Besoin De Savoir Si J'ai Bien Compris Le Texte Avant De Me Lancer Dans L'expression écrite...

[Kaoru_otaku]

Bonjour à tous !

Voici un texte dont je dois écrire la suite !

" I knew something was odd at home when, after we had eaten our dinner, my dad followed my mum, Carl and

me into the living room to sit down. This usually did not happen. Dinner was just an interruption from my dad’s jobs around

the house. On Sundays after church Dad was always fixing, painting, adjusting or mending. He was always, “in the middle

of a job”, that required his full, silent concentration and a *monkey wrench. If I ever asked him what he was doing he’d

say, “fixing something, so don’t come bothering me now.” […]

But this was not the only strange thing. It used to be strange for us to go into the living room at all. It was always kept best

with Mum’s carefully embroidered runners on the sideboard and school photographs of Carl and me smiling and showing

our teeth in various stages of hideous development. […] Now we were adults, however, we could go in the room any time

we pleased, our parents convinced that we could no longer damage one of the glass ornaments or spill out tea on the furry

fireside rug. But as I walked into the room I saw six, maybe seven of my mum and dad’s boxes piled up in a corner. My eye

was drawn to them because they were out of place and nothing was ever out of place in that room. The boxes were also

full, sealed across the top, bottom and sides with wide brown tape.

“What are these doing here?” I asked, going over to them. I turned round and watched as Dad looked at Mum, Mum looked

at Carl, Carl looked at Dad and then back at Mum. But nobody looked at me.

“What’s going on?” I looked at them all one by one. Then another strange thing happened: my dad spoke first.

“Sit down, Faith,” he said. He began to finger the knuckles on his hand, feeling each one in turn. He used to do this when

it was time to discuss the “could do better” bits in my school report. I began to get scared.

18 Devoir 03-AN01-07

“No, I won’t sit down.” I wasn’t sure why I said that but I felt like someone in a film who was about to be told something

that would make them scream and pull at their hair. Unfortunately everyone else sat down and I had to stay standing.

Nobody spoke so I placed my hands on my hips.

Dad started, “Your mum and me,” then he faltered. He began again, “Me and your mum,” and stopped. He went back to,

“Your mum and me,” I looked at my mum who was looking at her knees and pulling imaginary hairs off her skirt, while

Dad continued to stutter his various permutations. He was onto, “We,” when I said, “What?” [.]

“Come, Wade,” Mum said, looking impatiently at my dad who had not completed a sentence.

“Your mum and I are thinking of going back home,” Dad said finally.

I thought of our old council flat where Carl and me had grown up. Although we had lived in Crouch End for years, it was

the crumbling flat in Stoke Newington that I thought of as home. The blue door with the silver number twenty-three and

a knocker that could be heard anywhere in the flat. With the drain pipe in the bathroom, where bathwater from the flats

above could be heard rushing through. My bedroom with its council-pink walls and tiny bed where I put my discarded teeth

under the pillow and the tooth fairy would replace them with a sixpence.

I thought in that moment that my parents had somehow lost all their money. That Mum was having to leave her job as

a district nurse, the old folk cured, the district cutting back. That Dad’s business – which he had built up so carefully with

sixteen-hour days, including Saturdays and Sundays, and evenings spent writing invoices in his best hand writing in a little

blue book – had after all gone bust. I thought they were having to move out of the house. The houses in a proper street

that they were so proud of that they sent pictures of it to relatives with invitations to come and stay.

“You going back to the flat?” I asked.

Carl sniggered and I knew I was wrong.

“No, Faith,” Mum said. “We’re thinking of going home to Jamaica.”

And my reaction was, “For a holiday. Fantastic! How long for?”

“Not for a holiday, Faith, “Dad said hesitantly. “Your mum and me are thinking …” He held up his hand, “Only thinking,

mind, of going back there to live. To get a little place and live.” "

Andrea LEVY, Fruit of the Lemon, 2000

Voilà, donc je dois écrire la suite de cette histoire mais je veux juste vérifier si je l'ai bien comprise avant de me lancer dans cette expression écrite.

Pour vous, pourquoi les parents hésitent tant à dire qu'ils veulent retourner vivre en Jamaïque qui est leur terre natale ?

1) Parce qu'ils n'ont jamais dit à leur fille ( c'est à dire au narrateur ) qu'elle est d'origine jamaïquaine ?

Ou alors 2) Parce qu'ils savent que leur fille ne sera pas d'accord qu'ils retournent vivre là bas ?

Ou 3) pour un autre motif ?

Je penche plutôt pour la première... Qu'en pensez-vous ?

Je ne vous demande pas de me faire l'expression écrite mais juste me dire si j'ai bien compris ce texte ou pas.

Merci énormément d'avance pour votre aide !

[Jean B]

[...]Voilà, donc je dois écrire la suite de cette histoire mais je veux juste vérifier si je l'ai bien comprise avant de me lancer dans cette expression écrite.

Pour vous, pourquoi les parents hésitent tant à dire qu'ils veulent retourner vivre en Jamaïque qui est leur terre natale ?

1) Parce qu'ils n'ont jamais dit à leur fille ( c'est à dire au narrateur ) qu'elle est d'origine jamaïquaine ?

Ou alors 2) Parce qu'ils savent que leur fille ne sera pas d'accord qu'ils retournent vivre là bas ?

Ou 3) pour un autre motif ?

Je penche plutôt pour la première... Qu'en pensez-vous ?

Je ne vous demande pas de me faire l'expression écrite mais juste me dire si j'ai bien compris ce texte ou pas.

Merci énormément d'avance pour votre aide !

[yveslouis]

Comme JRB, je ne pense pas que Faith ne sache pas qu'elle est d'origine Jamaïcaine. Je crois que son père hésite à lui dire qu'il envisage de retourner en Jamaïque parce qu'il sait qu'elle refusera. Quant à imaginer une autre raison...

Sans vouloir orienter ton travail, je te joins un résumé très succinct du livre :

Faith is experiencing all the hassles recent graduates seem to experience - a job for which she's overqualified, messy housemates and overbearing family. She's also gradually coming to realize that her ignorance about her parents' past, before they left Jamaica, has left her with an uncertain sense of who she is. A sudden nervous breakdown is the catalyst for her first ever visit to Jamaica, where she meets her Aunt Coral and embarks on a personal odyssey to find out more about where her family came from. The second half of this book is a heartwarming and entertaining account of a lively and colourful family history, as told by Aunt Coral, complete with the family trees, and featuring relatives and ancestors from as far apart as Cuba and Scotland, Los Angeles and Panama.

@+

[Kaoru_otaku]

Merci beaucoup !