During his lifetime it was said: it's a classic. So we hardly noticed it two years ago, he died. Soon he was teaching little children will learn his impeccable prose, so often compared to the liveliness of tone to that of La Bruyere. The French Comedy, in 1902, resumed the Fun break and now it Hair Carrot . Arguably the Household bread and Mr. Vernet, perhaps The Bigote , join them: here is their site.
theater
How could he not tried to Fox? Of themselves, his books are organized into dialogue. Every sentence is a bit abstract, the reply it makes bet the character, flows from it, typically hot with his pace, natural, accurate. Describe, imprison, restrict, define is what Fox excels. Or flutter, or disorder, he sees clear and fair, in a light that is neither excessive nor stingy. Wonder, this Focus: nothing is lost and everything is sharpened: we perceive the imperceptible. Besides his family, other characters appear magnified, rude, bombastic. The authors dissect, one would think, with a Larding while, skilled surgeon, he operates in short bursts scalpel. Just when we shiver, and when the curtain and close the wound, there is only a drop of blood.
Jules Renard engineering measurement and modesty; no external point of modesty - the right expression, there he is - but the modesty of sentiment. He constantly holds his breath, his tears, his irony. Tristan Bernard lets go for humor; Courteline it starts with lyricism. There is no moment that Fox did matt. Often it borders on tragic big words could come, but he fears that distorts the outpouring, who is misleading. The benefit of this reserve is to give the slightest gesture, the slightest distortion, echo infinite breath, balance oscillates. No period rounder: the sentence short tapers, enters. The most decisive revelations are made very simply, without stress, but it suffices: blow dry and safe: the heart is reached. Listen to this fragment of dialogue between Hair Carrot and his father!
"I want to leave this house. - What do you say? - I would leave this house. - Why? - Because I no longer love my mother. - Do not you like your mother, Poil de Carotte? - And I believe you then I love him? "O, imagine the drought, because there ps tears. That emotion, hidden, what size in these short replies, what a feeling of misery, mediocrity, resignation human sympathy how austere! Seemingly objective, this art shows ever the intervention of the writer. He lets his characters speak, he never does them violence ? Beware the contrary, each word was examined and selected, these tiny points, not one that is necessary, nothing that remains essential, which seems superfluous, and he plays with particular things and thereby generalizes always and he observes, but it recreates. This spirit, this accuracy are both the quality of the work and its limits. One can imagine the tension and even, by dint of careful synthesis, these creations may seem smaller than life.
Thus they pass the required deformations of the custom scene. The action is there, but in power, no plot itself. Pictures galore, rather than imagination. Characters means, remote from heroism, methodical and bourgeois, with little ridiculous, small dreams take shape at random small circumstances that form the whole of life, and they remain what they are. Others like the transformations and crises: Fox reaches stability. What fun to break the ? The story of a union that ends without tears, regret, necessary. homemade bread? A moment's flirtation between dream of a man and a woman both are married, inherently wise and faithful, not without sadness to happiness. More significantly comedian in Mr. Vernet, Fox paints a muzzle, but with modesty prevents disaster. In theBigote he gets carried away, and then resigned. Poil de Carotte ? The subject is known to all. Each reply you would exclaim, as the poet Henry M. Vernet: "Another fine thing. "From high comedy and drama, Poil de Carotte involved, and it is maintained at an equal distance from one and another. Bitter, sad, tender and resigned, it's all concentrated in a smile.
Claude Roger Marx.
Would it have been down a little for this work the main stage of the Rue Richelieu. Miss Leconte (Poil de Carotte) is charming, we would like the fiercest. Ms. Fayolle (Mrs. Lepic) Bernard (Mr. Lepic), and also Miss Dussane, have interpreted the work as appropriate, with emotion and restraint.
Hair Carrot Theatre-French
excerpt from the chronicle of Ernest La Jeunesse: The Battle Theatre. Bulletin of the Petite and Grand Army
[...] And as the French Theatre has to be melancholy! One end of the year, two years since John died Moreas to land March 30, 1910 and Jules Renard on 22 May! A crowded room full of friends divergent and common people dressed for a consecration ceremony for a pious apotheosis, fins ready, the guns pointed Fame and almost smoking, ahead ... Ah! This Thursday! ... He would not have amused the author of the Bigote bearing the cult of the self , its me until the abandonment of any other practice (it does not prevent him from having the biggest heart), but I guess I see the smile of good Moreas! While he respected the French Theatre, but not to idolatry. And once again, with the dead and the living, I proclaim the need to be a little there, always there, be there! We made short work of these two great memories. They have devoured Fox; those, more numerous, have swallowed the ashes of the poet of Eriphyle ! What a pity! As well, it is unwise to let each one come to these recollections of family and change officiating. I'm not writing this to hurt the exquisite Marie Leconte was a coat of Carrot limbo and even heaven. It was too holy, too good, too young. It was believed to have Mr. Delphin dwarf and Bluebird together. While François Lepic is a child martyr and he is full of sensitivity, but it's defense and especially sixteen. Leconte has twelve! Finally, in heaven and in heaven! The hardness of Jules Renard more likely, the French, its bitter sweetness: in an age where the cult of the family is the order of the day and night, one would almost shocked to certain words, certain phrases and the masterpiece, the masterpiece has scored just suffered and will suffer before the regular customers and clients from the temple. Fayolle is an admirable Madame Lepic abomination Dussanne Annette is a delicious and adorable Leon Bernard is a poem of resignation, boredom and rebellion deaf. Mr. Lepic is in final editing and living monument of Jules Renard. [...]
Chronicles Jules Renard, darn in Livrenblog:
Vamireh , a novel of prehistoric times by JH Rosny.
Kisses enemies by Hugues Rebell.
Force things by Paul Margueritte.
The Emmurés , novel by Lucien Descaves.
Good Lady Edward Estaunié
Veber's The
The Black Astre by Leon-A. Daudet.
The Novel in France during the nineteenth century by Eugene Gilbert (Plon).
Double Heart by Marcel Schwob.
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