Some Writings

I keep translating some excerpts from my novel. It helps me to focus on my writings somehow, for this novel is only a draft and this is just another way to edit. Let's see how it looks:

image by: Alex Barth @ Flickr

He wanted to say many things to his older brother. Sometimes he wondered why he had always wanted to say J. a kind of things that would have been already quite difficult to explain to someone who had paid attention to him. He used to ruminate on it when he leafed through the magazines at home, trying to find some neat printed words.

At their home there were few books. Half were farming manuals sent by the cooperative and the other were gifts just piled on a shelf in the study. Their mother was the one in the family who loved to read, and when she wanted to read she took a magazine. Magazines: that’s what they had at home, dealing with fiction, art criticism, opinions, stories... And some serial supplements for the youngsters. During a time their parents entrusted R. with the task of collecting them at the mail office. Then they stopped to receive magazines, but, according to her mother, it was ok because the best ones were the oldest ones. Most papers, including some books, were reused by the family to keep the top of the cupboards from dust, to plug holes or to light the fire. The magazines never became old papers; on the contrary, they were valuable assets that should be preserved forever anywhere. The family used them as an encyclopedia for the children, a scattered, chaotic, hefty wad eaten by moths, and they were also a distraction for everyone.

While R. used to look for some smart words, J. read a few comics of the Far West that came with one magazine for a while. He read them once and again settled into an old armchair inside the shed. Whenever her mother saw him sitting there, she told him that the comics of the Far West were a way of escape for Jacques Brel before going to Paris. J. didn’t like to hear this because for him the comics were also a way of escape. Once, R. asked his mother to talk more about Jacques Brel. She showed him the only disc she had by Brel, sang two songs and translated some lyrics. He wandered if there was any chance to say those important things to his brother using the lyrics by Brel.