1996, ISBN: 9781236725363

Hachette, 1996. 14,0cm x 23,0cm x 1,7cm Broché -jaquette " Mon cher Verne, fussiez-vous prophète on ne croira pas aujourd'hui en votre prophétie " comm… Más…

Hachette, 1996. 14,0cm x 23,0cm x 1,7cm Broché -jaquette " Mon cher Verne, fussiez-vous prophète on ne croira pas aujourd'hui en votre prophétie " commentait l'éditeur P. J. Hetzel en marge du manuscrit que lui avait adressé Jules Verne. Et Jules Verne, en cette année 1863, rangea pour toujours Paris au XXe siècle, au moment même où la publication de Cinq Semaines en ballon inaugurait la suite ininterrompue de succès littéraires qui firent de lui, dit-on souvent. le créateur du roman d'anticipation et le propagateur optimiste des merveilles de la science moderne. La découverte fortuite de ce manuscrit longtemps considéré comme disparu révèle, cent trente ans après une œuvre étrange et forte qui renouvelle entièrement notre compréhension de l'homme et de l'écrivain. Romancier d'anticipation. Jules Verne ne le fut précisément que dans ce roman dont l'action se situe a Paris en 1960. Une éblouissante description de la capitale évoque la grâce et la force de la métropole du futur. Paris est un immense port relié a la mer par un canal que domine l'impressionnant phare de Grenelle. Tout concourt. du point de vue technologique, à rendre cette ville fascinante: métropolitains suspendus entièrement automatisés, automobiles individuelles silencieuses, illuminations électriques comparables à l'éclat du soleil! Mais, dans cette métropole du futur, seuls l'argent et les sciences mécaniques ont droit de cité, sous le contrôle culturel de l'Etat, et quelques marginaux déclassés y perpétuent solitairement la mémoire de la culture classique, impitoyablement broyés, par le sarcasme ou l'indifférence, vaincus enfin par la misère et la faim. Cette vision contrastée d'une civilisation urbaine à le fois admirable dans sa technologie et totalement " déculturée " est la clé principale de Paris au XXe siècle. Jules Verne révèle pleinement sa dimension de romancier dans ce conte noir qui fourmille d'informations savoureuses sur la société et la culture de son temps, autant que de visions fulgurantes sur les sociétés urbaines de notre époque., Hachette, 1996, RareBooksClub. Paperback. New. This item is printed on demand. Paperback. 28 pages. Dimensions: 9.7in. x 7.4in. x 0.1in.Excerpt: . . . he had mistaken Noiraud for a lion, she thought he was trying to make fun of her and, uttering loud cries of indignation, she set about our hero with blows from her umbrella. Tartarin, in confusion, defended himself as best he could, parrying the blows with his rifle, sweating, puffing, jumping about and crying But Madame!. But Madame!. To no avail. Madame was deaf to his pleas and redoubled her efforts. Happily a third party arrived on the field of battle. It was the husband of the Alsation lady, also an Alsation. A tavern keeper and a shrewd man of business. When he saw with whom he was dealing and that the assassin was willing to pay for his crime, he disarmed his spouse and took her to one side. Tartarin gave two hundred francs. The donkey was worth at least ten, which is the going price for bourriquots in the Arab market. Then the poor Noiraud was buried beneath a fig tree, and the Alsation, put in a good humour at the sight of so much money, invited our hero to break a crust at his tavern, which was not far away at the edge of the main road. The Algerian hunters went there every Sunday for luncheon; for the countryside was full of game, and for two leagues about the city there was not a better place for rabbits. And the lions Asked Tartarin. The Alsation looked at him with surprise. The lions Yes, the lions, do you see them sometimes Tartarin replied, with a little less assurance. The tavern-keeper burst out laughing, Lions!. Lions!. What is all this about lions Are there no lions in Algeria then Moi foi! I have been here for twenty years and I have never seen any. though I did once hear. I think there was a report in the newspaper. but it was long ago. somewhere in the south. At that moment they reached the tavern, a wayside pot house, the sort of thing one can see by any main road. It had a very faded sign above the door, some billiard cues painted on the wall and the inoffensive name Au rendezvous des lapins. Chapter. . . This item ships from La Vergne,TN., RareBooksClub<

ISBN: 9781236725363

RareBooksClub. Paperback. New. This item is printed on demand. Paperback. 28 pages. Dimensions: 9.7in. x 7.4in. x 0.1in.Excerpt: . . . he had mistaken Noiraud for a lion, she thought he… Más…

RareBooksClub. Paperback. New. This item is printed on demand. Paperback. 28 pages. Dimensions: 9.7in. x 7.4in. x 0.1in.Excerpt: . . . he had mistaken Noiraud for a lion, she thought he was trying to make fun of her and, uttering loud cries of indignation, she set about our hero with blows from her umbrella. Tartarin, in confusion, defended himself as best he could, parrying the blows with his rifle, sweating, puffing, jumping about and crying But Madame!. But Madame!. To no avail. Madame was deaf to his pleas and redoubled her efforts. Happily a third party arrived on the field of battle. It was the husband of the Alsation lady, also an Alsation. A tavern keeper and a shrewd man of business. When he saw with whom he was dealing and that the assassin was willing to pay for his crime, he disarmed his spouse and took her to one side. Tartarin gave two hundred francs. The donkey was worth at least ten, which is the going price for bourriquots in the Arab market. Then the poor Noiraud was buried beneath a fig tree, and the Alsation, put in a good humour at the sight of so much money, invited our hero to break a crust at his tavern, which was not far away at the edge of the main road. The Algerian hunters went there every Sunday for luncheon; for the countryside was full of game, and for two leagues about the city there was not a better place for rabbits. And the lions Asked Tartarin. The Alsation looked at him with surprise. The lions Yes, the lions, do you see them sometimes Tartarin replied, with a little less assurance. The tavern-keeper burst out laughing, Lions!. Lions!. What is all this about lions Are there no lions in Algeria then Moi foi! I have been here for twenty years and I have never seen any. though I did once hear. I think there was a report in the newspaper. but it was long ago. somewhere in the south. At that moment they reached the tavern, a wayside pot house, the sort of thing one can see by any main road. It had a very faded sign above the door, some billiard cues painted on the wall and the inoffensive name Au rendezvous des lapins. Chapter. . . This item ships from La Vergne,TN., RareBooksClub<