Madame,
Quite the set of
homeless experiences—and reactions—you have chronicled! I am intrigued by each of them!
That video making the
rounds could be the updated and abbreviated equivalent of Steinbeck’s Great
Depression tale.
School in August is
indeed a travesty, for many reasons.
Ever notice how many decisions we as a society make that are worse than
decisions of previous years? It’s not
all rose-colored glasses and the selective memories of the experienced!
My favorite summer
memory? Oh my [why do I hear George
Takei every time I see those two words? :)], there are so many, including some
of those you had! If I had to focus on
just one favorite, I would say it was riding my bike FAR out on the country
road that was close to our city housing edition, enjoying the sun and warmth,
and then sitting with my pepsi bottle and comic book under a tree and leisurely
reading. Afterwards, I would sometimes
even walk the bike back, because I enjoyed the time to think.
My reading of War and
Peace goes at a leisurely pace, and an enjoyable one. I am not immune to endless distractions and
obligations!
The translation I
started to read was from 2008 or so, from a husband and wife team—he a American
specialist in Russian literature, she a Russian. They included a great notes section and left
a lot of the original French in (with notes at the bottom to translate
that). But it was a borrowed copy from
the library, and its edges of the cover started to get very worn, so I knew it
wasn’t going to make it. I therefore
bought the latest translation e-version, also by the same couple. They have removed (well, translated and
incorporated) most of the French in this 2014 version. I do enjoy this translation of the book, as
it is much better than the torturous one I read previously many years ago. To read W&P too early in life, and especially
an unrobust translation—folly.
Of course, a Russian
friend of mine, with pity, said I would never fully understand Tolstoy or
Tolstoy’s works, especially War and Peace, unless I read them in Russian, as
some feeling especially is not translatable to English. Wonder if that is what Isaac Rabel meant when
he said “if the world could write by itself, it would write like Tolstoy.”
I admire Tolstoy’s
independent observance of the world and his saying that “My hero is truth.”