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#émile zola
1five1two · 1 month
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While the storm was erupting, she stayed, staring at it, watching the shafts of lightning, like someone who could see serious things, far away in the future in these sudden flashes of light.
Émile Zola
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Le parole pesano così poco davanti all’onnipotenza dei fatti.
Émile Zola
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jareckiworld · 2 years
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Orla Muff (1903-1984) — “Nana”  [oil on canvas, 1934]
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Transfer of the remains of Émile Zola, a French novelist and playwright, to the Panthéon in Paris on 4 June 1908
French vintage postcard
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professeur-stump · 26 days
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S'essayer au village
 Non, je le crois plutôt dans un coin de la plaine, au bord du ruisseau. Il est si petit qu'un rideau de peupliers le cache à tous les yeux. Ses chaumières disparaissent dans les oseraies de la rive. Un bout de prairie verte lui sert de tapis; une haie vive le clôt de toutes parts, comme un grand jardin. On passe à côté de lui sans le voir. Les voix des laveuses sonnent, semblables à des voix de fauvettes. Pas un filet de fumée. Il dort dans sa paix, au fond de son alcôve verte.  Aucun de nous ne le connaît. La ville voisine sait à peine qu'il existe, et il est si humble que pas un géographe ne s'est soucié de lui.
(Émile Zola, Le Petit village, Nouveaux contes à Ninon, 1870)
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hyperions-fate · 4 months
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Men were springing forth, a black avenging army, germinating slowly in the furrows, growing towards the harvests of the next century, and their germination would soon overturn the earth.
Émile Zola, Germinal (1885)
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careful-disorder · 1 year
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Édouard Manet, Portrait of Émile Zola
“A Japanese screen on the left of the picture recalls the role that the Far East played in revolutionizing ideas on perspective and colour in European painting.” 
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Oui.
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blinkbones · 26 days
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Nana, Émile Zola
Finally getting some French lit in. To be completely honest, I've had this book for almost a decade, and I never read it. Well, actually, apparently I tried at some point, because I found some underlined bits very early on -- but it's clear that I gave up. I remember struggling with it back then. I didn't, this time. It's nice to see proof of my improvement, although I'm not sure what specific skill is concerned.
For a quick & anachronistic summary, it's the story of a 19th century escort girl who makes it big in paris.
I was actually surprised by how easy to read this was. I kind of expected very difficult language. It is poetic, but not actually difficult. The text is easy to follow, almost journalistic. Poetic journalism.
I really, really enjoyed Nana. It's a long ride, and what a ride. It reads, at times, like a soap opera, with how she has a roster of desperate men orbiting around her. She really is the sun of her novel -- and it is her novel. I entered this book ignorantly (despite being French and a ~lit student, I'm not actually well-versed in my country's literature) and it kept surprising me. Where I expected a moralizing tale, or at least a pessimistic outlook on the arrogant seductress, I got the unstoppable, inescapable success of Nana. It's almost a power fantasy, although I doubt Zola saw it through this angle. I mean, it does end badly. Spoilers, but she fully dies in a disfiguring manner. And there is this underlying theme of Nana, the beautiful Venus from the lower classes, bringing the rot of the sewers to the silk sheets of the aristocracy. She all but ruins the entire upper class with the raw power of her sex-appeal, and I thought that there was something cosmic about it. By the time she's at her apex, she herself does not have control of her situation. She becomes like an empire, constantly conquering further reaches to maintain peace and prosperity throughout her imperial reign. She devours. And yet she's so incredibly human. She felt to me like a deity unaware of its power, and, in that sense, her death (especially because it's in the full bloom of her youth and legendary status) felt more like a shedding of the mortal form. Admittedly, I also just find it more fun to interpret it that way. I'm reading for fun, after all. Ah, the specter of academic seriousness hangs over me.
I think Nana is an easy entry point into that sort of literature. Yes, it's part of some long-ass series, but no, you don't need to read the previous books (I didn't). It's very self-contained. It's a long, very eventful ride, through Nana's chaotic and glamorous world. It's long but it feels like going downhill on a bike, and like everything's going too fast still. And it's fucking funny.
And for you, tumblr, my beloved, yes, you will find some messy queers in there. I only talked about Nana herself here, but Nana holds a whole ensemble cast of secondary characters, many interesting women (a wealth of them, really), that are really a whole other serving of delights that I just didn't have time to talk about here. But seriously, just about every character, especially the women, is interesting.
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philoursmars · 6 days
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Louvre-Lens : il y a une expo : “Mondes souterrains : 20.000 Lieux sous la terre”. la suite et fin.
Ernst Ferdinand Oehme : paysage du Erzgebirge, deux mineurs en prière avant leur descente à la mine - 1826
François Kupka : "Remontée au jour des revenants de Courrières" - 1906 (survivants d'un des plus gros coups de grisou des mines françaises : 13 rescapés, plus de 1000 morts)
Paul-Emile Colin - illustration pour "Germinal" d'Emile Zola - 1912
Constantin Meunier : "Mineur à la hache" - 1901
Auguste Corriol - photos de mineurs vers 1900
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castelnou · 6 months
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sesiondemadrugada · 7 months
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Human Desire (Fritz Lang, 1954).
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walterkov · 2 years
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► In Secret (2013)
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gobcorend · 4 months
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"As they have dared, so shall I dare. Dare to tell the truth, as I have pledged to tell it, in full, since the normal channels of justice have failed to do so. My duty is to speak out; I do not wish to be an accomplice in this travesty. My nights would otherwise be haunted by the spectre of the innocent man, far away, suffering the most horrible of tortures for a crime he did not commit" - Émile Zola, J'accuse! (1898)
No Shit Sherlock!
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expectoro · 2 years
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In Secret (2013) dir. Charlie Stratton
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professeur-stump · 8 months
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Virginie, renversée avec un air de princesse, les yeux demi-clos, suivait toujours le lavage, lâchant des réflexions. — Encore un peu à droite. Maintenant, faites bien attention à la boiserie… Vous savez, je n'ai pas été très contente, samedi dernier. Les taches étaient restées. Et tous les deux, le chapelier et l'épicière, se carraient davantage, comme sur un trône, tandis que Gervaise se traînait à leurs pieds, dans la boue noire.
(Émile Zola, L'Assommoir)
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