Showing posts with label translations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label translations. Show all posts
Saturday, May 30, 2020
"A Dream of Red Mansion" tr. Gladys Yang: Book Review
Amazon jumbles many "classic" texts and editions, but if this is the "A Dream of Red Mansion: Complete + Unexpurgated," Gladys Yang gets translation credit. She was English, the first undergrad to read Chinese at Oxford, and with her husband Yang Xianyi went to settle in his homeland in 1940.
They worked for the Foreign Languages Press as translators, and although the subtitle says such for Dream, spot-checking the Amazon preview of this vs. the Hawkes-Minford "The Story of the Stone" version shows that the "Dream" does expurgate, say "Carnal Street" as a phrase and that Yang cuts some phrases and slight details kept by Hawkes from my comparison as part 1 commences. I have heard that the translators for the FLP had to watch themselves under the PRC, that the pair suffered 4 years in jail during the Cultural Revolution and that their "rehabilitation" involved this "Dream" work. But they then fell into disfavor again after speaking out against the suppression by the regime of demonstrators in 1989. She died at the age of 80 ten years later. Her biography is still forbidden in the PRC.
My comments here are to guide potential customers as it's confusing to sift through the various formats and translations. Yang's is better than the public-domain Henry Bencraft Joly found in inexpensive Kindle versions, which cut far more of the novel. HBJ died after only completing the first half, note. His Victorian style and Yang's formal register remain a bit less fluid than the Penguin. Yang's not bad, however, from a mid-20c. origin. There is an elegance in the diction which endures regardless of the choice. The es-pat pair also has their "The Scholars" from FLP (1957) which may be the only English-language rendering of that minor classic.
Three stars for "Dream" as while the bargain cost is welcome contrasted to the Penguin, you get what you pay for. No notes, from the sample at least, tied to the text. For a novel this "foreign" to Westerners, this (so I've been told) somewhat more literal rendition may make this more a crib-text or handy comparison in online form to the Penguin five-volume paperback. Plus there's not even an introduction in this format.
On a final note, I admit the cover is fantastic. It does capture the Maoist "repackaging" of this evocative tale of a very different Chinese era. (This is more a clarification for Amazon US than a proper review. This site fills you in about a narrative over twice as long as "War + Peace," which some claim is the best ever Chinese, or along with the Japanese "Tale of Genji" maybe the best fictional achievement of all time. Certainly akin to Proust even more than Tolstoy in its milieu.)
Sunday, June 14, 2015
"James Joyce in Context": Book Review
During most of the last century, critics presented James Joyce as above the cares of the world, devoted to his difficult craft, before and after his self-imposed exile from Ireland. Scholars promoted a view of Joyce as a troubled genius increasingly removed from daily life by his obsessive linguistic experiments. He lived in Trieste, Paris and Zurich many years, but he never escaped the streets and sounds of his native Dublin.
So goes received wisdom. Challenging this notion of a disengaged artist indifferent to his later surroundings, John McCourt edits essays from thirty-two like-minded academics who study James Joyce in Context. McCourt admits that Joyce "seems to us today a little less original and God-like, a little more accidental in his actions and choices, a more human author, happy to lift and to cut-and-paste carefully sifted material from a huge variety of sources before making it indelibly his own, a writer who was very much part of his world."
Starting with contributions on the composition history of his major works, on his biographers and his letters, this compendium places Joyce within our critical reception of his fiction and his facts. The dominance, Finn Fordham argues, of Richard Ellmann's 1959 biography endures fifty-odd years later. Fordham fears that tome limits Joyce studies to a specialist and "even isolationist" environment. He compares the few biographies extant to a "cityscape conglomeration" where Ellmann's structure looms tallest, even if it is not altogether still inhabitable. That slowly decaying monolith rises over a half-vibrant, half-moribund scene "so ripe for redevelopment but hindered from it indefinitely."
This essay must have been submitted before Gordon Bowker's 2011 biography appeared. Still, Fordham's remarks remain true. Joseph Brooker in his entry on "Post-War Joyce" concurs. Ellmann's monumental effort made that biographer "a tribal elder, a unique point of reference" resisting change.
In the second section of this anthology, various schools of theory and critical reception examine how we can interpret Joyce's works with more flexibility than his major biographer may have done years ago. Marian Eide targets Molly Ivers in "The Dead" to peer into how Joyce treated gender and sexuality. Eide's focus highlights her well-chosen case study. Eide avoids taking on too much in too little space. Each of these contributors has only a few out of these four-hundred-plus pages to devote to a particular theme, after all. In similarly brisk fashion, Jolanda Wawrzyca reports on Joyce's many varieties of translation exercises during his career. A lively look at Joyce's place within world literature enhances Eric Bloom's chapter. Other essays, as found in too many an academic volume, slow appreciation. Jargon and cant thicken. Critics dominate, not Joyce. Theory nudges aside insight.
Sean Latham repeats Fordham's frustration over another obstacle that impedes practical progress by Joyceans. The Joyce estate imposes strict standards on which post-1922 major works can be quoted. Deeper investigation of Ulysses, Finnegans Wake, correspondence and archived material is stymied. However, as Latham and Cheryl Herr demonstrate, media culture now and material culture in Joyce's era complement each other as methods to investigate the everyday milieu joining author with readers.
Herr's deftly chronicled observations of "engagement and disengagement" within Joyce and his characters open the third part of McCourt's collection. Background and historical topics comprise more than half of the book's chapters. Not only Dublin, Paris and Trieste, but British literary, Greek and Roman culture gain attention. Medicine and music receive scrutiny, along with modernisms and languages. Newspapers join philosophy, theology and politics as subjects relevant for Joyce's texts.
The variety of frameworks through which these contributors pore over Joyce and his works enable a reader familiar with this author's texts to delve deeper into current scholarship. By allowing Joyce to be more securely placed within his own life and times, James Joyce in Context shows how the writer emerged from his influences. It reminds us how he influenced the literary and cultural realms of modernism. While some entries may discourage the casual inquirer, others, all from experts, entice.
Science and the cinema wrap this up. This volume concludes with sex. How one chapter connects to the other within this final section eludes me. Yet, the appeal of Joyce, far beyond the few who are lucky enough to make a living pursuing the mysteries of his verbal labyrinths, endures. Christine Froula reminds us that Ulysses is being read today in Tehran. She footnotes a sly explanation. The ban on this novel was lifted in 1999 by the Islamic regime. Its "more objectionable passages" can be printed in neither English nor Farsi. As a fluent Italian speaker who taught his native language to Berlitz students in Italy, Joyce would have relished the irony of this Persian proviso. It permits those passages, which have incited censorship so often over the past century, to be printed,if only in Italian.
(Spectrum Culture 6/8/15; Amazon US 6/13/15)
So goes received wisdom. Challenging this notion of a disengaged artist indifferent to his later surroundings, John McCourt edits essays from thirty-two like-minded academics who study James Joyce in Context. McCourt admits that Joyce "seems to us today a little less original and God-like, a little more accidental in his actions and choices, a more human author, happy to lift and to cut-and-paste carefully sifted material from a huge variety of sources before making it indelibly his own, a writer who was very much part of his world."
Starting with contributions on the composition history of his major works, on his biographers and his letters, this compendium places Joyce within our critical reception of his fiction and his facts. The dominance, Finn Fordham argues, of Richard Ellmann's 1959 biography endures fifty-odd years later. Fordham fears that tome limits Joyce studies to a specialist and "even isolationist" environment. He compares the few biographies extant to a "cityscape conglomeration" where Ellmann's structure looms tallest, even if it is not altogether still inhabitable. That slowly decaying monolith rises over a half-vibrant, half-moribund scene "so ripe for redevelopment but hindered from it indefinitely."
This essay must have been submitted before Gordon Bowker's 2011 biography appeared. Still, Fordham's remarks remain true. Joseph Brooker in his entry on "Post-War Joyce" concurs. Ellmann's monumental effort made that biographer "a tribal elder, a unique point of reference" resisting change.
In the second section of this anthology, various schools of theory and critical reception examine how we can interpret Joyce's works with more flexibility than his major biographer may have done years ago. Marian Eide targets Molly Ivers in "The Dead" to peer into how Joyce treated gender and sexuality. Eide's focus highlights her well-chosen case study. Eide avoids taking on too much in too little space. Each of these contributors has only a few out of these four-hundred-plus pages to devote to a particular theme, after all. In similarly brisk fashion, Jolanda Wawrzyca reports on Joyce's many varieties of translation exercises during his career. A lively look at Joyce's place within world literature enhances Eric Bloom's chapter. Other essays, as found in too many an academic volume, slow appreciation. Jargon and cant thicken. Critics dominate, not Joyce. Theory nudges aside insight.
Sean Latham repeats Fordham's frustration over another obstacle that impedes practical progress by Joyceans. The Joyce estate imposes strict standards on which post-1922 major works can be quoted. Deeper investigation of Ulysses, Finnegans Wake, correspondence and archived material is stymied. However, as Latham and Cheryl Herr demonstrate, media culture now and material culture in Joyce's era complement each other as methods to investigate the everyday milieu joining author with readers.
Herr's deftly chronicled observations of "engagement and disengagement" within Joyce and his characters open the third part of McCourt's collection. Background and historical topics comprise more than half of the book's chapters. Not only Dublin, Paris and Trieste, but British literary, Greek and Roman culture gain attention. Medicine and music receive scrutiny, along with modernisms and languages. Newspapers join philosophy, theology and politics as subjects relevant for Joyce's texts.
The variety of frameworks through which these contributors pore over Joyce and his works enable a reader familiar with this author's texts to delve deeper into current scholarship. By allowing Joyce to be more securely placed within his own life and times, James Joyce in Context shows how the writer emerged from his influences. It reminds us how he influenced the literary and cultural realms of modernism. While some entries may discourage the casual inquirer, others, all from experts, entice.
Science and the cinema wrap this up. This volume concludes with sex. How one chapter connects to the other within this final section eludes me. Yet, the appeal of Joyce, far beyond the few who are lucky enough to make a living pursuing the mysteries of his verbal labyrinths, endures. Christine Froula reminds us that Ulysses is being read today in Tehran. She footnotes a sly explanation. The ban on this novel was lifted in 1999 by the Islamic regime. Its "more objectionable passages" can be printed in neither English nor Farsi. As a fluent Italian speaker who taught his native language to Berlitz students in Italy, Joyce would have relished the irony of this Persian proviso. It permits those passages, which have incited censorship so often over the past century, to be printed,if only in Italian.
(Spectrum Culture 6/8/15; Amazon US 6/13/15)
Monday, April 13, 2015
Ag cheannaigh "Pinnochio" i nGaeilge
Cheannaigh mé an cóip seo le Pinnochio le Carlo Collodi an mí seo caite. Bhí dith orm a fháil an leabhar seo ann. Tá mé ag tósu ag léamh san Iódáilis, tar éis an tsaoil.
Mar sin, cén fath ar mhaith liom an leabhar sin i nGaeilge fós? Bheul, measaim go mbeadh suimíuil seo a fháil ina dhá teanga. Is maith liom iad araon, go nádurtha.
Ina theannta sin, tá seo ag foillsiu le Coiste Litríochta Mhúsgrai ina Gaeltacht i gCorcaigh fós. Duirt sé: "Chuir Pádraig Ó Buachalla i nGaelainn an scéal san sa mbliain a 1933 agus d'fhoíllsigh fén dteideal Eachtra Phinocchio." Bhi Ó Buachalla i gcónaí i Naomh Proinsias, mar inimirceach, freisin.
Tharraing Roberto Innocenti na léaráidí an-álainn. Bhí sé leisaithe ag Dáithí Ó Cróinín agus Séan ua Súilleabhain. Is féidir leat é a cheannach ó An Síopa Leabhar na Kennys i nGaillimh mar i rinne me.
Chríochnaigh mé leagan dátheangach (Béarla-Iodáilis) ar líne aréir. Anois, mbeidh mé ag foghlaim faoi an leabhar níos mó ann. Is maith liom an scéal seo tsíog agus molaim é an thabhairt duitsa.
Buying Pinnochio in Irish.
I bought this copy of Pinnochio by Carlo Collodi last month. I wanted to get this book. I am starting to read in Italian, after all.
Therefore, why do I want that book in Irish, too? Well, I reckoned that it'd be interesting to get this in two languages. I like them both, naturally.
Furthermore it is published by the Literary Committee in the Musgrai Gaeltacht in Co. Cork too. They say: "Pádraig Ó Buachalla put the story into Irish in the year 1933 and it was published under the title Adventures of Phinocchio." Ó Buachalla lived as an immigrant in San Francisco, also.
Roberto Innocenti drew the very lovely illustrations. Dáithí Ó Cróinín and Séan ua Súilleabhain revised this version. You can purchase it from Kennys in Galway as I did.
I finished an Italian-English bilingual version online last night. Now, I may learn about the book more. I like this fairy story and I recommend it to you.
Mar sin, cén fath ar mhaith liom an leabhar sin i nGaeilge fós? Bheul, measaim go mbeadh suimíuil seo a fháil ina dhá teanga. Is maith liom iad araon, go nádurtha.
Ina theannta sin, tá seo ag foillsiu le Coiste Litríochta Mhúsgrai ina Gaeltacht i gCorcaigh fós. Duirt sé: "Chuir Pádraig Ó Buachalla i nGaelainn an scéal san sa mbliain a 1933 agus d'fhoíllsigh fén dteideal Eachtra Phinocchio." Bhi Ó Buachalla i gcónaí i Naomh Proinsias, mar inimirceach, freisin.
Tharraing Roberto Innocenti na léaráidí an-álainn. Bhí sé leisaithe ag Dáithí Ó Cróinín agus Séan ua Súilleabhain. Is féidir leat é a cheannach ó An Síopa Leabhar na Kennys i nGaillimh mar i rinne me.
Chríochnaigh mé leagan dátheangach (Béarla-Iodáilis) ar líne aréir. Anois, mbeidh mé ag foghlaim faoi an leabhar níos mó ann. Is maith liom an scéal seo tsíog agus molaim é an thabhairt duitsa.
Buying Pinnochio in Irish.
I bought this copy of Pinnochio by Carlo Collodi last month. I wanted to get this book. I am starting to read in Italian, after all.
Therefore, why do I want that book in Irish, too? Well, I reckoned that it'd be interesting to get this in two languages. I like them both, naturally.
Furthermore it is published by the Literary Committee in the Musgrai Gaeltacht in Co. Cork too. They say: "Pádraig Ó Buachalla put the story into Irish in the year 1933 and it was published under the title Adventures of Phinocchio." Ó Buachalla lived as an immigrant in San Francisco, also.
Roberto Innocenti drew the very lovely illustrations. Dáithí Ó Cróinín and Séan ua Súilleabhain revised this version. You can purchase it from Kennys in Galway as I did.
I finished an Italian-English bilingual version online last night. Now, I may learn about the book more. I like this fairy story and I recommend it to you.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Kindle Touch: my review
I'll look at ergonomics, files, battery life, Prime Lending Library, public library access. and public domain free texts. I received a Touch six weeks ago as a gift--I hadn't considered buying one. Here's my highlights. [Nearly six thousand reviewers preceded me on Amazon US, for Kindle Touch Wi-Fi 6" display with ads--as pictured. Now it's 2.5 years I have enjoyed it, so here's a review.]
Ergonomics:
As with many devices, the sweet spot between portability and our fingers, eyes and hands can elude our physical dimensions! This means the size of gadgets these days must be "one fits all." It's a decent compromise, better than reading on a Droid-X for me, certainly, and less bulky than the laptop it will not replace (until that perfect combination is invented that does all on one--I figured the Fire is not there yet, and is more a vehicle for Amazon understandably to deliver its own content more than a true web browsing, word processing, document saving machine that I need--with music, phone, and video to boot, and a long battery, and lightweight--you can see why I await the ideal model. For now, the Touch with ads is affordable, and I am glad I have the Touch as the clicks of the keyboard and its external buttons appeared to discourage potential buyers.
With "Amazon Basics Leather Folio Cover with Multi-Angle Adjustable Stand, Updated Design, for Kindle Touch, Kindle (Black): MP3 Players & Accessories" (also reviewed by me 8/11/2012), this is an affordable pair. This allows you to prop up the Kindle on a table, a lap, or your chest depending on your angle of repose. Not perfect for reading in bed and you get an awkward limit from the USB and headphone jack placement, but it's otherwise a handy way to use but a finger, if the Kindle's balanced right, to turn the pages.
File Sharing/ Web Browser:
The keyboard is fine, and as one who needs the large setting on a Droid-X to type easily, I like the Touch's look for my limited typing on it. It's not a high powered browser; the Experimental category includes it, but I have a feeling it's not a priority for Amazon; but I like it and I certainly would not recommend it without it. Sites can be bookmarked, and basic functions carried out, nice to know as backup. The audiobook feature is a welcome touch; you can move files via a PC to your device, as you can send files as pdf and the like, all great features. The audio files cannot be re-ordered: they come in the way you first uploaded them, and similarly the titles on screen archived for books are in the order of appearance. I wish this could be a drop and drag approach instead. If you figure out very simple downloading and file transfers, you can also find easily how to move Kindle files from the Net through a PC to your Touch, allowing more options than may at first seem apparent if you think of Amazon as the only purveyor of content. Mobi files mean Kindle-friendly, and that's the extension you want to look for, or convert to.
The Touch takes some time to get used to. Not that it's complicated, but I find I still lose my place if I mix up the back key in the menu with the lower function that opens the home page. Within a book, the ease of navigating to and fro is mitigated by the relative danger of jumping back to another page with a slip of the finger or a moment of inattention. While pull-down bookmarks exist, I find these cannot be annotated to make mini-tabs for chapters or subsections of my own, not those in the Table of Contents or settings of the Kindle file itself (even an Aldiko e-book reader on my Droid allows me to do this!) as opposed to notes on a passage.
Speaking of which, I'm not a big fan of seeing other people's notes and underlining of texts, but I admit for classes or reading groups the advantage of this addition. It'd be better if it could be limited to such a group option or individual one, so we don't have to see it if we don't wish to. You can fine tune this to allow for your own opt-in to add your own notes, but as I found, you cannot add your own annotated tabs.
Battery Life:
The battery is embedded beyond one's access. I guess as with Apple products it's meant to remain if under warranty beyond a user's control. It eats up the power faster than I'd predicted, even off wi-fi. It takes a long time to charge via USB to a computer. I am unsure if the Touch can be charged via the same AC adapter a USB uses for my phone or a music player: the instructions do not explain if this is possible or advisable.
Prime Lending Library and Public Library files:
Here's the complication. My wife is a member of Prime. So, I must use only her account to use Kindle to manage my device. That limits my options as to how I work with my Kindle. I cannot re-register it under my own account unless I wish to lose the Prime access to the Lending Library as one of its perks. You cannot transfer a Prime membership for a Kindle even from one family member to another: it must be kept on the original buyer's account for Prime, unless you wish to buy another membership and re-register it, which I doubt many buyers will be willing to do.
She (and I) thought the Lending Library would have a lot more popular titles (or legitimate academic or small-press ones, for my needs). Oddly, you cannot access the catalogue of Lending Library titles easily: it is via the Kindle interface itself on your device, not the Amazon site. But, amid the handful of titles I'd be eager to check out (only one per calendar month and the title must be returned before a new one is checked out) it's an awful lot of self-published e-books, and odds and ends that remind me of a remainders table at a undiscerning bookseller. Maybe I'm too demanding, but it's less than I expected. And, my local public libraries appear to be lagging as to Kindle-file titles, so far, compared to ones for PCs and Macs. Waiting times can be long or longer for print titles, as electronic access does not mean the titles are (unless some public domain) able to be checked out by anyone anytime. You still have to get in the queue, same as waiting for a print title to come in from on hold.
Public Domain Texts:
So much for instant gratification. All the same, it's great to have the way to have books on hand and in hand. See my reviews recently of such public domain Kindle or Project Gutenberg versions of "War and Peace;" "Don Quixote;" "Moby Dick;" the illustrated "Huck Finn;" "Adventures of" and ""Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes;" and "Ulysses" for proof of what I first found to upload to my Kindle for free. Some are public domain but Amazon may not list it as free, while it may list more handsome versions for sale. These often have illustrations, notes, and better fonts than the free versions, so you get what you pay for.
You can check Gutenberg-dot-org also. Kindle Mobi files exist. It may take a bit of workaround the Amazon set-up for some public domain titles, and translations or editions may not be as elegant or up-to-date, but for reference or finally getting to take along a classic, it's wonderful! (Amazon US 8/11/12)
Ergonomics:
As with many devices, the sweet spot between portability and our fingers, eyes and hands can elude our physical dimensions! This means the size of gadgets these days must be "one fits all." It's a decent compromise, better than reading on a Droid-X for me, certainly, and less bulky than the laptop it will not replace (until that perfect combination is invented that does all on one--I figured the Fire is not there yet, and is more a vehicle for Amazon understandably to deliver its own content more than a true web browsing, word processing, document saving machine that I need--with music, phone, and video to boot, and a long battery, and lightweight--you can see why I await the ideal model. For now, the Touch with ads is affordable, and I am glad I have the Touch as the clicks of the keyboard and its external buttons appeared to discourage potential buyers.
With "Amazon Basics Leather Folio Cover with Multi-Angle Adjustable Stand, Updated Design, for Kindle Touch, Kindle (Black): MP3 Players & Accessories" (also reviewed by me 8/11/2012), this is an affordable pair. This allows you to prop up the Kindle on a table, a lap, or your chest depending on your angle of repose. Not perfect for reading in bed and you get an awkward limit from the USB and headphone jack placement, but it's otherwise a handy way to use but a finger, if the Kindle's balanced right, to turn the pages.
File Sharing/ Web Browser:
The keyboard is fine, and as one who needs the large setting on a Droid-X to type easily, I like the Touch's look for my limited typing on it. It's not a high powered browser; the Experimental category includes it, but I have a feeling it's not a priority for Amazon; but I like it and I certainly would not recommend it without it. Sites can be bookmarked, and basic functions carried out, nice to know as backup. The audiobook feature is a welcome touch; you can move files via a PC to your device, as you can send files as pdf and the like, all great features. The audio files cannot be re-ordered: they come in the way you first uploaded them, and similarly the titles on screen archived for books are in the order of appearance. I wish this could be a drop and drag approach instead. If you figure out very simple downloading and file transfers, you can also find easily how to move Kindle files from the Net through a PC to your Touch, allowing more options than may at first seem apparent if you think of Amazon as the only purveyor of content. Mobi files mean Kindle-friendly, and that's the extension you want to look for, or convert to.
The Touch takes some time to get used to. Not that it's complicated, but I find I still lose my place if I mix up the back key in the menu with the lower function that opens the home page. Within a book, the ease of navigating to and fro is mitigated by the relative danger of jumping back to another page with a slip of the finger or a moment of inattention. While pull-down bookmarks exist, I find these cannot be annotated to make mini-tabs for chapters or subsections of my own, not those in the Table of Contents or settings of the Kindle file itself (even an Aldiko e-book reader on my Droid allows me to do this!) as opposed to notes on a passage.
Speaking of which, I'm not a big fan of seeing other people's notes and underlining of texts, but I admit for classes or reading groups the advantage of this addition. It'd be better if it could be limited to such a group option or individual one, so we don't have to see it if we don't wish to. You can fine tune this to allow for your own opt-in to add your own notes, but as I found, you cannot add your own annotated tabs.
Battery Life:
The battery is embedded beyond one's access. I guess as with Apple products it's meant to remain if under warranty beyond a user's control. It eats up the power faster than I'd predicted, even off wi-fi. It takes a long time to charge via USB to a computer. I am unsure if the Touch can be charged via the same AC adapter a USB uses for my phone or a music player: the instructions do not explain if this is possible or advisable.
Prime Lending Library and Public Library files:
Here's the complication. My wife is a member of Prime. So, I must use only her account to use Kindle to manage my device. That limits my options as to how I work with my Kindle. I cannot re-register it under my own account unless I wish to lose the Prime access to the Lending Library as one of its perks. You cannot transfer a Prime membership for a Kindle even from one family member to another: it must be kept on the original buyer's account for Prime, unless you wish to buy another membership and re-register it, which I doubt many buyers will be willing to do.
She (and I) thought the Lending Library would have a lot more popular titles (or legitimate academic or small-press ones, for my needs). Oddly, you cannot access the catalogue of Lending Library titles easily: it is via the Kindle interface itself on your device, not the Amazon site. But, amid the handful of titles I'd be eager to check out (only one per calendar month and the title must be returned before a new one is checked out) it's an awful lot of self-published e-books, and odds and ends that remind me of a remainders table at a undiscerning bookseller. Maybe I'm too demanding, but it's less than I expected. And, my local public libraries appear to be lagging as to Kindle-file titles, so far, compared to ones for PCs and Macs. Waiting times can be long or longer for print titles, as electronic access does not mean the titles are (unless some public domain) able to be checked out by anyone anytime. You still have to get in the queue, same as waiting for a print title to come in from on hold.
Public Domain Texts:
So much for instant gratification. All the same, it's great to have the way to have books on hand and in hand. See my reviews recently of such public domain Kindle or Project Gutenberg versions of "War and Peace;" "Don Quixote;" "Moby Dick;" the illustrated "Huck Finn;" "Adventures of" and ""Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes;" and "Ulysses" for proof of what I first found to upload to my Kindle for free. Some are public domain but Amazon may not list it as free, while it may list more handsome versions for sale. These often have illustrations, notes, and better fonts than the free versions, so you get what you pay for.
You can check Gutenberg-dot-org also. Kindle Mobi files exist. It may take a bit of workaround the Amazon set-up for some public domain titles, and translations or editions may not be as elegant or up-to-date, but for reference or finally getting to take along a classic, it's wonderful! (Amazon US 8/11/12)
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
"Barlaam and Josaphat/ In Search of the Christian Buddha": Book Review
Canonized unwittingly as St. Josaphat, a corruption of "bodhisattva," the Buddha, condemned as an idol worshipped by his duped followers, had his story transmitted after long centuries within the hagiography translated to convert the Japanese in the 1600s. So runs one of many twists in Barlaam and Josaphat, translated by Peggy McCracken and introduced by Donald S. Lopez, as a Penguin Classic.
Gui de Cambrai (around 1220-25) adapted the story into French verse; McCracken renders it efficiently into modern English. Gui takes the core elements of the Buddha legend. 1) The prediction that the prince will be a saint or a king. 2) The ensuing protection by his father the king to keep him from the sights of the world. This ruse fails, as a series of chariot rides reveal mortality, sickness, age, and death to the coddled lad. 3.) Then, seductive women seek to dissuade the prince from his destiny and enlightenment as he vows to depart the palace for a life of asceticism. But first, to fulfill his duty, he fathered an heir, as a prince who is expected to carry on the royal family line.
What the medieval teller adds, Lopez in his brief introduction and McCracken in her 2014 edition (if short on footnotes) show, is an elaborate disputation between Greeks (ahistorically if entertainingly including Plato's brother and a nephew of Aristotle for good measure), Chaldeans, and pagans. They integrate fine stories in succession cobbled from ancient lore, and this transmission as with the larger storyline contains inherent interest for how this comes down through to the early eleventh century in Old French. We get clever glimpses into the culture, as when perverse sex earns condemnation in a comparison to chess. Those engaging in "a shameful game" allow themselves "to be mated from the corner." The hectoring narrator goes on: "The clerics were first to adopt it, and they taught the game to knights. The deed is base--anyone who would leave the clearing for the woods is like a base peasant." (100-101) Finally, the teller shakes free of the vice he despises, and the story later elaborates into a set-piece about the Crusades, with the characters off to a holy war. Another addition is the use of the disputation between the body and the soul, a medieval trope, to fit neatly into the frame-tale's theme of renunciation for sacrifice, and the leaving of one's family to seek a higher path.
This tale was one of many which told the Buddha's story with nobody suspecting this until the 1600s. While a chronicler of Marco Polo's journey caught on to a resemblance, modern scholars in the 19th century, investigating the sources for the misunderstood origins of Shakyamuni, or Prince Siddhartha, finally figured out the elaborate and entangled transmission gone haywire much later. Lopez, as a noted scholar of Buddhist reception in the West (see Prisoners of Shangri-La on Tibet and The Scientific Buddha for attempts to reconcile the historical Buddha with post-Darwinian science), is well-suited to convey these crossed messages. Joined by medievalist Peggy McCracken, the two seek to explain In Search of the Christian Buddha: How An Asian Sage Became a Christian Saint (also 2014) the origins of the tales told throughout the Middle Ages, as the Buddha's story was embedded into narratives and biographies which asserted often the superiority of non-Buddhist ideas.
The tale of Barlaam and Josaphat was one of many which told the Buddha's story with nobody suspecting this until the 1600s. A 1446 editor of Marco Polo's journey caught on to a resemblance. Then scholars in the 19th century, investigating sources for the misunderstood origins of Shakyamuni, Prince Siddhartha, finally figured out elaborate, entangled transmissions gone haywire.
Here's the basics. In Persia in the 8th c. a Muslim writer compiled Bilawhar and Budasaf. Armies of Islam had begun entering northwestern India, the first home of Buddhism. They spread the stories westward. Arabic preserved some of the core tale's triple elements mentioned above. A century later, the Muslims conquered the Christian kingdom in what is today Georgia. Refugee monks fled to Jerusalem and turned the Muslim story into a Christian one, the Balavariani. A Jewish translator four centuries on took the story from Arabic and sent it west again, via Muslims, into Moorish Spain, where it would turn The Prince and the Hermit via Hebrew and much later, rendered into both German and Yiddish.
Greek and Latin stories, once attributed to John of Damascus in their beginnings, kept the idea that the prince learned about God from a hermit, Barlaam. This turned into stories as told in lives of saints, such as the very popular Latin Golden Legend or Legenda Aurea, by Jacobus de Voragine.
The authors err repeatedly on p. 139. While Franciscans are mendicants, they are not monks. Benedictines are not mendicants but they are monks. Additionally, the hagiographer of Ss. Barlaam and Josaphat and many others, Jacobus de Voragine (Jacobo de Varazze), was not a "monk belonging to the Benedictine preaching order" but a Dominican mendicant friar of the Order of Preachers. Another aside: the book relies on paraphrases of the main texts and one loses some idea of their various styles, lengths, and flavor. Textual excerpts might have helped key in readers as to their strengths or weaknesses, cited more directly. Primarily summarized, the source texts discussed float past rather than sink in.
Back to the authors' main narrative, part of the spark of this tale comes when the stories of saints get sent to Japan by those seeking to win the natives away from Buddha to Christ. The irony is dealt with lightly by Lopez and McCracken, but it cannot be denied. Condemning idolators, the story of Josaphat is used against those supposedly worshiping false gods such as Xaca, the name garbled from Shakayamuni.
Subsequent thinkers, clued in bit by bit to such garblings, sought to deploy them differently. For some in the early 19th century, the discovery of the historical roots of Buddhism in India led them to propagate a bold claim. Buddhism and Christianity were purer as world religions open to all. Judaism and Hinduism were grounded in tribal identities, and not open to adoption by other peoples. Furthermore, the "Aryan" roots of Jesus who studied in the East were purported. Buddhism could be seen here as an attempt to detach Christian origins from Hebrew tribalism.
Others enticed by folklore found appeal in those three core stories repeated. They also liked the tale of three caskets in it, used by Shakespeare in The Merchant of Venice. Finally, another tale of women named as "geese" to a curious boy seeing women for the first time (cited in Boccaccio's Decameron) reveal intriguing tidbits, as elements of folk narrative dispersed across time and space into tales.
Still others saw in Buddhism a palliative to other faith. In it nestled human striving, and purer motives rather than superstitious, quasi-Catholic accretions. Some sympathetic to Protestant reform or humanist progress sympathized therefore with attenuated evidence of the antiquity and durability of the Buddha's presence over so many different times and places. On the other hand, those who liked to sneer at the Church found plenty of ammunition in the ironic canonization of St. Josaphat by Buddhist persecutors. Lopez and McCracken aver some of this guilt underlies the fascination recent scholars have had in the eager reception of this tale's provenance and message. Even if the trace elements of the Buddha's coming of age story are faint by the time they are detected by recent critics, the telling manner in which critical reception "seems to dissolve in the presence of the Buddha," a theme Lopez often analyzes, may account for--if not excuse--the appeal of a sage without priests, ritual, or dogma.
As Lopez repeats a phrase from his "scientific Buddha" book in 2013: "The goal of the Buddhist path is not creation but extinction." (37) The authors here conclude that the aim of Buddhism is not perpetuation of narrative or allurements of story, but a rejection of the pleasures of palace and princes. Separation from the enticements of this world is necessary. As the editors insist, for Buddhism, "The goal is to finally stop dying." (222) Flawed by change and doom, this world is not transcended as in Christian or Muslim terms for future reward but by renunciation of family, goods and attachment to all that would impede separation from its glittering delights. The Christian story of Barlaam and Josaphat sought to lure listeners away from the secular to the spiritual realm of the Church, and to ensure princes listening took care of pious hermits. But as Lopez and McCracken hint, these durable tales also sought to keep alive the very system that Buddhism seeks to put to an end.
(Both reviews edited and revamped a bit to Amazon US 7-28-14: Barlaam and In Search.)
Gui de Cambrai (around 1220-25) adapted the story into French verse; McCracken renders it efficiently into modern English. Gui takes the core elements of the Buddha legend. 1) The prediction that the prince will be a saint or a king. 2) The ensuing protection by his father the king to keep him from the sights of the world. This ruse fails, as a series of chariot rides reveal mortality, sickness, age, and death to the coddled lad. 3.) Then, seductive women seek to dissuade the prince from his destiny and enlightenment as he vows to depart the palace for a life of asceticism. But first, to fulfill his duty, he fathered an heir, as a prince who is expected to carry on the royal family line.
What the medieval teller adds, Lopez in his brief introduction and McCracken in her 2014 edition (if short on footnotes) show, is an elaborate disputation between Greeks (ahistorically if entertainingly including Plato's brother and a nephew of Aristotle for good measure), Chaldeans, and pagans. They integrate fine stories in succession cobbled from ancient lore, and this transmission as with the larger storyline contains inherent interest for how this comes down through to the early eleventh century in Old French. We get clever glimpses into the culture, as when perverse sex earns condemnation in a comparison to chess. Those engaging in "a shameful game" allow themselves "to be mated from the corner." The hectoring narrator goes on: "The clerics were first to adopt it, and they taught the game to knights. The deed is base--anyone who would leave the clearing for the woods is like a base peasant." (100-101) Finally, the teller shakes free of the vice he despises, and the story later elaborates into a set-piece about the Crusades, with the characters off to a holy war. Another addition is the use of the disputation between the body and the soul, a medieval trope, to fit neatly into the frame-tale's theme of renunciation for sacrifice, and the leaving of one's family to seek a higher path.
This tale was one of many which told the Buddha's story with nobody suspecting this until the 1600s. While a chronicler of Marco Polo's journey caught on to a resemblance, modern scholars in the 19th century, investigating the sources for the misunderstood origins of Shakyamuni, or Prince Siddhartha, finally figured out the elaborate and entangled transmission gone haywire much later. Lopez, as a noted scholar of Buddhist reception in the West (see Prisoners of Shangri-La on Tibet and The Scientific Buddha for attempts to reconcile the historical Buddha with post-Darwinian science), is well-suited to convey these crossed messages. Joined by medievalist Peggy McCracken, the two seek to explain In Search of the Christian Buddha: How An Asian Sage Became a Christian Saint (also 2014) the origins of the tales told throughout the Middle Ages, as the Buddha's story was embedded into narratives and biographies which asserted often the superiority of non-Buddhist ideas.
The tale of Barlaam and Josaphat was one of many which told the Buddha's story with nobody suspecting this until the 1600s. A 1446 editor of Marco Polo's journey caught on to a resemblance. Then scholars in the 19th century, investigating sources for the misunderstood origins of Shakyamuni, Prince Siddhartha, finally figured out elaborate, entangled transmissions gone haywire.
Here's the basics. In Persia in the 8th c. a Muslim writer compiled Bilawhar and Budasaf. Armies of Islam had begun entering northwestern India, the first home of Buddhism. They spread the stories westward. Arabic preserved some of the core tale's triple elements mentioned above. A century later, the Muslims conquered the Christian kingdom in what is today Georgia. Refugee monks fled to Jerusalem and turned the Muslim story into a Christian one, the Balavariani. A Jewish translator four centuries on took the story from Arabic and sent it west again, via Muslims, into Moorish Spain, where it would turn The Prince and the Hermit via Hebrew and much later, rendered into both German and Yiddish.
Greek and Latin stories, once attributed to John of Damascus in their beginnings, kept the idea that the prince learned about God from a hermit, Barlaam. This turned into stories as told in lives of saints, such as the very popular Latin Golden Legend or Legenda Aurea, by Jacobus de Voragine.
The authors err repeatedly on p. 139. While Franciscans are mendicants, they are not monks. Benedictines are not mendicants but they are monks. Additionally, the hagiographer of Ss. Barlaam and Josaphat and many others, Jacobus de Voragine (Jacobo de Varazze), was not a "monk belonging to the Benedictine preaching order" but a Dominican mendicant friar of the Order of Preachers. Another aside: the book relies on paraphrases of the main texts and one loses some idea of their various styles, lengths, and flavor. Textual excerpts might have helped key in readers as to their strengths or weaknesses, cited more directly. Primarily summarized, the source texts discussed float past rather than sink in.
Back to the authors' main narrative, part of the spark of this tale comes when the stories of saints get sent to Japan by those seeking to win the natives away from Buddha to Christ. The irony is dealt with lightly by Lopez and McCracken, but it cannot be denied. Condemning idolators, the story of Josaphat is used against those supposedly worshiping false gods such as Xaca, the name garbled from Shakayamuni.
Subsequent thinkers, clued in bit by bit to such garblings, sought to deploy them differently. For some in the early 19th century, the discovery of the historical roots of Buddhism in India led them to propagate a bold claim. Buddhism and Christianity were purer as world religions open to all. Judaism and Hinduism were grounded in tribal identities, and not open to adoption by other peoples. Furthermore, the "Aryan" roots of Jesus who studied in the East were purported. Buddhism could be seen here as an attempt to detach Christian origins from Hebrew tribalism.
Others enticed by folklore found appeal in those three core stories repeated. They also liked the tale of three caskets in it, used by Shakespeare in The Merchant of Venice. Finally, another tale of women named as "geese" to a curious boy seeing women for the first time (cited in Boccaccio's Decameron) reveal intriguing tidbits, as elements of folk narrative dispersed across time and space into tales.
Still others saw in Buddhism a palliative to other faith. In it nestled human striving, and purer motives rather than superstitious, quasi-Catholic accretions. Some sympathetic to Protestant reform or humanist progress sympathized therefore with attenuated evidence of the antiquity and durability of the Buddha's presence over so many different times and places. On the other hand, those who liked to sneer at the Church found plenty of ammunition in the ironic canonization of St. Josaphat by Buddhist persecutors. Lopez and McCracken aver some of this guilt underlies the fascination recent scholars have had in the eager reception of this tale's provenance and message. Even if the trace elements of the Buddha's coming of age story are faint by the time they are detected by recent critics, the telling manner in which critical reception "seems to dissolve in the presence of the Buddha," a theme Lopez often analyzes, may account for--if not excuse--the appeal of a sage without priests, ritual, or dogma.
As Lopez repeats a phrase from his "scientific Buddha" book in 2013: "The goal of the Buddhist path is not creation but extinction." (37) The authors here conclude that the aim of Buddhism is not perpetuation of narrative or allurements of story, but a rejection of the pleasures of palace and princes. Separation from the enticements of this world is necessary. As the editors insist, for Buddhism, "The goal is to finally stop dying." (222) Flawed by change and doom, this world is not transcended as in Christian or Muslim terms for future reward but by renunciation of family, goods and attachment to all that would impede separation from its glittering delights. The Christian story of Barlaam and Josaphat sought to lure listeners away from the secular to the spiritual realm of the Church, and to ensure princes listening took care of pious hermits. But as Lopez and McCracken hint, these durable tales also sought to keep alive the very system that Buddhism seeks to put to an end.
(Both reviews edited and revamped a bit to Amazon US 7-28-14: Barlaam and In Search.)
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Boccaccio's "Decameron" (Norton Critical Edition): Book Review
The first baby steps in Italian prose, away from the mystical, the ascetic, the heavenly, the Papacy towards the sensuous, the sexual, the clever, and the bourgeoisie, were taken by Boccaccio in his hundred tales, Decameron. These lively (if sometimes awkward or hesitantly told) stories reveal everyday men--and many women, at last--keeping up appearances, fooling priests and potentates, and striving to express their fleshly, calculating, and grasping desires. Narrated by seven young ladies and three gentlemen fleeing Florence during the Black Plague of 1348, these clever schemers may succeed or fail, but their ambitions energize these tales. They promote the Renaissance humanist, eager to hear from his peers.
Twenty-one representative novelle were chosen for a 1977 Norton Critical Edition; the somewhat ironically surnamed Francisco De Sanctis sums up their appeal as human comedy: "The flesh entertains itself at the expense of the spirit." Considered in the triad if below Dante, we get the next two conversing, via the letters of Petrarch, who chides his old friend Boccaccio for recanting (I wonder if Chaucer knew this when he abandoned his frame-tale scheme for his Canterbury project?) and threatening in a state of guilt to burn his manuscripts. Colleagues tended in their biographical accounts to admire not these "new" tales so much as his more edifying ones, inspired by the classics.
Later, scholars weigh in. Seeing this was issued in 1977, I'd reckon as with other Norton Critical Editions (yes, this has a few footnotes if not many), that a revision with some newer scholarship might enhance its value. As to what's in this version, I sympathize intuitively with literary historian Ugo Foscolo, who advances the idea of Boccaccio separating his concerns from Church and urging the expression of the female, the mercantile, even the roguish voices, along with those of the elite and the clerics who had long dominated the conversation of who should act how, in fact as well as fable. Erich Auerbach follows with an excerpt from Mimesis analyzing stylistic variety, and Aldo Scaglione takes on nature and love as the concerns supplanting those of piety and renunciation. Wayne Booth explains how Boccaccio tries out both telling and showing as a narrator early in the evolution of a longer set of fictional tales. Even if he did not meet our expectations, yet he tried to show, not tell.
Similarly, Tzvetan Todorov as to structure and Robert Clements as to collections illustrate the sorting process within stories and among them. Marga Cottino-Jones argues how patient Griselda's account uses the Christian figurative mode to elevate her status, and how despite however moderns react, for the audience of Boccaccio, such a presence resonated with Christ-like ideals of endurance and sacrifice. Ben Lawton defends Pasolini's 1971 film as true to some of the spirit of the source, even as it skips from a medieval time and place to a jarringly modern one, if but two-thirds of a bold triptych.
Translators Mark Musa and Peter Bondanella, who later published a Signet edition of all hundred stories, conclude by pointing to the meaning of them all. Beyond the purported audience of "idle ladies," the impact of the Decameron reverberates in themes of love, intelligence, and fortune. Instead of God's will governing this universe, men and women seek to procure not heavenly but earthly fame.
(Part of this is on a List Inconsequential: Late Summer Reading List, 7-31-14, Spectrum Culture.)
Twenty-one representative novelle were chosen for a 1977 Norton Critical Edition; the somewhat ironically surnamed Francisco De Sanctis sums up their appeal as human comedy: "The flesh entertains itself at the expense of the spirit." Considered in the triad if below Dante, we get the next two conversing, via the letters of Petrarch, who chides his old friend Boccaccio for recanting (I wonder if Chaucer knew this when he abandoned his frame-tale scheme for his Canterbury project?) and threatening in a state of guilt to burn his manuscripts. Colleagues tended in their biographical accounts to admire not these "new" tales so much as his more edifying ones, inspired by the classics.
Later, scholars weigh in. Seeing this was issued in 1977, I'd reckon as with other Norton Critical Editions (yes, this has a few footnotes if not many), that a revision with some newer scholarship might enhance its value. As to what's in this version, I sympathize intuitively with literary historian Ugo Foscolo, who advances the idea of Boccaccio separating his concerns from Church and urging the expression of the female, the mercantile, even the roguish voices, along with those of the elite and the clerics who had long dominated the conversation of who should act how, in fact as well as fable. Erich Auerbach follows with an excerpt from Mimesis analyzing stylistic variety, and Aldo Scaglione takes on nature and love as the concerns supplanting those of piety and renunciation. Wayne Booth explains how Boccaccio tries out both telling and showing as a narrator early in the evolution of a longer set of fictional tales. Even if he did not meet our expectations, yet he tried to show, not tell.
Similarly, Tzvetan Todorov as to structure and Robert Clements as to collections illustrate the sorting process within stories and among them. Marga Cottino-Jones argues how patient Griselda's account uses the Christian figurative mode to elevate her status, and how despite however moderns react, for the audience of Boccaccio, such a presence resonated with Christ-like ideals of endurance and sacrifice. Ben Lawton defends Pasolini's 1971 film as true to some of the spirit of the source, even as it skips from a medieval time and place to a jarringly modern one, if but two-thirds of a bold triptych.
Translators Mark Musa and Peter Bondanella, who later published a Signet edition of all hundred stories, conclude by pointing to the meaning of them all. Beyond the purported audience of "idle ladies," the impact of the Decameron reverberates in themes of love, intelligence, and fortune. Instead of God's will governing this universe, men and women seek to procure not heavenly but earthly fame.
(Part of this is on a List Inconsequential: Late Summer Reading List, 7-31-14, Spectrum Culture.)
Thursday, October 16, 2014
A.N. Wilson's "Dante in Love": Book Review
This English academic turned journalist-novelist combines an explication of Dante's political milieu with an overview of his life and times. While it ranges sometimes so deeply into the endless Guelf-Ghibelline contentions that non-historians may find their attention flagging, Wilson's "Dante in Love" fulfills Wilson's wish: a primer for those needing help before taking on Dante.
Wilson does take some liberty, given that much in Dante's crafting of his Commedia eludes precise documentation. For instance, on pg. 35 Wilson points to Pope Boniface's conniving to literally rake in cash at the altar of St. Peter's at the 1300 Jubilee as a way to profit from the newly formulated doctrine of Purgatory as a place as well as a state, where the souls of the dead might be assisted by donations as well as sacrifices by the living. Wilson then claims this set in Dante's "brain a sequence of inspirations which would create a literary masterpiece, the beginnings of modern literature with human singularity and self-consciousness at the center of it." But where is the proof?
His title repeats that of Harriet Rubin's 2004 attempt in similar fashion to provide an introduction full of guidance and ideas for the doughty reader of Dante, and Wilson wanders from the straight path similarly. It's difficult to follow a chronological presentation integrating Dante's formation as a Papal backer turned imperial supporter, and how this gets embedded into the poem and his earlier texts. So, Wilson in 2011 like Rubin goes on tangents and down byways, like Dante the pilgrim, to indulge his curiosity. Along with the political allegiances and the "allegorical autobiography" Wilson notes in the poem a third concentration, unlike that of Chaucer or Shakespeare: Dante's ambition to further his professional credentials as a poet, given the competition such as Guido Cavalcanti, around Florence.
While Wilson's title promises love, Dante also is "the poet of hate, the poet of vengeance, of implacable resentment and everlasting feuds." (40) Hell fills from "hard cases"; those who binge, addicts who choose desires or ambitions rather than God's plan. While the infernal realm itself gains less evocation in Wilson than one may expect (lots of politics, lots of papal intrigue dominate this narrative), he does show the careful reader how Dante used the text to integrate bits of his own life, a confession of sorts aimed at, as the epic unfolds, "universal application" rather than the Rousseau model of self-promotion. Even as Dante filled Hell with Italians and post-dated it to settle his scores.
Wilson finds Dante veering between tenderness and "Tourette's Syndrome" (280) on his quest, and suddenly lurching from one register to the other; at least it stays animated. As in Rubin, Wilson wisely varies the translations to show the variety of ways English voices try to echo the propulsive line of Dante. Certainly terza rima cannot be duplicated, meaning any word-for-word cadences of the language must give way to English sentence structure and can turn stilted or clunky. Wilson cites how the Commedia increased the stock of written Italian from 60% to 90% with its inventive vocabulary.
As one who had left Christianity as an adult and later returned to an Anglican observance, Wilson discerns hints of proto-Reformation unease in Dante's critiques of the Catholic Church, however hidden for understandable caution. Wilson finds a Catholic innovation of purgatory guided by the Aeneid's example in its sixth section of how souls were hung up on the winds or purged by fire, but he does not elaborate this intriguing claim. While endnotes often do point to sources, not all his readings or assertions are grounded, but the list of works consulted does attest as he says to a life spent studying Dante since his teens and a visit to Florence, as well as learning Italian early on there.
One advantage of this study is while Wilson eschews the step-by-step commentary through the poem, he does spend more time in Paradise than, say, Rubin or many readers. They tend to lose steam after the Inferno, bogging down as they hike up Mount Purgatory. The lack of a single translation of the last cantica by a poet to set along Robert Pinsky, Ciaran Carson, or many other versifiers of Inferno, or the elegant W.S. Merwin rendering of Purgatorio, speaks perhaps to this lack of interest for us. Wilson does not say this straight out. But he recommends that "months" spent in the last section may reward, as the verses can be pondered a very few at a time per day, slowing the pace to allow insight.
"Heaven is crowded, but it draws its citizens one by one." (303) Wilson finds beauty in Dante's difficulty, as he moves from observer in Hell to participant in Purgatory to guest in Heaven. By then, we readers find we have entered the allegory, to join Dante "to be unclothed before the searchlight of heaven." In his chapter on Paradise, Wilson reaches his own heights, and this portion merits acclaim.
He follows with "Dante's Afterlife," a fine tour through the ways mainly how Europeans since have kept Dante's memory buried or alive. We glimpse how Henry Francis Cary's 1814 version excited the Romantics; Gladstone himself immersed himself in Dante, as did many Victorians and Edwardians, later in a Temple Classics bilingual edition. From the troubadours to Ezra Pound, Wilson avers the "great European mainstream" endured in its canon, but that this died with T.S. Eliot and Pound's generation. We are walled off from Pound's "common Kulchur" and in that poet's fumbled attempts, Wilson finds "danger" in how moderns might interpret Dante's obsessions. Wilson rightly regards the attempts of today's readers to tackle the Comedy as a classic akin to starting the Bhagavad-Gita. A classic, but a remote one from Western secular mentality, and full of references we lack nowadays.
Still, Wilson leaves us with two suggestions as to its appeal for our century. Outrage at corrupt institutions, and a quest for a "Good Place" animate the poem. Dante continues to anticipate and to articulate our own unease at the past and the present, and tells us our dreams for a better future. This narrative straddles the Christian tradition and the post-Christian attitude many of us inherit whatever our allegiance, and Wilson fairly strives to show Dante's relevance as each century reinterprets this. (Amazon US 10-12-14; see also Prue Shaw's invaluable thematic 2014 study, Reading Dante)
Wilson does take some liberty, given that much in Dante's crafting of his Commedia eludes precise documentation. For instance, on pg. 35 Wilson points to Pope Boniface's conniving to literally rake in cash at the altar of St. Peter's at the 1300 Jubilee as a way to profit from the newly formulated doctrine of Purgatory as a place as well as a state, where the souls of the dead might be assisted by donations as well as sacrifices by the living. Wilson then claims this set in Dante's "brain a sequence of inspirations which would create a literary masterpiece, the beginnings of modern literature with human singularity and self-consciousness at the center of it." But where is the proof?
His title repeats that of Harriet Rubin's 2004 attempt in similar fashion to provide an introduction full of guidance and ideas for the doughty reader of Dante, and Wilson wanders from the straight path similarly. It's difficult to follow a chronological presentation integrating Dante's formation as a Papal backer turned imperial supporter, and how this gets embedded into the poem and his earlier texts. So, Wilson in 2011 like Rubin goes on tangents and down byways, like Dante the pilgrim, to indulge his curiosity. Along with the political allegiances and the "allegorical autobiography" Wilson notes in the poem a third concentration, unlike that of Chaucer or Shakespeare: Dante's ambition to further his professional credentials as a poet, given the competition such as Guido Cavalcanti, around Florence.
While Wilson's title promises love, Dante also is "the poet of hate, the poet of vengeance, of implacable resentment and everlasting feuds." (40) Hell fills from "hard cases"; those who binge, addicts who choose desires or ambitions rather than God's plan. While the infernal realm itself gains less evocation in Wilson than one may expect (lots of politics, lots of papal intrigue dominate this narrative), he does show the careful reader how Dante used the text to integrate bits of his own life, a confession of sorts aimed at, as the epic unfolds, "universal application" rather than the Rousseau model of self-promotion. Even as Dante filled Hell with Italians and post-dated it to settle his scores.
Wilson finds Dante veering between tenderness and "Tourette's Syndrome" (280) on his quest, and suddenly lurching from one register to the other; at least it stays animated. As in Rubin, Wilson wisely varies the translations to show the variety of ways English voices try to echo the propulsive line of Dante. Certainly terza rima cannot be duplicated, meaning any word-for-word cadences of the language must give way to English sentence structure and can turn stilted or clunky. Wilson cites how the Commedia increased the stock of written Italian from 60% to 90% with its inventive vocabulary.
As one who had left Christianity as an adult and later returned to an Anglican observance, Wilson discerns hints of proto-Reformation unease in Dante's critiques of the Catholic Church, however hidden for understandable caution. Wilson finds a Catholic innovation of purgatory guided by the Aeneid's example in its sixth section of how souls were hung up on the winds or purged by fire, but he does not elaborate this intriguing claim. While endnotes often do point to sources, not all his readings or assertions are grounded, but the list of works consulted does attest as he says to a life spent studying Dante since his teens and a visit to Florence, as well as learning Italian early on there.
One advantage of this study is while Wilson eschews the step-by-step commentary through the poem, he does spend more time in Paradise than, say, Rubin or many readers. They tend to lose steam after the Inferno, bogging down as they hike up Mount Purgatory. The lack of a single translation of the last cantica by a poet to set along Robert Pinsky, Ciaran Carson, or many other versifiers of Inferno, or the elegant W.S. Merwin rendering of Purgatorio, speaks perhaps to this lack of interest for us. Wilson does not say this straight out. But he recommends that "months" spent in the last section may reward, as the verses can be pondered a very few at a time per day, slowing the pace to allow insight.
"Heaven is crowded, but it draws its citizens one by one." (303) Wilson finds beauty in Dante's difficulty, as he moves from observer in Hell to participant in Purgatory to guest in Heaven. By then, we readers find we have entered the allegory, to join Dante "to be unclothed before the searchlight of heaven." In his chapter on Paradise, Wilson reaches his own heights, and this portion merits acclaim.
He follows with "Dante's Afterlife," a fine tour through the ways mainly how Europeans since have kept Dante's memory buried or alive. We glimpse how Henry Francis Cary's 1814 version excited the Romantics; Gladstone himself immersed himself in Dante, as did many Victorians and Edwardians, later in a Temple Classics bilingual edition. From the troubadours to Ezra Pound, Wilson avers the "great European mainstream" endured in its canon, but that this died with T.S. Eliot and Pound's generation. We are walled off from Pound's "common Kulchur" and in that poet's fumbled attempts, Wilson finds "danger" in how moderns might interpret Dante's obsessions. Wilson rightly regards the attempts of today's readers to tackle the Comedy as a classic akin to starting the Bhagavad-Gita. A classic, but a remote one from Western secular mentality, and full of references we lack nowadays.
Still, Wilson leaves us with two suggestions as to its appeal for our century. Outrage at corrupt institutions, and a quest for a "Good Place" animate the poem. Dante continues to anticipate and to articulate our own unease at the past and the present, and tells us our dreams for a better future. This narrative straddles the Christian tradition and the post-Christian attitude many of us inherit whatever our allegiance, and Wilson fairly strives to show Dante's relevance as each century reinterprets this. (Amazon US 10-12-14; see also Prue Shaw's invaluable thematic 2014 study, Reading Dante)
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Cervantes' "Don Quixote": Kindle review
It appears the brave volunteers at Project Gutenberg have fixed their version. The one I downloaded to a new Kindle Touch works fine, table of contents and all. Earlier reviewers complained but I cannot find any faults with my free version. (It's also at gutenberg-dot-org as pg996.mobi @ 1.3 mb.) Amazon lumps many editions of public domain works together in different media and versions now, which I find frustrates those of us looking for audio- or e-book versions to evaluate.
John Ormsby's 1880s translation--also used in the Great Books series, I note--does not seem that antiquated. I sampled Edith Grossman, John Rutherford, and Burton Raffel's recent translations, and there's subtle differences rather than dramatic ones with Ormsby. He may opt for a more polite diction, but he tries to convey the tone of what's mimicking old-fashioned storytelling, after all.
I had read in college the Signet abridgement by Walter Starkie. Tom Lathrop's new reconsideration of this fittingly erratic text that replaces that publisher's edition seems to capture the old spirit of this complicated satire. It appeared to--or Cervantes pretends to let it--get out of control as its success spawned imitation by, and confusion for, all. (Lathrop documents this well--his translated text without the necessary Signet editorial material can be seen online at the Cervantes Project at Texas A+M.)
It took a while to re-read this. The first book unfolds with embedded novellas, chivalric tales of love that play against the sillier ones the Don believes and which Sancho Panza mocks. It's much slower after the initial episodes that bear the most acclaim. (I noticed a sudden and total fall-off in the Kindle annotations others had left!) But, the second book, written years later, amps up the energy and the intertextuality, as the Cide's tale told via the narrator clashes eventually with the sub-par competition of an imposter! The Don, Sancho, and their chroniclers enter "real" 17c Spain.
Cervantes takes on the critiques of Book One well, and it's fun to see how the novel even as invented here argues against its own suppositions. The tale, of course, is full of such clashes of fiction and reality. A surprising amount of abuse is heaped on our protagonists, and this "humor" appears to have worn more thin in centuries since, again a shift to a more modern sensibility that can "feel" the blows and insults suffered more deeply. It ends in a moving deathbed scene, to boot.
The balance between the tone used by Cervantes five centuries ago in parodying medieval romance needs to be acknowledged, and the need for an older register, as well as the post-modern before the modern existed upheavals within the unraveling narrative may test our patience. The joke may wear more thin than we recall. It's a cruel age, as the superhuman feats and bouts of chivalry leave "real" bruises in this telling. But this novel, which Faulkner re-read every year, remains an amazing feat that its author--as with much good art--might never have intended when he began it and worked on it and left it aside and returned to it...memory can be faulty! A fitting reminder for anyone contemplating the protagonist's fate and its author's lessons. (Painting: "Don Quixote Reading" by Adolf Schrödter.) (Amazon US 7-24-12)
John Ormsby's 1880s translation--also used in the Great Books series, I note--does not seem that antiquated. I sampled Edith Grossman, John Rutherford, and Burton Raffel's recent translations, and there's subtle differences rather than dramatic ones with Ormsby. He may opt for a more polite diction, but he tries to convey the tone of what's mimicking old-fashioned storytelling, after all.
I had read in college the Signet abridgement by Walter Starkie. Tom Lathrop's new reconsideration of this fittingly erratic text that replaces that publisher's edition seems to capture the old spirit of this complicated satire. It appeared to--or Cervantes pretends to let it--get out of control as its success spawned imitation by, and confusion for, all. (Lathrop documents this well--his translated text without the necessary Signet editorial material can be seen online at the Cervantes Project at Texas A+M.)
It took a while to re-read this. The first book unfolds with embedded novellas, chivalric tales of love that play against the sillier ones the Don believes and which Sancho Panza mocks. It's much slower after the initial episodes that bear the most acclaim. (I noticed a sudden and total fall-off in the Kindle annotations others had left!) But, the second book, written years later, amps up the energy and the intertextuality, as the Cide's tale told via the narrator clashes eventually with the sub-par competition of an imposter! The Don, Sancho, and their chroniclers enter "real" 17c Spain.
Cervantes takes on the critiques of Book One well, and it's fun to see how the novel even as invented here argues against its own suppositions. The tale, of course, is full of such clashes of fiction and reality. A surprising amount of abuse is heaped on our protagonists, and this "humor" appears to have worn more thin in centuries since, again a shift to a more modern sensibility that can "feel" the blows and insults suffered more deeply. It ends in a moving deathbed scene, to boot.
The balance between the tone used by Cervantes five centuries ago in parodying medieval romance needs to be acknowledged, and the need for an older register, as well as the post-modern before the modern existed upheavals within the unraveling narrative may test our patience. The joke may wear more thin than we recall. It's a cruel age, as the superhuman feats and bouts of chivalry leave "real" bruises in this telling. But this novel, which Faulkner re-read every year, remains an amazing feat that its author--as with much good art--might never have intended when he began it and worked on it and left it aside and returned to it...memory can be faulty! A fitting reminder for anyone contemplating the protagonist's fate and its author's lessons. (Painting: "Don Quixote Reading" by Adolf Schrödter.) (Amazon US 7-24-12)
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Wes Davis' "An Anthology of Modern Irish Poetry": Review
While modern, it's not only modernist in scope; Davis in helpful prefatory essays brings on about fifty poets and gives each perhaps twenty selections. He frames this with a few unobtrusive (if too scanty for a less-informed readership I assume may be often outside of Ireland) endnotes and a helpful, if truncated general introduction. There, anticipating an audience who may take him to task for not including Yeats, he begins with "ancestral figures like [Austin] Clarke, [Patrick] Kavanagh, and [Louis] MacNeice" to show how they responded to the Celtic Twilight of Yeats and predecessors. Kavanagh demanded to diverge from what he summed up or put down as "Poems of Fields, Poems of Rocks, Poems of Bogs; Poems of Bigger Fields, Poems of Harder Rocks, Poems of Deeper Bogs".
Certainly the familiar roster fills much of the nearly thousand pages of this handsomely produced collection. Politics, the Troubles, love, nature, intolerance: they make many appearances. I hazard it's only halfway, with the long lines patterned by Kavanagh and enriched by Robert Lowell in the work of John Ennis (born 1944; authors rank by birth) and then a leap eight years to Harry Clifton, that many readers will find a name or two they might not already know. Davis notes that he wanted to give space to those still writing, and therefore each poet gains about the same amount of space; this balances in my opinion the recognized titles from the usual pantheon with those meriting attention from the younger ranks, and those who've labored long in the shadow of those hoisting awards, occupying tenure and featuring on a syllabus or as a seminar, and jetting around the world.
Therefore, as editor, Davis chooses to direct our attention away from Yeats, not towards him. Any reader can find him and the other famous poets included here elsewhere. What one may not find as easily abroad (published by Harvard this represents this need) might be such as Dennis O'Driscoll, Mary O'Malley, Paula Meehan from the mid-1950s, and those following, to name but a few. Those who grew up studying Yeats and his peers in Ireland later in the century began to explore with greater precision the Irish language traditions, as school in many cases exposed writers to these influences. While the lack of Gaeilge compromises the value of this book somewhat, Michael Davitt, Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, and Cathal Ó Searcaigh in translation arrive to echo its impact, all three anticipated.
After WWII in the North and the South, more poets entered higher education (post-Meehan and O'Driscoll all those listed born after the mid-1950s earned degrees and, increasingly as contemporary times overlap, doctorates). As the present comes closer, the dispersal of those included to other lands, for a while or for good, accelerates. It's no longer the exile brought on by censorship of state or clerisy, but a choice invited by teaching opportunities or occupations abroad that beckons the post-WWII generations away from Ireland even as, in Sara Berkeley's line from rural Northern California, she's 'always leaving Ireland'. (qtd. 858)
It's noteworthy that two couples stationed overseas appear: Vona Groarke with Conor O'Callaghan, and Peter Sirr with Enda Wyley. Poems by later writers roam into corners as often as earlier writers such as Pearse Hutchinson or Richard Murphy poked about Continental, American, Asian, ancient, or medieval lore, but one finds globalization among many newer writers. Justin Quinn wanders Prague; Sinéad Morrissey leaves Belfast to teach in Germany, study in Japan, and to fly over the Gobi Desert.
The greatest pleasure here comes when as Davis intends one can dig down into a poet. Padraic Fiacc's anguish as he returns as a young man from New York City to 1970s Belfast, Meehan's barbed and prickly re-creation of the tale of Acteon beset by maidens as they enter their synchronised menstrual cycle, or O'Driscoll's masterful vignette of 'The Clericals' as they sum up their faded office status as they turn as outmoded as another era's technology await, among hundreds of hidden offerings within.
(Amazon 5-7-13; to Slugger O'Toole 7-18-13 . Thanks to Ben Howard for sending me a copy; part of his in-depth critique can be found via the Sewanee Review (Spring 2013) 21.2.)
Certainly the familiar roster fills much of the nearly thousand pages of this handsomely produced collection. Politics, the Troubles, love, nature, intolerance: they make many appearances. I hazard it's only halfway, with the long lines patterned by Kavanagh and enriched by Robert Lowell in the work of John Ennis (born 1944; authors rank by birth) and then a leap eight years to Harry Clifton, that many readers will find a name or two they might not already know. Davis notes that he wanted to give space to those still writing, and therefore each poet gains about the same amount of space; this balances in my opinion the recognized titles from the usual pantheon with those meriting attention from the younger ranks, and those who've labored long in the shadow of those hoisting awards, occupying tenure and featuring on a syllabus or as a seminar, and jetting around the world.
Therefore, as editor, Davis chooses to direct our attention away from Yeats, not towards him. Any reader can find him and the other famous poets included here elsewhere. What one may not find as easily abroad (published by Harvard this represents this need) might be such as Dennis O'Driscoll, Mary O'Malley, Paula Meehan from the mid-1950s, and those following, to name but a few. Those who grew up studying Yeats and his peers in Ireland later in the century began to explore with greater precision the Irish language traditions, as school in many cases exposed writers to these influences. While the lack of Gaeilge compromises the value of this book somewhat, Michael Davitt, Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, and Cathal Ó Searcaigh in translation arrive to echo its impact, all three anticipated.
After WWII in the North and the South, more poets entered higher education (post-Meehan and O'Driscoll all those listed born after the mid-1950s earned degrees and, increasingly as contemporary times overlap, doctorates). As the present comes closer, the dispersal of those included to other lands, for a while or for good, accelerates. It's no longer the exile brought on by censorship of state or clerisy, but a choice invited by teaching opportunities or occupations abroad that beckons the post-WWII generations away from Ireland even as, in Sara Berkeley's line from rural Northern California, she's 'always leaving Ireland'. (qtd. 858)
It's noteworthy that two couples stationed overseas appear: Vona Groarke with Conor O'Callaghan, and Peter Sirr with Enda Wyley. Poems by later writers roam into corners as often as earlier writers such as Pearse Hutchinson or Richard Murphy poked about Continental, American, Asian, ancient, or medieval lore, but one finds globalization among many newer writers. Justin Quinn wanders Prague; Sinéad Morrissey leaves Belfast to teach in Germany, study in Japan, and to fly over the Gobi Desert.
The greatest pleasure here comes when as Davis intends one can dig down into a poet. Padraic Fiacc's anguish as he returns as a young man from New York City to 1970s Belfast, Meehan's barbed and prickly re-creation of the tale of Acteon beset by maidens as they enter their synchronised menstrual cycle, or O'Driscoll's masterful vignette of 'The Clericals' as they sum up their faded office status as they turn as outmoded as another era's technology await, among hundreds of hidden offerings within.
(Amazon 5-7-13; to Slugger O'Toole 7-18-13 . Thanks to Ben Howard for sending me a copy; part of his in-depth critique can be found via the Sewanee Review (Spring 2013) 21.2.)
Friday, May 17, 2013
Nataly Kelly & Jost Zetzsche's "Found in Translation": Book Review
As a contributor to the Huffington Post as well as a court interpreter
and market researcher, Nataly Kelly and her co-author, the technically
oriented linguist and translator Jost Zetzsche, start off the volume
with lively anecdotes and interviews gleaned from political, legal,
multicultural, diplomatic and military situations. A couple of early [Amazon]
readers of this accessible and casual but learned book offered in-depth
reviews, so mine will be briefer.
The pace is casual, full of pop culture, and very rapid, perhaps suited to those skimming these short factoids and small features within each chapter. Wikipedia, LinkedIn, Google Translate, TED, IKEA mix with biblical, literary, sports, and musical lore. It's similar in tone and insight to what you'd peruse online or as a sidebar in a magazine. This proves a refreshing counterpart to the stodgier academic treatments of translation studies.
Sometimes I wished for more depth. Even in the snippet on how "adult" content challenges "search engine optimization," certainly an intriguing topic, the lack of "hardcore" examples puzzles. It's a brisk look rather than exhaustive investigation, however, pitched more at the casual language buff or curious bystander who may happen on this in a bookstore. I admit that's what pulled me in!
I picked this up, as one who likes language but never learned another one easily. As a longtime, struggling adult learner of Irish, the inclusion of Gaeilge here early on delighted me. It even shows how Shakespeare borrowed in his themes and lyrics from the Gaelic. But this entry comes right after life-and-death issues of translation in the first chapter that had begun with court cases and interpreters within predicaments of danger, so I was unsure why the sudden entrance of my ancestral language.
Also, a statistic as to speakers in 1890s New York City refers to the edition of essays in which the scholarly article appeared which analyzed this case study. But the endnote only gives the general editors and the book title, not the actual essay by another professor, and it's uncited as to the page itself to back up the claim of 75,000 Irish speakers in the city back then. This may be overly picky, but given other references are paginated, to be noted for those using Found in Translation to track down the primary sources the authors list.
Overall, I enjoyed this. I wondered about diacritics and keyboards, and how users of other languages who must mix them in one document fare. I have seen Kindle texts unable to insert Greek, for instance, into older English works from a time more learned than ours. I figure, as the text ends with futurist Ray Kurzweil, that soon we will figure out many problems that challenge and stimulate us by the medium we share online here. (11-28-12 to Amazon US.)
(P.S. Nataly Kelly posted there on 11/30:
... thank you so much for your kind review! I am glad to know that you enjoyed the book and in particular the story about Irish, a language close to my heart as well. The page in the book referenced is Page 274 (in Chapter 10). I will send the page reference to the publisher so we can update this in time for the next printing. Appreciate your careful reading!)
The pace is casual, full of pop culture, and very rapid, perhaps suited to those skimming these short factoids and small features within each chapter. Wikipedia, LinkedIn, Google Translate, TED, IKEA mix with biblical, literary, sports, and musical lore. It's similar in tone and insight to what you'd peruse online or as a sidebar in a magazine. This proves a refreshing counterpart to the stodgier academic treatments of translation studies.
Sometimes I wished for more depth. Even in the snippet on how "adult" content challenges "search engine optimization," certainly an intriguing topic, the lack of "hardcore" examples puzzles. It's a brisk look rather than exhaustive investigation, however, pitched more at the casual language buff or curious bystander who may happen on this in a bookstore. I admit that's what pulled me in!
I picked this up, as one who likes language but never learned another one easily. As a longtime, struggling adult learner of Irish, the inclusion of Gaeilge here early on delighted me. It even shows how Shakespeare borrowed in his themes and lyrics from the Gaelic. But this entry comes right after life-and-death issues of translation in the first chapter that had begun with court cases and interpreters within predicaments of danger, so I was unsure why the sudden entrance of my ancestral language.
Also, a statistic as to speakers in 1890s New York City refers to the edition of essays in which the scholarly article appeared which analyzed this case study. But the endnote only gives the general editors and the book title, not the actual essay by another professor, and it's uncited as to the page itself to back up the claim of 75,000 Irish speakers in the city back then. This may be overly picky, but given other references are paginated, to be noted for those using Found in Translation to track down the primary sources the authors list.
Overall, I enjoyed this. I wondered about diacritics and keyboards, and how users of other languages who must mix them in one document fare. I have seen Kindle texts unable to insert Greek, for instance, into older English works from a time more learned than ours. I figure, as the text ends with futurist Ray Kurzweil, that soon we will figure out many problems that challenge and stimulate us by the medium we share online here. (11-28-12 to Amazon US.)
(P.S. Nataly Kelly posted there on 11/30:
... thank you so much for your kind review! I am glad to know that you enjoyed the book and in particular the story about Irish, a language close to my heart as well. The page in the book referenced is Page 274 (in Chapter 10). I will send the page reference to the publisher so we can update this in time for the next printing. Appreciate your careful reading!)
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