About this blog...

sans objet (S.O.): the French equivalent of n/a, not available (or applicable). ''Sans'' comes from a combination of the Latin words sine and absenti, which mean ''without'' and ''in the absence of'' respectively. ''Objet'' also comes from Latin ''Objectum'' meaning something thrown down or presented. That being said, I chose this blog title when I didn't know what kind of posts I would be throwing down. Now that I have written a few entries, I would say that reading my blog means joining me on an etymological adventure that starts in France (where I am currently residing) and ends with me googling definitions and translations and then rambling about it.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Soulagement par Bibliothèque

I've had the onglet (tab) open to write this entry for a few days already. But it's hard to know where to begin to describe how much I love the library here.

I am currently sitting in the foul-tasting weekend sandwich between the last week of classes and my week of 7 exams. For dessert, I'm having a vacation in France with my boyfriend. He is like high quality pistachio ice cream. But I digress...

English books have become part of my soutien here. The library has around 6 rows of shelves of English books on the second story (première étage by French standards). There are 6 more rows on the troisième étage, but I just found those since I've been too busy on the first floor.

Last week I found the Canadian section. It is about two shelves big and 50% Margaret Atwood. I took out a book called ''A North American Eduction'' by Clark Blaise. I really enjoyed it. Here is an article about him from The National Post: http://network.nationalpost.com/NP/blogs/afterword/archive/2009/02/18/philip-marchand-our-greatest-unsung-writer-what-if-clark-blaise-had-remained-here.aspx

I've gotten into reading John Fante because Charles Bukowski was a fan. I read Ask the Dust, and I read The Wine of Youth, which is short stories that Bukowski explicitly mentions in one of his poems:
''the writing of some
men
is like a vast bridge
that carries you
over
the many things
that claw and tear.''
-The Wine of Forever

Right now I'm reading Full of Life, also by Fante. I've read at least 14 books cover-to-cover since September, not including two books I read in French (La Salle de Bain by Toussaint, and La Place by Annie Ernaux), and a few more books I dipped into but never finished. 

If you return a book late to the library here, there is no fine, but you are banned from taking out books for the number of days you were late turning in your overdue books. 

There is something so delightful about this narrowed selection of books in a French library. First of all, they are there for French students who study English, so they are books that have somehow been deemed ''worth the effort'' to read in one's second language. They all have a certain quality. It is hard to define French taste in English books. They are pretty into Poe. 

I suppose I should read more in French than in English since I'm here, but the ease of reading in English and the tasty selection of books makes reading these books a guilty pleasure that I can't resist. But if there is one thing about the French people I've noticed, is that they tend not to feel guilty about their pleasures. So this is just mon délice, tout simplement.

No comments:

Post a Comment