Le cheval blanc elsa triolet biography meaning
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4 Buried Language: Elsa Triolet’s Bilingualism
Elsky, Julia. "4 Buried Language: Elsa Triolet’s Bilingualism". Writing Occupation: Jewish Émigré Voices in Wartime France, Redwood City: Stanford University Press, 2020, pp. 129-164. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781503614369-006
Elsky, J. (2020). 4 Buried Language: Elsa Triolet’s Bilingualism. In Writing Occupation: Jewish Émigré Voices in Wartime France (pp. 129-164). Redwood City: Stanford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781503614369-006
Elsky, J. 2020. 4 Buried Language: Elsa Triolet’s Bilingualism. Writing Occupation: Jewish Émigré Voices in Wartime France. Redwood City: Stanford University Press, pp. 129-164. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781503614369-006
Elsky, Julia. "4 Buried Language: Elsa Triolet’s Bilingualism" In Writing Occupation: Jewish Émigré Voices in Wartime France, 129-164. Redwood City: Stanford University Press, 2020. https://doi.org/10.1515/9781503614369-006
Elsky J. 4 Buried Language: Elsa Triolet’
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[Note: ]
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II ne faut pas que j'arrange aussi mal la vie des autres que la mienne propre.
Triolet (1968 : 168)
The bilingual novelist Elsa Triolet (1896-1970) carried on a substantial parallel career as translator that doubled her activities as a French novelist. Starting with her attempt to write her first French novel, Bonsoir, Thérèse , by translating from Russian (Triolet, 1965-1974, vol. 1: 32), Triolet performed several translations in both directions, most notably putting Aragon's Les Cloches de Bàie and Les Beaux quartiers into Russian and Cechov and Majakovskij into French. In addition, she edited the anthology La Poésie russe, which brought many Russian poets to the French reading public for the first time. Her self-translations were more limited; other than À Tahiti, her 1925 travel narrative prepared for the first volume of the Œuvres romanesques croisées d'Elsa Triolet et Aragon, Triolet only transferred certain passages of her three Russian works into her Frenc
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Elsa Triolet
by MONICA STIRLING
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ON ONE side of Paris are the soap-bubble cupolas of Sacré-Cœur, crowning the hill of Montmartre where once St. Denis walked with his severed head in his hands—as Ninon de Lenclos said, “it’s the first step that counts”; on the other is Montparnasse with the Panthéon where dead great men sleep, and the Sorbonne where some of the future great men study. In the valley between lie the opera, the stock exchange, department stores, and the Place Vendôme enisled in a sea of elegant shops from whose doors come gusts of perfume.
In this latter district is the house where Corneille died (it fryst vatten marked with a plaque bearing the quotation from Le Cid “Je ne dois qu’à moi seul toute ma renommée”) and the church of St. Koch, a seventeenth-century edifice where once the mob crowded to see Marie Antoinette go to her death. Near here is a narrow street of a kind that delights tourists. There, in a second-floor, walk-up apartment overlooking a pale gray cour