1
The Last Days of New Paris
6
terms
3
notes
agitprop
(en)
political (originally communist) propaganda, especially in art or literature
10
cosset
(en)
(noun) a pet lamb / (noun) pet / (verb) to treat as a pet; pamper
11
cathexis
(en)
(psychoanalysis) the process of investment of mental or emotional energy in a person, object, or idea
26
he could perform cathexis
probably has a manif-specific meaning here but I assume the general idea is the same
uncertain
8 years ago
he could perform cathexis
probably has a manif-specific meaning here but I assume the general idea is the same
uncertain
8 years ago
32
[...] "The Führer himself," Virginie said heavily, "is an artist, after all." Reproductions of his barely competent watercolors, his hesitant lines, his featureless faces, his vacuous, pretty, empty urban façades, had circulated as curios in occult Paris. Virginie and Thibault shared a glance of contempt.
FORESHADOWING
[...] "The Führer himself," Virginie said heavily, "is an artist, after all." Reproductions of his barely competent watercolors, his hesitant lines, his featureless faces, his vacuous, pretty, empty urban façades, had circulated as curios in occult Paris. Virginie and Thibault shared a glance of contempt.
FORESHADOWING
molder
(en)
(verb) slowly decay or disintegrate, especially because of neglect
76
Out again, over railways where rolling stock moldered.
uncertain
8 years ago
Out again, over railways where rolling stock moldered.
uncertain
8 years ago
lowing
(en)
(verb) moo
96
bivouac
(en)
(noun) a usually temporary encampment under little or no shelter / (noun) encampment usually for a night / (noun) a temporary or casual shelter or lodging / (verb) to make a bivouac; camp
98
159
I saved Paris, Thibault makes himself think. Destroyed a new utter demon. I saved th world. He feels flat. Outside, the sunlight hits them differently than it did within the old city.
Is this it? Are they done?
thought this was a nice passage
I saved Paris, Thibault makes himself think. Destroyed a new utter demon. I saved th world. He feels flat. Outside, the sunlight hits them differently than it did within the old city.
Is this it? Are they done?
thought this was a nice passage
162
"He never could paint people," Sam whispers. "He always left them out. Painted everything empty. Even when he drew himself, he couldn't do features ..."
The figure turns and Thibault glimpses its faceless face. Empty. A faint graphite sweep where there should be eyes. Blank as an egg. A poor, cowardly rendition, by a young bad artist.
"It's a self-portrait," he hears Sam repeat. She and Thibault reach for each other, hold each other up in fear.
Thibault says, "Of Adolf Hitler."
"He never could paint people," Sam whispers. "He always left them out. Painted everything empty. Even when he drew himself, he couldn't do features ..."
The figure turns and Thibault glimpses its faceless face. Empty. A faint graphite sweep where there should be eyes. Blank as an egg. A poor, cowardly rendition, by a young bad artist.
"It's a self-portrait," he hears Sam repeat. She and Thibault reach for each other, hold each other up in fear.
Thibault says, "Of Adolf Hitler."