#tholomyès’s song

[lafcadiosadventures]

Idk if anyone translates Tholomyès’ song correctly but the version on wikisource is wrong (and it makes tholom sound?? into submission/devotion which ???)

(I sadly don’t have the command of english required to translate poetry with the linguistic flair it needs)

original version in Hugo!Spanish:

Soy de Badajoz,

Amor me llama,

Toda mi alma,

Es en mis ojos,

Porque ensenas,

A tuas piernas.

Actual Spanish would be something like this:

Soy de Badajoz,

Amor me llama,

Toda mi alma*,

Está** en mis ojos,

Porque enseñas,

A tus piernas.

* (you could also say mi alma entera which sounds better to me but idk about metrics)

**(we have two versions of the verb to be in Spanish. Ser: for permanent qualities of objects, Estar: for momentary qualities, here the soul is not always in his eyes, so estar is the correct choice, it implies a transition of the singer’s soul into his eyes after seeing his lover’s legs)

Hapgood’s version:

Badajoz is my home;

And Love is my name;

To my eyes in flame;

All my soul doth come;

For instruction meet

I receive at thy feet.”

there are two crucial things wrong here: Love is not his name. The singer is saying that Love beckons him, or even that Love is what drives him, it’s his motivation in life is follow wherever Love drives him to. (if Hugo wanted to say the narrator of the song is Love he would have said Amor me llamo)(and “amor me llama” sounds awkward only if you’re thinking of “amor” the noun instead of Amor the roman god or a symbolic personification of Love)

The second aspect that is badly translated is the “porque enseñas a tus piernas” bit. This means “because you are showing your legs” or “bc your legs are on display”. (since the women are on swings -and I really wonder why Hugo evokes Greuze -who is a fantastic artist- when Fragonard’s Swing exits, is from the same period, and seems to fit the picaresque voyeurism of the scene perfectly well??)(edit: @riotstarruika left a comment bellow explaining the Fragonard was in private hands at the time, tho it is possible Hugo had seen an engraved version of the painter)

So his eyes are not really aflame with his soul because he awaits his lover’s instructions at her feet. Enseñar does mean to teach, to instruct, but also to show, to put on display. So Tholomyès is not fantasizing about being lead by his lover, sitting submissively at her feet. He is just excited because the movement of the swing is a perfectly innocent pretext for the women to show their legs (or if you wanna go for a more passive reading of the female characters, their legs are revealed by the movement of the swing without their noticing)

So a tentative grammatically correct if unpoetic translation would roughly be something like:

I was born in Badajoz

Love beckons me

All my soul is moved to my eyes

Because your legs are on display

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

Volume I, book iii: The Winners

To give the Volume 1 polls time to run through fully before starting on the next volume, I’ll be cataloging the winning translations/translators as well as some of my favorite observations on the posts!

I.iii.2

FMA's "Double Quartet" is far and away the winner, at 59.6%. There was def a preference towards quartet/quartette over foursome.

I.iii.3

Rose wins with Four by Four at 47.3%. Interesting choice by Donougher here, @blatherby looked into it a little bit-- it's still a little mystifying to me but I get where she's coming from!

I.iii.4

Wilbour and Walton's "Tholomyès is so Merry That He Sings a Spanish Song" won with an impressive 54.3%. I'm guessing some of the appeal is the good alliteration

I.iii.5

The translators' consensus appears to be our voters' consensus as well, because "At Bombarda’s" (from Wilbour, Wraxall, Hapgood, Walton, Rose, and Donougher... that's a mouthful!) got 62.7%.

I.iii.6

This vote was a lot more split than most of the others this book-- it's a little difficult to translate satisfactorily, it seems! Hapgood's "A Chapter In Which They Adore Each Other" won out with 34.3%.

Also, some really great notes from @ineffable-gallimaufry here that get really into the nitty-gritty of the French-- thanks for providing so much information :D

I.iii.7

Again the translators' consensus is agreed with; Wilbour, Wraxall, Hapgood, Walton, Denny, FMA, and Rose's "The Wisdom of Tholomyès" absolutely swept with 92.1%.

I.iii.9

This one was more divided as well, but Hapgood and Donougher's " "A Merry End To Mirth" won out at 38.5%.

The votes in this book seemed a lot less divided and with higher winning percentages than in previous cases, though by no means without disagreement.

Wilbour: 3

Wraxall: 2

Hapgood: 4

Walton: 3

Denny: 1

FMA: 2

Rose: 3

Donougher: 2

This is the third Hapgood win in a row-- folks really are Hapgood Enjoyers, aren't they! I again wonder to what degree familiarity has to do with it though.

[kjack89]

If you're still taking Spotify requests: E/R for which ever song is your favorite that ISNT a repeat from last year. (Or Taylor Swift. My coworker has been over playing Midnights in the office and I'm so sick of it atm.)

Oh man, this was a hard song to pick, because I love so many songs on this playlist (obviously, or they wouldn't be in my top 100!). In the end, I went with the song that I have loved the longest, the one that I used to ask my father to play whenever he drove, like, 4-year-old me anywhere because the album this was on was one of the cassette tapes he had in his car.

Well, it was this album or Enya, and sadly Orinoco Flow didn't make my top 100 for some reason.

87. "The Ballad of Billy the Kid" by Billy Joel

It's a Western AU. Because why the hell not at this point.

The night was quiet and peaceful, its stillness broken only by the gentle crackle of the dying fire and the ubiquitous chirp of crickets, but Enjolras couldn’t seem to enjoy it, his own ears still ringing with the sounds of chaos from earlier.

As a general rule, Enjolras didn’t like robbing trains. Too high a possibility of innocent people being hurt or recognizing one of Les Amis, defeating the purpose of how they handled their robberies, and besides, word of mouth spread faster when robbing banks.

But when Combeferre got reliable word that the Corinthe, headed from back east out to the west coast, was carrying a stash of money belonging to none other than F. H. Tholomyès himself, one of the wealthiest and most exploitative robber barons the West had ever seen, Enjolras knew that not even he could pass up this opportunity.

Which was how Les Amis had found themselves that morning perched along the train tracks, guns and horses at the ready. As they waited for the train to round the bend in the tracks, Enjolras could not help but share a few words, knowing they would never have another opportunity like this one. “Gentlemen,” he started, sweeping his hat off his head to catch their attention, “where are we going?”

To his right, crouched behind a rocky outcropping, Courfeyrac muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “For Christ’s sake,” but Enjolras ignored him, instead glancing around at their compatriots.

Joly sheepishly raised a hand. “Are we going to the train?” he asked, barely managing to hide his smile as Grantaire and Bossuet sniggered on either side.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed, and Joly’s smile disappeared. “Yes,” Enjolras said, with a bite of impatience. “We’re going to the train just as we are going to the future. And what we do here today is in service of all people. Gentlemen, we are no mere robbers—”

“We do not steal for riches,” Bahorel recited in what was clearly meant to be an undertone but carried a little too well.

“We do not steal for glory,” Feuilly added, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth as Prouvaire chimed in, with the cadence of an orator, “Thievery, I hate you, but I make use of you—”

“—For by stealing this money, so too do we steal our future from those who would keep it from us,” Bahorel, Feuilly and Prouvaire finished in unison, and Enjolras glowered at them.

Grantaire cleared his throat. “Maybe if you didn’t use the same speech at the start of every robbery—” he started, but Enjolras ignored him, barreling stubbornly onward.

“We are advancing the unity of man,” he said through gritted teeth. “The common man out from under the thumb of the rich, that is the goal. And whatever happens here today, through our failure or through our success, we are creating an alternative to those who think there’s no other way to live.”

He glanced at Combeferre on his left, who also looked a little like he was trying not to smile, and Enjolras scowled. He was saved from saying anything by the train finally rounding the tracks, and instead jammed his hat on his head before he raised his voice to shout, “Courage, and onward!”

From there, things had devolved into the usual controlled chaos that was the undercurrent of every robbery they had ever done, all leading to this moment camped out by the fire, their afternoon’s takings – even more than Enjolras had hoped – in a series of nondescript bags to be tied to a horse’s saddle. 

As much as Enjolras disliked robbing trains, he disliked the aftermath of a robbery even more. He could never find a way to calm himself after the excitement, always ready to move onto the next. He reckoned it was part of what made him so successful, even if it meant always feeling a little like an outsider as his friends traded jokes and stories around the campfire as he brooded on their next plan.

Still, there was nothing else for it, and with a sigh, he sat upright, grabbing his hat from on top of his saddle and placing it on his head before standing. He bent to pick up the saddle, carrying it over to his horse, Mabeuf, who was drowsily grazing where he was picketed. “Sorry for the early morning, boy,” he murmured, rubbing the horse’s neck before lifting the saddle onto his back.

A similar movement caught the corner of his eye and he immediately turned, his hand automatically falling to the pistol at his hip. He relaxed when he saw it was just Grantaire tending to his own horse.

The relaxation was short-lived, seeing as how Grantaire had never been an early riser and had managed to drink enough whiskey to drown a lesser man, and Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “What’re you doing?”

Grantaire didn’t even glance over at him, adjusting the saddle with a practiced eye. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Enjolras scowled. “Looks like you’re packing up.”

Now Grantaire did look over at him, a small smile creasing his face. “I always knew you were more than a pretty face.”

Enjolras crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why are you packing up?” he asked, ignoring Mabeuf nudging his shoulder in search of an apple or sugar cube.

Grantaire shrugged. “Because I’m going.”

“Going where?” Enjolras ground out. No one managed to irritate him quite like Grantaire did.

Grantaire shrugged again, squinting out at the horizon where the first hint of light was just beginning to break. “Well, now, that’s a good question,” he said easily. “Not sure yet.”

Enjolras sighed. “You know you can’t come with me.”

“I do,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras scowled. “You know why we do it like this.”

“Hasn’t changed.”

“Grantaire.” They’d had this argument so many times before that Enjolras really only needed to say Grantaire’s name in that tone for them to both know exactly how this would play out, just as it had every time before. It was as familiar to them as the sun rising over the plains, and almost as comforting in a strange way, as if a mission wasn’t complete without its familiar cadence.

Which was why Enjolras kept his tone calm but firm in the explanation he’d given a hundred times before. “I’m the one who has to go,” he told Grantaire. “We do the job, I split off with the money and distribute it to where it needs to go. That way, I draw all the attention to myself, and let you all get away. No one ever suspects you. You can’t be implicated.”

They hadn’t always done it this way, but after the first posse got together to track them down, Enjolras had insisted on the change, had insisted that everyone else cover their faces so that the only one anyone ever got a good look at was him.

There was a reason Les Amis wasn’t well known throughout the West, and it wasn’t because they weren’t damn good at what they did – it’s because to every sheriff from the Mississippi to the Rio Grande, they were known as Apollo the Kid and his Gang.

He didn’t need to remind Grantaire of that, though – Grantaire knew. Even in the dim light of the dying fire, Enjolras could see a muscle working in Grantaire’s cheek. “That is indeed the plan.”

Enjolras suddenly found he couldn’t quite meet Grantaire’s eye, and so busied himself with Mabeuf’s bridle. “Which is why you can’t come with me,” he said, his voice rough.

“You already said that,” Grantaire said, matching his tone. “I ain’t deaf.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Enjolras shot back.

Grantaire scowled at him. “Listen, the job’s done, right? So there’s no need for me to stay. Way I see it, I’m free to go.”

Enjolras jerked a shrug. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Grantaire repeated. “And here I thought freedom was the entire point of what we were doing here.” He paused before adding pointedly, “Isn’t it?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Of course, but that’s not—”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Ain’t you the one who keeps saying that the working people need to unite because the only thing we have to lose is our reins?”

“Chains, but—”

“Then let a man pack his horse in peace,” Grantaire finished.

Enjolras scowled. “Fine, if you’ll answer me one question.”

“What’s that?” Grantaire asked, not looking over at him.

“Why’d you suddenly decide to pack up now when I started to?”

Something that might’ve been a smile twitched at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “Coincidence.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Helluva coincidence.”

“Sure is.”

Still, despite himself, despite everything, Enjolras had to admit that packing up seemed to go faster with Grantaire at his side. Or at the very least, it seemed just a little bit less lonely.

When they were both packed – and the money they’d stolen carefully stashed in Enjolras’s saddlebags – Enjolras pulled himself onto his horse, glancing over at Grantaire. “You heading out?”

“Yessir,” Grantaire said, patting his horse’s neck as he added in an attempt at casual, “Which way are you headed?”

Enjolras jerked his chin toward the horizon. “West.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Well, whaddya know,” he said. “So am I.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Coincidence?” he asked wryly. 

Grantaire half-smiled. “Sure is.”

Just as the packing was less lonely with Grantaire by his side, so was the ride. It was early enough that neither man worried too much about anyone else being on the road, though both kept a weather eye out, just in case.

But the ride in comfortable silence could only last for so long, and eventually, Enjolras reined his horse to a stop, Grantaire stopped as well. Enjolras nodded to the fork in the road up ahead. “This is where we part ways,” he said, a note of warning in his voice.

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Enjolras said with conviction. He hesitated before adding, “Thank you for coming all this way with me—”

“It was nothing,” Grantaire interrupted. “I was headed this way anyway.”

Enjolras managed a small smile. “Coincidence.”

Grantaire smiled as well. “Well, something like that, anyway.”

Enjolras nodded, something sharpening in his expression. “Just like it’s coincidence how you always seem to be headed my way after every robbery,” he said lightly.

Grantaire’s smile faded, and he shrugged. “Ain’t the world a remarkable place,” he said noncommittally.

“I suppose it is.” Enjolras glanced over at him. “Where are you headed now?”

Grantaire shrugged again. “Oh, here, there, and around,” he said, purposefully vague, but Enjolras didn’t miss the way his hand twitched toward his gun in its holster. “Got some business to keep an eye on.”

Enjolras frowned. “You know I don’t need you to protect me,” he said bluntly, tired of playing this little game every single time.

To his surprise, Grantaire barked a laugh before running a hand across his mouth. “Enjolras, you don’t need me for a damn thing.”

“I don’t know that I’d go quite that far,” Enjolras said before he could stop himself, and he quickly looked away, feeling the back of his neck burn despite being protected by his hat. “In any case, I’ll, uh, I’ll see you at the rendezvous.”

Grantaire nodded. “Yessir.” He kneed his horse forward, ostensibly toward the fork Enjolras wasn’t taking, then paused, turning back to face him. “Oh, and Enjolras?”

“Yeah?”

Grantaire raised his chin just slightly. “Anytime you want it to be something other than a coincidence, all you have to do is say the word.”

Enjolras’s throat felt tight. “I know,” he said, his voice low.

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire might say something more, but instead he just touched the brim of his hat before kneeing his horse forward again. Enjolras watched him go before starting forward once again, alone.

[dolphin1812]

I never have high expectations for Tholomyès, but his song is so bad and I can’t tell if it’s intentional (to emphasize that he’s trying to show off and isn’t actually that intelligent) or if Hugo just wasn’t great at Spanish.

To be perfectly honest, Hugo loses me when he rants about love, so I’m sure there’s a lot of interesting stuff here, but most of it went over my head. One line that did stand out to me, though, was this:

“The patrician and the knife-grinder, the duke and the peer, the limb of the law, the courtiers and townspeople, as they used to say in olden times, all are subjects of this fairy.”

I think presenting love as something that strikes all equally regardless of class is meant to be part of the happy atmosphere of this chapter, but strangely, almost all of the examples here are definitely high-class (”patricians”, “dukes”, “peers,” and “courtiers”). Given his focus on artists in this paragraph, this may be a result of who would have access to “high culture” to, for example, publish poems on love. Someone writing from a court would likely differentiate between different people there and label everyone outside of that “townspeople.” And yet this group is predicated on class inequality. All of the women are workers to some extent, even if their exact situations vary, while all of the men are students from well-off families. Maybe they’re all capable of “falling in love,” but their experiences are shaped by their backgrounds.

What I find frustrating about this section is that sometimes, I can’t tell why Hugo is saying something. For instance, he writes: “Beautiful women waste themselves sweetly. They think that this will never come to an end.” “Waste” and “sweetly” is a strange combination, and he adds that poets love this. Perhaps he’s reflecting on what he considers the tragically fleeting nature of beauty in women (in short: Hugo being weird and sexist)? Or on love itself being fleeting? He also says that women “think” this will never end; with “waste”, could this be foreshadowing something bad? And yet the rest of the paragraph seems positive (?). I just don’t know what to make of it.

On a happier note: the Russian Mountains! It’s the roller-coaster! 

[katenepveu]

I'm now ahead on Les Mis Letters, having decided to read all of Part One in one gulp based on what @fremedon says in this post (thematic/tone description of the rest of the book, no plot spoilers).

A few comments on 1.5 through today's email, not recapping or comprehensive, just things I noted:

Chapter 1.5.4, "Monsieur Madeleine in Mourning": I cannot begin to say how upsetting I found the long paragraph about the beauty of "being blind and being loved" (by a woman, specifically):

to know you are the center of every step she takes, of every word, of every song, to manifest your own gravitational pull every minute of the day, to feel yourself all the more powerful for your infirmity, to become in darkness, and through darkness, the star around which this angel revolves—few forms of bliss come anywhere near it!

Gah!!!!!

Chapter 1.5.5, "Dim Flashes of Lightning on the Horizon":

What a heck of a character introduction:

The Asturian peasants are convinced that in every litter of wolves there is one pup who is killed by the mother because otherwise it would grow up to devour all the other pups.

Give that male wolf puppy a human face, and you’d have Javert.

(I strongly disapprove of Hugo's conflation of beauty with virtue, so this is not about the appearance but the analogy.)

Chapter 1.5.9, "Madame Victurnien's Success": Well. There's the interiority I was wondering if we'd get for Fantine. Shame it isn't under better circumstances.

Chapter 1.5.10, "Continued Success": Hugo loves irony with these chapter titles, huh? It really works.

Rose's translation of the last line here echoes the last line of book three. Compare:

... she had given herself to this Tholomyès as to a husband, and the poor girl had a child.

With:

The poor girl made herself a whore.

It's very effective.

[schattenwerfenkeineschatten]

I think you behave like an absolute dick Come on, that’s a bit harsh...

You’re a dick I’m a dick You’re a dick I’m a addicted to love

You’re a prick I’m a prick You’re a prick I’m a precocious fool

You’re a cock I’m a cock You’re a cock I’m a cacophony of contradictions

You’re a cunt I’m a cunt You’re a cunt I’m a cantankerous swine

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck For crying out loud

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit She told me to leave

Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker Wanker, wanker, wanker

One conniving man, she said But at least I’m a tit, tit, titillating beast in bed

[capitainecorbeau]

What they did to 'I dreamed a dream' or whatever is criminal. Went from Fantine calling Tholomyès the 'murderer of her childhood' to 'And still I wish he'd come to me uwu', gross. 1980!Fantine doesn't want that fucker back, she's angry and bitter that he, and the people who shit on her for being an unmarried mother, ruined her life. The song is general is just bleak, poor Fantine.

[milkteahoe]

An In-Depth Guide to Les Mis Adaptations (Part 3)

[part 1], [part 2]

1. 2012 movie musical

You read that right. Even considering the concert recordings, the 2012 film is the best English language screen adaptation of Les Misérables in terms of the novel’s characters, themes and spirit.

The best thing about musicals is it is a feature of the medium for characters to articulate their innermost feelings. Every central character, Valjean most of all, is allowed to reveal their complexity and humanity. Éponine and Cosette who were ‘children together’ are lonely in different ways as adults, in the middle of a crowded street and isolated in an empty house– ‘On My Own’ and ‘In My Life’ are much more than simple romantic declarations. It also removes the need for the inclusion of minor characters like Tholomyès, who only served a minor role in Fantine’s story. The downtrodden are also represented in an unprecedented way through the ensemble numbers. ‘At The End of the Day’ illustrates that the plight of the poor is not unique to Fantine, but a suffering that is systemic and inescapable. There are minor inaccuracies that the movie and stage musical share, a sleazy foreman fires Fantine in the musical. In the novel (and 1998 film), Madame Victurnien is the supervisor that fires Fantine without Madeleine’s knowledge, showing that both men and women can uphold oppressive systems by taking advantage of the little power they have. Nonetheless, the advantages of a musical adaptation far outweigh such changes.

Sticking to one’s knee-jerk reaction as fans of the musical does the film a disservice. I agree that the vocal performances are nowhere near as strong, on top of cinematography that is not to everyone’s tastes. It is not a 1 for 1 transposition from stage to screen– there are changes, cuts and additions, but the result is a more faithful and equally moving adaptation of Hugo’s novel. To those familiar with the musical, the most obvious change is the positioning of ‘I Dreamed a Dream’. An overlooked aspect of this change is what took its place– the cart crash where Madeleine saves Fauchelevant and sparks recognition in Javert. Fantine is given time to exhaust her resources before ‘Lovely Ladies’ and ‘I Dreamed a Dream’, during which Javert opens an investigation into Madeleine. This allows Javert to confess his wrongdoing and ask to be discharged, his submission to authority a part of his character missed by the stage musical. Book Javert reveres the law in the place of religion; his musical counterpart treats the law and the Lord as interchangeable yet unchangeable objects of veneration. His worldview is confronted by Valjean’s, whose religion defines his morality, but is entirely separate from legality.

Speaking of Valjean, no other adaptation has gotten him even close to this right. In the stage musical the time jump from 1823 to 1832 happens immediately after Valjean fetches Cosette from the Thénardiers. I have gone on record saying that ‘Suddenly’ was a mediocre add-on, but after seeing so many adaptations butcher Valjean’s character I have no choice but to eat my words. In ‘Suddenly’ we hear Valjean find hope, life and love in becoming a parent. He sang of himself as prisoner and mayor in ‘Prologue’ and ‘Who Am I?’, it is only right that Valjean contemplates his new fatherhood through song. This is the role he commits to until the end of his life after all. From that point on he puts Cosette above his wants and needs– he barely hesitates to find Marius though he knew he would take away his one happiness. Once Valjean had ensured she would be taken care of, he willingly withdrew from her life because his past could have the potential to ruin it. When Cosette describes him as ‘loving and gentle and good’, you are inclined to believe her.

The movie musical does not place pressure on Marius to be simultaneously revolutionary and romantic. Gillenormand’s presence, although brief, tells that he is a student who is at odds with his rich family. His stubbornness towards his family grants him more complexity than just a flaky, lovesick fool or ‘leader’ of Les Amis. Enjolras takes up the mantle, especially as ‘Do You Hear The People Sing’ is shifted to open the film’s second act. Les Amis being an experienced activist group is alluded to in the removal of the line ‘they were schoolboys/ never held a gun’. Their idealism and camaraderie are clear even in the little screen time they had. The concert and stage versions of Les Mis are unmatched musically, but differ wildly from production to production (removing the revolve on the West End was a terrible decision). The movie musical is not only well done, but remains constant.

The 2012 film is devastating, uplifting, and beautiful to look at. Some say musicals are the most manipulative art form, and while I am happy to report that Les Mis is one that weaves in Hugo’s message flawlessly, it does not remove the need for at least some critical thought. The worst thing about the musical is not that it does not do the novel justice, but that with its popularity, a large portion of its audience only gives a passing thought to the message behind their entertainment. Theatre audiences are able to go about their days while its music has been used in protest movements around the world. The myth of continuous upward progression blinds the best of us, but ‘ignorance and poverty’ is as present as ever. The Les Misérables musical ends with the same call to action Hugo’s novel begins with.  Are you interrogating oppressive systems that persist today?

Bonus! 2007 anime

If you would like to watch a book-accurate adaptation of Les Misérables and musicals are not your jam, never fear! Shoujo Cosette is a 52 episode anime that contains the most detail of them all (including Jehan, if you know you know). Aimed at young women, there is no over-sexualisation, nor does it condescend or shy away from the heavy themes of Les Mis. One notable departure is the addition of a pet dog to Valjean and Cosette’s household, which let’s be honest, only adds to the story.

If you have reached this point in the page, might I suggest you try reading Les Misérables? I heard it is a nice little novel about a man who stole a loaf of bread.

[x]

[amarguerite]

7 and 8 + Some Friendlier Sky for the behind-the-scenes fic asks please?

wow blast from the past!

What inspired the idea for the plot?

uhhh it's been a while so my attribution on this is sketchy, but I think it was @tenlittlebullets who pointed out that there's a great line about how Courfeyrac was Tholomyès, but not a dick, and wouldn't it be interesting if Courfeyrac and Cosette were a thing. I think @creekfiend encouraged me from there

What inspired the title for this fic? Is that usually how you choose titles?

That was @creekfiend, I think. I was looking for a line and that one was from a lyric right after the Waltz of Treachery. And honestly, yes, lmao. Most of my fic titles come from quotes from relevant other works or canon, song lyrics, poems, or me wailing at a fandom friend that I don't know what to call it and them picking it for me.

[queer-cosette]

for this : marius & courfeyrac !

Marius

Favourite thing about him: he just. Believes in his friends so much. He doesn't understand their political convictions but he loves them so much that he follows them to the barricade to help them

Least favourite thing about him: he's technically a Conservative and I am of the death to tories brand of socialism.

Favourite line: God he's got some good ones but I think it's gotta be "I have come to sleep with you"

BroTP: Marius and Courfeyrac, they make each other worse and I'm here for it

OTP: Marius and Cosette, they love each other so much!!! They kiss once and spend the rest of their time together talking about everything and then only at the end of the conversation do they realise they haven't actually introduced themselves. Romance goals.

NoTP: Marius and Éponine. She believes she is in love with him on the basis that he's the first man in her life who has treated her politely. Like in the story it obviously doesn't work out, but irl, you pursue someone who is longterm in-love with someone else (Marius loved Cosette before he ever met Éponine in the brick) you don't just hurt yourself, the hurt is an AOE destruction deal. You hurt yourself, you hurt the person you love, you hurt the person they love, you hurt your friends who now have to take sides. Self care, girl.

Random headcanon: modern AU Marius loves ABBA. He's actually not into cheesy pop love ballads like everyone assumes. To him, Fernando is the ultimate love song to dance to with your gal.

Unpopular opinion: I think the musical actually interpreted him accurately to the book - in the musical he has a lot more information about Jean Valjean and Javert. In the book, he thinks Jean Valjean probably murdered Javert because Valjean never specifies why he was in prison, but in the musical Marius knows it was because Valjean stole bread to save his nephew, which is why he asks Valjean to stay.

Song I associate with him: Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery

Favourite picture of him:

Courfeyrac

Favourite thing about him: he's the centre - he's the friend who keeps the group together. He's so bright and loving and friendly!

Least favourite thing about him: the implication that he is at all like Félix Tholomyès. He's a good boi shut up Victor Hugo

Favourite line: "I have just seen Marius's new coat and hat going for a walk, with Marius inside them." Best way to say "he keeps buying clothes that are too big for him"

BroTP: Marius and Courfeyrac. They are BROS for LIFE

OTP: Courferre. Best friends to lovers couple ever.

NoTP: I used to ship Courfhan when I first got into the fandom but... nah. Not for me. Wrong vibes.

Random headcanon: he has ADHD and absorbs information like a sponge, but can't remember parts of it when he drinks alcohol and this has resulted in him drunk-crying because he couldn't remember pi to one thousand digits

Unpopular opinion: he's like the least superstitious Ami after Enjolras. Even Combeferre believes in appeasing the supernatural, but Courf is like. Nah we're doing this logically with all the information before we start thinking it's ghosts or bad luck. That being said, he's super respectful and understanding of his friends' superstitions. It's why he's the centre of the group, because he's so good at pulling people away from panic.

Song I associate with him: the Anaconda Of The Opera remix

Favourite picture of him:

Thankyouu 🥰💫

[lafcadiosadventures]

Alexandre Dumas on a childhood anectdote of the Hugos in colonized Spain

(as a warning, there's a brief mention of physical violence and an implication of rape)

(context is the school (the seminaire des Nobles*) was attended only by spanish nobles supporting Joseph bonaparte (only 25 students were left, before the napoleonic invasion it hosted 300) Victor was refered to as Count, that made him very proud. Victor was 9, Eugène was 10, and Abel Hugo was 12.)(Adèle Hugo also tells this story in her bio of Vic)

"there was a boy who was exceptionaly, not a noble, but nevertheless he wasn't the less remarkable figure at the college. He was a young officer, 15 years old, he was named Lillo**, was made a prisoner at the site of Badajoz. He had fought like a demon, killed a french grenadier, and could only be caught after a heroic defense. He was going to be executed (shot) but, by chance, Marshal Soult passed by, was informed, learnt what all that was about and sent him to Madrid with the order to be sent to the College. The order was executed: Lillo was sent to the college, only that in the capacity of both student and prisonner. This child, who had had the title of sous-lieutenenant, who had commanded men, who had roamed the country side with his (harnois, military equipment) on his back, took the college discipline badly for it was abounding in jesuitic silliness, to which, excepting in the common dormitory, where everyone had their private alcove, he was submitted like the others.

Thus he lived, how it was allowed, solitary, and nursing a rage in the bottom of his heart. In his interactions with the other young people, he was cold, melancoly and haughty.

there's no need to say that the three Frenchmen (the Hugos) where object of his private hatred, and that at every instant he held a grudge, (edit: thanks @gavroche-le-moineau for the heads up on “avoir maille à partir avec”!!) him, a soldier of Ferdinand VII, against one or the other of the three sons, and sometimes with the three sons of general joseph. One day, facing Eugene, he refered to Napoleon as Napoladrón (napoleon the thief) ; it must be said that this was the name given almost daily to the victor of Austerlitz.

The insult stinged Eugène, who hit back with this verbal riposte: Lillo had been found when taken prisoner, between the legs*** of the french grenadiers.

Lillo had a compass in his hand; he did not stop to look for another weapon, he flung himself over Eugène, and hit him violently in the cheek.

The injury, or rather, the cut (blessure ou plutot la déchirure) was an inch and a half long. Eugène wanted to duel him, Lillo wanted nothing less, but the professors intervened and separated the young man and the child.

The next day, Lillo had disapeared, and neither Victor nor his brothers never knew what became of him. I can still hear Victor's low voice the day he told me this story: -He was right, this young man: he was defending his country…. but children can't understand that!

*actually both Adele and Dumas say he went to de college des nobles, when the hugos actually attended el Real Colegio de San Antonio Abad (?) nobody knows why the name of the school was changed in both retellings of the story. so it might have been Romantizized, possibly by Hugo.

**Adéle calls the boy Lino, and in fact a Lino Fabrat is listed as a student in the college in 1811

***Eugène seems too young at 10, to be implying Lillo/Lino was raped by the soldiers, but he might be repeating innocently (or not that innocently, the Hugos had seen their share of crimes of war as children in Spain) something he had heard from others

(i was able to get those footnotes thanks to this article -in spanish- about why Hugo includes Badajoz in les mis)(it is extremely interesting and well researched, reveals a lot of how Victor reworked actual events and characters into his fictions)

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

I.iii.4 Tholomyès Est Si Joyeux Qu’il Chante Une Chanson Espagnole

Tholomyès is so Merry That He Sings a Spanish Song: Wilbour, Walton

Tholomyès Sings A Spanish Song: Wraxall, Denny

Tholomyès Is So Merry That He Sings A Spanish Ditty: Hapgood

Tholomyès is so Happy, He Sings a Spanish Song: FMA, Donougher

Tholomyès Is So Cheery He Sings A Spanish Ditty: Rose

[cyn-syti]

3.4 Tholomyès Is So Happy, He Sings a Spanish Song | Once upon a time there was a fairy who created the fields and forests specially for those in love. Hence the eternal truancy of lovers, who are forever escaping to the countryside and will go on doing so as long as lovers and countryside continue to exist.

[ There are exactly 365 chapters in Les Misérables. This is a chronicle of my attempt to finally read them all. Fingers crossed … ]

[witches-unruly-heart]

Hello best friend, I am here to send you a fandom and the fandom is.. Les Miserables, you're welcome. I'll be back soon 😁😁

I haven’t heard that fandom name in so long from you 👀 and you’ve opened a can of worms now 👀 -runs to turn the cast albums on-

The first character I first fell in love with: Combeferre (if you know, you know)

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Cosette (Lily Kerhoas singing on the new album gives me such beautiful chills)

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: Jean Valjean ( 🙈 he needs to be played by specific actors for me to love him )

The character I love that everyone else hates: Javert. (I kinda get him. He’s trying to do a job, and then he can’t seem to do it. It’s the “villain complex” that I’ve had since I was a kid (hating the villain when you don’t know any better. But understanding them and resonating with them as you learn more))

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: Thenardiers (I know they’re two people. But they’re a package deal. I used to think they were funny, a little lacking on the moral side, but they had good songs 2010 version of master of the house is one of my favourites) but they’ve grown to annoy me now 🙈)

The character I would totally smooch: Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Bahorel, Enjolras, Grantaire, Jean Prouvaire, Joly, Bossuet (Lesgle), Musichetta and Éponine 🥰

The character I’d want to be like: In a musical where basically almost everyone dies. I think I’d want to be Cosette. She comes out of it somewhat unharmed 😅

The character I’d slap: Valjean and the Thenardiers (not including Gavroche or Éponine)

A pairing that I love: Cosette/Marius. Enjoltaire, Joly/Musichetta/Bahorel, Combeferre/Éponine.

A pairing that I despise: The Thenardiers. Fantine/Félix Tholomyès.

[pumpkinspice-prouvaire]

1, 7, 12

unrelated but you're lovely and I adore the way you write so much

thank u thank u thank u i love u!!!! 💙💙💙

1. if you could hit any character without repercussions, who would it be?

THOLOMYÈS. omg. Fuck that guy. Terrible parent/partner of the year award. I wanna roundhouse kick him in the throat.

7. name a character you wouldn't mind naming someone after

they all go by their last names ashdhshdk

I do love the name Éponine, but people would be like 'hey isn't that the girl from Les Mis?' and I do not wish to be Perceived like that

12. If you could change one ending to a show/book/game etc, what would you change about it?

I probably wouldn't make the ending to Song of Achilles quite so soul destroying, I've had to blacklist the tumblr tag because any time I see anything relating to it I start crying, no exaggeration. That book ruined me.

[annachronistic]

Les Mis Valentine’s day songs

So I came across this post of mine and decided to draw it.  Each picture has song lyrics that remind me of the Les Mis ship.

Here are the song titles:

Valjean/Javert - “I Hate Everything About You” by Three Days Grace

Fantine/Félix Tholomyès - “Straight Up” by Paula Abdul

Marius/Cosette - “Hello, I Love You” by The Doors

Marius/Éponine - “Love Is A Losing Game” by Amy Winehouse

Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta - “Love Me Two Times” by The Doors