Pensées éparpillées (FICTION) (French Edition)

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View or edit your browsing history. Return to Book Page. This modern story in the Dostoyevskian tradition is shot through with the shock of raw truth, disturbingly real, "darkened and filled with the turbid and swirling sediment of the actual French Canadian world--with the squalor and the squirming life that swarms in the steep-roofed cement-covered houses of the little Canadian towns Paperback , Universal Library , pages.

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To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. Lists with This Book. This book is not yet featured on Listopia. I have mixed feelings about this novel. Firstly, I can certainly see why it's considered an important book in Canadian literature. I'm glad I read it. However, I cannot say that I particularly enjoyed it. It is not that it is dark, which it truly is - the lives these children are living is abysmal.

I enjoy the dark and the macabre very much. I think, in part, I do not have the historical knowledge of Quebec in this time frame to contextualize the book properly. I was grateful for the Afterword by Ni I have mixed feelings about this novel. I was grateful for the Afterword by Nicole Brossard to help situate the book a little more clearly for me. I also firmly believe that any time you read a translation, you're bound to lose something in it. Obviously, many English readers love this book and I can see why they might.

However, something about it just sits strangely with me, and I find myself at a loss regarding what to think about it. Perhaps it was the reality of it that leaves me with these feelings towards it. I am sure that this book is not far from the truth regarding life in that time and in those circumstances, and that strikes me with a level of discomfort and grief for so many childhoods that were lost to such cruelty and poverty. If you're Canadian, I do think it is worth your time to read this, as it is a glimpse of French-Canadian history that I don't believe we get to see in many other places.

It is just a slim book, and shouldn't take much time out of your life. So, this certainly was a book. Part of the Canadian Perhaps strangest of all was the introduction not by the author insisting that this book was not overwrought, that it was an accurate representation of pre-Quiet Revolution rural Quebec. She was quite insistent, taking Robertson Davies to task for a review where he apparently said that Blais had talent, but maybe she should try toning down the bombast next time.

The rest of this review has So, this certainly was a book. The rest of this review has been withdrawn due to the changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here. In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook I have now read this book twice because of the subtle humour that satisfies me so much. I shan't summarize because you can read the book yourself, but I will identify a couple of things that make this book stand out: But in A Season in the Life of Emmanuel, there is no real indication of a specific time and place.

We read I have now read this book twice because of the subtle humour that satisfies me so much. We readers just have to figure things out or imaginatively fill in these blanks thanks to clues and social codes which are outdated; e. The illustrations are grotesque and shadowy like German Expressionism and resemble the negatives of a string of photograph film. This, of course, adds to the "negative" tone of the novel.

But the most by far exceptional quality of this novel is the way in which Blais beautifully develops her characters. It is more of a character study than anything else and this is what is memorable and endearing about the book. Readers will grow to love and hate characters and it is this emotional connection that made me - for one - read it twice.

Lots of discussion of religion, family values, politics, abusive sex, lovely sex and innocence. The novel focuses on a family that is a parodic, but sadly kind of relatable, version of pre-Quiet Revolution, rural Quebec life. A gem of a story showing the grip of the Catholic Church on the people in Quebec. It is a story of poverty, abuse and death with the eternal hope of better times with the new life of the baby Emmanuel.

They characters are strongly presented from the iron fisted grandmother who rules the family to the tubercular Jean le Maigre who enjoys his small life and writes about the misery with humor. A son called only Number 7 is the family drunk seeking his escape in booze and sex. A daughter sent to the A gem of a story showing the grip of the Catholic Church on the people in Quebec.

A daughter sent to the convent discovers sensuality and leaves in disgrace to become a prostitute. Through all this somehow comes a thread of hope. Marie-Claire Blais spells out the tragedy of being an uneducated French-Canadian Catholic in an early 20th century village in Canadian. Extreme poverty, 16 children, field work, cows, freezing weather outside, little fire wood for indoor heat, lack of food, rags for clothes, constant illness, maternal depression, daily beatings, violent father, arson, rape, self-mutilation, suicide, reformatories, convents, priests preying upon the young put in their care et cetera.

Not a pretty picture, for her Marie-Claire Blais spells out the tragedy of being an uneducated French-Canadian Catholic in an early 20th century village in Canadian. Not a pretty picture, for her readers to see, but real, with a grand-mere who insists on the wisdom of the church. A rural Quebec acid trip?

A Season In The Life Of Emmanuel

I'm not sure what this is, but the society it paints makes me shudder. The only thing I found engrossing, from start to finish, was the character of Grande-Mere, but even she is subsumed by the weight of everything around her. I'm settling on disturbing. Are all French Canadian stories from this time depressing? But it is also brilliant.

Without doubt he would end up in prison, as his father had so often told him. He no longer had any hope of finding a cure for view spoiler [Thank goodness the novel is very short, because it is painful, disturbing, overwhelming, sickening, and nauseating to read.

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He no longer had any hope of finding a cure for his need to steal. He had gone too far to turn back now.

He was afraid of losing his job in the factory. But Grand-mere Antoinette had taken Emmanuel in her arms and was whispering in his ear. It's been a hard winter, but the spring will be better. We must thank heaven that Heloise sends us a little money every week! Pomme hid his mutilated hand inside his jacket. You're a man now!


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The sun was shining on the land. A tranquil warmth was flowing through his veins as his grandmother rocked him in her arms. Emmanuel was emerging from the dark.


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Bouncing with joy, Emmanuel clapped his hands and feet together and brimmed over with such good humor and curiosity that Grand-mere Antoinette was in a constant state of alarm lest he jump right out of his cradle. So curious was he, in fact, that his grandmother was obliged several times to unclench his fingers from her knitting needles, or from the pins pinned on her bodice, which he seized and attempted to eat whenever she leaned over to take a closer look at him We meet him, get his tale, find out his aspirations, his guilt, his torture, his hope, and then he is gone, all in this short season.

Dracà-cwellere Chapter 1: Cul-de-sac et Cul-de-bouteille - Livre 1, a hobbit fanfic | FanFiction

Jean-Le Maigre had never appeared so virtuous in her eyes as he had since his death, or in such good health as he did now, laid in his grave, 'very quiet, up there, on the hillside It must be that she was starting to grow old. It was certain she had aged a great deal, even in the past few days No one can see me when I'm reading,' Jean-Le Maigre answered. They lay there like two quiet, watchful animals, scarcely twitching at all inside their black boots, always ready to spring into action; two feet bruised by long years of work in the fields opening his eyes for the first time in the dusty morning light, he couldn't see them yet, was not yet aware of the hidden wound in the leg, beneath the woolen stocking, of the ankles swollen within their prisons of leather and laces Born without fuss, this winter morning, Emmanuel was listening to his grandmother's voice.

Immense and all-powerful, she seemed to be ruling the whole world from her armchair. Dont' cry, what have you got to cry about? Your mother has gone back to work on the farm. Just you keep quiet till she gets home.