I dug into my ice and asked, "What about Peritonitis...?"
"His name's Pirithous."
"Pirithous, then. When he...?"
"He's already dead. He doesn't appear."
"But the summary...?"
VR said kindly, "Pirithous isn't part of the Theseus myth. The composer added him in."
I was making a fool of myself. I decided to forget the two dozen sailors who waved their legs in the hornpipe - immediately after the stepmother announced she was in love with her stepson and he turned her down. She looked disenchanted; the sailors looked jolly.
A film clip explained why. The set designer said the sailors were there to halt the narrative. They certainly did.
As I drove home VR asked, "In the first scene, the one in the giant open fridge. With the 10 ft broccoli floret and the monster tube of passata, partially squeezed."
I nodded cautiously.
"Is the fridge closed for the second scene?"
I was able to confirm it was.
As we watched TV news I reflected. Rameau died in 1764, fourteen years after Bach. Yet the B-Minor Mass is more fun than R's Hippolyte et Aricie. A slow learner, Rameau. Me too.
WIP Hand Signals.
“Ah, but is passion admirable?”
(Francine) smiled. “You wouldn't be Martin Ibanez without it.”
“And do you care for Martin Ibanez?”
“I enjoy his company.”
“Just that?”
She paused slightly. “I enjoy his body.”
“Measure that enjoyment.”
“I don't care to. Measuring - the idea's horrid.”
Did the fridge reappear during Act
ReplyDeleteIII, IV and V?
Francine is right.
You do know the mind and emotions of women.
ReplyDeleteEllena: Fridge: not to my knowledge. But the final act did take place in a morgue.
ReplyDeleteRe Francine. Bearing in mind these are snippets and your reactions are likely to be fragmentary, I appreciate any form of comment you can come up with. Genuinely useful, I promise.
The Crow: See above comment. I'm pleased you think so; I get so close to her it's difficult for me to be objective. Tell you what, though, I really dislike Martin Ibanez.
Your conversation re fridge, giant broccoli and Rameau sounds straight out of Peter Cook/Dudley Moore or Spike Milligan. Love it. Why aren't you writing comedy scenarios instead of serious stuff? Sorry, you *are* writing comedy quite frequently.
ReplyDeleteThe trouble with inserting comments here is that I have to remember to switch to Safari from Firefox and then be rejected by your comments supervisor who doesn't like me and makes me repeat everything, robotically, when I prove I'm not a robot.
Measuring is a topic which bears further discussion, though not perhaps in Hand Signals. It is one of the most useful and sometimes restricting activities known to mankind. Already I like Francine
ReplyDeleteNatalie: I am sorry you suffer techno-problems arriving at Tone Deaf. If it's any comfort, I shall react to your future comments as if you were scattering gold dust on me - gilded by your passage, as it were; smeared with paté de foie gras, sprinkled with Roederer Cristal. Honoured, Privileged. Unable to hold back glutinous flattery.
ReplyDeleteI am glad you have penetrated Tone Deaf's raison d'etre. As my re-written mission statement makes clear, I am here to entertain. This doesn't mean I fight shy of serious subjects, rather that I tend to dress them up in the Fool's cap and bells. Solemnity and earnestness are unforgivable crimes in this neck of the woods.
However, you make a serious point. Or I think you do. My novels are different; they are not in any sense comic. However I do have a back-stop. Joe (see next comment) reads them in draft form and makes suggestions. I had created a character called Imogen in Blest Redeemer, a strange innocent abroad in London, up from the West Country and searching for depucelation. Joe said I could get more out of her, that in effect she was comic. And so she now is.
Joe: Quite right. Measurement is at the heart of understanding as Lord Kelvin says (you asked me to elaborate on Lord K in Gorgon Times). But such understanding is incomplete and refers only to the physical world. It fitted into this quote as a man vs. woman misunderstanding.
I hope you do like Francine, although I am restricted in what I can say about her in these quotes. They are all from one day in her life and are purely descriptive, cannot reveal the plot; this one day is prelude to almost unimaginable horror followed by the rest of her life spent in a part of the world you know well. I foresee arguments when I get there.