The Big Game
November 22, 2023 § 1 Comment
OK, Football fans, (though I retired my “watching” jersey years ago) I do have a football scene in Sketching with Renoir that I would like to share.
It’s the 1947 Army/Notre Dame Game and Cleo and her father are positioning the Woody for the Big Show.
That Sunday afternoon, Cleo, her father and Kip got into the Willy and drove down the field towards the woods and, after circling around, found the right spot to park. They had a bag lunch of baloney sandwiches and cookies, some milk for Cleo and two bottles of beer for her father. Her mother was taking a nap. Kip also had dog biscuits in the brown bag. Cleo was wearing her favorite clothes: her green corduroy pants, her yellow Roy Rodgers sweatshirt, and her cowboy hat with the string-tie and red button on its slide. She played with it while her father was circling the field. He had the radio on, the dial set for the station that would soon play the game. Every so often, he stopped the car to test the radio reception. When he found the exact spot where the announcer’s voice wasn’t crackly, he stopped, got out and made sure the antennae was up as high as it would go. They did this when the Notre Dame games came from Indiana. Her father always said, “It’s the damnedest thing. When the games come from South Bend, I can never get reception except in this field. Isn’t that something? Isn’t that something?” He would say this several times, laughing and shaking his head.
Cleo liked these times with her father. They were like the times in the morning when he would make toast and talk with her. It was different than being with her mother. He didn’t worry if Cleo’s hands were washed or not. She had never seen him cry or spend long times in the bathroom. But, he didn’t read her as many books as her mother or let her hang up laundry. It was just different.
“Oh, boy. They’re taking the field. The Fighting Irish.” This was also what her father said every time they had found the right spot and the game was beginning. Those words. “The Fighting Irish. The Fighting Irish!” He loved saying those words as he opened a beer. They picked up their sandwiches and took bites of baloney and her father gave Kip one of the biscuits.
“Notre Dame will receive.” The announcer’s deep voice filled the car. Cleo didn’t know what that meant but she nodded.
“And, there’s the kickoff.” The crowd’s roar could be heard in the radio and her father took a swallow of beer and another bite of sandwich. The announcer’s voice got higher, “Oh my! Reception! Reception! It’s Brennan. Brennan has the ball. There he goes! Oh my. He breaks loose from one. Now, two. He’s clear. He’s clear. Oh my, look it—he’s running it . . . scampering down the left-field line.”
Her father was yelling. “He’s got it! He’s got it! He’s running it back!” Her father was banging the steering wheel and a bit of sandwich flew out of his mouth. “He’s goin’ all the way,” the announcer’s voice filled the car.
“Czarobski just blocked one; Lujack got the other.” The man in the radio was yelling, “Touchdown! Touchdown! Brennan with a 97-yard kickoff return.”
Her father was pounding the wheel again. “The Fighting Irish, my foot. Ziggy Czarobski, Lujack, my foot. The Fighting Irish!” Her father kept pounding the steering wheel. Cleo had no idea what it all meant except in the end, Notre Dame won 27-7. Her father tooted the car’s horn all the way home.
Now, the Time Machine Report:
Watch Brennan, Go.
If you want to score another touchdown, here’s the link: https://indieauthorbooks.com/fiction/sketching-with-renoir
A New Leaf/A New Book
November 16, 2023 § 2 Comments
Sketching with Renoir takes the reader to the fictional town of Loganville, Pennsylvania, a rural community outside of Philadelphia, where a young family is beginning their post WWII life. The woman, an artist, her husband, a fledgling architect and their five year old daughter are each searching for their own footing. I see families this way— a mix of personalities joined in love and conflict.
The first scene opens as Ev, the artist, sits at her kitchen table sketching, Renoir’s, Reclining Nude.
And, the subsequent observation by her five year old daughter, Cleo, that that the right hand, upon which the nude leans, is larger than the left. For this and other revelations, the reader must continue reading.
The following is one Endorsement for Sketching with Renoir
The delicate threads of everyday life and desires are examined keenly in Sketching with Renoir by Nicole d’Entremont. With her ability to evoke a physical setting using appeals to all our senses, d’Entremont has a way of showing the souls of characters caught between the said and unsaid in a way that makes us understand them fully.
Now, she did not see the trees but saw, instead, the line of his hand and arm, the profile of his face, the setting sun behind him casting long shadows on the grass, there was a riffle of wind, a tinge of late summer warmth, the musk of golden rod, Queen Anne’s lace. How to get all into a painting?
The elegant prose guides us through world events like the storm of New Years’ Eve in 1947 and the power of a tiny memento from the tragedy of World War I: one small button that demands attention and induces the man who treasures it to undertake a profound change.
In Sketching with Renoir, Nicole d’Entremont creates an emotional journey with vivid characters who take the reader with them.
—Rosanna Staffa, author of The War Ends At Four. Regal House Publishing, Raleigh, N.C.
Pitching one’s own book is not easy for most authors I know so what I hope to do every so often in this current blog is to provide a sample of the book’s narrative, an appetizer of sorts, so you, the reader, can decide whether it is a book of interest. Pretend it’s a reading in the very own bookstore of your mind and see if you want to continue.
Of course, if at any moment you are so stunned by the confluence of words, you can order your very own copy immediately from https://indieauthorbooks.com/fiction/sketching-with-renoir/ or, if you prefer a personally signed copy, please write me/ Nicole d’Entremont/PO Box 11/Peaks Island, Maine 04108 and enclose a twenty dollar check to cover cost.
Until next post, Au revoir for now, Nicole
A Generation of Leaves 