Je lis "la révolution des droits"

Il faut se rendre à l'evidence, nous sommes tous ici pour y rester

Interesting

Richard North Patterson, à lire

Je lis ce livre










C'est très bon, j'apprend plein des choses sur les coulisses de la justice américaine. Comme par ex., ce que les avocats appelent un "artichoke" lorsque les jurés sont choisis : "An artichoke is a juror who knows I'm innocent because his dead mom tells him so". L'histoire est intéressante et captivante, il y a un peu de tout : family law, mediators, child psychologists (possible child molestation), divorce, murder (by whom ?, still not sure yet and the trial's about to begin), love, unhappy childhoods, spousal abuse, lawyers and politicains...

Richard North Patterson served as an Assistant Attorney General for the state of Ohio and has been partner in several leading law firms. He also served as the liaison for the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission to the Watergate Special Prosecutor. His bio from wikipedia here.

Lucia Etxebarria

Je lis ce livre et il m'a tellement plu que je l'ai offert à M. pour son anniversaire, à suivre...

Another book

The man with the dancing eyes

And a review here, although I don't really agree, this last part (3rd picture) completely does it for me...

The history of love by Nicole Krauss

Read about the author here, and some reviews for the book here.

En parlant de Cordelia...

Comme un archer je tends et détends tour à tour la corde, j'entends sa mélodie, c'est ma musique de guerre.

I like Iris Murdoch

Her first published novel, Under the Net, was selected in 2001 by the editorial board of the American Modern Library as one of the 100 best English-language novels of the 20th century : "All theorizing is flight. We must be ruled by the situation itself and this is unutterably particular. Indeed it is something to which we can never get close enough, however hard we may try as it were to crawl under the net."
Read it to find out what the net is.

"Snow" continued...

Our city is a peaceful place
The outlying districts

Veiling as it did the dirt, the mud, and the darkness, the snow would continue to speak to Ka of purity, but after his first days in Kars it no longer promised innoccence. [...] Instead, the snow spoke to him of hopelesness and misery. [...] These sights spoke of a strange and powerfull loneliness. It was as if he were in a place that the whole world had forgotten, as if it were snowing at the end of the world. [...] They sat on old divans and crooked chairs in tiny icy rooms with earthen floors covered by machine-made carpets, and every time they moved from one house to the next [...] they had to make their way past children kicking broken plastic cars, one-armed dolls, or empty bottles or boxes of tea and medicine back and forth across the way. As they sat next to stoves that gave out no heat unless stirred continuously, and electric heaters that ran off illegal power lines, and silent television sets that no one ever turned off. [...] the thing that shocked and frightened Ka was the way these girls had killed themselves : abrubtly, without ritual or warning, in the midst of their everyday routines. [...] the deputy governor told Ka. "But if unhappiness were a genuine reason for suicide, half the women in Turkey would be killing themselves." [...] Ka found it strangely depressing that the suicide girls had had to stuggle to find a private moment to kill themselves. Even after swallowing their pills, even as they lay quietly dying, they'd had to share their rooms with others.


Pas un sujet très rose, contrairement à mon humeur en ce moment, mais très bon livre, et je commence seulement. Là je vais essayer de lire un peu de S. Beaulac pour l'école avant que Lu se réveille...

Lire

"Snow" by Orhan Pamuk

Je commence aussi un peu plus tôt aujourd'hui Snow, d'Orhan Pamuk, écrivain turc qui a eu le Prix Nobel, pour Snow justement, j'avais lu Istanbul l'été passé, autobiographie, et là enfin un peu de temps. Aussi, je le lis avec un crayon à la main, chose que je n'ai pas faite depuis des années...

Voici quelques extraits du premier chapitre :

The Silence of Snow
The journey to Kars

The silence of snow, thought the man sitting just behind the bus driver. If this were the beginning of a poem, he would have called the thing he felt inside him the silence of snow. [...] We should note straightaway that this soft, downy beauty of a coat would cause him shame and disquiet during the days he was to spend in Kars, while also furnishing a sense of security. [...] In the snowflakes whilrling ever more wildly in the wind he saw nothing of the impending blizzard but rather a promise, a sign pointing the way back to the hapiness and purity he had known once, as a child. [...] He was a poet and, as he himself has written - in an early poem still largely unknown to Turkish readers - it snows only once in our dreams. [...]
"I'm a journalist," Ka whispered in reply. This was a lie. "I'm interested in the municipal elections - and also the young women who've been committing suicide." This was true. [...] As he walked he took careful notice of the writing on the walls - the election posters, the advertisements for schools and restaurants, and the new posters that the city officials hoped would end the suicide epidemic : Human Beings are God's masterpieces, and suicide is blasphemy. [...]After a lifetime in which every experience of love was touched by shame and suffering, the prospect of falling in love filled Ka with an intense, almost instinctive, dread.

"Betrayal"

Je (re)commence à lire un peu de théâtre, Harold Pinter est merveilleux.

Emma so lucky to hear what Jerry says to her at the end of scene 9 : "Look at the way you look at me..." it starts.