I felt like writing but really I have nothing much to say..
Today was slightly tense and strange. Dh ended up coming home early. Each time I braced fearing the worst I was surprised by the reaction I received. Until the end anyway, then it became so predictable I just wanted to cry or maybe to scream. Like a animal trapped in a hunters snare. It doesn’t matter though, I’ll endure… I’m just tired I think, the afternoon wore on like Chinese water torture…I’ll write about that later.
I had quite a bit of time to read to day, I’ll be sad at the end of this book. It’s been so engaging, so descriptive, so easily read. There have been so many beautiful thoughts through out this whole book it’s killing me not to be able to share them all. This is a book I’d love to read aloud to an audience. The author is truly gifted, in describing humanity.
I want to transcribe a piece of this book. I give you a little back ground, this is not what the whole book is about, it’s actually uniquely historical. This portion though is this..The context is a French woman, and a German soldier whom have secretly fallen in love. Incidentally this German is billeted in to the home of this French woman’s horridly cruel and cold MIL. It’s impossible love. The woman’s husband, an unfaithful, worldly, tyrant has been captured and is now a POW. The German soldier too is married, he has been away from his wife now four years.
Okay here is the excerpt..
They were alone- the felt they were alone- in the great sleeping house. Not a word of their true feelings was spoken; they didn’t kiss. There was simply silence. Silence followed by feverish passionate conversation about their own countries, their families, music, books… They felt a strange happiness, an urgent need to reveal their hearts to each other – the urgency of lovers, which is already a gift, the very first one, the gift of the soul before the body surrenders. Know me, look at me. This is who I am . This is how I have lived, this is what I have loved. And you? What about you?
It’s so rare, to find someone that truly sees you, the real you. That can look at you and see who you really are. In the same breath, wants to know you, to love you, AS YOU ARE. It’s so rare.
Another excerpt, this time take from a different story line, I middle class husband and wife. Refugees that have lost their only son ot the war, and are stranded, chronically given the short end of the stick, kind people, good people… After doing everything possible to fulfill the wish of their boss, due to his (their boss) own problems with his mistress he denies the couple their rightful wage, on a whim to be cruel because he (the boss) was looking to hurt someone as a reaction to his own hurtful situation. (The son is still alive but they don’t know it yet..)
“But why are we always the ones that have to suffer? Us and people like us? We’re always the ones that get trampled! Why? What did we do? We are paying for everyone else’s mistakes, We’re just sheep to the slaughter. I want to know why! What’s happening? I don’t understand. your a man, you should understand, ” she said angrily to Maurice, no longer knowing whom to blame for the disaster they were facing. “who’s wrong? Who’s right? Why Corbin? (their corrupt boss that scammed then out of their severance) Why Jean- Marie? (Their son) Why us?”
“What do you want to understand? , There is nothing to understand, ” he said forcing himself to stay calm. “certain laws govern the world and they’re neither for us or against us. When a storm strikes, you don’t blame anyone: you know the thunder is the result of two opposite electrical forces, the clouds don’t know who you are. You can’t reproach them. And it would be ridiculous if you did – they wouldn’t understand.”
“But it’s not the same thing. What we’re going through is down to people and people alone. ”
“It only seems like that, Jeanne. It all seems caused by this man or that, by one circumstance or another, but it’s like in nature: after the calm comes the storm; it starts out slowly, reaches the peak, then it’s over and other periods of calm, some longer, some shorter, come along. It’s just been our bad luck, to be born in a century full of storms, that’s all. They’ll die down.”
They continued arguing, not because they hoped or even wished to win the other over, but becasue talking helped them forget their painful problems.
“Who should we speak to?” Jeanne finally exclaimed.
“You mean you still don’t understand that nobody cares about anybody?”
She looked at him. “You’re strange Maurice. You’ve seen people at their most cynical, their most disillusioned, and the same time you’re not unhappy, I mean, not really unhappy inside! Am I wrong?”
“So what makes it all right then?”
“My certainty that deep down I’m a free man, ” he said, after thinking for a moment. “It’s a constant, precious possession, and whether I keep it or lose it is up to me and no one else. I desperately want the insanity we’re living through to end. I desperately want what has begun to finish. In a word, I desperately want this tragedy to be over and for us to try to survive it, that’s all. What’s important is to live: Primum vivere. One day at a time. To survive, to wait to hope. ”
She listened without saying a word. Suddenly, she got up and grabbed her hat form the mantelpiece. He looked at her in astonishment.
“And what I say, ” she replied, “is ‘Heaven helps those who help themselves.’ Which is why I am going to speak to Furieres. ”
“You see, I managed and Heaven helped me,” Jeanne said to her husband when she got home.
“And I did the hoping, ” he replied, smiling. “We were both right.”
I could go on and on. This book is filled with beautifully written soliloquies.