Chapter title – “Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk” (Wilbour, Hapgood, Gray, FMA, Denny), “Orestes Sober and Pylades Drunk” (Wraxall), “Orestes on a Fast and Pylades Drunk” (Rose), “Sober Orestes and Drunken Pylades” (Donougher). I think I can deal with all of these except Rose. “On a fast”?
“Vive la République! J’en suis.” – Long live the Republic! … “I’m one of them” (Hapgood, Denny), “I belong to it” (Wilbour, Wraxall, Gray), “Count me in” (FMA), “I’m with them” (Rose), “So say I” (Donougher). I’m used to “I’m one of them,” but there’s something I really like about “I belong to it.”
“Permets-tu?” – “Do you permit it?” (Wraxall, Hapgood, Gray), “Will you permit it?” (Wilbour, FMA), “If you don’t mind” (DENNY >_<) “All right with you?” (ROSE >_<) “With your permission?” (Donougher)
“Enjolras lui serra la main en souriant.” – Enjolras “pressed his hand” (Wraxall, Hapgood, Gray, Donougher), “grasped his hand” (Wilbour), “shook his hand” (FMA, Rose), “clasped his hand” (Denny). I DON’T LIKE “SHOOK HIS HAND,” IT’S NOT GAY ENOUGH.
“Ce sourire n’était pas achevé que la détonation éclata.” – “This smile was not finished when the report was heard” (Wilbour), “This smile had not passed away ere the detonation took place” (Wraxall), “This smile had not passed away ere the detonation burst forth” (Gray), “This smile was not ended when the report resounded” (Hapgood), “The smile was not finished before the report was heard” (FMA), “The smile had not ended when the volley rang out” (Denny), “He was still smiling when the explosion ripped through the silence” (Rose), “He was still smiling when the burst of gunfire came” (Donougher).
(Brick!club 2/12/14-2/14/14, Les Miserables, 5.1.23)
I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY ANYMORE
THIS POST IS BARELY EvEN ABOUT THE CHapter butaugh
Here’s a story:
There was a blonde, severe and modest and chaste to one great love–not a lover, that was a joke and a harsh one, but to their real love, that was the living human future that lover abandoned. And they served that love with everything they had, gave up their place in society to do it, gave up their personal share of the present for that future; and when that wasn’t enough they started sacrificing pieces of themself. The ferocity of their laughter( a smile stained with blood a black hole) (the second killed him with a bayonet) the beauty in their sadness, (ten francs, I have clothed her) (Vive la France, Vive la Avenir) , optimism and enthusiasm and learning and beauty and the sheer energy of life (give up the bird douse the candle let the rosebush wither in a corner the water freeze in the bowl ) (Bossuet died Feuilly died Courfeyrac died Joly died) and the gentleness of their own humanity (I’ll sell what’s left) (helping an injured soldier he looked to the heavens) and when that was gone they took the courage of their despair and made themselves a target (they can do anything they like to me now I won’t budge) ( shoot me) and they condemned themselves, and made themselves marble, beyond the touch of the world.
Here’s a story:
A man couldn’t find sustenance, so he tried to steal it. He tried to make an escape and that built the walls higher. He judged himself and admitted his fault, he judged society and God and damned them for making the world that made him. He spent a meal with the faithful and the generous and damned their cause and prayed for their lives and let them lead him to joy. But he couldn’t see their horizons; their candles blinded him. He knew he wanted something More and Else, but didn’t understand what it was he was reaching for. So he swore to be more, and tried to be more, and at the same time he hid himself away from the good he might have done. Because the world is hard, the world is HUGE, and you break your neck simply living, and isn’t that enough, to dream of being Jesus with money, to smell new grass, to not ask for much, really, what else is there?
And he opened his eyes in time to see love, to really see it, what it could cost and where it could lead, to see that all his fear of that power was correct and all the danger he could fear was right in front of him
and he announced himself, and he chose where he stood, and he accepted the good only he could do;
and love saw him, (help from an impossible source the last person it could be maybe the ONLY person they’d ever really despised but ) and took his hand, and he was more.
***
There’s SO MUCH I could say and probably WILL say about this chapter, someday; it tends to get a lot of discussion and RIGHTLY SO. The story of the soldiers, and how they tear into the Corinth “greatly irritated” and ready to act as monsters in the name of a rumor, a lie, they’ve heard about the other side of the barricade, but they come to stop when they see the reality for a moment, and it’s JUST for a moment, but how many cracks in the foundation are made by those gunshots? And I’d like to talk about how great it is to see the fighting go on, and that the defenders were down to to TWENTY SIX men when the final battle STARTED and they’ve held on so long, and the Corinth has given everything it had to this fight, and that even though the barricade is well and truly finished the moment Enjolras dies the fight VERY MUCH goes onBut I think a lot of other posters will cover those
and I could even say more about this little bit of story reflection! How important it is that Fantine and Enjolras both are seen as human, at the last, and by someone they’ve denounced as not capable of goodness, someone they’ve condemned, someone they’ve judged as harshly as they judged themselves, because the salvation of humanity has to come from humanity, with all its faults, because people are for each other and
skflhsfakh
And I could go in another ten different directions with this
Because this is a big story and all of it is in the barricades in some way
But I think this is enough for one post: Here’s a story, here’s two stories, here’s a story people keep telling: what love gives away, what love gives in return.
