Louis de Bernières, Bill Bryson, Mary Gordon, Delmore Schwartz, James Thurber, Hervey Allen

De Britse schrijver Louis de Bernières werd geboren in Londen op 8 december 1954. Zie ook mijn blog van 8 december 2008 en ook mijn blog van 8 december 2009. en ook mijn blog van 8 december 2010.

Uit: Birds Without Wings

„Yusuf the Tall strode up and down the room, waving his hands, protesting and expostulating, sometimes burying his face in his hands. Kaya had not seen him so anguished and begrieved since the death of his mother three years before. He had painted the tulip on the headstone with his own hands, and had taken bread and olives so that he could eat at the graveside, imagining his mother underneath the stones, but unable to picture her as anything but living and intact.
Yusuf had passed the stage of anger. The time had gone when these patrollings of the room had been accompanied by obscenities so fearful that Kaya and her children had had to flee the house with their hands over their ears, their heads ringing with his curses against his daughter and the Christian: “Orospu çocu¢gu! Orospu çocu¢gu! Piç!”
By now, however, Yusuf the Tall was in that state of grief which foreknew in its full import the horror of what was inescapably to come. His face glistened with anticipatory tears, and when he threw his head back and opened his mouth to groan, thick saliva strung itself across his teeth.
Overtaken, finally, by weariness, Kaya had given up pleading with him, partly because she herself could see no other way to deal with what had occurred. If it had been a Muslim, perhaps they could have married her to him, or perhaps they could have repeated what had been done with Tamara Hanim. Perhaps they could have kept her concealed in the house, unmarried for ever, and perhaps the child could have been given away. Perhaps they could have left it at the gates of a monastery. Perhaps they could have sent her away in disgrace, to fend for herself and suffer whatever indignities fate and divine malice should rain upon her head. It had not been a Muslim, however, it had been an infidel.

Yusuf was an implacable and undeviating adherent to his faith. Originally from Konya, he was not like the other Muslims of this mongrel town who seemed to be neither one thing nor the other, getting converted when they married, drinking wine with Christians either overtly or in secret, begging favours in their prayers from Mary Mother of Jesus, not asking what the white meat was when they shared a meal, and being buried with a silver cross wrapped in a scrap of the Koran enfolded in their hands, just because it was wise to back both camels in salvation’s race.“

Louis de Bernières (Londen, 8 december 1954)

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Louis de Bernières, Bill Bryson, Mary Gordon, Delmore Schwartz, James Thurber, Hervey Allen”

Georges Feydeau, Horatius, Carmen Martín Gaite, Nikos Gatsos, Jura Soyfer, Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, Joel Chandler Harris

De Franse theaterauteur Georges Feydeau werd geboren op 8 december 1862 in Parijs. Zie ook alle tags voor George Feydeau op dit blog.

 

Uit: On purge bébé

„Surgissant en trombe par la porte, pan coupé. Tenue de souillon ; peignoir-éponge dont la cordelière non attachée traîne par ; petit jupon de soie sur la chemise de nuit qui dépasse par en bas : bigoudis dans, les cheveux ; bas tombant sur les savates. Elle tient un seau de toilette plein d’eau à la main.

JULIE : Alors, quoi ? Tu ne peux pas te déranger ? Non ?
FOLLAVOINE :
Ah! Je t’en prie, n’entre donc pas toujours comme une bombe!… Ah!
JULIE :
Oh! Pardon! Tu ne peux pas te déranger ? Non ?
FOLLAVOINE :
Eh bien! Et toi ? Pourquoi faut-il que ce soit moi qui me dérange plutôt que toi ?
JULIE :
C’est juste! C’est juste! Nous sommes mariés, alors!…
FOLLAVOINE :
Quoi ? Quoi ? Quel rapport ?…
JULIE :
Ah! Je serais seulement la femme d’un autre, il est probable que!…
FOLLAVOINE :
Ah! Laisse-moi donc tranquille! Je suis occupé, v’là tout!
JULIE :
Occupé! Monsieur est occupé! C’est admirable!
FOLLAVOINE :
Oui, occupé! Ah!
JULIE :
Quoi ?
FOLLAVOINE :
Ah çà! Tu es folle ? Tu m’apportes ton seau de toilette ici, à présent ?
JULIE :
Quoi, “mon seau” ? Où ça, “mon seau” ?
FOLLAVOINE :
Ça!
JULIE :
Ah! Là! C’est rien. C’est mes eaux sales.
FOLLAVOINE :
Qu’est-ce que tu veux que j’en fasse ?
JULIE :
Mais c’est pas pour toi! C’est pour les vider.
FOLLAVOINE :
Ici ?
JULIE :
Mais non, pas ici! Que c’est bête ce que tu dis-là ! Je n’ai pas l’habitude de vider mes eaux dans ton cabinet de travail ; j’ai du tact.
FOLLAVOINE :
Alors, pourquoi me les apportes-tu ?
JULIE : Mais pour rien! Parce que j’avais le seau en main pour aller le vider quand Rose
est venue me rapporter ta charmante réponse : alors, pour ne pas te faire attendre…
FOLLAVOINE : Tu ne pouvais pas le laisser à la porte ?
JULIE :
Ah! Et puis tu m’embêtes ! Si ça te gêne tant, tu n’avais qu’à te déranger quand je te demandais de venir ; mais Monsieur était occupé ! à quoi ? Je te le demande.“

 

Georges Feydeau (8 december 1862 – 5 juni 1921)

Opvoering van On purge bébé in de Salle polyvalente de Tonnerre, 2010

Doorgaan met het lezen van “Georges Feydeau, Horatius, Carmen Martín Gaite, Nikos Gatsos, Jura Soyfer, Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, Joel Chandler Harris”