[Michael Sherwood]

We walked out of the building after class and chatted in the sun like we did the previous Monday. An icy wind was blowing over the campus, it was cold. We talked about England and Elise learned that Patrick was English. Yet, she had known him for over a year, because he was often by my side in class, and she had already exchanged a few words with him several times. But it is true that I had never formally introduced them to each other.

— So we have an English friend! she exclaimed as if she and I were contained in the "we".

One thing led to another we talked about what we would do later. She said she would like to be a radio documentalist. Patrick must have said that he would go to England without specifying what he would do there and as I remained silent (meanwhile I was mostly looking at Elise, she looked like a little cat, the wind was blowing her hair over her face and sometimes on her mouth as she spoke, it was lovely...)

— What about you Michael?    She asked me.
— I don't know, maybe a teacher? because of holidays...
— You must have a vocation now, with children who challenge teachers at 14!

/.../

The conversation continued, I wasn't really into it, I was mostly watching Elise, until she noticed:

— These boys are funny... They will have to earn their living and at the same time also that of others, finally...
 
She stopped abruptly as if she had broached a forbidden subject, as if she had said too much, revealing her thought more than she would have liked...
(Like she already saw herself as a mother stay-at-home housewife, waiting for her husband to bring home his pay check to support the family. Was she picturing me in the role of the husband in her future?)

/.../

Years have rolled by. Approximately fifty years since that conversation took place. A lifetime!
How did we fulfill our predictions?

Patrick disappeared at the end of his studies, probably went to England, and we never heard of him anymore.

Elise didn’t marry me but married an older guy ten years her senior and did become a housewife with two children.

I was the only one to stick to my goal if ever I had one in life, and I became a teacher, of French, and then English. And the pupils were indeed tough at the end of my career, as Elise had predicted!

[Kwak']

Salut

Puisque personne ne daigne commenter, je m'y colle !

Concernant la forme, c'est fluide mais l'anglais est très scolaire et manque de figures de style et de traits littéraires à mon gout. Mais vu comme l'exercice est difficile, ça se comprend. J'ai l'impression que le traducteur pense en francais et traduit, au lieu de penser directement en anglais, et ça crée de la lourdeur.

Concernant le fond, il y a quelques passages qui m'ont fait tiquer. Le narrateur dit qu'il est finalement le seul à atteindre le but qu'il s'était fixé, alors qu'on ne sait pas ce que Patrick est devenu - il voulait rentrer en Angleterre, il y est allé, et on ne sait rien de lui ensuite, impossible à mon sens de dire qu'il n'a pas atteint son "life goal".

On sent une petite amertume du narrateur de ne pas avoir été le mari d'Elise, puisqu'il y repense des dizaines d'année après, et la tendance un peu ancienne à faire ce que j'ai pris pour du "forcing", par erreur surement, m'a un peu assomée. Elle dit "Nous", il pense directement au couple. Après la tirade sur les funny boys, je n'ai pas compris en quoi le narrateur a pu considérer ceci comme un sous-entendu, ou une avance. En réalité, ces valeurs assez anciennes m'ont plus rebuté à la lecture qu'elles ne m'ont alpagué.

Dans l'ensemble, je ne comprends pas, à moins que je connaisse l'humain qui me raconte l'histoire, l'intérêt de raconter une tranche de vie aussi banale et comment cela peut intéresser  un lectorat autre que familial, au final, qu'apprend-on ? Le narrateur a deux amis, ils ont chacun un but, selon le narrateur, c'est le seul à l'atteindre, il est devenu professeur, et cinquante ans après il repense à la femme qui ne l'a pas choisi. Si le dernier point aurait pu être intéressant, ici, rien n'est développé dans ce sens-là, et je n'ai trouvé ni amusement, ni poésie, ni jeux de plumes qui aient pu me faire passer un moment de détente. J'ai même l'impression qu'il n'y a même pas de place pour un lecteur inconnu lors de l'écriture.

Merci pour le partage