The Rose of Ardony |
La Rose d’Ardon |
| Rose Reiss | Rose Reiss |
bilingual novel |
roman bilingue |
¿Le gusta este jardín, que es suyo? ¡Evite que sus hijos lo destruyan!
Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. |
Ceci est une œuvre de fiction. Toute ressemblance à des personnes existant ou ayant existé serait purement fortuite. |
From: Murder
Date: 26 April 2000
Subject: Society for Chromatic Art
This rutgersfuckingpine account is really starting to wear thin. I have to fight the undergraduate scum for a connexion, since we all share dialup numbers. It may even be time for a shitty hotmail account. Tonight's performance went rather well. On the third page of George Perle's Monody I for solo flute, I played a truly inspired high E. But it wouldn't have meant shit if I had played it out-of-tune, with the wrong attack, or at the wrong dynamic. That's why I practice. No one in the audience, including my teacher, would know the difference between my rendition of an "inspired" high E and an uninspired one. The listeners can only factually comment on the intonation, attack, and dynamic. We all know inspiration exists. But what good is it if the technical foundation does not? Nichelle has been an excellent writer for as long as I have known her. As far as I know, she has always been a voracious reader and a prolific writer. Some of the letters she wrote me in high school still make me weep when I read them. She may have looked into her heart (or shorts) when she wrote them, but they would not have been as effective if she had not been tossing words around long before that. I like the Babbitt/Bobbit pun, especially because I am going to meet with the man himself in Princeton next week to discuss None But the Lonely Flute. I don't remember what I say from one day to the next, much less week-to-week. If that's not anticlimactic, I don't know what is.
Murder
From: SAGReiss
Date: 6 August 2005
Subject: La Ballade de LA 440
Chere Catherine,
Tu me fais un tres grand don (deux fois hier soir) en jouissant avec moi au telephone. Peu importe que je n'arrive pas a me caresser jusqu'a l'orgasme au telephone. Ca ne me gene pas. Quand je serai la, bientot, cherie, on fera l'amour et jouira ensemble dans le sexe, dans la bouche, partout, tout le temps. Je pense que lundi le 26 septembre est un bon jour, car il y a trois trains (15h10-17h09, 17h03-19h09, 19h22-21h23) de Marseille a Acume. C'est aussi le debut de la semaine scolaire, donc les damoiselles auront quelques jours d'ecole pour s'acclimatiser avant de passer toute la journee avec nous le week-end.
Les consignes du psychiatre ne me convaincent pas. (C'est tres difficile pour moi de ne pas savoir exactement ce que chacun a dit, au moins les phrases clef.) La sexualite des parents (ou d'un parent) gene toujours l'enfant. On a beau se cacher, les enfants savent et s'expliquent a leur maniere ce qu'on fait derriere le rideau, ou derriere la porte fermee a clef. Notre contexte n'est pas plus etrange qu'un autre. Je me souviens de la parole de Vernon Jordan, avocat et homme politique desabuse, quand Monica Lewinsky lui a raconte ses amours avec Bill Clinton: "I am an old man. I don't know what phone sex is."
C'est la psychologie et la sexualite de l'homme qui est etrange, qu'on soit vierge, divorce, ou veuf. L'homme qui couche avec ma mere, que ce soit mon pere, mon beau-pere, ou un inconnu, represente toujours une menace, fait toujours quelque chose d'interdit, viole un tabou. Dans la Bible, dans la tragedie grec, chez Shakespeare, il y a peu de familles pere, mere, garcon, fille. C'est un mythe bourgeois et assexue. Je me souviens de l'histoire racontee par Saint Simon, ou le nouveau roi renvoit le ministre des menus plaisirs en disant que se promener au jardin est son plaisir, donc il n'a guere besoin du ministre. Je ne retrouve pas cette citation sur le site Saint Simon. Peut-etre qu'elle n'existe pas.
La peur de Sarah est reelle. Et celle de Stella aussi, puisqu'elle est temoigne. Il n'y a de moyen de les rassurer que par le temps. La discretion s'impose par precaution, quant aux chambres, aux baisers, a la nudite. On fera attention en adaptant la nouvelle situation a leur sensibilite et a leurs besoins. L'amour se voit; la passion n'a pas besoin de s'afficher.
Le solfege est un systeme de representation semiotique, c'est-a-dire un systeme de signes, des unites d'opposition. Voila la notation des douze tons de la gamme chromatique en France et en Amerique, ainsi que la mesure de la frequence normative en Hertz:
DO = C = 523 Hz
DO# / REb = C# / Db = 554 Hz
RE = D = 587 Hz
RE# / MIb = D# / Eb = 622 Hz
MI = E = 659 Hz
FA = F = 698 Hz
FA# / SOLb = F# / Gb = 740 Hz
SOL = G = 784 Hz
SOL# / LAb = G# / Ab = 831 Hz (ou 415 Hz dans l'octave superieure)
LA = A = 440 Hz (ou 880 Hz dans l'octave inferieure)
LA# / SIb = A# / Bb = 466 Hz
SI = B = 494 Hz
Le LA 440 Hz du l'oboe auquel s'accorde l'orchestre n'est pas une realite physique, mais une unite logique. Pour etre reconnu, il suffit qu'il soit suffisamment different du LA# 466 Hz et du LAb 415 Hz de l'ocatve superieure. Un LA 435 Hz est un LA, meme si les collegues de l'oboiste ralent. Par definition, tout ce qui est entre LAb et LA# est forcement LA, peu importe les nuances du ton. D'ailleurs les orchestres europeens s'accordent au LA 435 Hz. La musique de l'Amerique, comme les langues, est un peu plus aigue.
Bien entendu, on peut decouper autrement l'octave. La musique hindoue divise la meme gamme en vingt-deux notes. Le signe est arbitraire et conventionnel. Seule la poesie (au sens large du terme) arrive a motiver la relation du signifiant au signifie. La rose de Juliette ne sentirait pas si bon sous un autre nom, car l'autre nom ne fera pas l'alliteration et l'assonance avec le nom de son amant Romeo.
Seule la difference des formes importent, et les relations entre elles, les regles qui gouvernent leurs agencements. On peut faire une langue avec deux signes + et - ou 0 et 1, comme le langage binaire des ordinateurs. Le 0 signifie: "Je ne suis pas 1".
Or, il est evident qu'un tel tableau de la frequence des couleurs visibles de lumiere (en TetraHertz puisque la lumiere vole plus vite que le son) n'a strictement aucun sens dans la peinture, qui est un systeme de representation analogue, ou les signes ne sont pas discrets:
Rouge 384-482 THz
Orange 482-503 THz
Jaune 503-520 THz
Vert 520-610 THz
Bleu 610-659 THz
Violet 659-769 THz
Un rouge 440 THz n'a rien a voir avec un rouge 435 THz. La relation entre les signes n'est pas fixe. Le rouge n'est pas rouge par rapport au jaune et a l'orange. Il est particulier.
Le sens et le non-sens sont determines non pas par la semantique, que ce soit au niveau des idees, comme dans l'exemple de Noam Chomsky: "Colorless green ideas sleep furiously," que Roman Jakobson a correctement interprete comme une phrase ayant parfaitement un sens. Ni par les morphemes lexicaux, comme le demontre l'exemple d'Alice (Through the Looking Glass):
Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson)
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Le Jaseroque
Il brilgue: les tôves lubricilleux
Se gyrent en vrillant dans le guave.
Enmîmés sont les gougebosqueux
Et le mômerade horsgrave.
El Jabberwocky
Adolfo de Helva
Era la asarvesperia y los flexilimosos toves
giroscopiaban taledrando en el vade;
debilmiseros estaban los borogoves;
bramatchisilban los verdilechos parde.
On ne peut circuiter le sens qu'en s'attaquant au systeme phonologique ou aux morphemes grammaticaux et aux regles de syntaxe qui les gouvernent, comme l'a bien vu Edmund Husserl dans son exemple de non-sens que je ne retrouve plus. Ce sont paradoxalement les morphemes les moins doues de sens, les infixes ou autres marques des parties de discours, de conjugaison, de declinaison, les prepositions, et les conjunctions, qui donnent le sens a un discours.
Le mot n'a pas de sens; la phrase a un sens. La note n'a pas de sens; l'accord a un sens. Les sens, c'est la relation entre les signes. Mais les operateurs booleens ne relevent pas des langues naturelles humaines. Celles-ci ont besoin de l'homonymie, de la polysemie, de l'ambigu, des tropes et des schemes de la rhetorique.
Je suis desole que ce texte est un peu ingrat. Je ne sais pas si c'est important, ou meme coherent. Sur le plan affectif, les mots exacts sont tres importants pour moi, plus la forme que le sens, ou son interpretation et sa traduction. La phrase: "Tous les memes," m'a un peu choque, car elle me rappelle une phrase qu'on entend au bistrot: "Toutes les memes." Je serais surpris d'entendre cette phrase dans la bouche d'un enfant.
Bon, cette lettre est trop longue. Toujours est-il que je t'aime. Les consignes du psychiatre, le drame du passe recent avec Sarah, ne me posent aucun probleme. Notre contexte n'est pas etrange. C'est le notre.
Je t'embrasse tres fort, mon amour.
Je t'aime.
Gabriel
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 6 August 2005
Subject: RE: La Ballade de LA 440
Cher Gabriel,
J'ai entendu cet après-midi un cd de Sarah "Hommes...Femmes" de Linsha qui dit : "Ils sont tous les mêmes...". Bistrot ? Chanson ? Ecole ? ........... Je n'ai pas de faculté divinatoire... Je peux juste t'affirmer que Sarah ne fréquente pas les bistrots... Que je ne fréquente pas ses discutions entre amis... Que je n'interprète pas les chansons à sa place... Mais qu'une complicité qui prend des années s'est installée entre nous...
Tes théories sont intéressantes... Prenons du toi et du moi, si tu le veux...
Pajara, T'AIME.
From: Nichelle
Date: 17 October 2005
Subject: You know you want to write me
I'm in Phoenix, got here on Tuesday. Tonight I watched a series of lovely rain storms, nice fat raindrops making crazy noise on the aluminum roof across the parking lot. Palm trees swaying in the wind. I stood in the rain and got drenched. I wonder sometimes about how you are doing, what your life is like. I miss your emails. I miss the details of your daily life, your dinners, your sexual misadventures. My life has changed significantly and March 17, 1996 seems like quintillions of years ago. It seems strange to me that I could be the same person.
Are you well? Are you happy? I feel that I have set my feet on the right path for the first time in so long... I hope you have found some joy. Write to me, I miss your letters.
Nichelle
From: SAGReiss
Date: 1 November 2005
Subject: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Nichelle,
Few things in life excite me so much as reading your mail. Your style thrills me.
Tomorrow is the Day of the Dead. I shall soon become a father, if all goes well, and you are the first person I've told.
Bueno.
Gabriel
From: Nichelle
Date: 4 November 2005
Subject: Re: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
It's good to know that I've still got it over Joyce Carol Oates, or whoever it was you said sucked monkey dick. I miss writing to you, and I miss your letters. Murder is a big time flutist in New York and every now and again he sends me a staggeringly beautiful letter. Laurent was in Atlanta, but last I heard he got laid off and may or may not have gone back to Paris. Hanne is writing and editing erotica and the like. That's about all I know about the fate of those who shared The World. Can you believe it has been almost ten years since I flew to Syracuse? March 17, 2006 will be our ten year anniversary.
Day of the Dead always makes me sad. I think of leaving the clinic with Halloween candy and then bleeding in bed for days. No bueno. Congratulations on being a parent. I'd like to know more about your circumstances... perhaps not the specific circumstances of the conception, but the rest. Oh hell, why not tell me about the conception too.
Take care, write soon.
-Nichelle
PS- I like "Bueno" much better than that thing about your rectum.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 7 November 2005
Subject: Othello on Escoutay
The passage of time does not surprise me.
Murder is holding out on me? Tell him I piss in his tuxedo pocket.
Neither Joyce Carol Oates nor anyone else could ever have written this sentence: "Tonight I watched a series of lovely rain storms, nice fat raindrops making crazy noise on the aluminum roof across the parking lot." It is most beautiful.
I fear I can't tell you much for the moment. Writing has been a subject of great tension for all of my post-World gfs.
I have deleted much of the stuff no one else liked on my site, and replaced it with a link to the site I created for Pajara.
I can tell you a little about our life, however. We are in Helva, a village in the hills of southern France. Yesterday we made a picnic with Pajara's daughters in the Roman amphitheater. A brook or stream splits the stage between an orchestra/frontstage and a backstage/balcony built on two levels. Two onstage bridges (wooden, not period) cross from frontstage to back. I can imagine a summer day production of The Tempest with the sinking of the ship in the storm or Othello with sailboats performing a naval battle in the Escoutay. When we got home, I took pictures of Pajara holding the newspaper by the refrigerator and washing machine, which the sadistic landlord has threatened to remove. Today we are going to ask the mayor if it is legal for him to raise the rent by ten percent at the outset of winter.
I am smoking Gitanes Mais non-filter cigarettes which are yellow and go out between puffs. I think you would like the smell. I am growing a beard and, as I've said, may soon become a father, although I'm not sure how one knows exactly the details of conception. Was it today or yesterday?
12 November 2005 17:16:23 SAGReiss: Murder, what's up, bro?
12 November 2005 17:16:35 Murder: Hey Gabe! How are you?
12 November 2005 17:17:13 SAGReiss: Not too bad. Nichelle mentioned your recent conquests, so I've been thinking of you. I even saw your pic with Ashlee.
12 November 2005 17:17:42 Murder: Oh, cool! Yeah, the concerts are coming in "fast and furious."
12 November 2005 17:17:47 Murder: Where are you living now?
12 November 2005 17:18:54 SAGReiss: I'm in the south of France with a lady and her two daughters. We're looking for a home. In the village there's a Roman amphitheater built on a stream which separates the orchestra from the actors, in case they get mad at one another.
12 November 2005 17:19:30 Murder: Sounds idyllic. Are you writing these days?
12 November 2005 17:22:16 SAGReiss: Not too much for the moment. I've written a bit on Hebrew and Biblical poetry, but it's not very interesting. For the moment I've got more domestic concerns. You can see my gf's site at
12 November 2005 17:22:28 SAGReiss: http://www.pajarero.net
12 November 2005 17:24:54 Murder: Wow, she's done some very colorful pieces.
12 November 2005 17:25:54 Murder: Bain de Soleils Abyssal is particularly engaging.
12 November 2005 17:25:55 SAGReiss: Yes, well, I'm not really an expert. It's hard to know. She does think about colors the way you think about tones and I think about words. You haven't got a site? (I did look.)
12 November 2005 17:26:08 SAGReiss: That's her favotire too.
12 November 2005 17:26:43 Murder: Not yet. I have two people doing press stuff for me, and I think one of them will design me a site sometime in the not-so-distant future.
12 November 2005 17:27:58 SAGReiss: It's not really a lot of work. I use doteasy.com. You only pay for the name registration. It's free, unless you want to put huge amounts of music/images or get too much traffic.
12 November 2005 17:28:52 Murder: I'll check it out. What's your site?
12 November 2005 17:29:08 SAGReiss: http://www.sagreiss.org
12 November 2005 17:31:14 Murder: Ah, so that hasn't changed. I'll check it out -- you probably have a lot of new stuff since the last time I looked. You still correspond with Nichelle regularly?
12 November 2005 17:32:24 SAGReiss: On and off. I wish it were more regular. She still writes sentences that drive me crazy, even when she's not trying. She told me you had written her some lovely letters. That's why I wanted to make contact again. I miss you.
12 November 2005 17:33:41 Murder: I miss you, too. I sometimes think about The World, and have many of those letters saved, both in print and in e-files.
12 November 2005 17:35:55 SAGReiss: Yes, it was a privileged moment for us. We can do other things. Nichelle tells me that your career has taken off.
12 November 2005 17:36:20 Murder: At some point I'll pluck up the courage to read through a lot of them on your site.
12 November 2005 17:37:41 Murder: Well, it's getting there. It takes a lot of time. Ever since graduating this past year, I've been re-evaluating where I want to be.
12 November 2005 17:39:02 SAGReiss: Yeah, I guess it's tough. I couldn't tell from the photos if Ashlee is hot. I guess it depends if you want a full-time position in an orchestra with a season and shit you might not want to put up with.
12 November 2005 17:41:34 Murder: That's the crux of the problem. In many ways I'm happy with (or, maybe simply addicted to) my freelance lifestyle. There's always the pull to "settle down" and have a job somewhere, but I don't know if that would agree with my personality.
12 November 2005 17:43:02 SAGReiss: I can understand. We're working on living reasonably well with our independent artist status. When we get a house, maybe you can visit and play a concert in the theatre. You have to incorporate the sound of the stream, however.
12 November 2005 17:43:43 Murder: I'd love to! Just let me know when and where, and I'll be there.
12 November 2005 17:44:48 SAGReiss: Since you don't need a piano or anything, we can do it at midnight without authorization.
12 November 2005 17:47:10 Murder: I love the idea. Maybe a program that is half-prepared, half-improvised. Ah, the possibilities...
12 November 2005 17:48:07 SAGReiss: Of course. I'll send you a few pictures. Maybe we can even convince Nichelle to come out of retirement and play her devil's penis. You still use this address?
12 November 2005 17:49:00 Murder: Yeah, I have maybe 6 e-mail addresses, but the murder one is supreme.
12 November 2005 17:49:44 Murder: Maybe Nichelle and I could visit in June.
12 November 2005 17:50:27 SAGReiss: Perhaps. I don't know if we'll be ready by then. I certainly hope so. Buying a house is not a process I relish.
12 November 2005 17:51:01 Murder: Though I imagine the red tape isn't as thick as it is here in Amerika.
12 November 2005 17:51:52 SAGReiss: Not really sure, but it's complicated. We'll have to see.
12 November 2005 17:52:48 Murder: Your gf has two kids?
12 November 2005 17:53:18 SAGReiss: Yes. Two daughters, 10 and 11.
12 November 2005 17:53:55 Murder: So you're looking for a 3 br place, or 4?
12 November 2005 17:56:12 SAGReiss: 4-5 depending on the circumstances.
12 November 2005 17:58:22 Murder: When you get settled in, let me know and I'd be thrilled to visit, It'd be a great excuse to at least acquire some basic skills in coversational French.
12 November 2005 17:59:48 SAGReiss: OK, I think maybe we can work something out. Also, let me know if you are going to Spoleto or something.
12 November 2005 18:00:58 Murder: Will do. I may go back there to play on their chamber music series at some point.
12 November 2005 18:01:48 SAGReiss: OK. I look forward to seeing your new site. That way I can criticize your publicist's work.
12 November 2005 18:02:59 Murder: Exactly! I'll let you know when it's up and running. Meanwhile, I have a rehearsal in a few minutes. Let's stay in touch, and let me know when you buy your house!
12 November 2005 18:03:27 SAGReiss: Thanks, bro. Have a good pratice.
12 November 2005 18:03:33 Murder: Thanks! Ciao!
From: SAGReiss
Date: 12 November 2005
Subject: Flute and Devil's Penis on Escoutay
Nichelle & John,
I miss you both. I wonder if we could find a way to keep in touch. Pajara is a fervent fan of contemporary literature and art. I've told her that I wasn't especially interested in contemporary literature, or even modern literature, but of course both of you know better. I might wonder why such a simple sentence as this:
"Tonight I watched a series of lovely rain storms, nice fat raindrops making crazy noise on the aluminum roof across the parking lot."
moves me so much, but it's easy enough to analyze the rhythm and semantics, and I don't want to bore you with the details. You both know how to do this. I would also like to add music to our lives, but we are both woefully ignorant. I should have done this while I was living with Nichelle, but I was probably too drunk at the time, and we were both concentrated on writing and other pursuits.
I was talking with Murder about a possible duet in the amphitheater. I was not entirely joking. We have to buy a house first, possibly invite one of Pajara's friends, so that I can try to prove my humanity. I have no idea how to explain my relationship with Nichelle. Fortunately Pajara doesn't ask too many inconvenient questions.
I would love to see you both, and there's no police in the amphitheater at midnight. You can just wake me up, in case I'm taking a nap.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 4 December 2005
Subject: Les Juifs Florentins
Nearly 3,000 Jews lived in Florence in 1931. The Nazis occupied Florence in the autumn of 1943. Most Jewish families in Florence lost a family member due to the Fascists or the Nazis. The first deportation took place on November 6, 1943, and a second one occurred five days later. Rabbi Nathan Cassuto, physician and spiritual leader of the Florentine Jewish community, was sent with the second group. In a third deportation, on June 6, 1944, sixteen elderly Jews were taken from the old age home to Germany.
The temple was damaged by the Germans in August 1944, when they detonated several mines in the interior. Some of the synagogue’s treasures, which were confiscated by the Nazis, were recovered. A total of 243 Jews were deported from Florence, only 13 returned. After the war, Florence’s Jewish population numbered 1,600.
http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/vjw/Florence.html#Holocaust%20Period
From: SAGReiss
Date: 24 December 2005
Subject: SAGReiss Pere IV
I've just finished rereading "reading Freud", tears flowing from my eyes, my body wracked in pain. I have to think that life is worth the sorrow one bears in order to write such a letter. So this is my official announcement. I am a potential father again. I am happy. We have chosen the names Rose and Roman Reiss, depending on the sex. I imagine you can figure out which is which, or translate into gender or whatever. We are still screaming at the landlord on an almost daily basis, as he tries to cut our water, gas or electricity. I can hear him outside doing some job, possibly reconfiguring something new to torment us. We have finally got the information necessary to sick a huissier de justice on him, but that will have to wait until we open the Christmas gifts and sing yuletide carols by our little tree, decorated mostly in blue. I have an mp3 of Paul Robeson singing Bill Blake's poem "Jerusalem". I wrote very nasty mail to amazon.com and have finally received both a reimbursement and Romeo and Juliet. I guess they really like me. Vegetable soup is cooking, and a leg of lamb is ready for lemon and rosemary treatment. We will also eat a bread/cake/brioche called "pogne [bread in Provencal] de Roman". We like names. For lunch we had Scotch smoked salmon and oeufs de lompe (poor man's caviar) and foie gras de canard (poor man's foie gras). We have a very big bottle of champagne in the refrigerator. I bought one hundred red roses for Pajara. Actually I didn't count them, but one of the girls counted forty-one roses in our blue pitcher/vase.
From: SAGReiss
Date: (This message has not been sent.)
Subject: Une Phrase extraordinaire
The French possessive adjective agrees in gender and number with the object possessed, as opposed to the subject possessing, the latter being the case in English. (In German the possessive adjective agrees with both subject and object.) This tends to create ambiguity in French that is typically resolved by making the subject of the sentence the antecedent of the anaphora. The fourth sentence of the following passage (beginning "Mme Arnoux") illustrates Flaubert's scorn for this kind of clarity in favor of his shifting focalization or points of view:
« Ah! ce serait drôle! »
Mais il eut honte de cette perfidie, et, une minute après:
« Bah! est-ce que j'ai peur? »
Mme Arnoux (à force d'en entendre parler) avait fini par se peindre dans son imagination extraordinairement. La persistance de cet amour l'irritait comme un problème. Son austérité un peu théâtrale l'ennuyait maintenant. D'ailleurs, la femme du monde (ou ce qu'il jugeait telle) éblouissait l'avocat comme le symbole et le résumé de mille plaisirs inconnus. Pauvre, il convoitait le luxe sous sa forme la plus claire.
II.5
The fourth sentence may be analyzed as follows:
1. Mme Arnoux - subject.
2. (à force d'en entendre parler) - subordinate clause indicating means, infinitive subject (unexpressed) = "il" two lines above - by dint of hearing about her/it (Mme Arnoux/"amour" next sentence) The partitive pronoun "en" does not normally replace living creatures, however apparently here it does, as is similarly the case with "ce" and "femme" three sentences below.
3. avait fini par se peindre - reflexive verb, pronoun (unmarked for gender) antecedent = subject "Mme Arnoux", past perfect tense - had ended up painting [her]self.
4. dans son imagination - locative complement, possessive adjective (feminine gender in agreement with object "imagination", masculine form to avoid hiatus) antecedent = "il" two lines above - in [his] imagination.
5.extraordinairement. adverb of quantity/manner - similar to "alternativement", last word of "Herodias" in Three Tales.
The fourth sentence may be translated as follows, using square brackets in an effort to avoid making explicit that which Flaubert has left implicit:
"Mrs Arnoux (by dint of [his] hearing about [her]) had ended up painting [her]self in [his] imagination extraordinarily."
The official translator, one Douglas Parmee of Oxford University Press, whose minions have kindly allowed Amazon to use the "Search Inside" function, thus the translation, has thrown up his hands. He rewrites the sentence replacing the subject "Mrs Arnoux" with "he", which unhappily solves the problem that Flaubert has created.
'Ah, that would be fun!'
All the same, a dirty trick like that made him feel ashamed. Then, a moment later:
'Damn it all, what is there to be scared of?'
Through hearing so much about Madame Arnoux, he had finally created an extraordinary image of her in his mind. Such undeviating devotion had become a sort of irritating problem for him and its rather theatrical earnestness had grown tiresome. Moreover, the society woman (or one whom he thought of as such) was in his eyes a dazzling symbol, the epitome of a thousand and one arcane delights. Being poor himself, he had a yearning for luxury in its most conspicuous form.
As I've long upheld, the preterit tense (passe simple) does not exist in French, or rather it has always been a purely formal, literary tense, seldom even used in epistles, for example. It belongs to Balzac, and Flaubert never feels quite comfortable with it. Thus, instead of using the periphrastic form of this tense ("eut fini"), he uses the pluperfect ("avait fini", the auxiliary verb conjugated in the imperfect). One critic called another example of this tendency: "the deadening 'C'etait'". Flaubert uses this introductory verb to slow down the reader, and beat him senseless. As one of my professors at McGill once said: "I need a lot of breath to read Flaubert."
A similar, though far less complex, instance of a dangling participle appears in the last sentence of the following passage:
Martinon arriva au même moment. Ils passèrent dans le cabinet; et Frédéric tirait un papier de sa poche, quand Mlle Cécile, entrant tout à coup, articula d'un air ingénu:
– Ma tante est-elle ici?
– Tu sais bien que non, réplica le banquier. N'importe! faites comme chez vous, mademoiselle.
– Oh! merci! je m'en vais.
À peine sortie, Martinon eut l'air de chercher son mouchoir.
III.1
Since Martinon is a man, there is an ostensible lack of agreement. Of course the understood antecedent of the feminine participle "sortie" is "Mlle Cécile" four lines above.
This elliptical construction is analogous to the Latin ablative absolute, and may be rendered in unequivocal but slightly less economical French as follows:
"À peine fut-elle sortie, Martinon eut l'air de chercher son mouchoir."
The sentence may be translated as follows, once again using square brackets to avoid explicitness:
"Once [she was] outside, Martinon appeared to look for his handkerchief."
Once again the translator removes Flaubert's ambiguity:
At the same instant Martinon arrived and they went into the study. Just as Frédéric was taking his sheet of paper out of his pocket, Mademoiselle Cécile suddenly appeared.
'Is aunty here?' she enquired innocently.
'You know very well she isn't,' retorted the banker. "Never mind, make yourself comfortable, my dear girl!'
'No thanks, I'm going!'
She'd hardly left when Martinon seemed to have mislaid his handkerchief.
Et tous profitèrent de l'occasion pour tonner contre le Socialisme, dont M. Dambreuse était mort victime. C'était le spectacle de l'anarchie et son dévouement à l'ordre qui avaient abrégé ses jours. On exalta ses lumières, sa probité, sa générosité et même son mutisme comme représentant du peuple, car, s'il n'était pas orateur, il possédait en revanche ces qualités solides, mille fois préférables, etc., avec tous les mots qu'il faut dire: « Fin prématurée, -- regrets éternels, -- l'autre patrie, -- adieu, ou plutôt non, au revoir! »
La terre, mêlée de cailloux, retomba; et il ne devait plus en être question dans le monde.
On en parla encore un peu en descendant le cimetière; et on ne se gênait pas pour l'apprécier. Hussonnet, qui devait rendre compte de l'enterrement dans les journaux, reprit même, en blague, tous les discours; -- car enfin le bonhomme Dambreuse avait été un des _potdevinistes_ les plus distingués du dernier règne. Puis les voitures de deuil reconduisirent les bourgeois à leurs affaires. La cérémonie n'avait pas duré trop longtemps; on s'en félicitait.
III.4
All the speakers seized the opportunity to inveigh against socialism, which had led to Monsieur Dambreuse's death. It was the spectacle of anarchy together with his devotion to the principle of order which had brought him to an early grave. They priased his enlightened understanding, his honesty, generosity and even his failure tos peak when representing the people in the Chamber, for though he may have had no gift for oratory, he did, instead, have those sound qualities, far, far more valuable ... and so on and so forth ... with all the obligatory phrases: 'Untimely death ... boundless sorrow ... that other homeland ... not farewell but until we meet again in a better world ...'
The stony earth fell on Monsieur Dambreuse; he was gone and the world would never concern itself with him again.
They did still go on talking about him a little as they left the cemetery and their comments did not lack candour. Hussonnet, who had to report the funeral in the newspapers, went so far as to parody all the speeches; after all, old Dambreuse had been one of the most notorious 'palm-greasers' of the previous regime. Then, these pillars of society were driven away in their mourning carriages to see to their own business affairs; thank God, the ceremony hadn't been too long!
From: stephanie
Date: 6 February 2006
Subject: (no subject)
hello!
donne-moi de tes nouvelles...
From: Nichelle
Date: 9 February 2006
Subject: your address
I have something I'd like to send to you. What's your mailing address?
From: SAGReiss
Date: 16 February 2006
Subject: Re: your address
SAGReiss
Chez Ruze
Quartier les Fauves
96000 Helva
From: Nichelle
Date: 17 March 2006
Subject: March 17th
Happy Anniversary Honey.
Nichelle
From: stephanie
Date: 3 May 2006
Subject: (no subject)
please gabriel, just tell me if you are ok...ok?
From: SAGReiss
Date: 9 May 2006
Subject: Re: (no subject)
I'm OK, living in Ardony with a very jealous pregnant woman. Baby girl due 1 September.
From: stephanie
Date: 9 May 2006
Subject: RE: (no subject)
Merci de ta réponse.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 26 August 2006
Subject: Breakwater
Catherine seems to have broke water, so we are leaving for the hospital.
Good luck.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 28 August 2006
Subject: Room 126
A Rose (Vared) was born yesterday 27 August 2006 at 10:08, according to the somewhat suspect and unsynchronized clocks at the hospital. There was tense bickering about family and given names. Happily we didn't have to declare a religion, as I think Rose is as bereft of a religion as she is of a nationality, for the moment. Someday she will probably be Italian and American, maybe Israeli, possibly French, but for the moment her civil status is contained on an ankle bracelet. I will try to get her a birth certificate this afternoon. I will try to get the date and place of birth right, as are respectively wrong on my sister's and mine. The gynecologist-obstetrician was nowhere in site because, well, apparently that isn't his job. He just does the prenatal interviews, leaving the labor and birth to a midwife. She was assisted by an auxiliary puerculturalist. Neither of them looked anything over twenty-five. The only experience I can compare the birth to is The Alien, a film which of course I have never seen. One body lurches out of another body amidst a flood of flesh, blood, unidentified fluid, and the two bodies look very little alike. Everyone around is very tired and stressed out. I cut Rose's umbilical cord, which was blue and corkscrew-shaped. I was shaking badly, shedding a few tears. So far as I can tell, a man becomes a father the moment he sees the birth of his child. I wish I could show you pictures, but I seem to have screwed up something in the webcam. Rose has a full head of black hair, soft, pink skin. She weighed 3.1kg and measured 48cm, although those measurements are very approximate. I dressed her. She didn't cry. In fact, a little more than a day old, she has only cried a couple of times for a few minutes. Mostly she sleeps and thinks about things. One of the nurses used the word "aterrissage" meaning "landing", a cognate of Earth usually applied to airplanes. The term strikes me as particularly apt, the shift from a watery womb to the open air. It is all very much of a woman's world. The only man showed up was the Anesthesiologist, Dr. Geisskopf, who promptly yelled at the midwife for turning off Catherine's heart and blood pressure monitors, which were bothering her and making noise no one needed. The only useful monitor was of Rose's heartbeat. The contraction monitor seemed to me to be a random number generator.
Oops, you can download pictures in a 1.3kb ZIP at the following address:
http://www.sagreiss.org/rose.zip
Got to go.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 28 August 2006
Subject: The Painkillers
The fight broke out over painkillers. Until then, I had more or less managed to bend and break the house rules and spend two nights in Catherine's private room, one night before the birth and one afterwards. Time slows to a crawl when you spend it looking at bloody, swollen body parts, then peering lovingly into a face that mostly sleeps, while you read into each tiny change of expression all kinds of imaginary meaning, when the slightest sound of breath or movement brings joy into your heart. One of the first things Rose Reiss did when she was placed on her mother's belly was to extend her right index finger in my general direction. I placed my finger in her hand, and she grasped it. This has become one of our favorite games. She seems to be very good at grasping. So far her job specialization seems to include sleeping, gripping, and not crying. She doesn't drink too much (hypoallergenic bottled milk). I am very sad that I had to leave her tonight, but things are a little tense at the hospital. I got kicked out last night and stayed anyway. The fight over the painkillers poisoned our already tenuous relations with the help. Since apparently the midwives (midwifes?) do all the work, I can understand why they are reluctant to accept the authority of the doctors, who alone can write prescriptions, especially when our doctor, whom I hated anyway, prescribed a painkiller that another doctor thought was too strong. All of this while Rose has seen absolutely no care whatsoever, except for ours, which is probably enough anyway. No hearing test, nothing. No one has taken her temperature. Perhaps this is an exaggerated version of the Hypocratic oath to do no harm. In that case, I am in favor.
OK, I must eat something. I joked with Catherine that if I take a shower and change clothes Rose will no longer recognize me by smell.
More pics at:
http://www.sagreiss.org/2006_08_28.zip
From: SAGReiss
Date: 29 August 2006
Subject: By Any Other Name
I can smell Rose on her dirty laundry. Her odor comforts me in my fatherly exile. I think we shall leave the hospital tomorrow after the pediatrist's visit based on mutual incompatibility. They don't seem to want us anymore, and we can't see what they are doing for us, except giving us bad food and no care.
From: Murder
Date: 30 August 2006
Subject: Thornless
She's beautiful. Rose is obviously in good and loving hands, even if Dr. Scheisskopf and his crew aren't able to provide for her the way her parents do. Congratulations, Gabe. I'm sure you have many joyful (and sleepless) days and nights ahead of you.
John
From: SAGReiss
Date: 31 August 2006
Subject: The Cherry Tree
I was supposed to plant it on Rose's birthday, but that turned out to be impossible, so I planted the Bigarreau Reverchon cherry tree in the backyard this afternoon. Rose spent a good night mostly in our bed. I guess the theory is that babies need to learn some independence from their parents sooner rather than later. i am not so sure I subscribe to this theory. It is very hard to hear her cry and not go pick her up. It seems fine with me for her to sleep with us. Can't she learn independence some other time? Oh well, there's plenty of fun with milk and shit and bathwater. We get our fair share of QT.
I hope I'm not boring you with the pics. If I were you, I wouldn't bother downloading the files, but this may interest you:
http://www.sagreiss.org/2006_08_31.zip
From: SAGReiss
Date: 1 September 2006
Subject: Endless Updates
In case any of you were wondering, Rose (Vered in Hebrew as my father kindly informs me) was born on 3 Elul 5766 in the Jewish calendar according to my savant calculations. She has been able to spend two relatively long and quiet nights in our bed, sleeping for six or seven hours at a stretch. When she gets tense, as she seems to do at sunset and around midnight, it is hard to know what to do. The stress racks her whole body, from her crying mouth to her driving legs. A finger to suck calms her, but we can hardly do this all the time. A nipple or whatever the fuck that's called might do the trick, but we are trying to hold off on that to see if she can do without one. We will have to give in if she decides to suck her thumb all of the time, which is far from being the case so far, though this might be because she can't always find it.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 1 September 2006
Subject: Liens aux images
http://www.sagreiss.org/rose.zip
http://www.sagreiss.org/2006_08_28.zip
http://www.sagreiss.org/2006_08_31.zip
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 2 September 2006
Subject: RE: Liens aux images
merci
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 2 September 2006
Subject: RE: Liens aux images
tu as envoyé des photos intimes à tes amours, tu as partaté ce que j'aurais aimé partager, ce que tu ne partageras jamais avec moi. Je me sens comme une merde, comme rien, rien. Ma fille comme un trophée, parce qu'elle est belle, tu la montres. Il y a peu, tu te posais la question de celui qui est à l'essai. Tu ne me parles pas, ok, tu ne m'écris pas, ok, vivez ça ensemble, j'imagine que ce doit être bon. Riez ensemble de la grosse vache. La grosse vache vous dit MERDE.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 2 September 2006
Subject: RE: Liens aux images
C'est toi mon amour. Tu es belle comme le jour, et tu l'as toujours ete. Je suis desole de tout ce que j'ai pu faire pour que ca aille mal. Ca ira mieux dans tous les cas.
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 3 September 2006
Subject: RE: Liens aux images
oui, c'est moi, pajara à la recherche des mots perdus. où sont ces mots qui font des phrases, qui font des textes, dis-moi, gavriel, où puis-je toucher ces mots, palper ces phrases, lècher ces textes, je suis perdue dans un océan de lettres et le tumulte des vagues ne peut les associer. je suis triste.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 3 September 2006
Subject: RE: Liens aux images
Je suis desole, cherie, que tu sois triste. La parole ne me vient pas souvent. Les textes sont problematiques, car ils s'echappent a leur auteur comme a leur destinateur ostensible. J'ai toujours pretendu: "There's no such thing as virtual reality,' tout en demarquant l'abime infranchissable entre le monde des mots et le monde des choses. Pourtant il y a bien une gamme qui va quelque part du texte a l'image a la voix au monde physique, dit reel. En tout cas je reste la, cherie, pour m'occuper de toi et de Rose dans la mesure de mes capacites. On n'a pas besoin de manger de la viande.
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 3 September 2006
Subject: RE: Liens aux images
Tu me dis que tu restes là, devrai-je sauter de joie!!! Tu es le gros lot!? Tu n'as même pas eu le courage de me dire que tu allais me quitter, j'ai du l'entendre de la bouche de ta mère. J'imagine, tu ne pensais pas aimer Rose comme tu l'aimes... Tu n'as pas été présent au moment où Rose et moi en avions tellement besoin. Tu as détruit ma personne, petit à petit, avec tout le mépris du monde. J'ai des valeurs et je compte bien les retrouver même si tu m'as fait perdre toute confiance en moi.
Ok, tu ne me parles pas, ok, tu ne m'écris pas, tu n'écris rien pour moi. Tu me disais ne pas avoir d'amis et pourtant même si tu n'as pas de réponse, c'est ces amis qui existent et que tu attends, c'est avec eux que tu partages ta vie, tes mots,...ton bien être...
Je ne suis ni réelle, ni virtuelle, je n'existe tout simplement pas à tes yeux. bien entendu, j'ai eu envie d'une belle histoire, je pense que les éléments étaient suffisants pour que tu puisses te sentir bien. Je ne peux plus vivre dans le mépris de ma personne. J'aimerais retrouver celle que je suis.
Je suis d'accord pour une garde alternée si je suis certaine que tu ne quittes pas le territoire français sans mon accord.
Je t'aime encore et Rose, je l'adore depuis qu'elle est dans mon ventre. J'aurais tellement aimé que tu sois heureux... et que l'on ne se quitte jamais. Que Rose vive dans l'amour de sa famille, même si tu ne me considères pas comme faisant partie de ta famille.
Pajara,
From: SAGReiss
Date: 4 September 2006
Subject: RE: Liens aux images
Je ne pense pas etre le gros lot. J'ai l'intention de m'occuper de toi et de Rose et de trouver du travail en Ardon ou pas trop loin, par exemple a Ares que tu dis etre une ville.
Je suis desole. Ma confiance et ma volonte (de me lever, de me laver, de manger) ont souffert aussi. J'espere qu'on s'en remettra. Je ne te meprise pas.
J'ecris aux autres parce que je n'ai jamais su tenir un journal intime. Ecrire aux autres, c'est une autre facon d'ecrire a soi.
Moi aussi je t'aime, et j'aime Rose. J'ai aussi envie d'une belle histoire, et nous n'en sommes pas loin. Je n'ai pas envie qu'on se quitte. Le bonheur, etre heureux, je pense que c'est du bovarysme, mais je ne demande pas tant. Vivre, m'occuper de toi et de Rose, travailler (pour l'instant j'en ai besoin pour m'organiser), c'est tout ce que je demande.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 5 September 2006
Subject: Gesture without motion
Rose strives with surprising strength in her arms and legs, seemingly impossible for her tiny body to generate. I guess that adults temper their gestures with conscious and unconscious inhibitions to prevent losing balance and falling down or doing grave harm to self or others. Rose seems to strike with unreflected singleness of purpose. Like a Buddhist monk she can concentrate all of her energy into one gesture. If one really wants to hit something, with no concern for damage to self or others, one can probably concentrate a terrible amount of archaic force.
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 6 September 2006
Subject: RE: Liens aux images
On en a parlé et j'espère qu'on trouvera un compromis entre ton travail et le mien et les besoins de Rose.
J'espère aussi qu'on s'en remettra, j'aurais aimé vivre une grossesse avec la présence d'un futur père pas spécialement "heureux" (ce terme n'est pas bien clair pour moi) mais pas dans un état de mal être aussi prononcé et sans jamais en parler avec moi...
Ecrire aux autres est une façon d'écrire à soi, sauf qu'il existe un échange, tu écris et tu reçois des réponses et ainsi de suite... C'est un partage... Et ce en guise de journal intime... C'est une manière de vivre ton intimité mais je suis triste de ne pas faire partie d'une certaine intimité... et de même m'en sentir totalement exclue.
Je ne parle pas du "bonheur". Mais, se sentir aussi mal, au point de n'avoir plus envie de rien, c'est de la survie. Je pense que le partage d'une certaine intimité est indispensable pour que les envies naissent à nouveau.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 6 September 2006
Subject: La Lettre volee
Mais oui, differentes solutions sont possibles, pas de travail, peu de travail, travail a la maison, etc. On verra deja ce que dit l'avocat et le prefet de Brives.
Le mot "heureux" a une etymologie curieuse qui semble en faire un doublet du mot "heure". Je vais deja un peu mieux, et j'espere etre le plus present que possible. J'essaie de faire mes vocalises.
J'ai commence a ecrire vers l'age de quinze ans a un camerade de lycee que j'ai peu frequente. Je ne sais pas pourquoi c'etait lui. Il ne me repondait pas souvent, peut-etre a une lettre sur dix que je lui ecrivais. Pendant les dix ans que je lui ai ecrit, on s'est vu peut-etre cinq fois. C'etait une relation epistolaire et assez univoque. Pendant ce temps et apres j'ai concu (etant donne mon incapacite d'ecrire un journal intime) une esthetique influence par Les Liaisons Dangereuses et Le Naufrage du stade Odradek (par Harry Mathews, traduit en francais par Georges Perec). Au lieu d'un auteur qui ecrit les differentes voix narratives d'un roman epistolaire, si c'etait une oeuvre collective, si le roman consistait en des lettres reelles par des auteurs/narrateurs differents? Ceci m'evitait aussi la tache de creer des personnages et une histoire, ce qui ne m'a jamais interesse non plus. Il s'agit simplement de creer un style epistolaire, qui a evolue depuis le temps de mon camerade de lycee jusqu'en 1994, quand j'ai decouvert le mail et la possibilite technique de realiser le genre de roman dont j'ai reve toute ma vie. Il n'y a rien de personnel dans mon art, si je peux me permettre ce mot. C'est un art classique, formel, symetrique, meme si le style est un peu devergonde. Le roman "vr" n'est pas une autobiographie. SAGReiss n'est pas moi. C'est un narrateur/personnage. Les autres aussi, meme s'ils ne savaient pas exactement qu'ils participaient a un projet de redaction litteraire.
On va redecouvrir nos envies, meme s'il faut forcer un peu de temps en temps. J'espere qu'on refera le pain, et les petits soupers de legumes me vont tres bien. On va se promener avec Rose. En attendant, ca reviendra.
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 7 September 2006
Subject: RE: La Lettre vole
D'accord...
Je suis contente que tu ailles un peu mieux.
Bien, je trouve magnifique de pouvoir réaliser un projet. SAGReiss n'est pas toi, mais les photos de moi en plein accouchement, celles de Rose, et celles du cerisier de Rose font partie d'un partage entre toi, moi et Rose. Si, pour toi, ces moments et ces personnages n'existent qu'à travers un projet de rédaction littéraire, en ce qui me concerne, j'aurais aimé qu'ils fassent partie de moments de bien être que l'on n'aura plus l'occasion de vivre à nouveau ensemble.
J'espère que l'on redécouvrira nos envies sans forcer, forcer mes envies, je n'y arriverai pas. Mon inspiration artistique est partie, je l'attends. Mon aspiration au quotidien, celle que nous avions imaginé, est partie avec le départ de tes envies...
Rose est magnifique.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 8 September 2006
Subject: RE: La Lettre volee
On les vit ensemble. VIvre et ecrire n'est pas la meme chose. Le monde des mots n'a rien a voir avec le monde des choses. Nous sommes dans le quotidien avec ses joies et ses peines. Nous vivons l'histoire du chat infernal, le chat de Bulgakov, comme je viens de le dire. Traduire ce chat en un personnage litteraire, c'est autre chose. Alice Liddell n'est pas Alice au Pays des Merveilles. Les deux peuvent coexister. La distinction n'est pas toujours facile a faire. Marcel Proust avait un frere qui s'appelle Robert, si mon souvenir est juste. (J'aurais pu verifier, mais je prefere encore me tromper.) Le narrateur Marcel n'a ni nom de famille ni frere.
Nos envies reviendront ensemble. Une confiture de figues par ci, une sauce pesto par la. Je ne connais pas ton inspiration artistique. Si elle est comme la mienne, ca reviendra. Il suffit d'attendre.
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 10 September 2006
Subject: Nous
Mon Amour,
Trop d'évènements nous ont éloignés. Nous n'avons pas eu le temps d'apprendre à vivre ensemble. A Helva, les problèmes avec le gite, Ruze, le contact avec Sarah et Stella, le manque d'espace créatif, les souris, la vente de la maison en Belgique, le déménagement, la recherche d'une maison, les papiers que tu n'avais pas, ma grossesse, mon état dans la grossesse, personne d'extérieur à qui parler, le déménagement à nouveau, ma grossesse encore plus grosse, l'installation, notre mal être............................................
Je t'ai dit des mots terrible sous l'effet de la colère. La colère pouvant être un état de follie passagère, ne retiens ces mots que comme tel. Puisque tu n'oublies pas, comme je n'oublie pas... J'espère que tu pourras faire la part des choses entre les mots de la follie et la souffrance qui a été la mienne.
Aujourd'hui, après tous nos efforts et notre courrage, nous sommes enfin installés, tes papiers arriveront bientôt,Rose est magnifique et en bonne santé, Sarah et Stella s'adaptent enfin, nous avons la possibilité de travailler, comme nous l'entendons, même si l'inspiration n'est pas encore là... Nous pourrions même, peut-être, nous offrir un peu de vacances, voir la mer, écouter les vagues.
Je t'aime, Gavriel, et je suis désolée de la tournure des évènements passés. Je pense que nous avons été très courageux de vivre ensemble 365 jours sur 365, jour et nuit, dans des conditions aussi précaires.
Tu es magnifique, l'homme dont j'ai toujours rêvé, l'homme avec lequel je voudrais vivre toujours. Le jour et la nuit, la nuit et le jour.
Pajara,
From: SAGReiss
Date: 10 September 2006
Subject: Re: Nous
Cherie, je ne fais pas un drame des paroles prononcees trop tard dans la soiree. Nous sommes tous la, toi et moi, Rose et Rose, Sarah et Stella. Nous perdurons.
L'inspiration reviendra. Elle revient toujours. Il suffit qu'on etablisse petit a petit les conditions ou le germe puisse prendre racine, si ce metaphore n'est pas trop tordu. Pour l'instant, s'occuper de Rose, tenir le menage, essayer de gouter a la nourriture et au sommeil avec plaisir, faire l'amour. Bientot lire, ecrire, peindre, travailler dans la mesure du possible. Nous pouvons.
Je t'aime aussi, cherie. J'aime faire l'amour avec toi. Nous parvenons.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 10 September 2006
Subject: Grow
Sorry I can't find more time to write. Rose grows and changes her expressions. I can't remember if I mentioned that she weighed in at 3.14 kg. Her umbilical cord fell off a couple of days ago. We thought about keeping it, but that seemed a little lugubrious. I will keep every minute of Rose's life in my memory. She continues to be an easy-going, happy baby, seldom crying or complaining. Her facial expressions and body movement, while seemingly meaningful to me, are difficult to describe. I haven't really got the time and the concentration necessary for this exercise. I guess you have all been through this before. I wish I could show you Rose. It will take a little time before we can arrange that. The tension here stemming from the month of July has not abated. We will have to be a little creative.
I appreciate hearing from you. It also helps me remember to write, as I am not always online and can't seem to get my intellectual life organized yet.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 25 September 2006
Subject: 15 September 2006
"We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage", Lear, V.iii.
On Friday 15 September 2006 at 17:00 I learnt how a battered woman feels. Nowhere to go. No way to answer the violence. Shame. Catherine had left me and the baby upstairs at 15:30. Fifteen minutes later I heard the front door shut. I thought she might have come back for something, or simply taken her time getting out, due to Albert Camus' disease, departure anxiety. I went downstairs to check, and locked the door before going back upstairs. At five o'clock in the afternoon she returned, and asked me why the door was locked. I answered: "Because I was upstairs." This answer was not enough. Catherine became more and more angry. She claimed that I was locking her out, although she naturally has a key to our home. Soon she was screaming, not long afterwards close to delirious, imagining in grotesquely lurid terms that I was locking the door (to which she has a key, I repeat) in order to rape our three-week-old daughter. I gave up trying to answer and went to bed around nine, not taking Rose upstairs for fear of further antagonizing Catherine. Increasingly drunk on beer, creme de mure, and Ricard, she made a few hostile trips upstairs, demanding that I sleep downstairs. I refused. At about four in the morning she came upstairs again in a foul, violent mood. She repeatedly kicked me in the torso. When I arose from bed, she repeatedly punched me in the face, knocking my glasses off and across the floor. I refrained from striking back. I do not remember all of the timing, so some of this chronology is off. Catherine's children witnessed some, but not the worst, of her violence. I do not know if they heard her wild and untrue accusations of rape and incest. It is a shame if they did. She eventually calmed down enough to ask me to leave in a fairly polite manner. Obviously I would have left in an instant, had I had anywhere else to go. Unfortunately my paperwork is not yet done, and we bought a house together. I could forget about the latter, hoping to recover the investment at a later time, meanwhile paying rent to live, but I would need a job before I could get a lease. For the moment I have no other option but to stay here, no matter what the level of madness and violence is. I can't fight back because I could never prove that she started it and the presumption would always go against the man. I am scared of hurting her just trying to protect myself with my arms. People get hurt in physical fights, even if one of the parties refuses to cast a blow. Anyway, I couldn't win a custody battle until the baby is at least two years old, so I want to try to stay here for at least that long. In theory we should sell the house at the majority of the two minors (Catherine's daughters from her late husband) in order to give them their share (12.4% each) in seven years. I don't know if I can last that long. I want to stay with Rose for as long as possible, but once I get my papers and a job, I cannot live with a sustained campaign of physical violence. In that case, it would be better for me and for Rose if I rented an apartment and sued for some form of shared custody, of which I would inevitably get the short end. In the meantime I have to wait. I don't even know to whom I can confide these awful truths. I don't know anyone I trust, or else I don't trust anyone I know.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 12 October 2006
Subject: The Poo Face
This is a little embarrassing, but let's assume we're all family here. No talking about the poo face in front of Rose's first date, for example. From the first days at the maternity ward, Rose has made a special poo face when, well, she goes poo. This is actually quite useful for parenting skills, since it's pretty easy to know when she poos, except for the occasional false alert, a poo face without the poo. Today, as I was trying to encourage her to make the poo face, and thus to poo, which I thought she hadn't done in a few too many hours, I managed to make the poo face myself, with a little help and technical advice from Catherine, who was in the best position to observe us both. The eyebrows are raised towards the middle of the forehead. The sides of the mouth are raised towards the jowls, compressing the cheek muscles. A red face is optional.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 27 October 2006
Subject: CII
On Wednesday 25 October Catherine went crazy again, this time drunk on bad wine and obsessed with the fact that I had once, days or weeks before, sung Waltzing Matilda to Rose. This because Nichelle's cat is called Matilda. In the middle of her hysterical, six-hour monologue, she tried to go to sleep, then went to sleep on the floor. Rose coughed a little, so Catherine picked her up out of her bed and lied her down on the floor next to herself, all the while accusing me of treating the two of them either like cats or dogs. She claimed, despite the obvious fact that she had put Rose on the floor, where it may have been cold and uncomfortable, that this was somehow my fault. I finally managed to take Rose away from Catherine and put her back in her crib. Catherine droned on for another couple of hours, mostly about the song Waltzing Matilda. Eventually she apologized and went to sleep.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 31 October 2006
Subject: Songs we have sung
My Grandfather's Clock
My Pigeon House
You Are So Beautiful (Joe Crocker)
The Most Beautiful Girl in the World (Charlie Pride)
No Rose No Cry (Bob Marley)
Here Comes the Sun (Beatles)
Are You Sleeping, brother John
Summertime
Here we go round the mulberry bush
The Hollow Men
Clementine
The Erie Canal
Greensleeves
The Silver Swan
Splashing in the Bath (Singing in the Rain)
Mockingbird
Fare thee well, my dear
Au Claire de la lune
Rockabye Baby
Row, row, row your boat
...many more that I can't remember. Suggestions are welcome.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 7 November 2006
Subject: CIII
On Saturday 4 November Catherine went crazy again, this time because of I can't even remember what. Oh, yes, she rented some dumb film she wanted me to watch, and I suggested that the only interest of these films was for me and Rose to hear a little English, while she prefers for some reason I don't understand the French dubbed version, even though she seems to understand English pretty well. She began by throwing a glass of wine at me, which wasn't really so bad since I am using synecdoche. It was just the wine she threw, not the glass. In the course of another evening of drunken hysteria, which I am getting used to about twice a week, though I only write down the episodes of physical violence, she ripped my shit and slapped my face and head more than a dozen times, laughing and taking apparent pleasure in my discomfort. She dared me to strike her back, which I refrained from doing, of course. I did, however, hold her back as gently as I could, under the circumstances, slightly injuring her right wrist, according to her complaints the next morning. We speak more and more openly of splitting up, and yet she continues to apologize and make plans to buy a bigger car and make home improvements. I want to stay with Rose for as long as I possibly can, until the situation becomes so unlivable that it begins to effect Rose more than it already has, not much so far, so far as I can tell. Things will get much better once I find work, at least a month from now before I can look, unfortunately. We will both be better off, if I am away during the day and she needs to find activities. Rose can stay home or sometimes go to the nursery. I will feel better just getting out of this house. And once I have a confirmed salary, I can more credibly either leave or at least insist on the terms of a non-violence pact.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 10 November 2006
Subject: Speech Sounds
Rose has begun making what I would like to call speech sounds, rather than phonemes, which might imply a more advanced neurological system than is probably hers for the time being. She babels. A new game we play called Whooo are Yooou, as the wise old owl says, seems to show a concerted effort at articulation, as I think her facial expressions recognize and imitate my rounded lips. Oo is a good phoneme to begin with because it's fun to say and it's useful in the word "poo", which is a pretty important part of our daily lives. I am thus far able to confirm my suspicion (first arisen twenty years ago when I was teaching English) that Chomsky's poverty of stimulus argument about the incredible speed with which children learn their first language is bullshit. Children learn their first language very slowly, in two to three years of massive language stimulus overload. I have probably already spoken directly to Rose for five hundred hours, the standard amount of language instruction allocated by Berlitz to learn a language. We're in no hurry.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 24 November 2006
Subject: Holiday Tidings
Catherine has asked me to give her your addresses. I answered that I would be glad to do so, if you wished.
Please advise.
Thank you.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 26 November 2006
Subject: Adresses
Voici les adresses. Je n'ai pas fait d'introduction parce que je ne sais pas le faire.
April Sarah Siegler: asarah@abc.com
Pallas Athene Reiss: par@xyz.co.uk
Moshe Reiss: moshe@123.co.il
From: SAGReiss
Date: 4 December 2006
Subject: Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose
> From: SAGReiss
> Date: 23 February 1997
> Subject: The Death of Humanism
> Snow falls on the prairie. In the Wheat Province
> negatron has again forgotten to plug in his car.
> Forsaken and lovelost he turns on his Pentium 200
> mega
> herz amplifier, picks up his guitar and cranks out a
> few deafening chords while crooning his "Ballad of
> the
> Sisters Palm". Few garage rockers would be so bold
> as
> to claim they could score this haunting melody for a
> hundred-piece orchestra. But every love-struck idiot
> with a rhyming dictionary thinks that he's doing the
> same thing Shakespeare did when he writes a sonnet
> on
> Saint Valentine's Day. This, Nichelle, is what I
> meant
> when I said that musicians have it a little easier.
> Most people see the qualitative difference between
> what you do and what John (the chef) does. You could
> learn in a day to strum "Stairway to Heaven" on some
> cheapass guitar, maybe two days in order to learn
> how
> to shake your head with emotion. He would be lucky
> to
> learn in ten years to make music with a clarinet.
> The
> distinction is simple, yet elusive. Where do we draw
> the line, at John Cage? at Richard Strauss? When
> does
> entertainment end and art begin? For more on this
> topic see "The Gentle Art of Making Enemies" by the
> brilliant and very mean master, James McNeill
> Whistler. He was, so far as I know, the first to
> suffer publically the my-kid-could-do-that argument
> and he didn't take it kindly. He brought a suit on
> the
> world famous art critic who had ridiculed his work
> in
> writing and pursued his wrath despite the fact that
> Ruskin was half dead from a stroke and in no
> condition
> to defend himself. Needless to say he won his case,
> a
> symbolic victory as I recall. I don't know,
> Columbine,
> to whom you refer when you attack deconstructionism.
> The little experience I have with this fad is a
> passing acquaintance with Jacques Derrida, a
> philosopher of broad and deep learning not to be
> taken
> lightly and a very insightful reader of Saussure. I
> cannot imagine him defending any of the claims in
> your
> text. Let us assume that in the case of a message we
> have three elements, a sender, a text and a
> receiver.
> If we're going to study a text, then we can
> eliminate
> from our consideration anything and everything
> pertaining to the former and the latter and
> concentrate on the matter at hand. Thus the title of
> this letter. As Freud said, in one of his more
> headstrong moods: "Copernicus showed that the Earth
> is
> not the center of the universe. Darwin showed that
> man
> is not the center of the Earth. I have shown that
> consciousness is not the center of man." Humanism is
> dead. Texts are the proper object of linguistic
> study,
> not authors and not readers. Columbine, you seem to
> be
> playing both sides of this argument. Let me quote
> from
> your work:
> "I do not like the proposition that authors always
> embed hidden symbolism in their work, whether
> consciously or unconsciously. I do not like the
> proposition that the reader is as much the creator
> of
> the story as the author. I do not like the
> proposition
> that you can always learn something about the author
> from his/her work."
> All three of these negative statements seem to
> distance both the sender and the receiver from the
> message. We agree on that. I would go much further.
> There is no such thing as symbolism. Something is in
> the message or it is not. Nothing stands for
> anything
> else. The reader and the author have nothing at all
> to
> do with the message, which is independant of both.
> You
> can never learn anything about anything from a text,
> except about the nature of the text itself.
> Two later sentences seem to contradict this healthy
> attitude: "You will eventually end up guessing, and
> adding content which was not intended by the author
> to
> be there," The question is not what the author
> intended. The question is what is there. Everything
> else is irrelevant. Again: "It was written to thrill
> and is (or should be) read in the same spirit." What
> do we know or care about why it was written? The
> text
> is a phenomenon of a linguistic order. It can be
> studied by the same methods used to study other
> phenomena of the same order. No reference need be
> made
> (indeed none must be made) to either reader or
> writer.
> Once more: "Either the fiction succeeded as an
> escapist experience for the student - the student
> liked it, in other words - or the student did not."
> If
> the study of literature is reduced to the likes and
> dislikes of students, then why study it at all? This
> is no study, requires no learning. This is choosing
> a
> flavor of ice cream from Baskin Robbins. Why the
> reference to the student (reader)? What has the
> reader
> got to do with a phenomenon (a text) that existed
> before him? Surely art entails something more than,
> and different from, the unaccounted-for preferences
> of
> readers and writers. One last time: "What's
> important
> is, does the scene have an effect on you mentally,
> emotionally?" Why is this important? Studying
> literature I learned a number of techniques for
> analyzing works of literary art, phonetics,
> morphology, syntax, philology, rhetoric and
> semantics.
> I need neither authors nor readers to do my work,
> just
> a text, and it is completely irrelevent whether I
> like
> the text or not. As I have said before, surely not
> every proctologist likes the smell of every asshole
> he's ever had the pleasure to peruse. The French
> system of education is based on an exercise called
> the
> explication de texte. The student is asked to write
> about a very short work or extract, shorter than a
> page for a four-hour exam or a ten-page paper.
> Everything about the author's life, the student's
> opinions on art, whatever, is expressly excluded
> from
> the discussion. Indeed he is forbidden the use of
> the
> word "I". French students learn to analyse a text
> word
> by word. A good example of this technique available
> in
> English is Erich Auerbach's "Mimesis". Which brings
> us
> to your chosen text:
> IULIET
> O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
> Denie thy father and refuse thy name:
> Or if thou wilt not, be but sworne my loue,
> And ile no longer be a Capulet.
> ROMEO (aside)
> Shall I heare more, or shall I speake at this?
> IULIET
> Tis but thy name that is my enemie:
> Thou art thy selfe, though not a Moutague,
> Whats Mountague? it is nor hand nor foote,
> Nor arme nor face, nor any other parte
> Belonging to a man: o be some other name.
> Whats in a name? that which we call a rose,
> By any other word would smell as sweete,
> So Romeo would were he not Romeo cald,
> Retaine that deare perfection which he owes,
> Without that tytle: Romeo doffe thy name,
> And for thy name which is no part of thee,
> Take all my selfe.
> Juliet begins with a rhetorical question. She's
> talking to herself and expects no answer. She merely
> vents her frustration at the inconvenience of her
> lover's first name, which in her mind implies his
> belonging to a rival clan. She uses the name, Romeo,
> twice in the vocative, as if she were talking to him
> (which she unknowingly is), and once in the
> nominative. The question: "wherefore art thou
> Romeo?"
> means: "Why is your name 'Romeo'?". She then
> proposes
> a stern either/or solution to the problem. Either he
> must give up his name, or, if he refuses, she will
> give up hers. Romeo chooses neither of these
> alternatives and listens on. Juliet keeps thinking,
> moving from the concrete problem to a higher level
> of
> abstraction. She draws a clear distinction between
> the
> name/enemy, socio-linguistic conventions, and the
> self, a discrete and indestructible force. The
> surname
> Montague is more apt to this level of
> generalization.
> She will only switch back to the given name when her
> argument allows it. Juliet comes down hard on the
> side
> of the conventional or arbitrary theory of language.
> The name is neither the self nor the body, but only
> an
> accident of fate, against which she rebels. She
> repeats her first offer: "o [choose to] be some
> other
> name." This time, however, she does not reciprocate.
> In (almost) open revolt against the social
> conventions
> of her time, she already has a more radical, and
> more
> equitable solution in mind. Beginning again with the
> interrogative pronoun, she returns to the world of
> the
> particular, this time choosing a comparison to
> follow
> the implications of giving up one's name. She
> reassures herself that nothing would change in the
> real world if we were to call things by other names.
> The concrete thoughts and image of the rose bring
> back
> the given name. The syntax grows more complexe, less
> easy to follow, which gives the somewhat awkward
> construction: "So Romeo would were he not Romeo
> cald,"
> phonetic ballance with the name anchoring the line
> at
> both ends. This slow rhythm gives way to the swift
> (polysyllabic) run-on conclusion in beautifully
> regular verse. Having meditated on the nature of
> socio-linguistic conventions in general, and proven
> (to herself) that in the particular she and her
> lover
> could defy them, Juliet changes her tune and makes
> an
> offer quite different from before. Instead of an
> either/or, you-or-I ultimatum, she now proposes a
> quid
> pro quo in which Romeo gives up something, his name
> as
> distinct from his self, and in return receives
> something, her (presumably nameless) self. Whereas
> before one must give up, and one retain, the element
> that pits them against one another socially, now
> Juliet's thoughts have given her the strength to
> imagine the possibility that they might both escape
> social convention and live nameless, two selves
> united
> in rebellion against the constraints which oppress
> them.
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 18 January 2007
Subject: (no subject)
Attached: raphael_djavani.jpg
Chéri,
Quand je communique avec d'autres personnes sans t'en faire part, j'ai l'impression de te tromper.
Je t'envoie l'image que Raphaël m'a envoyée.
Je t'aime,
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 12 February 2007
Subject: (no subject)
Ca fait des mois que tu me craches à la figure et dans le dos.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 12 February 2007
Subject: Re: (no subject)
Cherie, je t'aime. J'essaie de ne pas te vexer et de faire comme tu veux. Je suis desole que la situation est difficile. Elle ne me semble pas desesperee. On a eu une bonne nouvelle aujourd'hui.
Voici le plan des travaux:
D:\SharedGab\2emeEtage.doc
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 14 February 2007
Subject: Re: (no subject)
Cher Gabriel,
Si tu pouvais ne pas essayer de ne pas me vexer et de faire comme je veux... Tu ignores ce qui me vexe et ce que je voudrais. Mais ça n'a pas beaucoup d'importance. Ce qui est important, c'est que tu fasses comme, toi, tu veux.
Ce soir, tu m'as demandé si j'étais prête à ce qui va arriver. J'ai ouvert le feu ouvert et je me suis demandé ce qui allait arriver, je n'ai pas de réponse, toi seul sais de quoi tu parles...
J'ai été très en colère par rapport à beaucoup de choses dont je t'ai parlé. Cette colère est sortie, ce n'était pas très joli... C'est comme ça, c'est tout ce que je peux en dire.
Je ne te demande ni fleurs, ni photos, ni fête pour la Valentin, je ne suis plus jalouse, je trouve beau que tu ais pu donner autant d'amour à Bénédicte, Nichelle, Miss Marseille, Ophélie... Miss qui pisse dans les bouteilles de Ricard, celle à qui tu as offert le plus grand saint-nicolas de saverne, même si c'est une fête dite chrétienne.
Ma mère m'a souvent dit "tu n'as que ce que tu mérites, tu l'as bien cherché". Aujourd'hui, je sais, merci, qu'elle a raison. Je me souviens , un jour nous prenions un verre dans un bistrot après avoir signé les documents du prêt, une dame est tombée dehors et tu t'es précipité pour aller l'aider. Ce matin, je suis tombée dans les escaliers, oui... Ce n'est pas un reproche, toi, tu es bon puisque tu te précipites pour quelqu'un que tu ne connais même pas... Mais, moi, je suis tellement juste comme il faut pas être...
Il me reste les filles et la peinture, j'aimerais beaucoup préparer mon exposition. Je m'occuperai des tâches ménagères et des repas le soir.
Merci de ne pas faire payer Sarah et Stella parce que leur mère est nulle.
Amitiés,
Catherine,
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 21 March 2007
Subject: photo de Rose
Attached: rose_reiss.jpg
Love from Rose and I....
From: SAGReiss
Date: 21 March 2007
Subject: Re: photo de Rose
Merci, cherie. C'est une belle image. Je crois voir le reflet de toi dans la prunelle de ses yeux.
Je t'aime.
Gabriel
From: tara vega
Date: 28 March 2007
Subject: Nouvelles
Hola,
Que tal? Hace mucho tiempo...
Apres la retraite hivernale, les roses fleurissent à nouveau, j'ai toujours tes cd.
Quand est ce qu'on se voit?
J'espere que tu vas bien, ca me ferait plaisir d'avoir de tes nouvelles.
Je t'embrasse.
Marie
From: SAGReiss
Date: 9 April 2007
Subject: CIII
Last night Catherine's violence spun out of control again, as it hasn't since last November. She uprooted the cherry tree, which I replanted this morning. After a short scuffle, in which she claims I injured her left hand, she tore my credit card receipts from my hands and burnt them. She was frustrated that she couldn't find smoking-gun evidence of an imaginary affaire she believes I had with the mother of one of Stella's friends last summer. She is insanely jealous. Supposedly someone has written her e-mail inventing this affaire. I have no idea what she is talking about. I don't think I have even been alone with this woman, and I've certainly never cheated on Catherine, never even thought about it. Sex has become far less interesting to me in my middle age. I don't know what provoked this latest outburst, the stress after the three weeks' visits of my mother and Sarah's friends, the thought that I will soon have my working papers (Thursday, if all goes well), a problem with alcohol and/or her medication, the frustration of hurting her right hand working in the garden. I do not know if this is just a short relapse, or the beginning of another downward spiral. I don't know how crazy and violent she can become.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 15 May 2007
Subject: Re: Nouvelles
Marie,
Si j'ai hesite a te repondre, c'est parce que ma vie est un peu compliquee pour l'instant. J'ai une fille de huit mois, Rose Reiss, mais j'ai beaucoup de problemes avec la mere. J'ai besoin de conseil juridique. La situation est la suivante:
1. Ma mere m'a donne de l'argent pour une maison qu'on a achete en indivision comme suit:
- EUR75k de moi
- EUR25k de chacune des deux filles ainees de la mere de ma fille
- EUR77k en pret immobilier (pas d'hypotheque) de la mere de ma fille avec ma signature comme caution
La mere voudrait probablement vendre au bout de sept ans, a la majorite de ses filles ainees, mais pas avant. Elle n'est theoriquement pas obligee de rembourser le pret a ce moment-la, mais je pense que je peux l'exiger avant de signer le compromis. La banque peut exiger le remboursement.
2. Je viens tout juste d'avoir le droit de travailler, mais on habite en Ardon, c'est-a-dire nulpart. Il me faut ou un teletravail a domicile ou un travail a au moins 50km de chez nous.
3. La mere de ma fille (qui touche une pension de veuve et les allocations de logement et familiales, entre EUR1k et EUR1,5k/mois) est tres volatile. Pour l'instant elle refuse de s'occuper de Rose, ce qui rend un travail a plein temps a domicile presque impossible pour moi. Je ne sais pas ce qu'elle ferait si je prenais un travail a l'exterieur. (C'est complique de toute facon, il me faudrait une voiture etc.) Je ne peux pas louer un appartement avant d'avoir un contrat ferme. Je ne veux pas partir avant les deux ou trois ans de Rose, donc j'avale tout, sauf si le niveau de folie et de violence me devient insupportable.
4. Les filles ainees vont a l'internat l'annee prochaine, cause mauvaise conduite.
Je suis desole de te confier tout ca, mais j'ai personne.
Bonjour a toute la famille.
Meilleures salutations.
Gabriel
From: SAGReiss
Date: 30 May 2007
Subject: Schedule
Shlomo,
I'm sorry, but we are still having big problems here. I can't work today. I'm trying to resolve these issues, which are complicated, as surely you know.
I almost had to sleep at a hotel last night.
I will log on to Skype tomorrow morning before or at 9am and will try to work all day, if I can.
I apologize again for the inconvenience.
I really appreciate your understanding.
Life is hard. And long. And then you die.
Best Regards.
Gabriel
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 3 July 2007
Subject: (no subject)
Attached: coup_de_gabriel_1.jpg
Dear April and dear Moshe,
I know i'm talking about your son, i'm sorry about that. I've tried to give him a wonderfull live, with a house a family a wonderfull daugter. He's violent to me, send you picture, all my body is hurt, he's also violent with Sarah and Stella, He's on his computer at 5 o'clock in the morning until eleven at night... with girlfriends, i send you a message of Nichelle one of his poor girlfriend, it is on Gabriel's website, he's so proud of it:
"And so I get cast in the role of the Jealous Girlfriend. Not much I can say about that, just haven't got enough self-esteem or enough projects to occupy my mind. You see, Gabriel falls in love every two weeks or so, and when he does I get to hear about her several times a day. But I don't tell him what to do, ever, and I'm big enough to deal with him having cybersex if that's what he wants to do, which he does, and while he's doing it I'll just go masturbate in the shower again.
Nichelle."
I don't know what to do, if you can please help, it will be helpfull for Rose and Gabriel too...
I just want to be in peace with love,
Gabriel only loves girls on the computer, in the same time, I don't think that it is the right way to enjoy is live and his dougter live.
I've closed his computer and it brokes... I didn't want to but...
Much Love,
Catherine,
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 4 July 2007
Subject: Re: (no subject)
Thank you April, I've tried to talk to Gabriel and asked him to stay at home but he went to the hotel in front of the house. I am very sad, I love him and Rose is sad too, she looks aroud...
Life toghether could be really wonderfull but it's difficult to comunicate.
I'm a little lost, I don't know what to do.
Catherine,
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 4 July 2007
Subject: (no subject)
Mon Amour,
Je suis triste....
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 5 July 2007
Subject: (no subject)
Dear April, Gabriel doesn't want to leave with me anymore. He wanted to see Rose 2 hours a day but I am very depressed and I'm not able to take care of Rose so I let her going with Gabriel.
I try to get better, I need time.
Much Love,
Catherine,
From: SAGReiss
Date: 5 July 2007
Subject: Lettre manuscrite reconstruite de mémoire
Je préfère qu'on se voit [sic] à la mairie à 14h.
 |
 |
From: catherine pajarero
Date: 6 July 2007
Subject: (no subject)
Dear April,
I don't know if you want to have a contact with me so I'm not going to write to you even if you ask me to tell you how things are going.
Much love,
Catherine,
From: Gendarme JACQUES
Date: 7 July 2007
Subject: Procès verbal retranscrit
Objet Situation entre M. REISS Scott et Mme PAJARERO Catherine suite séparation du couple
Le samedi 7 juillet à 15 heures 05 minutes
Nous soussigné Gendarme, Laurent JACQUES, Agent de Police Judiciaire en résidence JOYAU
Vu les articles 20, 21-1 du Code de Procédure Pénale
Nous trouvant au bureau de notre unité à JOYAU, rapportons les opérations suivantes:
Le 07 juillet 2007 à 15 heures 05, nous procédons à l'enquête citée en référence
IDENTITE
| Nom Prénom: | REISS Scott |
| Date et lieu de naissance: | 26/07/1963 à THOMPSON (Etats-Unis) |
| Domicile: | Le gougeon aux BLACHES/96000 (France) (France) |
| Profession: | sans |
DECLARATION
« Je me présente à votre unité afin de faire état à M. Le Procureur de la République à BRIVES de la situation actuelle entre ma compagne, Mme PAJARERO et moi-même.
« Nous nous connaissons depuis le 19 septembre 2005. De notre union est née Rose le 27 août 2006 à AUBAGNE 96000. Nous vivions ensemble aux BLACHES.
« Le dimanche 01 juillet 2007, nous nous sommes disputés et je suis allé passer la nuit à l'hôtel en face de notre maison. Le lendemain, Mme PAJARERO m'a demandé de revenir à la maison. J'ai donc passé une nuit chez moi. Le mardi 03 juillet 2007, j'ai décidé que la situation n'était plus vivable et je suis retourné à l'hôtel en face.
« Mercredi 04 juillet 2007, je me suis rendu auprès de l'assistante sociale des BLACHES au local de JOYAU afin de m'expliquer les droits de visites concernant mon enfant. On a écrit une lettre à Mme PAJARERO afin d'établir un droit de visite. J'ai téléphoné à 18h00 ce même jour à Mme PAJARERO qui m'a dit que soit je revenais à la maison soit elle ne m'autorisait pas à voir mon enfant jusqu'à qu'il y ait une décision de justice. Peu de temps après, j'ai appris que Mme PAJARERO avait essayé de me joindre et je l'ai donc appelée vers 20h00 ce même mercredi. Là elle m'a dit de venir chercher notre enfant et toutes ses affaires et qu'elle ne voulait plus la voir et que j'avais la garde de Rose.
« Je me suis donc rendu chez nous j'ai pris mon enfant que j'ai emmené ailleurs. Puis je suis revenu chercher de nombreuses affaires de ma fille. Je suis rentré à l'hôtel avec ma fille.
« Le lendemain, je me suis présenté à la Mairie des BLACHES afin d'effectuer des recherches pour un logement adapté pour ma fille et moi même.
« Ce jeudi, j'ai reçu un message de Mme PAJARERO me demandant de passer à la maison avec Rose et j'ai répondu que je préférais que l'on se voie à la Mairie des BLACHES.
« Après mon arrivée, Mme PAJARERO a téléphoné à la Gendarmerie.
« J'ai compris d'après ce que m'a dit le gendarme JACQUES que j'étais obligé de rendre l'enfant à sa mère. Ce que j'ai fait.
« Hier 06 juillet 2007, j'ai eu droit à voir deux fois ma fille à l'extérieur. Aujourd'hui, j'ai frappé à la porte de ma maison où se trouve mon enfant à 10h30 comme j'avais prévenu par écrit. Mme PAJARERO n'a pas ouvert, je suis revenu à 14h00 comme j'avais prévenu par écrit la fille de Mme PAJARERO a ouvert la porte en me disant que sa mère n'était pas là. Je suis donc parti dans un café des BLACHES où je pensais trouver ma fille. Mme PAJARERO était présente avec Rose et elle n'a pas voulu que je passe du temps avec ma fille.
« Voilà donc la situation dans laquelle je suis et la relation que j'essaie d'entretenir avec ma fille Rose.
Question: Lors de votre entretien téléphonique avec le Gendarme JACQUES, ce dernier a déclaré qu'il valait mieux que l'enfant réside au domicile familiale et habituel de l'enfant. Avez vous compris autre chose?
Réponse: Oui. J'ai compris à tort ou à raison que la loi m'obligeait à rendre mon enfant à Mme PAJARERO.
A JOYAU, le 07 juillet 2007 à 15 heures 50, lecture faite par moi de la déclaration ci-dessus, j'y persiste et n'ai rien à changer, à y ajouter ou à y retrancher.
| La personne entendue | L'Agent de Police Judiciaire |
| Scott REISS [signé] | Laurent JACQUES [signé] |
From: SAGReiss
Date: (This message has not been sent.)
Subject: I wuz had
Inspector Jacques lied to me. He told me I had to give Rose back, then said he had only suggested the possibility. After I corrected the illiterate pig's half a dozen spelling mistakes and solecisms, trying to improve the style and give the correct judicial nuances to the case I made in my deposition, I had to sign it despite the fact that those are not my words, and no one who has ever heard me speak, let alone read my prose, would ever believe I was responsible for that tripe. I joked to Jacques that his style was flaubertien (since he kept mistakenly using the imperfect) and that we needed a balzacien style. He did not get the joke and threatened to throw me out, since he is big, for a Frenchman. He stepped into a legal vacuum (le non-droit) and acted as my judge, jury, and executioner.
From: SAGReiss
Date: 8 July 2007
Subject: Fight the Power
Attached: 2007_07_05c_i.jpg, 2007_07_05c_ii.jpg
Murder, Laurent,
Please read and forward this message to the greatest writer on Earth.
From: Murder
Date: 11 July 2007
Subject: RE: FW: CIII
Dear Gabriel,
Reading these letters put me on the verge of tears. If you need my assistance in any way, please let me know. I am in Japan for the rest of this month (in Okinawa, currently), and won't return to New York until the beginning of August. If you need a break, you can always crash with me. I've just rented a fairly spacious one-bedroom apartment in uptown Manhattan. Having a guest would not be a problem in the least.
All the best,
John
From: Maitre REBOURS
Date: 16 July 2007
Subject: Assignation retranscrite
L'an DEUX MILLE SEPT et le
A la requête de:
Monsieur Scott REISS
Né le 26 juillet 1963 à THOMPSON - Etat de New York - Etats-Unis d'Amerique
De nationalité américaine
Domicilié Le Gougeon 96000 LES BLACHES
Ayant pour avocat Maître Isabelle REBOURS
Avocat au Barreau de l'ARDON
Demeurant 96000 ROSIERE
Elisant domicile en son cabinet.
J'ai
Huissier de Justice, susdit et soussigné,
DONNE ASSIGNATION A:
Madame Catherine PAJARERO
Née le 16 juillet 1968 à Namur - Belgique
De nationalité italienne
Domiciliée Le Gougeon 96000 LES BLACHES
Où étant et parlant à:
D'avoir à comparaître le JEUDI 19 JUILLET 2007 à TREIZE HEURES TRENTE
A l'audience et par devant Monsieur le Juge aux Affaires Familiales près le Tribunal de Grande Instance de BRIVES
Statuant en la forme des référés et siégeant en son Cabinet, au Palais de Justice, Cours du Palais à 96000 BRIVES
IMPORTANT:
Etant rappelé à la personne assignée que faute par elle de comparaître ou de se faire représenter par un Avocat de son choix, elle s'expose à ce qu'une décision soit rendue sur les seuls arguments avancés par la partie demanderesse.
POUR:
Des relations qui se sont nouées, en septembre 2005, entre Monsieur Scott REISS et Madame Catherine PAJARRERO est issue une enfant:
+ Rose REISS, née le 27 août 2006 à AUBAGNE;
Le couple, l'enfant commun ainsi que les deux filles de Madame PAJARERO, Sarah et Stella, issues d'une première union, ont jusqu'alors vécu dans un immeuble acquis en indivision par les concubins, sis Le Gougeon à 96000 LES BLACHES;
La situation est cependant progressivement devenue intenable pour Monsieur REISS, qui ne parvient plus à gérer et assumer les excès et les accès de violence de sa compagne;
Madame PAJARERO est extrêmement instable depuis plusieurs mois, usant ouvertement de la violence physique à l'encontre de son compagnon, particulièrement lorsqu'elle est sous l'emprise de l'alcool;
Monsieur REISS a longtemps hésité à partir, préférant endurer la situation plutôt que de prendre le risque d'être séparé de sa petite fille, dont il assume quotidiennement l'entretien et l'éducation;
Rose est très proche de son père, qui en a toujours eu la charge principale et Monsieur REISS, dont elle est le premier et, le s