relate to when one is French. It is probably the reason why the French translation of her remarkable book will only stress all the psychological effects, causes and consequences of Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety, which will definitely make it look like “perfect madness”!
We had many more questions for the author, and it would be worth inviting her again to explore all these other topics. In the meantime, I can certainly recommend getting acquainted with the various voices, the result of a couple of years of interviews that she made not only in this part of the country, but also on the West Coast or in the Middle West, that angrily or less bitterly, give voice to deep frustrations. Although Judith Warner interviewed predominantly wealthy and well-educated women, these should be heard too: if they can express the need for change in this country in terms of childcare and pace of life, they could be giving a chance to less well-off or less educated women whose stress and anxiety levels must be even higher.
The American version of her book is now in paperback.
Sarah Pickup-Diligenti © April 2006
Judith Warner lived in France and speaks fluent French. She enjoyed some aspects of our social system, such as our famous childcare (what do we do in the States when we have a baby? As women, do we stop working because there is either no affordable childcare or no childcare at all?). Judith Warner also enjoyed our more laid back attitude to life and child education, although some of us enlightened her on the French parental anxiety that seizes a parent once their children is of high school age (what will happen if our dear children cannot make it to a “grande école” or show more interest in becoming plumber or butcher or any other despised form of work in the eyes of the majority?). This educational anxiety is something both French and American parents share. However, what Judith Warner stressed, that we know only for those of us who live urban lives when in France, is the desire to find the “right school” from preschool to Ivy League and what consequence it has on a mother’s life. Driving the children around to more activities than they can really become experts at, finding the right doctor, the right preschool, getting the right kind of house, making sure that the life style is the right life style for what one would like one’s children to become, losing one’s identity as a woman on top of losing one’s job….these are some of the American mother and woman’s realities that Judith Warner details in her book. Her approach to a chronological study of motherhood behaviors in the US is fascinating although a bit difficult to relate to when one is French. It is probably the reason why the French translation of her remarkable book will only stress all the psychological effects, causes and consequences of Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety, which will definitely make it look like “perfect madness”!
We had many more questions for the author, and it would be worth inviting her again to explore all these other topics. In the meantime, I can certainly recommend getting acquainted with the various voices, the result of a couple of years of interviews that she made not only in this part of the country, but also on the West Coast or in the Middle West, that angrily or less bitterly, give voice to deep frustrations. Although Judith Warner interviewed predominantly wealthy and well-educated women, these should be heard too: if they can express the need for change in this country in terms of childcare and pace of life, they could be giving a chance to less well-off or less educated women whose stress and anxiety levels must be even higher.
The American version of her book is now in paperback.
Sarah Pickup-Diligenti © April 2006
Fat Girl!, by Judith Moore.
As I was researching who was Judith Moore last year when I read the book, I found out that there were other items that bore the same title: “The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life” by Wendy Shanker, and Catherine Breillat’s movie “A ma soeur” which is translated into “Fat Girl!” for English and American audiences. It confirms that the subject is a growing concern and the depth of the reasons why some women (or men) are fat are not all a matter of overeating for the pleasure of overeating. I would also like to mention the play written by Neil La Butte, “Fat Pig” which was an absolute hit at the Studio Theatre this winter. Although the performances were extended, I never managed to get a seat for the days I chose. It was totally sold out.
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer
To plagiarize (almost!) one of my favorite singers, Elton John, “[Death, the loss of a beloved one]…seems to be the hardest word”, or rather the hardest subject to tackle in literature, especially when related to the defining moment of the first year of the twenty-first century, 9/11.
That is the challenge Jonathan Safran Foer set himself for and wrote with a mastery that has yet to find another equal. Of course 9/11 as a topic has already been treated in literature and amongst the first was French writer Frederic Beigbeder with Windows on the World, and later on British writer Ian McEwan, with Saturday. What makes Jonathan Safran Foer stands apart is not his youth -Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is “only” his second book, but a masterpiece-, but his sensitivity. Mc Ewan’s usual gloominess and British sense of wit and Beigbeder’s incommensurable and insufferable arrogance, permanent self-congratulation and introspection “à la BHL” quickly leave the reader ill at ease if not truly annoyed in the case of the latter.
Foer’s story is antipodal to these other novels. 9/11, the ultimate traumatic event, is told as perceived by Oscar Schell, whose Dad died in the restaurant Windows on the World. At the time of the narration two years have passed, but Oscar is still a wounded child and still looking for clues. Or is he just desperately wanting for clues to exist, for the ‘goodbye” word that was never left on the answer phone messages by his trapped at the top of the world Dad?
The author manages to give us a view of the world according to Oscar, gifted and talented child, and like many of them, over anxious. His world is not an ordinary child’s; 9/11 and an IQ way above the average do not make it easy for a little boy to have friends of his own age.
The story of Oscar’s 9/11 also becomes the story of his paternal family’s many traumas: the Dresden bombings are intertwined to his own presentation of the effects of Hiroshima and to the general theme of 9/11. Oscar’s quest for clues is also his way of finding closure, to come to terms with his Dad’s death. What he will also achieve is bring healing to the wounds carried by his grand-mother and his grand-father. The author cleverly gave voice to these characters, in ways that will probably be imitated by other authors in the future: polyphony is quite original in itself, but when it comes accompanied with pictures, colors, and other meta-textual clues, it has no equal yet.
Sarah Pickup-Diligenti ©June 2006
That is the challenge Jonathan Safran Foer set himself for and wrote with a mastery that has yet to find another equal. Of course 9/11 as a topic has already been treated in literature and amongst the first was French writer Frederic Beigbeder with Windows on the World, and later on British writer Ian McEwan, with Saturday. What makes Jonathan Safran Foer stands apart is not his youth -Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is “only” his second book, but a masterpiece-, but his sensitivity. Mc Ewan’s usual gloominess and British sense of wit and Beigbeder’s incommensurable and insufferable arrogance, permanent self-congratulation and introspection “à la BHL” quickly leave the reader ill at ease if not truly annoyed in the case of the latter.
Foer’s story is antipodal to these other novels. 9/11, the ultimate traumatic event, is told as perceived by Oscar Schell, whose Dad died in the restaurant Windows on the World. At the time of the narration two years have passed, but Oscar is still a wounded child and still looking for clues. Or is he just desperately wanting for clues to exist, for the ‘goodbye” word that was never left on the answer phone messages by his trapped at the top of the world Dad?
The author manages to give us a view of the world according to Oscar, gifted and talented child, and like many of them, over anxious. His world is not an ordinary child’s; 9/11 and an IQ way above the average do not make it easy for a little boy to have friends of his own age.
The story of Oscar’s 9/11 also becomes the story of his paternal family’s many traumas: the Dresden bombings are intertwined to his own presentation of the effects of Hiroshima and to the general theme of 9/11. Oscar’s quest for clues is also his way of finding closure, to come to terms with his Dad’s death. What he will also achieve is bring healing to the wounds carried by his grand-mother and his grand-father. The author cleverly gave voice to these characters, in ways that will probably be imitated by other authors in the future: polyphony is quite original in itself, but when it comes accompanied with pictures, colors, and other meta-textual clues, it has no equal yet.
Sarah Pickup-Diligenti ©June 2006
A Late Divorce, by A. B. Yehoshua
Getting a divorce is not an easy decision, even though it sometimes looks and sounds like a soap opera. Some countries also have a very committed approach to the status of marriage and prohibit divorce or make it so difficult to obtain that couples stay together rather than engage in a difficult and costly procedure. Jewish law is even more particular in as much as the married couple must first obtain a religious divorce before getting a civil divorce.
A.B. Yehoshua’s novel is a masterful piece on such a subject. An old Israeli man comes back to Israel after a long absence to get a divorce from his institutionalized wife. This very short trip will last one week, culminating with Passover. It can also be seen as a parallel for the creation of the world: seven days to create the world, seven days to end a marriage and start another life thinks Yehouda, the divorce-seeking father. Each member of this very ordinary Israeli family relates the events in his or her voice: the young grandson, the son-in-law, the sons, the daughter-in-law, the daughter, the estranged wife, the father, even the son’s lover. By letting each character speaks out, Yehoshua brings to the surface many controversial aspects of Israeli life: the social and ethnic disdain with which Ashkenazi Jews consider Sephardic Jews, the intellectual contempt in which non-religious Jews keep their religious brothers, the distance between Diaspora Jews living in relative security in America and Israeli Jews confronted to economic hardship. Of course, with utmost respect for the protagonists, Yehoshua also manages to give us hindsight on the Arab-Israeli conflict.
However Jewish law seems at odds with the Western average view on divorce, other themes in the book explore the feud between tradition and modernity currently on-going in our Judeo-Christian society: Tsvi, the eldest son, is homosexual and his lover is a middle-aged family man who discovers his own sexual orientation late in life, as a distorted mirror-image of Yehouda seeking a late divorce. Asi, the youngest son, is a clichéd image of the Russian intellectual, with his quest for the permanent Laws of History and his over infatuation with his beautiful virgin wife Dina. Asi reminds the reader of both John Savage’s character in Andrei Konchalovsky’s movie Maria’s Lover as well as the rabbi allowed to seek “relief of unbearable urges” in the short story of the same name by Nathan Englander. The men in A Late Divorce are all poignant and moving, even Kedmi, the ever cynical son-in-law whose tactless jokes are an offense to the world’s greatest Jewish humorists, a sort of Woody Allen wannabe who would feel more at home in Manhattan than in Haifa. Amongst the female characters, Yehouda’s estranged and institutionalized wife remains a mystery: we are not convinced that she is mentally sick, or senile, or a psychopath, nor do we really get to understand the nature of her feelings towards Yehouda, or the reasons of her past and present actions. The reader is undecided when it comes to Ya’el and Dina, Yehouda’s daughter and daughter-in-law. Dina’s unbelievable status of virgin wife is not without reminding the reader of other religious stories, even though she might only be suffering from a medical condition that prevents her from fulfilling her conjugal duties. Each couple in the book, separated or living together, is an acute unnerving representation of the general society. They could be living next door to us, be adepts of other religions. They share universal motivations for their actions as well as universal values and dreams.
The oddest chapter in the book occurs when the narration suddenly jumps three years ahead, with the colorful but fleeting appearance of Yehouda’s American love interest, Connie, the woman for whom he was seeking a late divorce and his posthumous son. Because their appearance break the chronological narration, the reader‘s interest is even more teased. It is only through this chapter that the reader will understand that the seven days of Yehouda’s trip back to Israel had an unexpected ending. At the end of the story, one cannot but feel sorry for Yehouda that the rejuvenating experience he was enjoying in America with Connie will know an abrupt and even more incomprehensible end.
A. B. Yehoshua’s style is reminiscent of Faulkner in as much as he uses a polyphonic approach to narration. At times the characters are telling us what is happening, or dialoguing in front of our eyes, through their point of view, with another person. When Tsvi’s lover is given a voice, the chapter seems to be an exchange between him and Tsvi, and then him and Yehouda: the reader quickly realizes that he has access to only Tsvi’s lover’s words. The dialogue is in fact a self-introspecting monologue in a monumental tour de force. At other times they let us get inside their rambling thoughts: punctuation becomes sparse, to imitate the state of the mind, in a manner also found in James Joyce’s Ulysses. A. B. Yehoshua highly deserves the Nobel Prize for Literature.
© Sarah Diligenti-Pickup, October 2006
A.B. Yehoshua’s novel is a masterful piece on such a subject. An old Israeli man comes back to Israel after a long absence to get a divorce from his institutionalized wife. This very short trip will last one week, culminating with Passover. It can also be seen as a parallel for the creation of the world: seven days to create the world, seven days to end a marriage and start another life thinks Yehouda, the divorce-seeking father. Each member of this very ordinary Israeli family relates the events in his or her voice: the young grandson, the son-in-law, the sons, the daughter-in-law, the daughter, the estranged wife, the father, even the son’s lover. By letting each character speaks out, Yehoshua brings to the surface many controversial aspects of Israeli life: the social and ethnic disdain with which Ashkenazi Jews consider Sephardic Jews, the intellectual contempt in which non-religious Jews keep their religious brothers, the distance between Diaspora Jews living in relative security in America and Israeli Jews confronted to economic hardship. Of course, with utmost respect for the protagonists, Yehoshua also manages to give us hindsight on the Arab-Israeli conflict.
However Jewish law seems at odds with the Western average view on divorce, other themes in the book explore the feud between tradition and modernity currently on-going in our Judeo-Christian society: Tsvi, the eldest son, is homosexual and his lover is a middle-aged family man who discovers his own sexual orientation late in life, as a distorted mirror-image of Yehouda seeking a late divorce. Asi, the youngest son, is a clichéd image of the Russian intellectual, with his quest for the permanent Laws of History and his over infatuation with his beautiful virgin wife Dina. Asi reminds the reader of both John Savage’s character in Andrei Konchalovsky’s movie Maria’s Lover as well as the rabbi allowed to seek “relief of unbearable urges” in the short story of the same name by Nathan Englander. The men in A Late Divorce are all poignant and moving, even Kedmi, the ever cynical son-in-law whose tactless jokes are an offense to the world’s greatest Jewish humorists, a sort of Woody Allen wannabe who would feel more at home in Manhattan than in Haifa. Amongst the female characters, Yehouda’s estranged and institutionalized wife remains a mystery: we are not convinced that she is mentally sick, or senile, or a psychopath, nor do we really get to understand the nature of her feelings towards Yehouda, or the reasons of her past and present actions. The reader is undecided when it comes to Ya’el and Dina, Yehouda’s daughter and daughter-in-law. Dina’s unbelievable status of virgin wife is not without reminding the reader of other religious stories, even though she might only be suffering from a medical condition that prevents her from fulfilling her conjugal duties. Each couple in the book, separated or living together, is an acute unnerving representation of the general society. They could be living next door to us, be adepts of other religions. They share universal motivations for their actions as well as universal values and dreams.
The oddest chapter in the book occurs when the narration suddenly jumps three years ahead, with the colorful but fleeting appearance of Yehouda’s American love interest, Connie, the woman for whom he was seeking a late divorce and his posthumous son. Because their appearance break the chronological narration, the reader‘s interest is even more teased. It is only through this chapter that the reader will understand that the seven days of Yehouda’s trip back to Israel had an unexpected ending. At the end of the story, one cannot but feel sorry for Yehouda that the rejuvenating experience he was enjoying in America with Connie will know an abrupt and even more incomprehensible end.
A. B. Yehoshua’s style is reminiscent of Faulkner in as much as he uses a polyphonic approach to narration. At times the characters are telling us what is happening, or dialoguing in front of our eyes, through their point of view, with another person. When Tsvi’s lover is given a voice, the chapter seems to be an exchange between him and Tsvi, and then him and Yehouda: the reader quickly realizes that he has access to only Tsvi’s lover’s words. The dialogue is in fact a self-introspecting monologue in a monumental tour de force. At other times they let us get inside their rambling thoughts: punctuation becomes sparse, to imitate the state of the mind, in a manner also found in James Joyce’s Ulysses. A. B. Yehoshua highly deserves the Nobel Prize for Literature.
© Sarah Diligenti-Pickup, October 2006
Thursday, May 10, 2007
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