"…my life, for the most part, has been very stale and colorless. Dead, I mean. The world has always been an empty place to me. I was incapable of enjoying even the simplest things. I felt dead in everything I did.’ He brushed the dirt from his hands. ‘But then it changed,’ he said. ‘The night I killed that man."
Sappho, translated by Anne Carson.
three iconic Combeferre moments that nearly didn’t belong to combeferre at all.
1. “être libre, dit
CourfeyracCombeferre, et voici ce qu’il chantait:
Si César m’avait donné
La gloire et la guerre,
Et qu’il me fallût quitter
L’amour de ma mère
Je dirais au grand César:
Reprends ton sceptre et ton char,
J’aime mieux ma mère, ô gué!
J’aime mieux ma mère.
L’accent tendre et farouche dont
CourfeyracCombeferre le chantait donnait à ce couplet une sorte de grandeur étrange.
3. Et Marius entendait
—Tu as tort, Bahorel. La bourgeoisie aime la tragédie, et il faut laisser sur ce point la bourgeoisie tranquille. La tragédie à perruque a sa raison d’être, et je ne suis pas de ceux qui, de par Eschyle, lui contestent le droit d’exister. Il y a des ébauches dans la nature; il y a, dans la création, des parodies toutes faites; un bec qui n’est pas un bec, des ailes qui ne sont pas des ailes, des nageoires qui ne sont pas des nageoires, des pattes qui ne sont pas des pattes, un cri douloureux qui donne envie de rire, voilà le canard. Or, puisque la volaille existe à côté de l’oiseau, je ne vois pas pourquoi la tragédie classique n’existerait point en face de la tragédie antique.
Ezra Pound at St. Elizabeths, March 1955. At the time, the poet was in the tenth year of his twelve-year confinement at the hospital for the insane in Washington, where he had been committed in lieu of standing trial for treason for his wartime support of Mussolini.
the secret history meme: [6/6] characters
↳ Richard Papen
"But while I have never considered myself a very good person, neither can I bring myself to believe that I am a spectacularly bad one."
I did see it back when it first aired and I really enjoyed it!
(Well, I say “enjoyed”, but “appreciated” is probably a better word in this case.)
I think Kramer wrote some beautiful extra material for the script (the Rolodex speech was a particularly good addition), Ryan Murphy’s sense of humour shone through at just the right times, the cast is pitch perfect (I could go on and on about my love for Matt Bomer, but I won’t), and even though it is not the most subtle of films, it does exactly what it set out to do: make people aware, get them angry and emotional and wanting to take action, teach you something about a time in history that many young people don’t even know about.
Also, as someone who has spent over a year researching the topic I really appreciated the attention to detail, like Ned looking at the posters someone put up in a shop window that I remember reading about, or Ned reading a newspaper article I myself had just discussed in my thesis.
And yes, I cried. The Only Living Boy In New York can make me cry on its own, and the way it was used in this film just broke me. Whoever came up with that idea deserves a raise.
(I do have some qualms about the movie’s reception, but since I wrote about those issues in my thesis, I think I’ll just put that up so you can all read it if you’re interested. I have to get my grade first though, so keep an eye out!)
Books bought on holiday in the UK last week.
From top to bottom in the pile:
1. Little Tales of Misogyny by Patricia Highsmith (a present given to me by the owner of an antique store in West Kirby when she saw me browsing the book section).
2. Jamaica Inn by Daphne du Maurier (bought in Liverpool).
3. Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H. Lawrence (bought in his birth house in Eastwood, Nottinghamshire).
4. The Poems of Wilfred Owen by Wilfred Owen (bought in Liverpool after seeing the Wilfred Owen Drive street sign in Birkenhead).
5. The Resurrectionist by E.B. Hudspeth (bought in Liverpool).