Welcome to my new followers !

2013-03-05 17.03.05


“On the second she closed the door, begins the melancholia of all the precedent seconds”

Hi guys ! I am so happy to see so many news followers here, specially after I said I will update this blog as often as I can. First, it means that you can understand what I say hahaha. Secondly, it means that I found people to discuss with 🙂

So don’t be shy and leave a comment ! I will answer everytime

Have a nice week-end.

BOOKREVIEW: Toni (Morrison), what’s going on ?

  In France, a literature similar to traditionnal afro-american literature  (Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Alex Haley…etc) is not as strong as in U.S.A, I think. We have a lot of essays, of history books, but novels… Not so many. Somehow, I share this afro-american culture which screams the “black History” or “black culture”, because I hardly found something or I never heard anything similar here. Don’t get me wrong, maybe I just don’t know and probably did not go further, but the fact is my mother fed me of these movies like Color Purple and so on, when I was very young. I was 8 when I saw ROOTS for the first time. Since that day, I watch it every year like a ritual (if you want I will talk about that another time). Therefore, it’s in this afro-american influence that my mother adviced me to read Toni Morrison. God, I avoided it during a long, long, long time. Toni’s book alone on my desk, or my bed, or in my bag. Never in my hands. Don’t ask me why, I have no idea. Then, this year for christmas, Home got succesfull in France and, for once, I agreed to read something which was popular in medias and dropped my past century books that I love so much.

Let’s go further after this long introduction : I read Home. Yep. I read it and this book made me feel dizzy. As if I did not correctly hold it, as if I was guilty of something that I did not know. The atmosphere of the novel is heavy, systematically drowning you in a deep way. It is not something that you read to relax, you read it in order to see how look Truth. Not the noble one, the one that we congratulate with a moral weight. No, the other one, the ugly truth of History. Frank, the main character, could steal some sympathy from us. Page after page we could feel sorry and close from his intimate misery, the misery of a survivor soldier after Korea War. Yes, we could, but his life is so ugly by his authenticity that it is uncomfortable to know all the details. It’s uncomfortable to see that we cannot not judge him. How hard we try to understand his sister or him, to understand this reckless and bitter America… We can’t not judge.

I would be interested to know how American readers felt during their reading.

The fact is reading Toni Morrison’s book was tough. It was like eating something so thick that, even if it is good, we don’t really know if we’ll have a stomackhake after that. My opinion will seem mixed to you, so let’s be clear : I liked it 🙂 . I don’t know why, probably because her way of writing “acted” on me, touched me, troubled me. After finishing this book, I felt… thirsty. Yeah. Thirsty. The history itself did not entertain me so much, because it needed to be digested. Analized. It’s just I needed to read more. Like “Toni, what’s happening to me ? what’s going on ?” This is the reason why, now, when I take the metro, I try to find a seat. Not seats which will need to be available when it’s crowded. A comfortable seat. Only then, I can open my purse, letting run my hand in the bottom, and take Tar Baby, another Toni Morrison’s book.

I don’t really know what to think about Toni’s books, because it’s not about to think but to feel.

What I know though, is that I don’t feel thirsty anymore. 

P.S : Good news, this blog will be updated more often now. I closed my others blogs because this one is the most authentic. Let’s see where we’ll go.

Moving on, strength of next days

Weird title, I think. But it seemed to me obvious that “strength” takes place in it. Nothing goes as we expect that it will be. Disappointment is something that I am familiar with, somehow, in love. Some of you appreciated my last article, and I don’t regret my words but since that, disappointment came upon it. God I would like to erase it in order to give some logic to my life and my text, but life is surprising. In an “up and down” way.

However, I refuse to let myself drowning. You already know it, I am optimistic. It’s tough to remain optimistic in love. Specially when it’s soooo complicated !

However, it’s also easy to tell about positive things : feeling good, acting in a good way, being a good person… All of this is easy to relate. It is easier to congratulate an ego and admiting its fault. Few weeks ago, I felt pride and good to have helped a woman in the metro. Nothing heroic, just civil act of helping someone else. I felt good because I did not follow the easy way which is following the crowd, taking the metro, going down to my usual station, going back home and closing the door behind me. I was proud to do not let the routine crashing me in my individual way of life.  Again, proud to have taken a minute to stop my steps and looking back for someone else than my ego who wanted to watch the last episode of Homeland or Mad Men. I was happy because it was me.

How bad is that ? Not that I think it’s bad to be proud of some acts that we do sometimes, some way of action which surprises ourself; but it would have worth it if it was not exceptionnal. Few days after, I spent a bad day after hearing a bad news, I came back home and a woman who needed help in the stairs of the metro was there. I skipped this woman. No matter how hard it is to write it, no matter how I turned back for helping her afterward, no matter how much I realized my mistake… I had been selfish and did what I was scared about. Following the routine, finding an excuse of “I don’t feel well”.

Same for this poor fellow that I saw in my metro just after that, I did not give even a food coupon because “if I give to every poor people I see, I will be myself poor”. Another excuse.

When I came back home for relaxing… I could not. I felt bad. So bad face to the truth of my actions. I was not different.

Then I thought “I will do better tomorow”. Isn’t it what it is about ? Being a better person, isn’t it trying everyday ? Learning of our failures and pursuing our goal ? Feeling so involved that we have this will to change ? I think so. I don’t say it excuses everything, but I sincerely believe that trying harder, instead of being stuck on “I am a bad person”,  is what make us better.

‘Cause being better, it is also reflecting on ourself afterward. No ?

What do you think ?