Another synchronicity: 2 novels about Jews both published in 1922.

Néanmoins, comme c’était la première fois, le matin de cette rentrée d’octobre, que je pénétrais dans cette cour, les choses me présentaient un aspect neuf et je portais de tous côtés des regards curieux. La pensée chagrine d’une indépendance qui expire me vint à l’esprit comme je remarquais les portes et les croisées nouvellement repeintes. Leur couleur marron rouge était pareille à celle des jujubes que l’avant-veille encore je ramassais à Aiguesbelles, près de Nîmes, dans le jardin du mas. C’était là, chez mes grands parents, que nous avions passé les vacances comme chaque année. Nous y restions jusqu’au soir du dernier dimanche, car ma mère se plaisait beaucoup à ces jours de cérémonie et de loisir qui lui rappelaient les réjouissances virginales de sa jeunesse. L’absence de mon père, qui rentrait à Paris au commencement de septembre, la rendait libre de les vivre de même façon qu’autrefois. Le matin, nous allions avec mes grands parents au temple. Au retour, ma mère ne manquait jamais de cueillir au vieux figuier dont les racines noueuses étaient captives dans le dallage de la terrasse, la figue la plus belle et la plus chaude. Elle me la tendait, ayant fendu en quatre la pulpe rose et granuleuse, et me regardait manger, cherchant dans mes yeux si j’aimais les fruits de cet arbre autant qu’elle les avait aimés à mon âge…

Nihilominus, perinde atque fuit prima vice, mane hōc regressus in scholam mense Octobri, ubi in cohortem introivi, res mihi sub novo aspectu apparuerunt et oculorum obtutūs curiosos conjeci quaquaversus. Cogitatum triste libertatis mox interruptae animum subivit ut ianuas et fenestras recenter pictas animadverti. Color earum rubello-fulvus accedebat illi zisyphorum quae ante duos dies carpsi in horto praedii viticolae Aquae Bellae prope Nemausum. Illic locorum una cum avo et avia, dies festos quoque anno degimus. Ibi mansimus usque ad vesperam ultimae diei Dominicae, nam mater his diebus otio et caerimonia plenis fructa est, qui eam commonuerunt de gaudiis puellaribus tempore iuventutis. Absentia patris qui ad Lutetiam revertebatur ineunte mense Septembri, eam liberavit ut eodem modo atque antea ea experiretur. Postridie mane una cum avo et avia templum visimus. Revertens mater numquam neglexit a ficu vetere, cuius radices nodosae se defixerunt in pavimento xysti, caricam carpere pulcherrimam et calidam. Mihi tradidit, postquam pulpam puniceam et granosam fiderat in quatuor partes, meque comedentem tuita est, meos oculos scrutans ut comperiret si mihi tanto placuerint fructūs huius arboris quanto sibi puellae tum eiusdem aetatis quam nunc ego. ...

Nevertheless, as it was the first time, on the morning of this return to school in October, that I entered this yard, things presented a new aspect to me and I cast curious glances on all sides. The sorrowful thought of an expiring independence came to mind as I noticed the newly painted doors and windows. Their reddish-brown color was like that of the jujubes that I had picked up two days before in Aiguesbelles, near Nîmes, in the garden of the farmhouse. It was there, with my grandparents, that we had spent holidays every year. We stayed there until the evening of the last Sunday, for my mother enjoyed these days of ceremony and leisure which reminded her of the virginal rejoicings of her youth. The absence of my father, who was returning to Paris at the beginning of September, freed her to experience them in the same way as before. In the morning, we went with my grandparents to the temple. On the way back, my mother never failed to pick from the old fig tree, whose gnarled roots were captive in the pavement of the terrace, the most beautiful and warmest fig. She handed it to me, having split the pink, grainy pulp in four, and watched me eat, searching my eyes if I liked the fruit of this tree as much as she had liked them at my age...

Mais dans cette cour où je me trouvais maintenant et malgré une légère angoisse à l’idée des nouvelles contraintes scolaires, une joyeuse impatience chassait de moi tout regret. J’allais revoir Philippe Robin, qui était mon ami.

Sed in hac cohorte ubi iam versabar et contra angorem levem erga notionem novarum constrictionum scholae, laeta aviditas longe a me fugavit omnem paenitentiam. Iterum viderem Philippum Robin, qui amicus meus erat.

But in this courtyard where I now found myself and despite a slight anguish at the idea of ​​the new school constraints, a joyful impatience chased away all regret from me. I was going to see Philippe Robin again, who was my friend.

On Saturday, February 11, 2023 at 7:52:35 PM UTC-8, Btraven wrote:
> Another synchronicity: 2 novels about Jews both published in 1922.
>
> Néanmoins, comme c’était la première fois, le matin de cette rentrée d’octobre, que je pénétrais dans cette cour, les choses me présentaient un aspect neuf et je portais de tous côtés des regards curieux. La pensée chagrine d’une indépendance qui expire me vint à l’esprit comme je remarquais les portes et les croisées nouvellement repeintes. Leur couleur marron rouge était pareille à celle des jujubes que l’avant-veille encore je ramassais à Aiguesbelles, près de Nîmes, dans le jardin du mas. C’était là, chez mes grands parents, que nous avions passé les vacances comme chaque année. Nous y restions jusqu’au soir du dernier dimanche, car ma mère se plaisait beaucoup à ces jours de cérémonie et de loisir qui lui rappelaient les réjouissances virginales de sa jeunesse. L’absence de mon père, qui rentrait à Paris au commencement de septembre, la rendait libre de les vivre de même façon qu’autrefois. Le matin, nous allions avec mes grands parents au temple. Au retour, ma mère ne manquait jamais de cueillir au vieux figuier dont les racines noueuses étaient captives dans le dallage de la terrasse, la figue la plus belle et la plus chaude. Elle me la tendait, ayant fendu en quatre la pulpe rose et granuleuse, et me regardait manger, cherchant dans mes yeux si j’aimais les fruits de cet arbre autant qu’elle les avait aimés à mon âge…
>
> Nihilominus, perinde atque fuit prima vice, mane hōc regressus in scholam mense Octobri, ubi in cohortem introivi, res mihi sub novo aspectu apparuerunt et oculorum obtutūs curiosos conjeci quaquaversus. Cogitatum triste libertatis mox interruptae animum subivit ut ianuas et fenestras recenter pictas animadverti. Color earum rubello-fulvus accedebat illi zisyphorum quae ante duos dies carpsi in horto praedii viticolae Aquae Bellae prope Nemausum. Illic locorum una cum avo et avia, dies festos quoque anno degimus. Ibi mansimus usque ad vesperam ultimae diei Dominicae, nam mater his diebus otio et caerimonia plenis fructa est, qui eam commonuerunt de gaudiis puellaribus tempore iuventutis. Absentia patris qui ad Lutetiam revertebatur ineunte mense Septembri, eam liberavit ut eodem modo atque antea ea experiretur. Postridie mane una cum avo et avia templum visimus. Revertens mater numquam neglexit a ficu vetere, cuius radices nodosae se defixerunt in pavimento xysti, caricam carpere pulcherrimam et calidam. Mihi tradidit, postquam pulpam puniceam et granosam fiderat in quatuor partes, meque comedentem tuita est, meos oculos scrutans ut comperiret si mihi tanto placuerint fructūs huius arboris quanto sibi puellae tum eiusdem aetatis quam nunc ego. ...
>
> Nevertheless, as it was the first time, on the morning of this return to school in October, that I entered this yard, things presented a new aspect to me and I cast curious glances on all sides. The sorrowful thought of an expiring independence came to mind as I noticed the newly painted doors and windows. Their reddish-brown color was like that of the jujubes that I had picked up two days before in Aiguesbelles, near Nîmes, in the garden of the farmhouse. It was there, with my grandparents, that we had spent holidays every year. We stayed there until the evening of the last Sunday, for my mother enjoyed these days of ceremony and leisure which reminded her of the virginal rejoicings of her youth. The absence of my father, who was returning to Paris at the beginning of September, freed her to experience them in the same way as before. In the morning, we went with my grandparents to the temple. On the way back, my mother never failed to pick from the old fig tree, whose gnarled roots were captive in the pavement of the terrace, the most beautiful and warmest fig. She handed it to me, having split the pink, grainy pulp in four, and watched me eat, searching my eyes if I liked the fruit of this tree as much as she had liked them at my age...
>
> Mais dans cette cour où je me trouvais maintenant et malgré une légère angoisse à l’idée des nouvelles contraintes scolaires, une joyeuse impatience chassait de moi tout regret. J’allais revoir Philippe Robin, qui était mon ami.
>
> Sed in hac cohorte ubi iam versabar et contra angorem levem erga notionem novarum constrictionum scholae, laeta aviditas longe a me fugavit omnem paenitentiam. Iterum viderem Philippum Robin, qui amicus meus erat.
>
> But in this courtyard where I now found myself and despite a slight anguish at the idea of ​​the new school constraints, a joyful impatience chased away all regret from me. I was going to see Philippe Robin again, who was my friend.

At quis scripsit hanc fabulam?

On Saturday, February 11, 2023 at 8:43:08 PM UTC-8, A.T. Murray wrote:
> On Saturday, February 11, 2023 at 7:52:35 PM UTC-8, Btraven wrote:
> > Another synchronicity: 2 novels about Jews both published in 1922.
> >
> > Néanmoins, comme c’était la première fois, le matin de cette rentrée d’octobre, que je pénétrais dans cette cour, les choses me présentaient un aspect neuf et je portais de tous côtés des regards curieux. La pensée chagrine d’une indépendance qui expire me vint à l’esprit comme je remarquais les portes et les croisées nouvellement repeintes. Leur couleur marron rouge était pareille à celle des jujubes que l’avant-veille encore je ramassais à Aiguesbelles, près de Nîmes, dans le jardin du mas. C’était là, chez mes grands parents, que nous avions passé les vacances comme chaque année. Nous y restions jusqu’au soir du dernier dimanche, car ma mère se plaisait beaucoup à ces jours de cérémonie et de loisir qui lui rappelaient les réjouissances virginales de sa jeunesse. L’absence de mon père, qui rentrait à Paris au commencement de septembre, la rendait libre de les vivre de même façon qu’autrefois. Le matin, nous allions avec mes grands parents au temple. Au retour, ma mère ne manquait jamais de cueillir au vieux figuier dont les racines noueuses étaient captives dans le dallage de la terrasse, la figue la plus belle et la plus chaude. Elle me la tendait, ayant fendu en quatre la pulpe rose et granuleuse, et me regardait manger, cherchant dans mes yeux si j’aimais les fruits de cet arbre autant qu’elle les avait aimés à mon âge…
> >
> > Nihilominus, perinde atque fuit prima vice, mane hōc regressus in scholam mense Octobri, ubi in cohortem introivi, res mihi sub novo aspectu apparuerunt et oculorum obtutūs curiosos conjeci quaquaversus. Cogitatum triste libertatis mox interruptae animum subivit ut ianuas et fenestras recenter pictas animadverti. Color earum rubello-fulvus accedebat illi zisyphorum quae ante duos dies carpsi in horto praedii viticolae Aquae Bellae prope Nemausum. Illic locorum una cum avo et avia, dies festos quoque anno degimus. Ibi mansimus usque ad vesperam ultimae diei Dominicae, nam mater his diebus otio et caerimonia plenis fructa est, qui eam commonuerunt de gaudiis puellaribus tempore iuventutis. Absentia patris qui ad Lutetiam revertebatur ineunte mense Septembri, eam liberavit ut eodem modo atque antea ea experiretur. Postridie mane una cum avo et avia templum visimus. Revertens mater numquam neglexit a ficu vetere, cuius radices nodosae se defixerunt in pavimento xysti, caricam carpere pulcherrimam et calidam. Mihi tradidit, postquam pulpam puniceam et granosam fiderat in quatuor partes, meque comedentem tuita est, meos oculos scrutans ut comperiret si mihi tanto placuerint fructūs huius arboris quanto sibi puellae tum eiusdem aetatis quam nunc ego. ...
> >
> > Nevertheless, as it was the first time, on the morning of this return to school in October, that I entered this yard, things presented a new aspect to me and I cast curious glances on all sides. The sorrowful thought of an expiring independence came to mind as I noticed the newly painted doors and windows. Their reddish-brown color was like that of the jujubes that I had picked up two days before in Aiguesbelles, near Nîmes, in the garden of the farmhouse. It was there, with my grandparents, that we had spent holidays every year. We stayed there until the evening of the last Sunday, for my mother enjoyed these days of ceremony and leisure which reminded her of the virginal rejoicings of her youth. The absence of my father, who was returning to Paris at the beginning of September, freed her to experience them in the same way as before. In the morning, we went with my grandparents to the temple. On the way back, my mother never failed to pick from the old fig tree, whose gnarled roots were captive in the pavement of the terrace, the most beautiful and warmest fig. She handed it to me, having split the pink, grainy pulp in four, and watched me eat, searching my eyes if I liked the fruit of this tree as much as she had liked them at my age...
> >
> > Mais dans cette cour où je me trouvais maintenant et malgré une légère angoisse à l’idée des nouvelles contraintes scolaires, une joyeuse impatience chassait de moi tout regret. J’allais revoir Philippe Robin, qui était mon ami.
> >
> > Sed in hac cohorte ubi iam versabar et contra angorem levem erga notionem novarum constrictionum scholae, laeta aviditas longe a me fugavit omnem paenitentiam. Iterum viderem Philippum Robin, qui amicus meus erat.
> >
> > But in this courtyard where I now found myself and despite a slight anguish at the idea of ​​the new school constraints, a joyful impatience chased away all regret from me. I was going to see Philippe Robin again, who was my friend.
> At quis scripsit hanc fabulam?
_Silbermann_ Jacques de Lacretelle (1922) I had never heard about this novel and only learned about it from Ed Cryer a month or two ago.

B. T. Raven