An addendum to my most recent rant: The Washington Post mentioned that Kir Royal was also outlawed in Virginia on the same grounds as sangria: because it is a mix of wine and liquor!
See the article: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/01/23/AR2008012303400.html
Monday, January 28, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Two Rants
A couple of things made my temper flare in the last few days:
- I went to see the movie Atonement based on the superb book by Ian McEwan, and loved the movie as much as I loved the book. Indeed it is so rare to find a faithful cinematographical adaptation of a literary oeuvre and for a long time only the BBC was able to produce anything of quality...Think Pride and Prejudice with the elegantly divine Colin Firth! So you can just imagine how floored I was when I found out that the French distributor translated the title to a sugary-weepy-not-at-all-in-context-with-Ian McEwan's style "Reviens-moi". I almost threw up! These are the words that Knightley says twice in the movie to McEvoy, but in no way does it represent or do justice to the very essence of the book. Forgive them, Father, for they obviously do not know what they are doing, and certainly cannot understand English!
- To be fair, or rather balanced, I had to find something that the Americans, in turn, would do to make me cringe. Now, of course, the US is a big country and with 50 states, diversity prevails. So when one State acts stupidly, it does not mean that the entire nation follows suit...Ah! The advantages of federalism over "the unique and indivisible Republic"! (But that is another story altogether.) Anyway, as I was driving to work this morning, listening to the Jack Diamond Morning Show on 107.3, this came up: Sangria is ILLEGAL in Virginia! That is to say, any bartender who is serving sangria risks up to one year in jail! Yes, you read it well, it is not one month or one day, but one year -12 months- in jail...The legal basis for this extremely cruel penalty is the following: in Virginia, one is not allowed to mix wine or beer with brandy, or wine or beer with any other hard liquor. As for the logical aspect of it, I relished the image of new sangria recipes: mixing Argentinian red wine with French red wine and calling it the "Falkland Sangria" just to annoy the Brits, or mixing Tequila and Bourbon and calling it the 'New Frontier" just to tickle some people's points of view on immigration to this country...Because if you cannot mix wine and hard liquor, nothing prevents you to mix wine with wine or liquor with liquor. How do you think they invented Martinis in the Big Apple? But I am keeping the best for the end... If the law is enforced as it has been, because a restaurant had to close for a few days, all the Irish-Americans living in the Commonwealth of Virginia will have to move elsewhere: indeed, how will they be able to drink their beer and their shot of whisky together? No siree, you cannot mix, and it means, as a responsible bartender, I cannot serve you the two drinks simultaneously...you would be mixing!
But I am cheating, am I not? This story made me laugh more than the translation faux pas!
- I went to see the movie Atonement based on the superb book by Ian McEwan, and loved the movie as much as I loved the book. Indeed it is so rare to find a faithful cinematographical adaptation of a literary oeuvre and for a long time only the BBC was able to produce anything of quality...Think Pride and Prejudice with the elegantly divine Colin Firth! So you can just imagine how floored I was when I found out that the French distributor translated the title to a sugary-weepy-not-at-all-in-context-with-Ian McEwan's style "Reviens-moi". I almost threw up! These are the words that Knightley says twice in the movie to McEvoy, but in no way does it represent or do justice to the very essence of the book. Forgive them, Father, for they obviously do not know what they are doing, and certainly cannot understand English!
- To be fair, or rather balanced, I had to find something that the Americans, in turn, would do to make me cringe. Now, of course, the US is a big country and with 50 states, diversity prevails. So when one State acts stupidly, it does not mean that the entire nation follows suit...Ah! The advantages of federalism over "the unique and indivisible Republic"! (But that is another story altogether.) Anyway, as I was driving to work this morning, listening to the Jack Diamond Morning Show on 107.3, this came up: Sangria is ILLEGAL in Virginia! That is to say, any bartender who is serving sangria risks up to one year in jail! Yes, you read it well, it is not one month or one day, but one year -12 months- in jail...The legal basis for this extremely cruel penalty is the following: in Virginia, one is not allowed to mix wine or beer with brandy, or wine or beer with any other hard liquor. As for the logical aspect of it, I relished the image of new sangria recipes: mixing Argentinian red wine with French red wine and calling it the "Falkland Sangria" just to annoy the Brits, or mixing Tequila and Bourbon and calling it the 'New Frontier" just to tickle some people's points of view on immigration to this country...Because if you cannot mix wine and hard liquor, nothing prevents you to mix wine with wine or liquor with liquor. How do you think they invented Martinis in the Big Apple? But I am keeping the best for the end... If the law is enforced as it has been, because a restaurant had to close for a few days, all the Irish-Americans living in the Commonwealth of Virginia will have to move elsewhere: indeed, how will they be able to drink their beer and their shot of whisky together? No siree, you cannot mix, and it means, as a responsible bartender, I cannot serve you the two drinks simultaneously...you would be mixing!
But I am cheating, am I not? This story made me laugh more than the translation faux pas!
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Ames sensibles s'abstenir, Partie 1
Une fois n’est pas coutume, cette revue littéraire sera en français d’abord parce que les livres que je vais évoquer dans cette colonne sont des ouvrages français récents. Leur intitulé ne le laisse pourtant pas supposer et le lecteur est en droit de se demander pourquoi les auteurs ont-ils absolument tenu à leur donner un titre en langue anglaise.
Nous avons ainsi Hell de Lolita Pille, Teen Spirit de Virginie Despentes, le tout récent Prix Goncourt 2007, Alabama Song de Gilles Leroy, et des exemples plus anciens comme Not To Be de Christine Angot, American Vertigo de BHL et Windows on the World de Frédéric Beigbeder.
En ce qui concerne les deux derniers, je ne m’étendrai ni sur leur pédante rivalité, ni sur leurs prétentions philosophico politiques qui rappellent plus les salons des Précieuses Ridicules que les amphithéâtres fréquentés par un Michel Serres ou un Pierre-André Taguieff. BHL est loin d’être Tocqueville même s’il en a fort envie ! Je peux, à la rigueur, me flageller et admettre que Windows on the World se veut un hommage au restaurant du même nom, à son personnel, et aux clients que le hasard fit s’y trouver pour disparaître le 11 septembre 2001 lors de l’attaque contre le World Trade Center…Quel dommage que l’auteur ait, -une fois de plus est une fois de trop dans le cas de Beigbeder -, utilisé cette plateforme littéraire pour contempler son propre nombril lors de petits déjeuners qu’il prenait à la Tour Montparnasse en fantasmant sur les dernières minutes des victimes du 11 septembre !
Alabama Song est en partie excusable par le sujet même, donner voix à Zelda Fitzgerald, le femme de Scott Fitzgerald, auteur de The Great Gatsby, dont le destin tragique s’achèvera six pieds sous terre dans le cimetière de Rockville, celui-là même en haut de Rockville Pike…
Il n’en est pas de même de Lolita Pille et Virginie Despentes. Se laissent-elles manipuler par le jeu des « tendances » qui domine même le langage ? Ont-elle succombé à la pression de leurs éditeurs, eux-mêmes plus à l’écoute du chiffre de vente que de la qualité littéraire d’une œuvre ? Lolita Pille, dont l’autre livre s’appelle Bubble Gum, accumule les anglicismes dès la page d’accroche de Hell : « Je suis un pur produit de la Think Pink generation », écrit-elle, sans se demander si l’étiquette recouvre seulement les jeunes femmes, nouvelles cibles des études de marché, ou quelque chose de plus grave, comme la recherche sur le cancer du sein, par exemple. Il est bien beau de vouloir étendre son savoir, encore faut-il bien le posséder…La sur utilisation, à mauvais escient, de la langue anglaise et de termes qui ont une connotation culturelle précise dans le monde anglo-saxon, ne va de pair, dans ce premier livre de Lolita Pille, qu’avec la sur consommation de drogue dure de ces personnages, (J’ai laissé tomber très rapidement le compte des lignes de cocaïne, et du nombre de fois qu’est conjuguée l’expression « se taper une ligne »). Personnages dont la superficialité, accrocheuse et provocante dès les premières phrases (que je ne vous révèlerai pas), se veut une réécriture contemporaine du très beau, bien que scandaleux en son temps, livre de Choderlos de Laclos, Les liaisons dangereuses. La narratrice, Hell, tente de regrouper en une seule personne Cécile (comme la jeune fille séduite par Valmont, elle tombe enceinte et, XXIème siècle oblige, avorte au lieu de faire une fausse couche), la Présidente de Tourvel et la Marquise de Merteuil. Si Hell excelle quelque part, c’est à se montrer au-delà des attentes qu’aurait pu entretenir Choderlos de Laclos pour sa Marquise, mais en moins raffinée. Quant à Valmont, sous les traits d’Andrea di Sanseverini, il paraît bien pâle. Son personnage est peu et mal développé ; il est vrai que l’auteur est une adolescente dont l’expérience de la vie, si elle est un tant soit peu proche de ce qu’elle écrit, n’est qu’une série de sorties mondaines sans autre but qu’ orgies de sexe et de drogue. Rimbaud écrit « On n’est pas sérieux quand on a dix-sept ans » ; Lolita Pille l’a pris au pied de la lettre. A cela s’ajoutent les escapades pseudo philosophiques qui sentent la classe de terminale et le malaise adolescent, mais un malaise qui date…car recourir aux chansons de Ferré, c’est ce qui se faisait au début des années 80 et encore ! Les emprunts à Baudelaire ne sont pas tous officiellement reconnus : Harmonie du Soir est bien mentionné en fin de livre, mais L’Invitation au Voyage a été oubliée alors qu’au chapitre 11, Andrea raconte : « Ma vie n’est que luxe, calme et volupté », un refrain célèbre que les amateurs du plus grand dandy de la poésie française reconnaîtront…
Teen Spirit de Virginie Despentes est d’un autre acabit : titre anglais certes, mais des personnages hauts en couleurs, même si ce ne sont plus celles du XVIème arrondissement. Le registre de langue, fleuri, rappelle Céline. L’auteur n’en est pas à sa première œuvre et on sent de suite la maturité de celle qui a vécu. Virginie Despentes dérange car elle nous renvoie toutes nos illusions sur la vie et l’amour, n’hésite pas à confesser qu’elle s’est prostituée aux débuts du minitel, et jette un regard proche du désespoir et de l’anarchie sur nos mesquineries quotidiennes. On peut ne pas agréer avec Virginie Despentes et mépriser son style, il n’en demeure pas moins qu’elle est l’image d’un féminisme nouveau, qui s’exprime haut et fort dans son essai King Kong Théorie. Le traitement littéraire de son personnage principal et narrateur, Bruno, est soutenu par les figures de style qu’il pense et prononce, mais cela ne le rend pas forcément sympathique. L’adolescente Nancy nous semble plus authentique que Hell, jusque dans ses comportements extrêmes alliés à un grand besoin de tendresse et d’amour. A la lecture de Teen Spirit, on reprend presque espoir…
Si ces deux livres ont un point en commun, c’est leur côté « littérature de camelote », pour laquelle les faiseurs de tendance utilisent le terme anglais de « littérature trash ». Or, le « trash », qu’est-ce que c’est réellement ? Des ordures, un objet sans aucune valeur, donc de la camelote, dont on peut disposer, c’est-à-dire jeter à la poubelle (« trash can »), au pire, une insulte, surtout s’il est apposé après « white », comme dans « white trash ». Certains prétendent que ce type de littérature n’est que la digne héritière de précurseurs comme Rabelais, Sade, Apollinaire ou Bataille, tout simplement parce que les champs lexicaux du sexe et du corps s’y expriment souvent vulgairement. Pour d’autres encore « trash » est synonyme de « réalité ». Ce qu’il y a de sûr, c’est que le lecteur de Hell peut se sentir souillé au fil des pages d’un tel livre…
© Sarah Diligenti Pickup December 2007
Nous avons ainsi Hell de Lolita Pille, Teen Spirit de Virginie Despentes, le tout récent Prix Goncourt 2007, Alabama Song de Gilles Leroy, et des exemples plus anciens comme Not To Be de Christine Angot, American Vertigo de BHL et Windows on the World de Frédéric Beigbeder.
En ce qui concerne les deux derniers, je ne m’étendrai ni sur leur pédante rivalité, ni sur leurs prétentions philosophico politiques qui rappellent plus les salons des Précieuses Ridicules que les amphithéâtres fréquentés par un Michel Serres ou un Pierre-André Taguieff. BHL est loin d’être Tocqueville même s’il en a fort envie ! Je peux, à la rigueur, me flageller et admettre que Windows on the World se veut un hommage au restaurant du même nom, à son personnel, et aux clients que le hasard fit s’y trouver pour disparaître le 11 septembre 2001 lors de l’attaque contre le World Trade Center…Quel dommage que l’auteur ait, -une fois de plus est une fois de trop dans le cas de Beigbeder -, utilisé cette plateforme littéraire pour contempler son propre nombril lors de petits déjeuners qu’il prenait à la Tour Montparnasse en fantasmant sur les dernières minutes des victimes du 11 septembre !
Alabama Song est en partie excusable par le sujet même, donner voix à Zelda Fitzgerald, le femme de Scott Fitzgerald, auteur de The Great Gatsby, dont le destin tragique s’achèvera six pieds sous terre dans le cimetière de Rockville, celui-là même en haut de Rockville Pike…
Il n’en est pas de même de Lolita Pille et Virginie Despentes. Se laissent-elles manipuler par le jeu des « tendances » qui domine même le langage ? Ont-elle succombé à la pression de leurs éditeurs, eux-mêmes plus à l’écoute du chiffre de vente que de la qualité littéraire d’une œuvre ? Lolita Pille, dont l’autre livre s’appelle Bubble Gum, accumule les anglicismes dès la page d’accroche de Hell : « Je suis un pur produit de la Think Pink generation », écrit-elle, sans se demander si l’étiquette recouvre seulement les jeunes femmes, nouvelles cibles des études de marché, ou quelque chose de plus grave, comme la recherche sur le cancer du sein, par exemple. Il est bien beau de vouloir étendre son savoir, encore faut-il bien le posséder…La sur utilisation, à mauvais escient, de la langue anglaise et de termes qui ont une connotation culturelle précise dans le monde anglo-saxon, ne va de pair, dans ce premier livre de Lolita Pille, qu’avec la sur consommation de drogue dure de ces personnages, (J’ai laissé tomber très rapidement le compte des lignes de cocaïne, et du nombre de fois qu’est conjuguée l’expression « se taper une ligne »). Personnages dont la superficialité, accrocheuse et provocante dès les premières phrases (que je ne vous révèlerai pas), se veut une réécriture contemporaine du très beau, bien que scandaleux en son temps, livre de Choderlos de Laclos, Les liaisons dangereuses. La narratrice, Hell, tente de regrouper en une seule personne Cécile (comme la jeune fille séduite par Valmont, elle tombe enceinte et, XXIème siècle oblige, avorte au lieu de faire une fausse couche), la Présidente de Tourvel et la Marquise de Merteuil. Si Hell excelle quelque part, c’est à se montrer au-delà des attentes qu’aurait pu entretenir Choderlos de Laclos pour sa Marquise, mais en moins raffinée. Quant à Valmont, sous les traits d’Andrea di Sanseverini, il paraît bien pâle. Son personnage est peu et mal développé ; il est vrai que l’auteur est une adolescente dont l’expérience de la vie, si elle est un tant soit peu proche de ce qu’elle écrit, n’est qu’une série de sorties mondaines sans autre but qu’ orgies de sexe et de drogue. Rimbaud écrit « On n’est pas sérieux quand on a dix-sept ans » ; Lolita Pille l’a pris au pied de la lettre. A cela s’ajoutent les escapades pseudo philosophiques qui sentent la classe de terminale et le malaise adolescent, mais un malaise qui date…car recourir aux chansons de Ferré, c’est ce qui se faisait au début des années 80 et encore ! Les emprunts à Baudelaire ne sont pas tous officiellement reconnus : Harmonie du Soir est bien mentionné en fin de livre, mais L’Invitation au Voyage a été oubliée alors qu’au chapitre 11, Andrea raconte : « Ma vie n’est que luxe, calme et volupté », un refrain célèbre que les amateurs du plus grand dandy de la poésie française reconnaîtront…
Teen Spirit de Virginie Despentes est d’un autre acabit : titre anglais certes, mais des personnages hauts en couleurs, même si ce ne sont plus celles du XVIème arrondissement. Le registre de langue, fleuri, rappelle Céline. L’auteur n’en est pas à sa première œuvre et on sent de suite la maturité de celle qui a vécu. Virginie Despentes dérange car elle nous renvoie toutes nos illusions sur la vie et l’amour, n’hésite pas à confesser qu’elle s’est prostituée aux débuts du minitel, et jette un regard proche du désespoir et de l’anarchie sur nos mesquineries quotidiennes. On peut ne pas agréer avec Virginie Despentes et mépriser son style, il n’en demeure pas moins qu’elle est l’image d’un féminisme nouveau, qui s’exprime haut et fort dans son essai King Kong Théorie. Le traitement littéraire de son personnage principal et narrateur, Bruno, est soutenu par les figures de style qu’il pense et prononce, mais cela ne le rend pas forcément sympathique. L’adolescente Nancy nous semble plus authentique que Hell, jusque dans ses comportements extrêmes alliés à un grand besoin de tendresse et d’amour. A la lecture de Teen Spirit, on reprend presque espoir…
Si ces deux livres ont un point en commun, c’est leur côté « littérature de camelote », pour laquelle les faiseurs de tendance utilisent le terme anglais de « littérature trash ». Or, le « trash », qu’est-ce que c’est réellement ? Des ordures, un objet sans aucune valeur, donc de la camelote, dont on peut disposer, c’est-à-dire jeter à la poubelle (« trash can »), au pire, une insulte, surtout s’il est apposé après « white », comme dans « white trash ». Certains prétendent que ce type de littérature n’est que la digne héritière de précurseurs comme Rabelais, Sade, Apollinaire ou Bataille, tout simplement parce que les champs lexicaux du sexe et du corps s’y expriment souvent vulgairement. Pour d’autres encore « trash » est synonyme de « réalité ». Ce qu’il y a de sûr, c’est que le lecteur de Hell peut se sentir souillé au fil des pages d’un tel livre…
© Sarah Diligenti Pickup December 2007
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Falling For Harry (Potter, of course!)
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
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
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
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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)
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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
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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...
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