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building a republic here
Third day in Oulu, and already I'm starting to feel the terrible lack of no musical instrument expect my own voice. I knew there was no piano here - what flash of brilliance made me leave my violin home? If I'm to spend three whole weeks here like this, I just might go maaad.
Maybe I can buy a flute of some kind from some second-hand shop in here. Or maybe I can get someone to fetch the violin. From hundreds of kilometres away.
Victor Hugo's 93: Nice to see some balanced, equal treatment of ideologies after those horribly biased historical accounts of the French Revolution. Hugo has managed to be more unbiased than three historians, even if strictly speaking one could have own, clearly prevailing opinions in one's own fictive novel.
I could have done without the detailed, fourty-page-long ramblings about the furniture, history and possible emotional significance of each and every room, though. The actual story was fine, and more than enough. An accomplishment from the author's part was the moral consideration - even if some was somewhat heavy-handed, I never felt embarrassed reading it.
Marat vs. Robespierre vs. Danton three-way political bitchfight: A++.
My favouritest favourite thing in the book was this:
Lantenac, after ten pages of monologue: *evenly* And so I shall die by your hand, my dearest grand-nephew, also of aristocratic blood - martyred, defending the old values of fearing God almighty, of believing that people fit neatly in little social boxes determined by birth, and of damning all revolutionaries and revolutionary ideas to the deepest pits of Hell for supporting the change that's currently tearing France apart, but which might shape all the world into a better place in the decades to come.
Gauvain: Actually, you shan't, for I'm setting you free.
Lantenac: What.
Gauvain: 8D *dies in Lantenac's place, IDEALISTICALLY*
Lantenac: Well.
In conclusion (?), a good read, though I wonder what the kissing couple in the cover art had to do with anything.
Next up, Les Misérables!
Maybe I can buy a flute of some kind from some second-hand shop in here. Or maybe I can get someone to fetch the violin. From hundreds of kilometres away.
Victor Hugo's 93: Nice to see some balanced, equal treatment of ideologies after those horribly biased historical accounts of the French Revolution. Hugo has managed to be more unbiased than three historians, even if strictly speaking one could have own, clearly prevailing opinions in one's own fictive novel.
I could have done without the detailed, fourty-page-long ramblings about the furniture, history and possible emotional significance of each and every room, though. The actual story was fine, and more than enough. An accomplishment from the author's part was the moral consideration - even if some was somewhat heavy-handed, I never felt embarrassed reading it.
Marat vs. Robespierre vs. Danton three-way political bitchfight: A++.
My favouritest favourite thing in the book was this:
Lantenac, after ten pages of monologue: *evenly* And so I shall die by your hand, my dearest grand-nephew, also of aristocratic blood - martyred, defending the old values of fearing God almighty, of believing that people fit neatly in little social boxes determined by birth, and of damning all revolutionaries and revolutionary ideas to the deepest pits of Hell for supporting the change that's currently tearing France apart, but which might shape all the world into a better place in the decades to come.
Gauvain: Actually, you shan't, for I'm setting you free.
Lantenac: What.
Gauvain: 8D *dies in Lantenac's place, IDEALISTICALLY*
Lantenac: Well.
In conclusion (?), a good read, though I wonder what the kissing couple in the cover art had to do with anything.
Next up, Les Misérables!