Happy 250th, Jane!

Emma

Jane Austen (16 December 1775 – 18 July 1817)

Happy 95th, Dame Edna!

Wish she could celebrate her 95th birthday, today.
I do.

 

Edna O'Brien (15 December 1930 – 27 July 2024)

 “History is said to be written by the victors. Fiction, by contrast, is largely the work of injured bystanders.” 

Books everywhere. On the shelves and on the small space above the rows of books and all along the floor and under chairs, books that I have read, books that I have not read.

What matters is the imaginative truth.

Ordinary life bypassed me, but I also bypassed it. It couldn't have been any other way. Conventional life and conventional people are not for me.

Love . . . is like nature, but in reverse; first it fruits, then it flowers, then it seems to wither, then it goes deep, deep down into its burrow, where no one sees it, where it is lost from sight, and ultimately people die with that secret buried inside their souls.

We hide the truer part of ourselves when we love.

I always want to be in love, always. It’s like being a tuning fork.

Beers & Books (438) – 28 Stories from the Faroe Islands

Of islands I know
Stories from the Faroe Islands
;-)
Even greater than the variety of beers
is the variety of the 28 stories by 27 authors.
A literary tour de force through the 20th century.

The fundamental evil

Ich erkläre das grundlegende Übel der Welt damit, 
dass der liebe Gott zu wenig Geld geschaffen hat.
                                      * * *
The fundamental evil of the world arose from the fact
that the good Lord has not created money enough. 

 Heinrich Heine (13 December 1797 – 17 February 1856)

Friday is Skyday

...

Merci, Monsieur Marceau!

In autumn 1986 he gave me about an hour of his life. We talked about Auschwitz and love, about language and absolution, about Chaplin and apartheid, about poetry, Picasso and power, about resistance and reconciliation, about . . .

At one point he said: Shshsh, and now let's five minutes talk without words.

Magic?
Eyes talking.
No ears needed.
Silence.
Thoughts flowing, waving.
Question and answer dancing.
Dreams.
Understanding?
Yes.
It is possible.
Magic!

May the one and the other think I am (too) sentimental: Afterwards I felt these had been very special moments in my life. I had met a wonderful wise human being.

Beers & Books (437) – Juan Rulfo: Pedro Páramo

Pedro Páramo

Juan Rulfo (16 May 1917 – 7 January 1986)

Friday is Skyday

17:20, and already night.
But what a celestial spectacle!

Beers & Books (436) – Relations Courier 1705

1705. That's how far back
Germany's probably oldest still-existing daily newspaper can look.
And it sometimes reads like it. ;-)
Nevertheless, I'm happy and grateful I was given this copy some time ago.
Reading it reinforced my belief 
that war has probably always been the preferred method of those in power.

December blue

...

Friday is Skyday

Days are getting grey, nights frosty.
and "everywhere" harvested sugar beets ...

... are waiting to be transported to the factory.

Relats conjunts: Garrote vil III – Painter's "pride"

«Garrote vil» (Ramon Casas - 1894)

Relats conjunts

"What am I proud of in retrospect on that February 29, 1932? Certainly not the portraits of the so-called high society, the decadent elite in many respects. That's how I earned my living. No, I'm proud of a few paintings that hold a mirror up to my contemporaries. ... Although pride is the wrong word. Take 'Garrote vil'. Just sketching the gawkers on the balconies, who had paid a fortune for their box seats, sometimes made me want to burst with rage and tear the canvas to shreds. But then I thought that this testament to human perversity might one day make a small contribution to the abolition of the death penalty. ... I only fear that future generations will come up with even more hideous cruelties. Perhaps something more subtle. Someone will call it 'The Banality of Evil'."

Relat conjunts: Garrote vil II – The executioner

«Garrote vil» (Ramon Casas - 1894)

Relats conjunts

 

"Well, how was it, Joanita?"
Joan took the garrote from his wife, helped her out of the executioner's garb, and looked at her tenderly.
"Terrible it was. You know how perfectly I wield the garrote. But again they demanded that I prolong the spectacle." 
"And? Did you make the poor fellow suffer unnecessarily longer?"
"When I hesitated, the mayor said, 'There are dozens down there who would love to do your job.' So what should I do? You, me, the children: we all want to eat."

"Poor darling. But imagine this. I've heard that the mayor is going on trial soon. And you know what the punishment for blasphemy is?"
A smile flickered across Joanita's lips. "If that's true, this execution will go down in history as the longest ever. And afterwards I shall quit."
"But ..."
"Don't worry, darling. Top prices will be offered for his fat. We'll be able to send our children to school so they once can have a better life."