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Sunday, April 20th, 2008
A bunch of new photos are online at the READIN Family Album, including Sylvia, Ellen and Michael's trip to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden.
posted evening of April 20th, 2008: Respond ➳ More posts about the Family Album
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Once upon a time, there lived in our city a prince who discovered that the most important question in life was whether to be, or not to be, oneself. It took him his whole life to discover who he was, and what he discovered was his whole life.
This penultimate chapter of The Black Book is really knocking me around. The childish prince's discovery about reading is what I have been getting out of this book and much of Pamuk's other writing, but he (and he seems to be speaking for Celâl/Galip? -- And is it right to think that Pamuk is making this duality into a personification of Istanbul?) is taking it the opposite way from how I have been. His notion that "it was incumbent on me to free myself from all those books, all those writers, all those stories, all those voices" seems wrong to me: those voices are my "self", and I've been reading as if this were what Pamuk was saying/pointing out -- as if Galip's insanity were rooted in a failure to acknowledge this illusory/transitory nature of identity. ...Hoping to find some answers in the final chapter, though that may be the wrong thing to hope for... Awesome passage below the fold. More thoughts about this chapter collected here.
Because to spend an entire life waiting to become the ruler of an empire would drive anyone mad; because to watch one's elder brothers dream the same dreams and then succumb to madness, one by one, was to court the same dilemma; because the dilemma -- to go mad or not to go mad -- was a false one; because they could not help going mad, if they recalled -- if only briefly, during their interminable wait -- that their forefathers had, upon ascending to the throne, traditionally had all their younger brothers strangled. His illustrious ancestor Mehmet III was a case in point -- upon becoming sultan, he'd ordered the deaths of 19 younger brothers, some of whom were still at their mothers' breasts -- and seeing as anyone could read about that incident in any historical account of the era, seeing as it was his duty as a prince to acquaint himself with the history of the empire over which he might one day rule, just to read about a sultan killing his younger brothers was enough to drive a prince mad; because if, after years of wondering if or when he might be poisoned or strangled or killed in a way that was later made to look like a suicide, a prince went mad, it was his way of saying, "Count me out of the race"; because waiting for the throne was like waiting for death, and madness, the easiest escape route, was also the perfect expression of his deepest and most secret desires...
↻...done
posted evening of April 20th, 2008: Respond ➳ More posts about The Black Book
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This morning I planted the beginnings of an herb garden -- specifically, oregano, marjoram, rosemary, two kinds of mint, parsley. I'm happy about that and am hoping they flourish this summer -- before I have only ever grown herbs in pots and they never seem to do very well. I think it's going to rain today (though the weather forecast does not agree with me).
I want to put the screen door up on our back door today (which means I have to go to the hardware store for some screen, to repair the lower panel of the door). And, there is furniture to set up on our side porch. Lots of stuff to keep me busy around the house today.
posted morning of April 20th, 2008: Respond ➳ More posts about The garden
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Saturday, April 19th, 2008
The Apostropher has a new mix tape on line, along with a collection of links to his previous mixes.
posted evening of April 19th, 2008: Respond ➳ More posts about Mix tapes
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Friday, April 18th, 2008
An essay in the December 2005 issue of The New Yorker, about his upcoming trial on charges of having "publicly denigrated Turkish identity." Translated by Freely. (I think this essay appears in Other Colors.) Link courtesy of Jane Ciabattari.
posted afternoon of April 18th, 2008: Respond ➳ More posts about Orhan Pamuk
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Thursday, April 17th, 2008
I just got a flyer in my in-box advertising a folk singer's upcoming performance; among other things it says "Her voice is unforgettable - big, soulful, kiss-ass, and wise." I don't think I have ever seen the adjective "kiss-ass" used in a positive sense before.
(Did they mean "kick-ass"?)
posted morning of April 17th, 2008: 2 responses
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That's the only explanation I can see for the amount of honking I heard this morning on the way to work -- in parking lots, on the road, at stoplights -- it was just outta hand. I mean a lot of it was directed at me, a simple explanation for that would be that I'm a lousy driver; but a lot between other drivers, at pedestrians... I got so acclimated to it during my brief commute, I even honked at somebody who cut me off -- I never do that.
posted morning of April 17th, 2008: Respond
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Wednesday, April 16th, 2008
"OK, now that Zoe is out, the coast is clear for Jennifer and Richard to get it together as the Big Hair team. Maybe they can hook up with Marcel once the show is over." (Yeah okay, lame, whatever.)
posted evening of April 16th, 2008: Respond
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Wow, look at this: the Mathnawi of Rumi (and other works -- possibly his complete works?), with multiple English translations and commentary. Awesome.
posted evening of April 16th, 2008: Respond ➳ More posts about Readings
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(From this interview with Horace Engdahl, Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy.) Pamuk published The White Castle while he was in New York, being "his wife's husband" -- she was studying for her doctorate at Columbia University.
I had a little room at the library in which I wrote more than half of The Black Book. And very typical of a non-Western person coming through main cultural centers of Western civilisation, say London, Paris, New York, and then having a sort of an anxiety about his cultural identity, and, ah... I lived these things, and I faced the immense richness of American libraries and culture; and I began to ask myself, what is Turkish culture? What am I doing there? And at that time, I used to think that Turkey's cultural identity should only be a sort of ultra-Occidentalism.There, at the age of 33, I began to read old Sufi allegories, the whole classic texts of Islamic mysticism -- most of them are classical Persian texts -- with an eye on Borges, on Calvino: they have told me to look at literary texts as sort of structures which have metaphysical qualities. I have learned from Borges and Calvino to delete the heavy religious vein of classical Islamic texts, and see these texts as sort of, em, geometrical shapes; metaphysical structures and allegories; parables full of literary games.
Also some interesting stuff in the interview about fluidity of identity and how that plays into his novels. Engdahl mentions René Girard -- Pamuk confirms that he likes what Girard has to say but says he came to Girard's stuff late in life; Engdahl asks if Pamuk sees jealosy as playing a major role in his work, and Pamuk agrees that it does.
posted evening of April 16th, 2008: Respond
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