2 posts tagged “nicole”

No this isn't Nicole, it's Doris Lessing.

THE GRASS IS SINGING
 
 
 
or how to  start reading a book with, let's say ...little interest (since we knew from the beginning someone was dead), and how to
.
end up  getting involved to the point I felt like reading it again, once I had finished it.

 
Mary is one among many themes in this book.
 
one can't remain indifferent to this girl.
 
one pities her to start with, may admire her when she manages to reach a higher social level, but
 
almost despies her when she sticks to the "young girls' club" 
 
 
In doing so she appears  like an immature person she proved to be once she got married
 
 
pity and contempt are the main feelings and I must admit more than once I felt like shaking her to bring her back to reality and humanity.   the book is based and built on dualism : masters and servants, black and white, rich and poor, heat and rain, heavy light of sun (shade) and bright light (early morning towards her death).
 
fascinating book    and  writer !!!
 
 

Nicole
 

The Grass is Singing animated the evening beautifully and we find ourselves richer after reading it. 

Sometimes one reads a book that rests in the foremost place of one's mind long after the book has been finished, this is the case of The Grass is Singing. 

I could write about it, however I shall leave that for Nicole who must win the prize for being the most enthralling chatterbox of the evening!   Maybe Alain and Marie Christine would like to chip in with their reviews, too!

I learned last night that the title was taken from written by T S Elliot called The Waste Land
Here modern life is portrayed as a land of desert and rocks, lacking water upon which life depends.
The singing grasses is a result of the noise of the cicadas. They only make this noise when it is dry or hot, exactly the weather Mary hates.

The Waste Land

alas no grass

In this decayed hole among the mountains
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the winds home.
It has no windows, and the door swings,
Dry bones can harm no one.
Only a cock stood on the rooftree
Co co rico, co co rico
In a flash of lightening. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain

Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
The jungle crouched, humped in silence.
Then spoke the thunder

T. S. Elliot