Blog
Leopards and Leprosy
Heard at lunch yesterday:
"Why do they call people with leprosy leopards?" asks Justin.
Anna knows this one and replies, "Because they got hungry and turned into leopards."
"Why do they call people with leprosy leopards?" asks Justin.
Anna knows this one and replies, "Because they got hungry and turned into leopards."
Thanksgiving
I briefly considered not celebrating Thanksgiving this year. Scott was out of town, and I was out of energy. But after only a bit of thought, I decided I didn’t want Justin and Anna to grow up bearing a grudge about the Year We Didn’t Celebrate Thanksgiving.
So, I made plans to join in with some American friends for an evening feast.
After morning shopping, I planned to do a Thanksgiving craft with the kids during their two-hour lunch break from school. For the feast, I was in charge of bringing the apple pie, dinner rolls, and my family’s cottage cheese and olive concoction—all manageable in the afternoon. Then the kids and I would read about Thanksgiving while the rolls baked before heading off down the street.
I came back from shopping in the morning with just enough time to rush out and pick up the kids from school. Unfortunately, as I closed our door behind me, with the mailbox key in hand, I realized the apartment key was still inside. And the door latches shut automatically. And the other set of keys was in Paris. I kept a cool head. I didn’t want to stress out the kids, so I didn’t mention it right away. There is a locksmith on our street with a sign saying they open doors, so we stopped in on the way back. I told the young man our problem, he packed up his gear to follow us out; and then he mentioned the price. Eighty euros to open my door. That’s one hundred dollars. I mumbled a few words of apology, slunk out, and sought solace and help from our upstairs neighbors.
Alex and Marina weren’t home, but Norma let me cry on her shoulder while the kids played. We called Alex, who suggested sliding a credit card through, giving me momentary hope. But, alas, our doors are credit card proof. This should be reassuring, but it was mainly irritating.
So, after dropping Justin off at school, I slunk back to our neighborhood locksmith to admit defeat and plead for help. An older man was at the counter, and he offered to open the door for sixty instead of the usual seventy. Hmmm. I figured this was a good deal. Don’t know if he had compassion on me because the other guy warned him that a very upset lady with hungry looking children might be back or if prices just depend on the look of desperation in the client’s eyes. In any case, I was feeling pretty good.
Back in our building, Anna and I plopped down on the stairs as the locksmith took out a paper-sized piece of plastic—basically, a big, slightly bendy, credit card thing. I was thinking that sixty euros was a little pricey to pay someone for having a bigger piece of plastic than you have. But, hey, he had the plastic piece. And I had rolls to knead.
Then things got interesting. As he worked the sheet between the door and the frame, the lockmith began to repeatedly kicked the door. Hard. Anna was frightened, but unwilling to miss the action by going upstairs to play. Little Noah from upstairs came to join the fun and took a seat next to Anna .
Our door is quite secure. It took a half an hour of sweat, more kicks than I could count, three trips back to the shop for more tools, four trips upstairs to examine and measure the neighbor’s door, and three drilled holes before that door gave in. Two four year olds were entertained as well. Sixty euros seemed like a bargain.
In the end, the rolls rose adequately, the apple pie was lovely, and the cottage cheese thing—well, the cottage cheese thing is foolproof. We even managed to make turkeys and read the Thanksgiving story.
Cottage Cheese Thing Recipe
A container of cottage cheese
Three or four big spoonfuls of mayonnaise
Half an onion, diced
A small can of olives, sliced with juice
Boules Rage
Ahhh...French parks in September are lovely. Babies lay on their blanket, toddlers toddle over checking out our toys. Little girls are pushing their pint-sized strollers and games of soccer and chase spontaneously break out. Old men gather to play boules for the afternoon.
Pétanque, or boules, is a game where the goal is to throw metal balls as close as possible to a small wooden ball called a cochonnet (piglet). The game is normally played on hard dirt or gravel, but can also be played on grass or other surfaces. Pétanque is generally associated with southern France, particularly Provence, whence it originates. Thank you, wikipedia!
It's all rather charming and sweet, but today, um...
We were using one of the boules rectangles to play our own version with Justin's plastic set when we noticed the men playing next to us yelling at some nearby children. Some little boys, four and five year olds, were throwing stones at the men. At least a couple boys weren't deterred by the yelling and kept at it. So, one older man runs after the kid, catches him, and starts hitting him. The kid's mom notices (finally) what's going on and runs up and grabs her kid and starts yelling at the guy. Then she and the guy get into a slapping fight for a few seconds. Unreal.
So much for an idyllic afternoon at the park, huh?
Various parents yelled at the boules men, and they yelled back until it all settled down. Children got busy playing, parents went back to chatting, and the boules games continued.
I did notice the parents on the phone and, sure enough, about an hour later, the police showed up, talked to the little boy and his mom, and took the hitter guy away.
I have no idea what happens in France when you hit a child. I told Justin he would probably get a fine. I am glad for the boy that he saw his parents actively protecting him. And I don't imagine he'll be throwing rocks anymore.
Reading List
Time to update my reading list.
I did finish The Double and was none too happy about the ending. The main character is referred to as "The Hero" throughout the book. So, I naively assumed all would work out in the end for him. Three pages before the end he was dubbed "Our Sorry Hero" and ended up being carted off to the insane asylum. Very irritating. I like my endings happy, thank you...
...which is why I have still not finished Uncle Tom's Cabin. Too much tragedy and melodrama. But, I've gotten back to it and will read to the weepy end.
Seeing Past Z by Beth Kephart was a delight. She has a passion for engaging children in literature and a beautiful writing style.
I'm in the middle of Thomas Merton's autobiography, The Seven Story Mountain. He converts from to Catholicism in his twenties and then enters a Trappist monastery. I wish he wasn't so very anti-protestant, but it's still fascinating stuff.
I did finish The Double and was none too happy about the ending. The main character is referred to as "The Hero" throughout the book. So, I naively assumed all would work out in the end for him. Three pages before the end he was dubbed "Our Sorry Hero" and ended up being carted off to the insane asylum. Very irritating. I like my endings happy, thank you...
...which is why I have still not finished Uncle Tom's Cabin. Too much tragedy and melodrama. But, I've gotten back to it and will read to the weepy end.
Seeing Past Z by Beth Kephart was a delight. She has a passion for engaging children in literature and a beautiful writing style.
I'm in the middle of Thomas Merton's autobiography, The Seven Story Mountain. He converts from to Catholicism in his twenties and then enters a Trappist monastery. I wish he wasn't so very anti-protestant, but it's still fascinating stuff.
Fireworks
We celebrated the 14th of July, Bastille Day, at the beach watching fireworks with our Argentinian friend Norma. Anna watched perched on Scott's shoulders. The last time she saw fireworks was in Nice two years ago. We had taken the train from Paris, gotten into our room, and rushed down to the beach to watch. Justin was enthralled. Anna was not.
She didn't love it this time either; she mostly wanted to eat and go to bed. Too bad firework holidays never occur in the winter. We could watch the show at 6pm, get the kids home, fed, and to bed by 8pm. Sure, it would be a little cold, but we could bundle up and cuddle...Back to reality... the fireworks ended at 10:30, we walked home, ordered pizza from an Italian place across the street, and the kids were tucked in by 11:30.
Park
Justin and Anna have been out of school for a week and a half, and we have settled into a vacation rhythm. We wake up deliciously late at 9am. I love the fact that my children don't wake up with the sun! Then we trek many blocks up the street to spend the morning at the park. We help water the plants in the garden together. Justin and I play badminton while the little kids bop around. We've met some new friends--a mom from Colombia and her two kids. Her son and Justin squirt each other with water guns at some point every morning.
Anna loves the play equipment and is a fearless climber.
The kids are enthusiastic about volleyball (much more so than I ever was). It's fun to see them be so much more sporty than I. And, at least at this point, I can keep up with their skills.
We leave for Ardeche Sunday where I'll join some other crazy people to sing hard but lovely music for a week. We did this two years ago and had a fabulous time. We stay in a small village set in a valley. Ah, France...
We'll have just a couple days back before flying to the States. We'll be in Texas, Colorado, and Indiana. Lots of driving in between.
Anna loves the play equipment and is a fearless climber.
The kids are enthusiastic about volleyball (much more so than I ever was). It's fun to see them be so much more sporty than I. And, at least at this point, I can keep up with their skills.
We leave for Ardeche Sunday where I'll join some other crazy people to sing hard but lovely music for a week. We did this two years ago and had a fabulous time. We stay in a small village set in a valley. Ah, France...
We'll have just a couple days back before flying to the States. We'll be in Texas, Colorado, and Indiana. Lots of driving in between.
Allez les Bleus!
We are living in a very happy country today. The whole city was up for hours after France won over Portugal last night. The game ended at 11, and the firecrackers and horns started immediately and went on for hours. Past midnight families were still out walking with their kids (since we are responsible parents, ours were in bed by 11:30).
Sunday night when we will continue our tradition of watching with our neighbors and their two children. There's a lot of multi-tasking involved--bathroom emergencies, keeping baby fingers out of the snacks, etc, but it's fun to share the experience with friends.
Allez les Bleus!
Sunday night when we will continue our tradition of watching with our neighbors and their two children. There's a lot of multi-tasking involved--bathroom emergencies, keeping baby fingers out of the snacks, etc, but it's fun to share the experience with friends.
Allez les Bleus!
Kid Quotes
You know how some people in your life say things to you that you will never hear from anyone else? Well, here are a couple comments from my kids this month that fit that category:
"I sorry for to pee on your shoe."
"You look like Lara Croft!"
The latter comment was due to my wardrobe choice for the day. I have neither exercised exessively nor undergone surgery.
I won't go into any explanation for the former comment.
"I sorry for to pee on your shoe."
"You look like Lara Croft!"
The latter comment was due to my wardrobe choice for the day. I have neither exercised exessively nor undergone surgery.
I won't go into any explanation for the former comment.
Birthday
We celebrated Anna's birthday Sunday afternoon.The buildup to the actual birthday has been an emotional roller coaster for her (and us) . She has known for months that her birthday was on May 14. No problem there. But it became a problem on May 2nd. I picked Anna and Justin up from school at 11:30 as usual. And Anna began to sob. I carried her all the way home (seven minutes). The sobbing continued up the stairs and into the rocking chair. If you have never seen Anna cry, let me describe it for you. As tears run in streams down her face, she throws her head back in lament, and for added effect, her husky little voice cries out. It can be impressive. People on the street stared wondering, I'm sure, what I had denied my child to bring on such pathos. Why the tears? "Me want it to be my birthday NOW!" You see, she knew it was May, and the actual numbers were not important.
Days later we had another, albeit smaller, crisis complete with tears. This time, "Me want to be five on my birthday." I spent some unproductive time explaining that four has to come before five. More sniffles. More tears. So I finally thought to ask why she needed to be five. The answer? Because five year olds wear necklaces. So I assured her that four year olds can wear necklaces, and she cheered right up.
She relished opening her family presents in the morning and asked where the rest were when she was done. In the afternoon our neighbors and some of Anna's favorite Big Girls celebrated at our park. Anna opened more presents (another necklace!), ate cake, played, and wore a flower crown. A good day to be four.
Easter
The last week and a half has been very busy, so I'm finally posting my favorite Easter pictures.
We colored our eggs on Easter Eve. The eggs we buy here are brown, like they were in Gabon. No Paas coloring kits in France, or Gabon for that matter. We just use food coloring and a bit of vinegar in water-the colors mix beautifully with the brown. The only snag this year was that the only dye sets available were red, yellow, and green. No blue. And the green was wimpy. So no lovely deep turquoise blue this year, which is ironic considering that this is our first Easter on the Cote d'Azur...
Happy little Easter Basket Girl. She wants to color all of our eggs now, by the way. I may need to make it a monthly activity. Don't tell, but her present for her birthday next month is a little Playmobile bunny set, so it would fit with the theme. She's already agreed to a bunny cake. So we just might be painting eggs in May.
We picnicked at the beach after church with some students, so I snapped this before the kids changed into play clothes.
We colored our eggs on Easter Eve. The eggs we buy here are brown, like they were in Gabon. No Paas coloring kits in France, or Gabon for that matter. We just use food coloring and a bit of vinegar in water-the colors mix beautifully with the brown. The only snag this year was that the only dye sets available were red, yellow, and green. No blue. And the green was wimpy. So no lovely deep turquoise blue this year, which is ironic considering that this is our first Easter on the Cote d'Azur...
Happy little Easter Basket Girl. She wants to color all of our eggs now, by the way. I may need to make it a monthly activity. Don't tell, but her present for her birthday next month is a little Playmobile bunny set, so it would fit with the theme. She's already agreed to a bunny cake. So we just might be painting eggs in May.We picnicked at the beach after church with some students, so I snapped this before the kids changed into play clothes.
Kid Quotes
Heard in the Harris Household…
“Sometimes you can be fun, Mom.”
This was Justin’s encouragement to me as we played catch after I spectacularly fumbled the ball (picture Jerry Lewis/dancing circus bear).
“Don’t mind the screaming, Mom; it’s happy screaming.”
Justin in the apartment, playing with Anna in another room.
“Daddy broke my heart, Daddy broke my heart…”
This is a prime example of our sweet Anna Drama Queen. For those of you familiar with Myers-Briggs testing, I’m thinking that she’s a feeler. Scott was out at a meeting, and the kids and I were collecting books to read before bed. Anna picked up a book and started to sob as she remembered some painful Anna/Daddy memory. Knowing Anna, it was probably something like Scott just reading the book to her once instead of twice.
“Me never ever see her again.”
Anna again. This was said, again through many tears, as we said goodbye to a friend on the bus and got off. We see this friend, Georgette, every Sunday. Anna cried for a full five minutes about this sad goodbye.
Just so you know, Anna is usually happy. Don’t want to give the wrong impression.
“Sometimes you can be fun, Mom.”
This was Justin’s encouragement to me as we played catch after I spectacularly fumbled the ball (picture Jerry Lewis/dancing circus bear).
“Don’t mind the screaming, Mom; it’s happy screaming.”
Justin in the apartment, playing with Anna in another room.
“Daddy broke my heart, Daddy broke my heart…”
This is a prime example of our sweet Anna Drama Queen. For those of you familiar with Myers-Briggs testing, I’m thinking that she’s a feeler. Scott was out at a meeting, and the kids and I were collecting books to read before bed. Anna picked up a book and started to sob as she remembered some painful Anna/Daddy memory. Knowing Anna, it was probably something like Scott just reading the book to her once instead of twice.
“Me never ever see her again.”
Anna again. This was said, again through many tears, as we said goodbye to a friend on the bus and got off. We see this friend, Georgette, every Sunday. Anna cried for a full five minutes about this sad goodbye.
Just so you know, Anna is usually happy. Don’t want to give the wrong impression.
Spring
Spring has sprung here. After eleven years of the tropics, I'm not used to the suddeness of it. Last week was winter. This week is spring. Just like that. Amazing.
Old people are basking on park benches. People in the streets look happy. The general strike on Tuesday may have had something to do with that. Although thousands were out demonstrating, thousands were strolling through town with their kids. Buses weren't operating, so we had no choice but to stay close to home and enjoy the 70 degree perfection.
My kids had Wednesday off from school, so we hopped on a bus and ventured up to see the old fort at Mount Boron. We traipsed through the trails, hunting for rabbits and adventure. Justin packed a microscope and compass and led us on our explore. Anna pointed out new flowers so we could capture them with the camera.
The views were absolutely stunning. They blew me away. Take a look...
And I live here. It costs a dollar to take the bus to this place. And I can go whenever I want to. Amazing.
Finished
Finished.
I finally finished reading Don Quixote a few nights ago. I am 99% sure that I have never taken this long to read a book. Ever. I have to say that I'll miss my rendezvous (ok, I have no idea how to make that plural--rendezvouses???) with the Knight of the Sorry Face. And I do recommend it, not just because it's a classic. It's entertaining, and even if you're less stubborn than I and don't read through all 982 pages, there is plenty to enjoy.
Faulkner reread it once a year. Can't say that I will, but I may dip into it again just for fun.
I finally finished reading Don Quixote a few nights ago. I am 99% sure that I have never taken this long to read a book. Ever. I have to say that I'll miss my rendezvous (ok, I have no idea how to make that plural--rendezvouses???) with the Knight of the Sorry Face. And I do recommend it, not just because it's a classic. It's entertaining, and even if you're less stubborn than I and don't read through all 982 pages, there is plenty to enjoy.
Faulkner reread it once a year. Can't say that I will, but I may dip into it again just for fun.
JetAnnalag
JetAnnalag—def. when one’s acclimation to a time zone is hindered by the extreme jetlag of one’s three-year old daughter
After experiencing two really horrible nights of Anna adamantly refusing to acclimate to France time, I am typing this at three in the morning as the rest of my family is soundly asleep.
Nonetheless, it is good to be back home.
More in another entry about our time in the States—it did get better after the New York character building experience. Had good times with family, encouraging connections with people at the missions conference, and brought back a few of my favorite things…chocolate chips and books.
Justin is proudly brandishing his new light saber to anyone who steps in the door. He’s even got Anna pretending to be Princess Leia and Queen Amidala.
Although Anna is happy to play along, her greatest joy since our return is in vigorously stomping her first-ever Zoe and Elmo flasher shoes for anyone who looks her way. She is reveling in everyone’s oohs and aahs. And I mean everyone—friends, teachers, other passengers on the bus, even cashiers in stores. They must not make flasher shoes here.
All for now—good to be back!
After experiencing two really horrible nights of Anna adamantly refusing to acclimate to France time, I am typing this at three in the morning as the rest of my family is soundly asleep.
Nonetheless, it is good to be back home.
More in another entry about our time in the States—it did get better after the New York character building experience. Had good times with family, encouraging connections with people at the missions conference, and brought back a few of my favorite things…chocolate chips and books.
Justin is proudly brandishing his new light saber to anyone who steps in the door. He’s even got Anna pretending to be Princess Leia and Queen Amidala.
Although Anna is happy to play along, her greatest joy since our return is in vigorously stomping her first-ever Zoe and Elmo flasher shoes for anyone who looks her way. She is reveling in everyone’s oohs and aahs. And I mean everyone—friends, teachers, other passengers on the bus, even cashiers in stores. They must not make flasher shoes here.
All for now—good to be back!
Travel
Well, we made it.
The kids and are I happily settled into being taken care of by Grandma and Grandpa.
Our 18 hours in New York were truly terrible, but we did end up in a warm bed for the night. And we did (barely) make our flight the next day.
A few of the nightmarish elements:
Anna screaming as we taxied toward JFK.
Justin sobbing as we deplaned and went through customs.
A few tears from me when I couldn't figure out how to get to the hotel(see below)
Good news, bad news
There is a hotel room available--but it costs $200
There is a shuttle to the hotel--but it runs only every one to two hours
You can wait for the shuttle--but outside where it is 10 degrees
You can just get a taxi--but the line to the taxi is an hour long, and it is--outside
There is a 9am shuttle to get back to the airport--my room clock is off and we miss it as it pulls out before 9
They call it back--it is full
They can have their maintenance man drive another van--can't find him
I could go on, but you get the idea...
It was truly terrible, but God is good. That sums up a lot, doesn't it?
From Fort Wayne, Indiana
The kids and are I happily settled into being taken care of by Grandma and Grandpa.
Our 18 hours in New York were truly terrible, but we did end up in a warm bed for the night. And we did (barely) make our flight the next day.
A few of the nightmarish elements:
Anna screaming as we taxied toward JFK.
Justin sobbing as we deplaned and went through customs.
A few tears from me when I couldn't figure out how to get to the hotel(see below)
Good news, bad news
There is a hotel room available--but it costs $200
There is a shuttle to the hotel--but it runs only every one to two hours
You can wait for the shuttle--but outside where it is 10 degrees
You can just get a taxi--but the line to the taxi is an hour long, and it is--outside
There is a 9am shuttle to get back to the airport--my room clock is off and we miss it as it pulls out before 9
They call it back--it is full
They can have their maintenance man drive another van--can't find him
I could go on, but you get the idea...
It was truly terrible, but God is good. That sums up a lot, doesn't it?
From Fort Wayne, Indiana
My Neighborhood
I love my neighborhood.
During our first few weeks in Nice, we were short a few appliances, so we frequented the combination dry cleaners/self-service laundromat a few doors down. Like most of the shops on our street, it is is run by a couple. I went with Anna one day, and the owner lady fetched her dog from behind the counter, grabbed a handful of dog treats, and let Anna feed Gypsy, the shop dog. We often pass them on the street when we are coming home from school at midday. She ALWAYS stops to let Justin hold the leash and Anna pet the dog. She also gave us a free circus coupon when the circus was in town.
A couple blocks down the street we have a Speed Rabbit Pizza (or Pizza Labbit according to Anna) take out/delivery place. It’s just like Pizza Hut pizza. In any case, we are on a first name basis with the employees, and we don’t have to tell them anymore what the order is—we’re regulars. The kids always want to go—not so that they can help with the pizzas, but to see Alexia and their other friends who work there.
I went and ordered a dinner from the Chinese/Vietnamese restaurant downstairs Saturday night. We haven’t taken advantage of this restaurant too often. Just twice, I think. Nonetheless, when they couldn’t find a disposable container for the soup, they loaned me a Tupperware container. Just asked me to return it when I could.
There’s a homeless man often in front of the grocery store down the street who sells poetry. I don’t know if anyone buys it. I always refuse, but I still think it’s rather charming.
So, there you go, a few of the people and places that are making 111 bis Boulevard Gambetta home.
During our first few weeks in Nice, we were short a few appliances, so we frequented the combination dry cleaners/self-service laundromat a few doors down. Like most of the shops on our street, it is is run by a couple. I went with Anna one day, and the owner lady fetched her dog from behind the counter, grabbed a handful of dog treats, and let Anna feed Gypsy, the shop dog. We often pass them on the street when we are coming home from school at midday. She ALWAYS stops to let Justin hold the leash and Anna pet the dog. She also gave us a free circus coupon when the circus was in town.
A couple blocks down the street we have a Speed Rabbit Pizza (or Pizza Labbit according to Anna) take out/delivery place. It’s just like Pizza Hut pizza. In any case, we are on a first name basis with the employees, and we don’t have to tell them anymore what the order is—we’re regulars. The kids always want to go—not so that they can help with the pizzas, but to see Alexia and their other friends who work there.
I went and ordered a dinner from the Chinese/Vietnamese restaurant downstairs Saturday night. We haven’t taken advantage of this restaurant too often. Just twice, I think. Nonetheless, when they couldn’t find a disposable container for the soup, they loaned me a Tupperware container. Just asked me to return it when I could.
There’s a homeless man often in front of the grocery store down the street who sells poetry. I don’t know if anyone buys it. I always refuse, but I still think it’s rather charming.
So, there you go, a few of the people and places that are making 111 bis Boulevard Gambetta home.
Harris Family Milestone
Justin finally lost his first tooth yesterday! In France there are no tooth fairies, just a tooth mouse. Since we are an American family in France, maybe the tooth fairy and the tooth mouse got together on this one. In any case, Justin was very happy to find a euro under his pillow this morning.
Adoption Soapbox
As an adoptive parent, I am sensitive to the way adoption is portrayed in the media. Adoption is often seen either as a second best kind of solution to parenthood or the more noble path—as in, “It’s wonderful of you to have adopted.” For us, we definitely don’t feel like we’re living a second-rate kind of parenthood. And there’s not anything particularly noble about us—as any of you who have seen us with our children for more than a couple hours know.
So, why the soapbox today? Well, Wednesday I read the news on CNN about the tragic death of seven siblings in Florida. I was struck by the tragedy of it, but was also surprised by the caption of the grieving mother, which read, “Barbara Mann, the adoptive mother of the Mann children, is consoled at the crash scene.”
Besides wondering how appropriate it is of news agencies to be snapping pictures of people in deep grief, I wondered why it was necessary to point Barbara Mann’s status as adoptive mother in this moment. Was her pain supposed to be less because the children were not biologically hers? Or maybe more? Or was it just about giving complete information?
Scott and I are fairly open about our adoption story. We are adoptive parents, but we are mostly just parents. I don’t introduce Justin and Anna as my adoptive children, and they don’t think of me as their adoptive mommy.
In any case, in that moment, Barbara Mann was a mother grieving a devastating loss. And as I prayed for her, I prayed as a fellow parent, not a fellow adoptive parent.
If were more of an activist, I would have written a letter to CNN. Apparently, someone else did. Last night, the picture was there with a caption that read, “the mother of the Mann children.”
Cervantes and Me
The Da Vinci Code is a big deal here, and we are looking forward to talking about it with students when the movie comes in May. So I read it. I had decided not to post any of my many irritations with it (didn’t want my blog to be too negative). But then last night I came across a passage in Don Quixote that summed up a large part of what bugged me about Dan Brown’s book:
"…although the play is based on fictitious actions, historical veracity is claimed for it, and bits and pieces of other histories involving different people and periods are mixed in, and without any attempt at verisimilitude, either, but with obvious mistakes that are quite inexcusable. And what’s worst of all is that there are people ignorant enough to say that this is sheer perfection…
…all this works to the detriment of truth and to the prejudice of history…"
Thank you, Cervantes, for saying it better than I could have (even if I did have to look up verisimilitude).
My other big issue with the book is Brown’s view of truth. The people who believe in truth strongly enough to want others to know about it are generally either misguided (the church) or downright evil (the Teacher). The heroes are the ones who know the real “truth”, but are content to keep it safe and secret knowing that, “Hey, we’re entering the Age of Aquarius, so it’ll all work out in the end.”
On a more positive note, I went to see Pride and Prejudice (in English—woo hoo hoo!) with some friends the other night. Here’s another Cervantes quote that sums it up for me…
"...The audience that has gone to see an ingenious and well-crafted play comes out at the end cheered by its jests, instructed by its truths, amazed at its action, wiser thanks to its speeches, warned by its roguery, shrewder for its examples, incensed against vice and enamored of virtue; for a good play will provoke all these reactions in anyone who watches it…"
I won’t be going to see The Da Vinci Code in theaters, but they can keep remaking Pride and Prejudice every couple years, and I’ll be there.
