“Adolescence” and strikes in France
Have to keep turning off the news, because I just do not want to hear the word ‘tariff’ again. Trump is in heaven, because the media is going crazy and he’s front and centre, just where he’s desperate to be. Makes me puke. But good news from Wisconsin! That’s the world we live in now — a woman living in Toronto writes, Good news from Wisconsin! as if it’s going to save the world. Because it just might. Wonderful op-ed in the Sunday NYT by great American writer Stacey Schiff, a friend of my cousin Ted’s, about the many unsuccessful American attempts to take over Canada. I got her address from Ted and wrote to thank her. It turns out, she’s married to a Canadian. May they come home soon.
Yesterday was beautiful, sunny and almost warm. My gardening helper Jannette and I spent hours in the garden, pruning stuff damaged by the harsh winter — the holly tree and the roses, especially, much of them shrivelled and brown. But it felt like life returning, so wonderful to be out there again, making things right.
Welcome to Canada. Today — unbelievably bad weather. Walking out of the Y, I was nearly blown off my feet by wind and sleet. Then snow, and now it’s a downpour, the streets a pile of slush. How extremely fortunate I do not have to go anywhere – and that I’m not scheduled to travel today! It’s a big birthday for Monique, but dinner at a good French restaurant was cancelled. Stay home.
News from France: the SNCF, the French rail system, has announced probable strikes starting April 17 through to June. Oh joy. That means I’ll get to Montpellier by train on April 15, but the following week, when I need to get from Avignon, near where we’ll spend Easter, to Paris, to get my plane home the following day, it may be difficult. The marvellous fast train journey for which I have a ticket would take not even three hours to traverse the entire length of the country. If there’s no train, the bus takes ten hours or more. Please keep your fingers crossed for me.
It’s France. There will be strikes.
Everyone is talking about Netflix’s Adolescence, with good reason. 13-year old Jamie is accused of stabbing to death a female schoolmate; the series explores his arrest and its aftermath. It is indeed riveting viewing, only partially because of the technical expertise involved, with each episode filmed in one uninterrupted long shot, hard to fathom the difficulty of that. But the performances! The work of Owen Cooper, as the boy Jamie, is phenomenal; he’s the best young actor I’ve ever seen. But so is everyone else, as is usual with British television.
The film shows that these days, parents have no idea what their adolescent children are doing in the privacy of their rooms; it illuminates the cruelty and brutality of online bullying, and the toxicity of the “manosphere,” with its emphasis on success at sports, sexual confidence, bravado, meanness, brute strength.
One of my favourite pundits rebelled against the film, saying there’s no evidence any random boy, especially one like this from a loving home, could easily be pushed to murder. But the malign influences beamed into every child’s bedroom are something parents must grapple with. The last episode, dramatizing what tragedy does to a family, shows the guilt Jamie’s parents feel; they assumed their boy was safe and did not investigate what was going on in his life.
The vision presented of a typical British high school is horrifying — inept, feckless teachers, rude students, all watching videos in the classrooms. Although the uniforms are good.
Jamie in some ways, though obviously not in violent behaviour, reminds me of my grandson Eli, who’s similarly closed-mouthed and secretive; unlike his little brother, who’s as guileless and open as a sunbeam, what Eli thinks and feels is a mystery known only to him. He’s only twelve, but he’s now as tall than I am, very handsome, and silent. A mystery.
His mother is totally, 100%, as much as possible, on the case.
I’m packed, more or less, though there’s still a long list, and tomorrow is busy – at 10 a last session with my tech helper Patrick; at 11.30 going through the house, discussing plants and cat etc. with upstairs tenant Carol, who’ll keep it all running. At noon, lunch with Jean-Marc; later another garden visit from Jannette, though everything may still be covered with snow. At 1.30 a Zoom call with a friend in Vancouver, at 2’ish a last visit from Sam and Bandit, and at 5.30, Monique’s for dinner, a blessing as my fridge is nearly empty. On Friday I hope to get to the Y for a last bit of exertion before heading to the airport.
And then a foreign city and country, my routines, so ingrained, blasted apart. Good for the soul. Even if, temporarily, it hurts.
Sent this shot from the NYT to Lynn, saying, “Thinking of this for my look for spring. How about you?” LOL.
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