Book market

Books are my secret addiction. Although to be honest, there's not really anything secret about it, it would be more accurate, though less revealing, just to say that I'm a book addict. In a very comforting article I read recently I finally found some sort of justification for hoarding books. Apparently those who are "truly cultured are capable of owning thousands of unread books without losing their composure or their desire for more". So I'm either truly cultured or truly delusional, and I'd probably go for the latter. However this confession is not made in order that I might change my ways, oh no. I make this confession so that other addicts might share in my newly found book source. From the bridge between Place Bellecour and Vieux Lyon walk up along the Saone along the quai. Keep going and you will find youself in the midst of stalls filled with books of all kinds, many covered with the distinctive white or cream dust jackets favoured by the publishers 'Editions Gallimard'. More than enough here to feed any book addict's addiction. Enjoy.

Assorted thoughts

One of those wonderful questions that can never be posed too many times asks which novels have the best first lines? "Once upon a time" and "It was a dark and stormy night" are of course enduring favourites, though how many books actually begin with them is debatable, such formulas now being used for their ironic value rather than their content. Opening lines are irresistible for many reasons, yet - perhaps I'm stating the obvious - more often than not, even though the immediate effect of a great opener is to impel the reader to continue, it is the peculiar combination of words of that first single sentence rather than what follows which lasts in the reader's memory.(Indeed a stonking first line doesn't ensure the quality of the rest of the book; if first lines whet the appetite, three hundred pages of great first lines might leave you rather hungry. (sorry couldn't resist the metaphor)) Just five of my favourites (and one of the flaws of this game is that great first lines tend to be universal favourites, so I make no claims of originality!) are by Dodie Smith (quirky), Daphne Du Maurier (haunting), Sylvia Plath (bemusing), George Orwell (intriguing) and (oh dear, how predictable) Jane Austen.

"I write this sitting in the kitchen sink." (I Capture the Castle, Dodie Smith)

"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderly again." (Rebecca, Daphne Du Maurier)

"It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn’t know what I was doing in New York." (The Belljar, Slyvia Plath)

"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." (1984, George Orwell)

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." (Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen. Here's hoping that she's right.)

(And if you are interested in more first lines, the American Book Review published a list of its 100 favourite first lines here.)

Portufranglais

Talking of words: am off to my first Portugese lesson in about half an hour! Language number three, here I come...

Beautiful words

One of the things I'm most enjoying about learning a second language is coming across a word that perfectly encapsulates an idea or concept expressed in many words in your mother tongue. Some words, too, seem far more apt than their equivalent, perhaps because they are more evocative, more onomatopoeic or perhaps just simpler to say. The English word "soundpost" for describing the part of a violin integral to creating and characterising its sound doesn't really compare to the French "ame", meaning soul, does it? Nor does the unweildy "stringed-instrument maker" compare favourably with the more poetic "Luthier". Mind you, if French is strong on the poetic, English wins in quirkiness. In what other language do you find such great words as "hodgepodge", "skew-wiff", "serendipity", "kaleidoscope""or such imaginative spellings as "hiccough"?

French street names - the sequel

 


Not as good as the street with different names for each side, but a little bit confusing (admittedly this picture was funnier when I thought that the crossed out sign read "petite rue pizza" and that the French street naming authorities decided that Verdi was more suitable as street-naming material, but not quite great enough that they should actually remove the pizza sign. However, that was about 10 seconds ago, so I'm going to blog the picture anyway).

 

Et voila, photos of Avignon, including the famous pont, and a rather bemusing metal sculpture...

Did you hear about the violist who played in tune?

Neither did I.

After almost a year of not playing the viola, I've rediscovered the pleasure of playing it (I'm serious!). However, as well as remembering all the quirks of viola playing(being able to sing all of the accompaniment and none of the tune, and reading in the alto clef for starters) I've remembered that just as the English have their Irish jokes, the French their Belgian jokes, the rest of the orchestra have their viola jokes. Who knows why, but the softly-spoken viola has been singled out for special comic treatment...

Why do violists stand for long periods outside people's houses?
They can't find the key and they don't know when to come in.

What do a viola and a lawsuit have in common?
Everyone is happy when the case is closed.

If you're lost in the desert, what do you aim for? A good viola player, a bad viola player or an oasis?
The bad viola player. The other two are only figments of your imagination.

Why do so many people take an instant dislike to the viola?
It saves time.


(If you can really bear to read more of these high-quality jokes take a look here or here)

Sur le pont...

Sometimes I think it's just best to give in to being a tourist, so I'm preparing myself for tomorrow's trip to Avignon with some singing:

Sur le pont d'Avignon
L'on y danse, l'on y danse
Sur le pont d'Avignon
L'on y danse tous en rond
Les beaux messieurs font comm' çà
Et puis encore comm' çà

Sur le pont d'Avignon
L'on y danse, l'on y danse
Sur le pont d'Avignon
L'on y danse tous en rond
Les bell' dames font comm' çà
Et puis encore comm' çà

A little bit of Snoopy to brighten up the day...

p.s. if you click on the cartoon strip images you should be able to see bigger versions which you might actually be able to read!

Le weekend

 

Quite a busy weekend, hence the attempt to create a busy-looking photo collage ... not sure how convincing this idea is, especially as most of the pictures are your typical Lyonnaise view: the basilica at Fourviere, La Saone, la cathedrale Saint-Jean, coloured metal containers piled up high, crazy world-map murals in the metro etc etc etc. Amongst this slightly random selection of pictures, however, there are pictures of things that actually happened this weekend:

1. I attempted, not very succcesfully, to paint Van Gogh's Outdoor Cafe scene. Interesting exercise as you realise how detailed his paintings are, especially when trying to replicate his colours. Was feeling inspired to experiment though given Friday evening's excursion to

2. a VERNISSAGE. Or in other words, an opening night in a small art gallery in Vieux Lyon, in a road that is called "Rue Doree" on one side, and "Rue Marius Gonin" on the other. And the French think that the English are illogical?! The artist (in fact the art teacher of one of my flatmates which was the real reason for going) Jean Noel Delettre had painted thirty or so canvases in oils, including lots of scenes of Lyon. I was rather sad that the picture of the iconic Lyon velo-v feautred in the brochure didn't seem to be there, so I've included it here instead!

3. A life of culture continued on Saturday with a concert in Lyon's equivalent of London's Barbican centre, l'auditorium de Lyon. A kind of bowl shaped concrete building, almost like a space-ship,(or maybe a fan heater, I haven't decided) which is connected to the centre-commercial,Part-Dieu, the uncompromising exterior is in fact the outer shell of a fantastic inner auditorium. The concert was excellent: Messiaen, Gershwin and Ravel, with pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet, who was born, yes you've guessed it, in Lyon. And that's his rather illegible autograph you can see in the top and bottom rows of the photo collage.

4. And if that's not enough culture, add in English Afternoon Tea on Sunday (see cake below...) and string quartet playing (mmm....Beethoven and Schubert).

Phew, might have to be completely uncultured now in order to maintain a healthy balance ... rubbish tv here I come!

Mmmm ... cake!

 

The Blue Rigi

And yet another reason to celebrate 1st March. Turner's wonderfully evocative painting The Blue Rigi has been "saved for the nation" by the Art Fund's buy a brushstroke campaign (for £5 you bought a tiny portion of the painting). Thing is I can't quite remember where my brushstroke is. Oh well.

More flowers...

It's not often that you see someone with flowers in their arms and, joking "you shouldn't have!" discover that they really are for you. Our flat is full of flowers now!

Pinch punch...

first of the month! Although it's not quite officially springtime yet (twenty days to go...) 1st March always feels like Spring so here are some daffodils to celebrate.