I love it when I come across exquisite pieces like this. Thank you for writing it. It's heartbreaking that Hugo put so much of his own blood into writing Les Miserables, hoping it would be a window into that misery and it would make a difference.
He did make a difference to the people who were victims, judging by the numbers who attended his funeral, but did he change anything, really? Did the government change? Did the church change? Did the elite change? Did the suffering end?
Did his heart crack as he wrote it? Surely. But did it break completely when he thought nothing he wrote made a difference? I guess I'm feeling this so acutely because I'm watching real-time writers trying to make a difference today without much luck. It's a thankless task most of the time.
I had so many things to do today. "important things." But they all seem petty now. On Nextdoor, a person is complaining about homeless people, another, that people are sleeping in cars in an area designated against overnight parking. I wish there were a way to forced them to read this article but I fear it wouldn't do any good. Empathy is a scarce commodity these days and compassion short lived in a predatory society. I soothe my heart by behaving like the child in the Starfish story (worth Googling), but truly it'd be great to see a million people storming the beach.
Women, particularly women of color, and mothers were the hardest hit during the pandemic and now the recession. I’m currently an unemployed single mother of two children with one in college. I was also raised by a struggling single mother. The stress is overwhelming in any era. Many tears shed. Thank you profoundly for this piece.
I cried through the movie - and through reading this article
What a lovely soul Victor Hugo was!
I haven't read the book, or seen the movie. It was a bit of a struggle to get through this with dry eyes. Well done!
I love it when I come across exquisite pieces like this. Thank you for writing it. It's heartbreaking that Hugo put so much of his own blood into writing Les Miserables, hoping it would be a window into that misery and it would make a difference.
He did make a difference to the people who were victims, judging by the numbers who attended his funeral, but did he change anything, really? Did the government change? Did the church change? Did the elite change? Did the suffering end?
Did his heart crack as he wrote it? Surely. But did it break completely when he thought nothing he wrote made a difference? I guess I'm feeling this so acutely because I'm watching real-time writers trying to make a difference today without much luck. It's a thankless task most of the time.
I had so many things to do today. "important things." But they all seem petty now. On Nextdoor, a person is complaining about homeless people, another, that people are sleeping in cars in an area designated against overnight parking. I wish there were a way to forced them to read this article but I fear it wouldn't do any good. Empathy is a scarce commodity these days and compassion short lived in a predatory society. I soothe my heart by behaving like the child in the Starfish story (worth Googling), but truly it'd be great to see a million people storming the beach.
Women, particularly women of color, and mothers were the hardest hit during the pandemic and now the recession. I’m currently an unemployed single mother of two children with one in college. I was also raised by a struggling single mother. The stress is overwhelming in any era. Many tears shed. Thank you profoundly for this piece.