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Wednesday, January 14th, 2009
Argentine author Sergio Chejfec, whose Mis dos Mundos was recommended by Enrique Vila-Matas as one of the best books he read in 2008, will be reading from the translation My Two Worlds in NYC Thursday the 29th, two weeks from tomorrow. His translator Liz Werner will also be there; this is Chejfec's first book to appear in English. The event is a party for the 10th anniversary of BOMB Magazine. If you're coming, drop me a line. (via 3%.)
 Update: A misreading -- Chejfec's translator is Margaret Carson.
posted morning of January 14th, 2009: Respond
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Monday, January 12th, 2009
Listening to the Colombian band Musicalizando sing Neruda's poem "Plenos Poderes" is, well, fun. I'm not quite connecting with the music -- it doesn't really move me -- but the poem is just lovely and I'm glad to be able to hear it recited rather than just reading it on the page and trying to figure out the cadences for myself. And also, it's just a nice feeling to see pop musicians rooted in the literary tradition like that. I wonder (with reference to El Laberinto de la Soledad) if this is more common in Latin America than it is here. The lines Y no me canso de ir y de volver;
no me para la muerte con su piedra,
no me canso de ser y de no ser.
seem like a disavowal of his earlier Sucede que me canso de ser hombre. (from "Walking Around"). I suppose without knowing, this might be connected to the political situations of the times when he wrote these two poems. The lines from "Plenos Poderes" work nicely as a response to Hamlet's question.More Neruda-based pop music below the fold.
posted evening of January 12th, 2009: 5 responses
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The bolano-l mailing list is hosting a group read of 2666, starting today. I'm sitting this one out, but if you're meaning to read the book I'm guessing this will be a very useful resource. (via The Howling Fantods.)
posted afternoon of January 12th, 2009: Respond
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Sunday, January 11th, 2009
There seems to be a lot written about translating Neruda's poetry. Here are a couple of things I've found this morning.
posted morning of January 11th, 2009: Respond
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Saturday, January 10th, 2009
So on the one hand I feel like who am I to criticize Reid's translations -- he surely knew Spanish better than I and was more familiar than I with the literature he was translating. Still I'm seeing a lot of lines in Neruda's poems that look poorly translated to my eye. But one in particular is kind of knocking me for a loop, because it just seems wrong, in a very basic and easy way. From "El desnudo": Esta raya es el Sur que corre,
este círculo es el Oeste is translated asThis ray is the running sun,
this circle is the East when obviously the ray is "the South which runs" and the circle is "the West" -- why would you change "the South" to "the sun" and lose the parallelism between these two lines? Why would you make the West into the East? I'm missing something, or else this is just a botched job.
posted afternoon of January 10th, 2009: 3 responses
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The poems in Fully Empowered are kind of perfect for me to read in Spanish -- short stanzas, short lines, so I can hold them in my head while I go over Reid's translation and back over the original. And lots of repetition of words, so I can maybe get some of them into my vocabulary -- building vocabulary has always been the most difficult part of language study for me. The repetitions seem meaningful -- certain words occur in almost every poem, like "línea" (in various senses), "caer" (in various forms), words relating to the water like "mar," "océan," "ola," "espuma,"... There are also frequent references to geography and geometry, to birds,  to movement, to towers... I haven't quite put all this together yet -- the references to water make me think about Neruda being Chilean, seems like the ocean must be a pretty important part of life in Chile. (Jorge, can you speak to this?) The many repetitions of "línea" are making me think about geometry and language and again, the sea, and tying them together. I just love the rhythm of this passage, which totally does not come through in the translation; I haven't been able to make a lot of sense of the passage, with or without the translation, but the sound of it is wonderful. From the second stanza of "Pájaro":
Cuando volví de tantos viajes
me quedó suspendido y verde
entre el sol y la geografía:
vi cómo trabajan las alas,
cómo se transmite el perfume
por un telégrafo emplumado
y desde arriba vi el camino,
los manantiales, las tejas,
los pescadores a pescar,
los pantalones de la espuma,
todo desde mi cielo verde.
posted afternoon of January 10th, 2009: 2 responses
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Looking through Ellen's old poetry books I am glad to find a bilingual edition of Pablo Neruda's poetry, Fully Empowered. (Translations are by Alastair Reid, and I'm making a note to myself to look up this guy whose name is on much of the mid-century Latin American literature that interests me.) Take a look at the first stanza of the first poem in the book.
Deber del poeta
A quien no escucha el mar en este viernes
por la mañana, a quien adentro de algo,
casa, oficina, fábrica o mujer,
o calle o mina o seco calabozo:
a éste yo acudo y sin hablar ni ver
llego y abro la puerta del encierro
y un sin fin se oye vago en la insistencia
un largo trueno roto se encadena
al peso del planeta y de la espuma,
surgen los rÃos roncos del océano,
vibra veloz en su rosal la estrella
y el mar palpita, muere y continúa.
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The Poet's Obligation
To whoever is not listening to the sea
this Friday morning, to whoever is cooped up
in house or office, factory or woman
or street or mine or dry prison cell,
to him I come, and without speaking or looking
I arrive and open the door of his prison,
and a vibration starts up, vague and insistent,
a long rumble of thunder adds itself
to the weight of the planet and the foam,
the groaning rivers of the ocean rise,
the star vibrates quickly in its corona
and the sea beats, dies, and goes on beating.
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 A couple things -- why does Neruda say "casa, oficina, fábrica o mujer" -- is he meaning a woman is something to keep you cooped up like a house or a factory? This sounds sexist in a pretty retrograde tone which is not something I'd expect from Neruda; but then I don't really know that much about him -- think of him vaguely as progressive, which I take to imply egalitarian. "Adentro de... mujer" leads me to think of a fetus but I'm pretty sure that is not who the poem is addressed to... In the phrase "un sin fin se oye" is "un" a pronoun -- is this literally "something hears itself endlessly" -- I had thought "un" could only be an article, is this a poetic usage? This is beautiful imagery; but I don't think I can read it closely enough in the translation to realy appreciate it -- I expect this is a failing more of my own reading than of the translation. I'm really happy to have read the observation (I think I read it first from Daniel Hahn; I've seen it referenced several places since then, most recently by Katherine Silver, so maybe it is a commonplace) that translation is a form of reading closely -- this is opening up a new understanding of how to read closely for me.
posted afternoon of January 10th, 2009: Respond
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Tuesday, January 6th, 2009
So she flew on, never losing sight of the angels, and gradually as she came closer they took on a clearer shape.They shone not as if they were burning but as if, wherever they were and however dark the night, sunlight was shining on them. They were like humans, but winged, and much taller; and, as they were naked, the witch could see that three of them were male, two female. ...  Ruta Skadi was four hundred and sixteen years old, with all the pride and knowledge of an adult witch queen. She was wiser by far than any short-lived human, but she had not the slightest idea of how like a child she seemed beside these ancient beings. Nor did she know... that she saw them as human-formed only because her eyes expected to. If she were to perceive their true form, they would seem more like architecture than organism, like huge structures composed of intelligence and feeling.
For some reason I am finding this description of the angels very satisfying. I can picture them very clearly in my mind. (And as I was writing this, I realized the image I am picturing is the stone faces of Igor Mitoraj.)Here is a minor thing that has been bugging me about the setup of the worlds in His Dark Materials. Clearly various languages exist, and a similar set of languages exists across the parallel universes, at least those few we have seen. But Lyra doesn't seem to have encountered anybody yet she could not speak to in English. So okay: let's say (a) witches and (b) bears are both non-human, so maybe they are communicating with Lyra via some kind of extra-linguistic mechanism that just seems to be speech; or more simply and implausibly, that witches and bears speak English. And I guess it's reasonable that all the humans Lyra interacted with in the first book could have known English. But the place where Lyra and Will meet is clearly parallel-world Italy, with Italian place names and everything. So at this point you have to just say ok, well the structure of the book demands that everybody speaks English; that's fine, I'll go along with that. But! Joachim Lorenz threw a huge monkey wrench into that psychic construct on p. 135, when he referred to a building as "the Torre degli Angeli, the Tower of the Angels" and to a city as "Cittàgazze. The city of magpies." -- I found this extremely annoying because it indicates that Joachim knows the place names are in a different language than he's speaking in. Well anyway, not a huge deal or anything. End rant.
posted evening of January 6th, 2009: Respond
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 I've seen a few references to Horacio Castellanos Moya's newly translated Senselessness -- sounded interesting and worth checking out. Chad Post of 3% posts about it today as part of his Best Translated Books of 2008 series, with links to reviews and to interviews with Castellanos Moya and translator Katherine Silver. I'm much more interested now after reading these -- and by coincidence I have the movie Innocent Voices currently checked out from Netflix, also about victims of the civil war in El Salvador.
New Directions has an excerpt from the first chapter up on the book's home page. l am not complete in the mind, I repeated to myself, stunned by the extent of mental perturbation experienced by this Cakchiquel man who had witnessed his family's murder, by the fact that this indigenous man was aware of the breakdown of his own psychic apparatus as a result of having watched, albeit wounded and powerless, as soldiers of his country's army scornfully and in cold blood chopped each of his four small children to pieces with machetes, then turned on his wife, the poor woman already in shock because she too had been forced to watch as the soldiers turned her small children into palpitating pieces of human flesh. Nobody can be complete in the mind after having survived such an ordeal, I said to myself, morbidly mulling it over, trying to imagine what waking up must have been like for this indigenous man, whom they had left for dead among chunks of the flesh of his wife and children and who then, many years later, had the opportunity to give his testimony so that I could read it and make stylistic corrections, a testimony that began, in fact, with the sentence I am not complete in the mind that so moved me because it summed up in the most concise manner possible the mental state tens of thousands of people who have suffered experiences similar to the ones recounted by this Cakchiquel man found themselves in, and also summed up the mental state of thousands of soldiers and paramilitary men who had with relish cut to pieces their so-called compatriots, though I must admit that it's not the same to be incomplete in the mind after watching your own children drawn and quartered as after drawing and quartering other peoples' children, I told myself before reaching the overwhelming conclusion that it was the entire population of this country that was not complete in the mind, which led me to an even worse conclusion, even more perturbing, and this was that only somebody completely out of his mind would be willing to move to a foreign country whose population was not complete in the mind to perform a task that consisted precisely of copyediting an extensive report of one thousand one hundred pages that documents the hundreds of massacres and proves the general perturbation.
posted evening of January 6th, 2009: Respond
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I'd love to watch this discussion between Lobo Antunes and his translator. It occurred last September; the web site says (AOTW) that it's "coming soon", which hopefully just means there has been a delay getting it digitized and online. Fingers crossed! I notice that Lobo Antunes has quite a significant body of work to his name before the current novel; I sort of knew this but was not (I think) taking it sufficiently into consideration. This probably means that my response to What Can I Do When Everything's on Fire? is being hampered by a lack of familiarity with his catalog.
posted afternoon of January 6th, 2009: Respond
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