p 93 To the Switz bobbyguard’s   Leave a comment

I’ve just finished my second reading. I went blind this time. I think it is better that way. I have more of an inner eye, improvising. I felt like I was jumping all over the place. In the trenches/ some combat; in the far east; in Ireland, in the city, in a park, in the mud. I don’t want to mark my text with any of these impressions as yet though.

My ten pages ended right on the close of chapter 4, as A.L.P. is brought in. I liked the way she was anticipated with such motherly language. And then suddenly a war marching song seemed to jump in, before we got back to babalong in the last paragraph.

Earlier today I was at a book signing event:  for local authors. I had my poetry book ERRATICS with me and was sharing a table with Anne-Marie Prodon, who collects and publishes local stories from the Pays de Gex.

http://www.leprogres.fr/fr/vos-loisirs/cd-livres/article/2185083,1166/Anne-Marie-Prodon-simplifie.html

Mme Prodon showed me a photograph from one of her books that illustrates  how children were conditioned to go to the trenches of WW1. There were three rows of school kids in the photo, perhaps they were about 10 years old. They were dressed in uniform and stood to attention, holding life-sized wooden rifles. One child was posed in front of them, playing a big marching drum.

Wake was first published in 1939. I’m left with a feeling of sadness and treachery after reading tonight.

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