Tag: Germinal

Read Along With Me Part 3

I was out of bed and downstairs as quickly as I could be this morning, but

just missed the pinkest dawn.

These were, however, the clearest skies of a grey but dry day on which I made more progress on Emile Zola’s ‘Germinal’,

and scanned sample illustrated pages from Part 3, which can be enlarged with a click on any image to access the gallery.

This evening we all dined on meaty sausages; creamy white and sweet potato mash; piquant cauliflower cheese; crunchy carrots; tender spring greens, peas, and Brussels sprouts, with which Jackie drank Baywood Summer Berries fruity rosé and I finished the fitou.

Read Along With Me Part 2

This afternoon I watched recordings of today’s Six Nations rugby matches between Ireland and Wales and between England and Scotland.

During intervals I finished the ironing backlog we had begun yesterday,

and drafted the illustrations and text samples of the next Part of Emile Zola’s ‘Germinal’.

This evening we all dined on tender roast duck; crisp roast potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm broccoli and Brussels sprouts; and flavoursome gravy followed by Jackie’s tasty gooseberry and apple crumble with which I drank les quatre vents fitou 2021.

Read Along With Me Part 1

Yesterday’s wind has dropped, but the incessant rain was much fiercer today. I therefore continued with Germinal.

This work by Emile Zola is widely acclaimed as one of the finest French novels.

There are 7 parts to the book. Because of the number of illustrations and their positions on the pages, offering the opportunity for readers to sample extracts from Zola’s sublime poetic prose as it frames the pictures, I am diverting from my normal practice and publishing these sheets as I work my way along my rereading, leaving my review until the end.

These are the leaves from Part One. As usual, clicking on any illustration will access the gallery facilitating enlargement.

Late this afternoon, although much colder, the skies cleared; the sun emerged to share the cerulean canopy with the moon, and set over the still water-laden Christchurch Road.

This evening we all dined on barbecue spare ribs, and Jackie’s colourful savoury rice with garlic; she drank Hoegaarden, Ian drank Erdinger weisbier, and I drank more of the Nero d’Avola.