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Wednesday, July 14th, 2010
I've started reading Richard Slotkin's Regeneration through violence with the idea that I might be able to draw some parallels between his narrative of myth formation and Borges' stories... In service of that end, here is a passage from "Narrative of the Warrior and the Captive Maiden" (from The Aleph) and one from Slotkin's book.
John Williams' narrative, The Redeemed Captive, taught that the ultimate salvation of the soul itself was really at stake in the trial by captivity. One of Williams' daughters, who was very young when captured, could not be won from her captors in time for repatriation with her father. The result was typical of the fate of many captives: she forgot her language and her catechism and became at once a papist and a pagan savage, married to an Indian. Despite the efforts of her father and her family to bring her back, she refused all opportunities to resume her former life. On one occasion she returned to the neighborhood of her birthplace (Deerfield, MA) dressed as an Indian. Her friends clothed her in the English fashion and sent her to meeting, but she "indignantly threw off her clothes in the afternoon, and resumed the Indian blanket." By her own declaration she preferred the Indian way of life. ...she declared that she would never move again from Canada to New England because to do so would "endanger her soul."
Her visit occurred in 1740-41 at the height of the Great Awakening, and her presence in the congregation had been the occasion for "A Sermon Preached at Mansfield, August 4, 1741, at a Time set apart for Prayer for the Revival of Religion," by Pastor Solomon Williams. It was perhaps Williams' attempt to use her as an example of God's delivering a soul from bondage to the devil that made her afraid of "losing" in New England the "soul" she had developed in thirty-eight years of captivity.
-- Chapter 4, "Israel in Babylon"
Perhaps for one instant the two women saw that they were sisters; they were far from their beloved island in an incredible land. My grandmother, enunciating carefully, asked some question or other; the other woman replied haltingly, searching for the words and then repeating them, as though astonished at the old taste of them. It must have been fifteen years since she'd spoken her native language, and it was not easy to recover it. She said she was from Yorkshire, that her parents had emigrated out to Buenos Aires, that she had lost them in an Indian raid, that she had been carried off by the Indians, and that now she was the wife of a minor chieftain -- she'd given him two sons; he was very brave. She said all this little by little, in a clumsy sort of English interlarded with words from the Auracan or Pampas tongue, and behind the tale one caught glimpses of a savage and uncouth life... An Englishwoman, reduced to such barbarism! Moved by outrage and pity, my grandmother urged her not to go back. She swore to help her, swore to rescue her children. The other woman answered that she was happy, and she returned that night to the desert.
--"The Warrior and the Captive Maiden" (Hurley's translation)
 Further reading -- The Redeemed Captive; Narrative of the Captivity of Mary Rowlandson
posted evening of July 14th, 2010: Respond
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 Harvey Pekar passed away on Monday at the age of 70. I'm sorry he is gone; loved to read his comix. I was never a fan, exactly -- I think I only own one collection of American Splendor, plus The Quitter -- it was always something I read at somebody else's recommendation. Still, worth noting his passing, and pointing out some particularly good memorial writing I've seen around the blogosphere this week:
 Another artist who died on Monday (at the age of 86), who did not get as much attention in the subset of blogs that I read but whom I am in mourning for as well, is Tuli Kupferberg of the Fugs. Albert Amateau has written his obituary at The Villager; more write-ups and more links at The Allen Ginsberg Project. (And a fine remembrance of Tuli from Mary Lyn Maiscott at Vanity Fair.) A memorial service for Tuli will be held at St. Mark's church on Saturday, from 12-3 pm, with a reception to follow. There will be no religious element to the service, and Coby, Steve and Ed of the Fugs will be the main speakers. Afterwards, anyone who wants to can talk, sing, recite poetry, or whatever they like.
posted evening of July 14th, 2010: Respond
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Monday, July 12th, 2010
On WNYC this morning, Leonard Lopate interviewed Edith Grossman and Lawrence Senelick on the importance of translation.
(You can also read a nice interview with Grossman from a few years back, in Guernica magazine.)
posted evening of July 12th, 2010: Respond
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Monday, July 5th, 2010
| Hace ya tantos años que Carlos Reyles, hijo del novelista, me refirió la historia en Adrogué, en un atardecer de verano. En mi recuerdo se confunden ahora la larga crónica de un odio y su trágico fin con el olor medicinal de los eucaliptos y la voz de los pájaros. | | It's been many years already since Carlos Reyles, son of the novelist, told me this story -- in Adrogué, one evening in the summer. In my memory are muddled now the long story of a hatred and its tragic ending, with the sickly odor of the eucalyptuses, the cry of birds. -- beginning of "The Other Duel" |
This beginning is fairly characteristic of the stories in Brodie's Report -- the narrator (who is often identifiably Borges) distances himself from the story he is telling. He introduces it as a story he heard years ago, that he doesn't remember, quite, and is embroidering with his own inventions -- sometimes (eg "Unworthy") the character who is telling the enclosed story explicitly expects Borges to weave a story out of it, to decorate it with knife fights and lawlessness.
posted evening of July 5th, 2010: Respond
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In two or three pieces in Alma del suburbio, Carriego approached the epic; others were closer to  social commentary. In Canción del barrio he crossed from Almafuerte's "sacred cosmic rabble"* to the humble middle class. In this second and final step we will find his most famous (if not his greatest) works of poetry. This journey brought him to what we might without deprecation call a poetry of quotidian misery -- a poetry of sick-beds, of failure, of time running in its course, wearing us down and sapping our will to live; a poetry of the family, of affections, of daily habits, even of gossip. It is worthy of note that tango would evolve along the same lines.
-- Borges, foreword to Versos de Carriego
Here are Carlos Gavito and Marsela Duran, tangoing to Eduardo Rovira's "A Evaristo Carriego." The orchestra is the Boston Pops.
 * (or "omnipresent sacred rabble" maybe? di Giovanni renders it "cosmic holy rabble".)
posted morning of July 5th, 2010: Respond
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Sunday, July 4th, 2010
At the opening of "Juan Muraña" (the fifth story in Brodie's Report), Borges refers back to a biography of Evaristo Carriego which he wrote in 1930 (and which I see was translated by Norman Thomas di Giovanni, in 1984*) -- his old classmate Trápani mentions the book by way of asking what Borges knows of "malevos," a word which I am not finding  in the dictionary but which Hurley translates as "fighters and thugs and underworld types." ("Gangsters" seems like it might work just as well...)
I took the opportunity to have a look at Borges' foreword to Versos de Carriego, a selection which he edited in 1964** -- it is giving me another bit of nuance about the Argentine literary tradition Borges is coming out of. Previously I had been thinking the knife fighting in his Argentine stories was a reference to gauchesca literature, the literature of the pampas; but in this foreword he writes, Esteban EcheverrÃa was the first chronicler of the pampas; Evaristo Carriego, it appears, was the first chronicler of the arrabales [suburban slums around Buenos Aires].
There is knife fighting in gauchesca literature, but the knife fighting in the stories in Brodie's Report all takes place in the slums around Buenos Aires; the reference here is not to gauchos but to malevos.Below the fold, a little more from the foreword, which makes Carriego's work sound fairly important to the evolution of Argentine literature. Carriego's complete works are online at Proyecto Biblioteca Digital Argentina.
From the foreword:
Carriego could not have carried out his works without the enormous freedom of vocabulary, of theme and of meter which Modernism granted to the literatures of the Spanish tongue, both on this side and on the other side of the ocean; but the Modernism which was his stimulus was also his enemy. A good portion of Heretic Masses is given over to involuntary parody of DarÃo and of Herrera. But beyond these pages, and beyond the rest, the discovery (let's call it that) of our suburbs is the most valuable contribution of Carriego.
And
I know little of his political inclinations -- a likely guess is that he was vaguely, eloquently an anarchist. [which cf Borges' statements about his own politics in the foreword to Brodie's Report.]... He worked ceaselessly, driven by the soft mania of the tubercular. ... He died twenty-nine years of age, at the same age and of the same disease as John Keats. Both men had a hunger for fame -- [this last bit I am finding very hard to understand, not sure whether from a language problem or a complexity problem:]
la pasión era lÃcita en aquel tiempo, ajeno todavÃa a las malas artes de la publicidad.
* di Giovanni wrote an essay on "Evaristo Carriego: Borges as Biographer," which one can read in part at Google Books.
** (Also included in Prologos is a foreword to Roberto Godel's Birth by Fire -- In "Juan Muraña," Borges mentions that Godel was in school with him and Trápani.)
↻...done
posted evening of July 4th, 2010: Respond
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Thursday, July first, 2010
| Estaba compilando, me dijo, una copiosa antologÃa de la obra de Baruch Spinoza aligerada de todo ese aparato euclidiano que traba la lectura y que da la fantástica teorÃa un rigor ilusorio. | | Fischbein was putting together, as he told me, a collection of the work of Baruch Spinoza, shorn of this whole Euclidian business which hinders the reading experience and which lends the bizarre theory some rigor, some illusory rigor. |
The first page of "Unworthy" has me scurrying to find out a little more about Spinoza, bizarre theories lent an illusory rigor by a Rube Goldberg Euclidian apparatus sounds like just my cuppa tea... I spend a little time looking at his Short Treatise on God, Man and Human Welfare and am finding it... strange. Not "difficult to parse," which has often been my experience reading philosophy, but just wrong-headed. Statements like "So since man has an idea of God it is clear that God must exist formally" have me scratching my head and wondering what Spinoza makes of unicorns and leprechauns, and flying spaghetti monsters... Statements like "Since Nothing can have no attributes, the All must have all attributes" have me shaking my head and muttering that that does not follow, all your capitalization and italics will not make it follow. All this head-scratching and head-shaking and muttering is making it hard to get anywhere with the text. (It was fun to find out, though, that I can nearly read Dutch -- if I squint just right and have the translation to hand -- I had never thought to look much at Dutch before but the description I've heard of it as being halfway between German and English seems just about right.)
Joseph B. Yesselman maintains a hypertext library of Spinoza's works translated into English. It seems like his Ethics and possibly Tractatus Theologico-Politicus are where I should look for Euclidean apparati.
posted morning of July first, 2010: Respond
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Saturday, June 26th, 2010
In the interest of drawing connections between unrelated texts... This passage from "Unworthy":
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La imagen que tenemos de la ciudad siempre es algo acrónica. El café ha degenerado en bar; el zaguán que nos dejaba entrever los patios y la parra es ahora un borroso corredor con un ascensor en el fondo.
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The image which one holds of one's city is always a little anacronistic. This café has deteriorated into a bar; that hallway, the one through which we could make out the patio and the garden, is now a faded corridor with an elevator at the far end.
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deserves to be read in conjunction with this song:
(and well also, the song deserves to be listened to in conjunction with that passage -- they magnify one another, is what I mean.)
 Another useful point of reference for this passage, and for this song, is the beginning of "The aleph":
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La candente mañana de febrero en que Beatriz Viterbo murió ..., noté que las carteleras de fierro de la Plaza Constitución habÃan renovado no sé qué aviso de cigarrillos rubios; el hecho me dolió, pues comprendà que el incesante y vasto universo ya se apartaba de ella y que ese cambio era el primero de una serie infinita.
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On the hot February morning when Beatriz Viterbo died ..., I noticed that the iron billboards in Plaza Constitución had been cleared of their advertisement for blonde cigarettes (or whatever it had been)... The matter caused me some pain, when I understood that the vast, incessant universe was detaching itself from her memory; this change would be the first in an infinite series.
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posted afternoon of June 26th, 2010: Respond
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| Esa obra era un escándolo, porque la confusión y la maravilla son operaciónes propias de Dios y no de los hombres. | | This work [the building of a labyrinth in Babylon] caused outrage; for chaos and miracles are acts proper to God, not to mortals. |
-- "The two kings and the two labyrinths",
which Borges attributes to an inauthentic edition of the 1001 Nights.
In the foreword to Brodie's Report, Borges claims to be attempting ("I don't know how successfully") the composition of direct narratives, stories which do not mislead -- the implicit counterpart being that his previous volumes of stories have been labyrinths, mazes for the reader to lose himself in. (He draws a parallel to Kipling's work which I don't fully understand, need to look into that a bit more.) This is an interesting claim and I think it bears some thinking about...One way of treating this foreword is as itself a clever bit of misdirection. I have only read Brodie's Report once, in the course of reading Collected Fictions this Spring, did not blog about it at all; my impression was that the stories in this volume would be, after I read them some more and got comfortable with them, my very favorite of Borges' stories, and that while there was a good deal of potential for the reader to get lost in the mazes of these stories, one would need to pull in the themes and storylines of his earlier fictions to make that happen -- that the stories appeared to be straightforward narrative but contained secondary levels in which the path of plot was not as obvious. I'm embarking on a second read now, to try and confirm some of this and to see how they hold up on rereading. Here is some beautiful prose from the foreword:
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He intentado, no sé con qué fortuna, la redacción de cuentos directos. No me atrevo a afirmar que son sencillos; no hay en la tierra una sola página, una sola palabra que lo sea, ya que todas postulan el universo, cuyo más notorio atributo es la complejidad. Sólo quiero aclarar que no soy, ni he sido jamas, lo que antes se llamaba un fabulista o un predicador de parábolas y ahora un escritor comprometido. No aspiro a ser Esopo.
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I have made an attempt, I don't know how successfully, at the composition of direct narratives. I am not claiming that they are simple; there is not a single page on earth -- a single word -- that is simple; for every word must assume the entire universe, whose most noteworthy attribute is complexity.* I would only like to clarify that I am not -- I have never been -- what was once called a fabulist, a preacher of parables, what is now called an "engaged" author. I have no desire to be Æsop.
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 *In this regard, see also "Scripture".
Reading further, he is talking about his political beliefs in a slightly combative way, or perhaps in a resigned tone with a bit of self-justification about it. He says, his writing does not contain his personal political views -- except for once, in the case of the Six Days War -- this almost sounds like a response to (or an anticipation of) people who think he was denied a Nobel prize which he deserved, on the basis of being considered too conservative. The Six Days War thing would be useful to read up on... not finding quickly what writing he's got in mind, though I see a reference to it in this MartÃn Zubieta piece at leedor.com.
posted morning of June 26th, 2010: Respond
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Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010
 "I believe the best thing is for an author to intervene as little as possible in his work."
Well this is an exciting find: a lecture by Borges with the stated subject, "Concerning My Stories." I've been reading his stories, and some of his essays and lectures as well, but him talking about writing his stories is a new one for me! New and welcome.
Unfortunately none of the sites where I'm finding this lecture have any information about its provenance.* It's definitely from the late '70's or early '80's (because of which stories he talks about), and I'm guessing it was given in Argentina. Don't know what book it was published in, or if it has appeared in translation -- it is not in Selected Non-Fictions. He discusses four stories: "The Zahir," "The Book of Sand," "Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius" -- he describes these three as variations on a single theme, which seems to me to be stretching it, though I can certainly see the similarities between the first two -- and "The Weary Man's Utopia," which I was surprised at because it had made so little impression on me when I read it** -- I had to scratch my head for a while to even remember what he was talking about. He calls The Book of Sand "my greatest book, if I may speak of greatest books." (I will need to go back to The Book of Sand -- it does not seem to me like his greatest book, but I have only read it once, and at the tail end of reading all his other works.) I found the talk about composing "The Zahir" the most interesting -- he starts out with just a word, "unforgettable," and imagines what it might mean if it were used in a literal sense. Progresses from there to talking about choosing a coin as the unforgettable object, about obsession, about Poe and Lenore, about love and God and insanity.
* I am also seeing the same piece under the title "The Short Story and I", again with no information about provenance. ...But, aha! Here it is published in Los escritores y la creación en Hispanoamérica, with the following note:
Jorge Luis Borges, "Borges Tells How He Creates His Stories". ...Lecture published in 1978 in the magazine Quimera, #103-104. Transcribed by Amérigo Cristófalo.
** And when he is talking about "The Weary Man's Utopia" he makes reference to a Coleridge line which sounded very familiar as I was reading it -- turns out, it is the line which Pamuk used as his epigraph to The Museum of Innocence.
posted evening of June 23rd, 2010: Respond
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