Hello Gentle Reader
Archipelago Books is a wonderful publisher. They are independent and a not-for-profit organization that is devoted to the excellent publications of translated pieces of literature contemporary and classic. In their first eight years they had brought out more than seventy books from more than twenty languages. The best part of their biographical/mission statement is the following:
“Artistic exchange between cultures is a crucial component of global understanding. It has never been more important for voices from around the world to be heard in this country—less than three percent of new literature published the United States originates outside its borders. By publishing diverse and innovative literary translations we are doing what we can to change this shameful reality and broaden the American literary landscape.”
It is the devoted followers, and revolutionary thinkers, like the people and publishers of Archipelago Books that allow for the exchange of ideas and values via world literature and transcendence language barriers, that work towards a continuous dialogue of world literature. Without Archipelago Books nearly forgotten lands like the Scrublands of South Africa, and Chukchi lands of Siberia have found a home in the west, but also the Spanish Basque Country has begun to gain relevance as well as an identity all its own. Other countries like Lebanon have allowed their own unique voices and perceptions to be seen by western readers: from the unstable country of Lebanon, to the cat haunts of Montreal Quebec. Archipelago Books has brought to light authors from around the world, and authors even close to home – Jacques Poulin for example is a French speaking Canadian author who is largely not known outside of the French region of Canada. Also new authors have also been able to find their debut in English speaking countries because of Archipelago Books. Dominique Fabre is one of those authors. A French author who is described as writing about the: “individuals who live on the margins of society.”
However Dominique Fabre might consider what he writes in a different light. At least itself not some easily pigeon holed. Though he agrees that he does write about the contemporary people who live on the margins of society, Mister Fabre would also add that he writes about the quiet dignity that these people express in their daily lives. Dominique Fabre is the kind of author who sees how the most unextraordinary people and can have the most extraordinary lives or rather have the most extraordinary stories to tell in the least extraordinary way. What is so strange and wonderful than about his only published piece of work in English? Nothing. There are no incredible moments of wonder and awe. Quite the opposite really, in this piece of work Dominique Fabre is the epiphany of the anti-climactic, author; and it works for him. It is what makes the authors voice in his musings about the realistic depiction of life and its struggles with such impressionistic observations, potent. This potency is what gives the character Pierre his characterization. His causal observations; his day to day drudge, which isn’t really depicted as some dirge or elegy of the destruction of the human soul. It is described as a fact of life. Pierre is no different than anyone else in the respects of how his life is operated. Though the details vary from each individual and how their lives are lived, in the end each one works to live. Each one is bound by mortality and by financial needs. This is what allows Pierre to radiate such empathy with the reader – because his daily mundane tasks are full of the sacramental rituals we all perform on a day to day basis.
“The Waitress Was New,” covers three days of a bar man’s life. Pierre is an average middle aged man at the age of fifty six years old. He has been working since he was nineteen years old, and at the age off forty-four he almost threw himself into the Seine. He has done work as a bar man throughout his entire life, and obviously finds the work and its routine comforting and or at least appropriate enough for him to continue doing such work. When this poignant little novella begins, it’s easy to see that the day to day routine has been upset. Sabrina the single mother and usual or at least the permanent waitress at the café has called in sick, leaving for a forty year old waitress to take her place, who goes by the name of Madeline. It is this first paragraph that introduces Pierre a casual observer of life, and of other people. Though one who does not wish to intrude or interlope into the boundaries of other people’s lives.
“I don’t look outside too much because everything that matter to me in life always ends up sitting down at my bar, but just then I had a feeling, and I looked out towards the street. Yes its going to rain.”
That quote is one of my personal favourites by Pierre. It describes him perfectly as the casual observer of life. Life passes him bye, and he nonchalantly watches it pass bye, without much of a thought or care, in the fact that it just passes him bye. It is almost borderline apathetic how he chooses not to make any step in walking beside or near the lives of others. Rather Pierre choose to let those who choose to come to him, and even then he only gives half an ear, choosing not to take any responsibility in advising or getting to close or comfortable with others in their lives. That is why being a bar man in a café suits him. People give him their orders. Their desires or their want’s. A bottle of Perrier water; a beer; a coffee; a sandwich or a salad – for Pierre it is just his job; and it suits him fine. He compassionately describes people who come into the café. From the young man always dressed in black and has his nose in a book, to the wealthy client who experiences moments of wanting to undress and take a dive into the Seine.
However on these days that cover the entire novella, it is clear something is seriously wrong at the café. The owner who Pierre often calls the Boss, but whose name is Henri is unsettled, and when the new waitress Madeline comes into the café he takes off. When his wife comes down to take charge of the cash register, she becomes increasingly nervous of his sudden and unexpected disappearance. Pierre tries to shrug it off as middle age mid-life crisis, which the boss must be experiencing. Though there is no denying that it is certainly usual that he goes missing when the full time waitress Sabrina is off sick – and it’s a common though not talked about fact that the boss has been a part of some extra marital activities that do not includes his wife. Without the boss, though life at the café can get a bit hectic and stressful. People want their food on their lunch break. A coffee now please. A bottle of water is necessary at this exact moment. Though it is safe to assume that Pierre and Madeline though feeling the pressure of the rush, they handle the demands of their cliental with grace and dignity.
“The bosses wife had pretty blue-framed glasses with rhinestones at the corners; they sort of made you think of a Caribbean moth, I’d seen them in the window of the optician’s on the Maurice-Bokanowski.”
Pierre’s observations can be from the foreign in the commonplace. These simple observations and glimpses into the interior life of Pierre this casual and compassionate man, who really does not want to get too involved in anyone’s life, but also his own:
“Some days I’d rather not have to come out from behind my bar at all, but there’s no getting around it, life is still on the other side.”
Of course this about as much Pierre really divulges about his own personal life. It can become apparent though that Pierre at the age of fifty-six is like everyone else, working to get bye in life, and working towards retirement – as it becomes clear throughout the novella. He however divulges a few personal quips about himself. He was once married. Though it ended in divorce. Three years ago his most current and last relationship ended. It becomes increasingly wondering in the end if Pierre has relationship issues himself; his cynicism towards relationships in general and young love lead one to see him as a man whose been around the block obviously once or twice; however it does come across that he is the kind of person, that feels uncomfortable in a relationship. I doubt Pierre knew how to communicate and that life itself comes down to business, and the minimalist discussions that keep life just trucking on.
“I hang out my white shirts on the curtain rod in the shower, I get out my space heater to make sure they’d be nice and dry the next morning. I like these moments of my life, and a the same time I am afraid them, because sometimes, with one thing leading to another, I forget that a fifty-six year old guy and then I start asking myself questions. I remember my past, more than forty years ago.”
It is a potent little novella, full of causal and compassionate observations. It is a character study of a middle aged man whose life has not gone the way he wanted or at least expected it to go. The path he has taken has been treaded so long down the line that by the time he may have actually wanted to get off the path, it was too late, and he was stuck finishing the ride. Now he works and looks forward to his retirement which will most likely be a quiet and uneventful retirement. His death would be unceremonious, and his passing over looked, tucked away in the back pages of the obituaries. Though this novella does track the life of a man whose life has been reduced to the marginalized world of a common place unskilled (generally speaking) worker, whose own particular and peculiar talents have been honed through the years, this is not a novella about the grotesque. It’s not like looking at the Diane Arbus photograph, which depicts in an artistic and truly revolutionary way, and documents the grotesque life of the people who go unnoticed because they choose to linger on the very margins and limits of society – and transporting the mundane there. Oh the contrary with Dominique Fabre he sings for the unsung heroes, plucking his lyre, and telling of their mundane and banal trivialities and accomplishments.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
Thursday, 25 October 2012
Thursday, 18 October 2012
The German Book Prize 2012 Winner
Hello
This is a bit late, with the Nobel Prize for Literature heating up last week and then the rather disappointing announcement that the Chinese author Mo Yan had won the Nobel Prize for Literature; it had overshadowed the German Book Prize’s announcement of this year’s award. Ursula Krechel the only woman nominated for this year’s German Book Prize has won it for her novel “District Court.” Which you will recall recounts Germany recent past. Taking place just after World War II, about a German-Jew who returns to a homeland that he can neither recognize or identity with. Ursula Krechel had beat two previous shortlisted authors Clements J Setz and Stephan Tome, while also beating out the new comers.
My delayed congratulations are in order for Ursula Krechel, and her well-deserved win.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong*
M. Mary
This is a bit late, with the Nobel Prize for Literature heating up last week and then the rather disappointing announcement that the Chinese author Mo Yan had won the Nobel Prize for Literature; it had overshadowed the German Book Prize’s announcement of this year’s award. Ursula Krechel the only woman nominated for this year’s German Book Prize has won it for her novel “District Court.” Which you will recall recounts Germany recent past. Taking place just after World War II, about a German-Jew who returns to a homeland that he can neither recognize or identity with. Ursula Krechel had beat two previous shortlisted authors Clements J Setz and Stephan Tome, while also beating out the new comers.
My delayed congratulations are in order for Ursula Krechel, and her well-deserved win.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong*
M. Mary
China’s Nobel Complex Full Filled
Hello Gentle Reader
Sometimes literature and politics are little more black and white then they should be. However at times the talent of the author outweighs their political convictions: Herta Müller; Harold Pinter; Joseph Brodsky – and so on. Other times the politics and the literary become intertwined in reluctant matrimony: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Gao Xingjian. Other times by no choice at all the author does become a political symbol that will out weight his or her literary talents; by both the choice of his or her country’s political devotions but also by his or her lack of political nay say: Mo Yan.
The Chinese government has always been interested and desired a Nobel Prize to go towards a tolerable Chinese citizen. Be it a scientist or a writer – politicians or activists would be out of the question; just look at the example of the dissident Liu Xiaobo who remains a political prisoner; though the Chinese government blatantly denies this. Considering China’s poor human rights track record, their totalitarian political regime, and this time one cannot say that the Nobel Prize for Literature is awarded on pure cultural purposes – may their be ancient; classical; historical or contemporary examples of a beautiful culture – but when the state itself holds the power to censor and to punish unpatriotic or ‘un-Chinese,’ writers or scientists; the prize should not be awarded to a national citizen who still identifies or lives within the country – whether or not they are supportive of the regime or quiet about it. Why? Because the award no longer has its pure cultural agenda in mind; it becomes a political statement. It becomes an award that has fallen prey to the lobbying and to the protests and to the agenda of actively seeking a prize for reasons other than cultural purposes and the individuals own literary merits.
The Nobel Prize for Literature is an award given to the individual who have the necessary and outstanding and exceptional merits that constitute for their recognition of this prize. This time however, on a personal note the award was given to a rather undeserving author for his lack of protests against his own government’s intolerable actions. More deserving Chinese authors are: Bei Dao, Duo Duo, Ah Cheng, Xi Chuan, and the late Mu Xin. These authors would be far more fitting then the politically tolerable one. One simply has to look back in a year’s time after the Nobel Peace Prize was given to Liu Xiaobo. His wife Liu Xia is being held hostage and prisoner in her own home. She is isolated from the rest of the world with no internet, television or telephone. The only contact she has is with her mother. China continues this belligerent attack against the family of Xiaobo.
When the first Chinese born writer and playwright who had become a French citizen; Gao Xingjian, had won the award in the year two-thousand the Chinese government was less then warm about it. Congratulating the author and France for the award – further showing their abandonment of Gao Xingjian as a Chinese writer and citizen. Now that Mo Yan has been awarded the Prize it is safe to say that China is pleasantly pleased with the award. However the dangerous dance is being played. As Mo Yan made the political comment that fellow Laureate Liu Xiaobo’s freedom.
Perhaps this award was not a complete waste. Still however I feel personally that the award could have been given to more deserving writer. Perhaps next year there will be more careful choice placed into the award. For now I debate whether or not to read the authors novel(s). Now it’s the waiting game to see what’s going to happen next, between Mo Yan and the Chinese government.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
Sometimes literature and politics are little more black and white then they should be. However at times the talent of the author outweighs their political convictions: Herta Müller; Harold Pinter; Joseph Brodsky – and so on. Other times the politics and the literary become intertwined in reluctant matrimony: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Gao Xingjian. Other times by no choice at all the author does become a political symbol that will out weight his or her literary talents; by both the choice of his or her country’s political devotions but also by his or her lack of political nay say: Mo Yan.
The Chinese government has always been interested and desired a Nobel Prize to go towards a tolerable Chinese citizen. Be it a scientist or a writer – politicians or activists would be out of the question; just look at the example of the dissident Liu Xiaobo who remains a political prisoner; though the Chinese government blatantly denies this. Considering China’s poor human rights track record, their totalitarian political regime, and this time one cannot say that the Nobel Prize for Literature is awarded on pure cultural purposes – may their be ancient; classical; historical or contemporary examples of a beautiful culture – but when the state itself holds the power to censor and to punish unpatriotic or ‘un-Chinese,’ writers or scientists; the prize should not be awarded to a national citizen who still identifies or lives within the country – whether or not they are supportive of the regime or quiet about it. Why? Because the award no longer has its pure cultural agenda in mind; it becomes a political statement. It becomes an award that has fallen prey to the lobbying and to the protests and to the agenda of actively seeking a prize for reasons other than cultural purposes and the individuals own literary merits.
The Nobel Prize for Literature is an award given to the individual who have the necessary and outstanding and exceptional merits that constitute for their recognition of this prize. This time however, on a personal note the award was given to a rather undeserving author for his lack of protests against his own government’s intolerable actions. More deserving Chinese authors are: Bei Dao, Duo Duo, Ah Cheng, Xi Chuan, and the late Mu Xin. These authors would be far more fitting then the politically tolerable one. One simply has to look back in a year’s time after the Nobel Peace Prize was given to Liu Xiaobo. His wife Liu Xia is being held hostage and prisoner in her own home. She is isolated from the rest of the world with no internet, television or telephone. The only contact she has is with her mother. China continues this belligerent attack against the family of Xiaobo.
When the first Chinese born writer and playwright who had become a French citizen; Gao Xingjian, had won the award in the year two-thousand the Chinese government was less then warm about it. Congratulating the author and France for the award – further showing their abandonment of Gao Xingjian as a Chinese writer and citizen. Now that Mo Yan has been awarded the Prize it is safe to say that China is pleasantly pleased with the award. However the dangerous dance is being played. As Mo Yan made the political comment that fellow Laureate Liu Xiaobo’s freedom.
Perhaps this award was not a complete waste. Still however I feel personally that the award could have been given to more deserving writer. Perhaps next year there will be more careful choice placed into the award. For now I debate whether or not to read the authors novel(s). Now it’s the waiting game to see what’s going to happen next, between Mo Yan and the Chinese government.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
The Booker Prize 2012
Hello Gentle Reader
The Booker Prize 2012 winner is a mark on history for two reasons. One it is the only third person to have been awarded the prize twice; and also the first woman to be awarded the award twice. However it is also a disappointing victory in my opinion. As if the award itself has become a literary good ol'boys club, where new talent and independent authors and publishers are ignored by more established authors. Hilary Mantel won this year's award -- for a second time; with her novel "Bring Up The Bodies," a sequel to her previous Man Booker Prize "Wolf's Hall."
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
The Booker Prize 2012 winner is a mark on history for two reasons. One it is the only third person to have been awarded the prize twice; and also the first woman to be awarded the award twice. However it is also a disappointing victory in my opinion. As if the award itself has become a literary good ol'boys club, where new talent and independent authors and publishers are ignored by more established authors. Hilary Mantel won this year's award -- for a second time; with her novel "Bring Up The Bodies," a sequel to her previous Man Booker Prize "Wolf's Hall."
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
Thursday, 11 October 2012
The Nobel Prize in Literature of 2012
Hello Gentle Reader
The 2012 Nobel Prize in Literature of two thousand and twelve has been awarded to the Chinese author Mo Yan for:
"who with hallucinatory realism merges folk tales, history and the contemporary."
Congratulations to Mo Yan for winning the Nobel Prize in Literature
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
The 2012 Nobel Prize in Literature of two thousand and twelve has been awarded to the Chinese author Mo Yan for:
"who with hallucinatory realism merges folk tales, history and the contemporary."
Congratulations to Mo Yan for winning the Nobel Prize in Literature
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
Monday, 8 October 2012
The Last Update . . .
Hello Gentle Reader
This will be the last post until the big day on Thursday. Where everyone can take a deep breath from the anticipation and excitement and finally feel a sense of relaxation and peace for another year. Yesterday it was informed that the Nobel Prize for Literature’s date had still to be set – it is now officially set for the eleventh of October. Also yesterday William Trevor the Irish novelist and renowned short story writer had moved to third place with his chances of winning on Ladbrokes. Now on the same website the update is that William Trevor is 7/1 odds and second runner behind the favoured Haruki Murakami at 2/1. This places the new Mo Yan at 8/1, which is also shared by perennial contenders Alice Munro and Peter Nadar’s both at 8/1. The young Polish writer Olga Tokarczuk has also moved down the list for the odds at 20/1 but her age most likely hinders her way of being awarded the prize; and her body of work can still grow – and perhaps for the best. In later years I suspect she will become a more serious contender. Umberto Eco has also shuffled down to 25/1 shared with the Belgian poet and diarist Leonard Nolens.
The Austrian writer and dramatist Peter Handke and the Canadian hybrid poet Anne Carson have also jumped down the list of names from their high perch at the beginning of this betting at 100/1. Now both sit at 33/1.
Every day the odd’s get a little more interesting. Though from the list that grows and changes, there become some very interesting and names, and some very interesting authors that it would be neat to see their work translated or at least reprinted.
But Nobel Week has officially started. With the Nobel Prize in Medicine and Physiology already awarded to two stem cell researchers; the British Sir John Gurdon and the Japanese Shinya Yamanaka.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
This will be the last post until the big day on Thursday. Where everyone can take a deep breath from the anticipation and excitement and finally feel a sense of relaxation and peace for another year. Yesterday it was informed that the Nobel Prize for Literature’s date had still to be set – it is now officially set for the eleventh of October. Also yesterday William Trevor the Irish novelist and renowned short story writer had moved to third place with his chances of winning on Ladbrokes. Now on the same website the update is that William Trevor is 7/1 odds and second runner behind the favoured Haruki Murakami at 2/1. This places the new Mo Yan at 8/1, which is also shared by perennial contenders Alice Munro and Peter Nadar’s both at 8/1. The young Polish writer Olga Tokarczuk has also moved down the list for the odds at 20/1 but her age most likely hinders her way of being awarded the prize; and her body of work can still grow – and perhaps for the best. In later years I suspect she will become a more serious contender. Umberto Eco has also shuffled down to 25/1 shared with the Belgian poet and diarist Leonard Nolens.
The Austrian writer and dramatist Peter Handke and the Canadian hybrid poet Anne Carson have also jumped down the list of names from their high perch at the beginning of this betting at 100/1. Now both sit at 33/1.
Every day the odd’s get a little more interesting. Though from the list that grows and changes, there become some very interesting and names, and some very interesting authors that it would be neat to see their work translated or at least reprinted.
But Nobel Week has officially started. With the Nobel Prize in Medicine and Physiology already awarded to two stem cell researchers; the British Sir John Gurdon and the Japanese Shinya Yamanaka.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
Sunday, 7 October 2012
It Gets Closer by the Passing Day's . . .
Hello Gentle Reader
First and foremost I would like to welcome my fifth follower to the Blog. I would welcome you with a name, but at the moment my blog does not allow me to see any of my followers and so I am afraid you are a mystery to me. That being noted I welcome to this blog and thank-you for following.
With every passing day it gets closer; and as it gets closer the betting becomes more intense. The official date for the announcement of the winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature has not been proclaimed and scheduled; however it is susceptible and with in due reason that it will be awarded next Thursday. However this year it has become more restricted and all precautions have been taken to maintain the secrecy of the award, and its integrity. According “The Vancouver Sun,” the additional measures that have been taken this year are: there will be no press release delivered by courier to any news agency, including the associated press; as well as the Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy Peter Englund will not be giving any interviews leading up to the(se) final week(s) towards the announcement date.
In an e-mail to the Associated Press Peter Englund had explained that “we think it is better this way,”—and for all the complaints and outrage about the prize going to the obscure or undeserving (first off that’s not their call) but it follows suit in the integrity of the will of Alfred Nobel, and his wish to keep it secret.
That being said betting is on! Haruki Murakami still is at the forefront followed by another Asian writer; Chinese Mo Yan. However this is where it gets good. William Trevor an octogenarian writer and one of the greatest practitioners alongside Alice Munro of the short story; has taken quite the leap forward via Ladbrokes and is now in third place with odds of 11/100. Past favourites Ko Un and Adonis have taken a step back though – this of course is bittersweet. Both poets are fine poets; and are readable I find as well. An ability to communicate a wealth of idea’s in a simple way and being comprehended by the everyday. Formal experimentation almost appears to be abandoned; or rather it is put aside in regards, to focus on beauty and aesthetics and spiritual enlightenment in a different way; were it is not placing the style and standards of poetry and honing it into a crystalline form and then placed on a pedestal in a intellectual and literary clique. Where it remains. A singular place among a very few groups of people.
English Poetry for myself personally has always been a formal experimenter. One in which it is a code. It is hermetic and reclusive. Punctuation and words are used as dictated by style and form. Interpretation becomes dictated and stale as stagnant water. Whereas I have found the poetry of such poets like: Nobel Laureates Wislawa Szymborska and Tomas Tranströmer; Ko Un and Adonis to be more flowing and freer than that of English poetics of such poets as Byron, Wordsworth and Blake – that speak of romanticism and holy and heavenly moments, but lack the grounded earthly composure as such as the other poets above.
Look at “The Moon,” by Ko Un
“Every time the moon rose, she prayed.
Finally Wol-nam's mother, at forty, bore a son.
In dreams before pregnancy,
she swallowed the moon.
After her son was born, Wol-nam's mother
would lose her mind
without fail
every time the moon rose.
Late at night, washing dishes,
she'd smash one bowl-
the moon then hid in a cloud
and the world grew blind.”
The poetry deals with the miracles of daily life. They deal with the absurdities the trails of life and the individuals that inhabitant life. These poems are precious echoes of laughs; peals of tears; and offer insights into the human spirit.
Adonis may have more difficulty winning the prize; because of the minor outrage that he was not awarded the prize in two-thousand and eleven because of the Arab Spring – of course Peter Englund had retorted that the Nobel for Literature was not awarded for political reasons describing it as “Literature for Dummies,” and he is right. Though it does hurt his chances; for some reasons awarding it again in another year to another poet is always a risky move. The politics of what is going on in Syria can also cause a controversy. Either way this year’s prize is interesting. Admittedly, I hope for Alice Munro; but also Ko Un and Adonis. In a few years Cesair Aira’s will be on the list as well; to really skip the rock across the water it would be really neat to see an author that I have just started to read (and really like) -- Jacques Poulin: a Canadian-Quebecois writer whose inmate and quiet style reminds me of being curled up next to a fire place, when the glowing embers are still warm on the back. – And truly in secret I also hope for a real obscure author whose award will force its way into translation.
For now the Gentle Reader we wait in (im)patience for the award, to see who bet right and who for sure put their money on the wrong candidate.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
First and foremost I would like to welcome my fifth follower to the Blog. I would welcome you with a name, but at the moment my blog does not allow me to see any of my followers and so I am afraid you are a mystery to me. That being noted I welcome to this blog and thank-you for following.
With every passing day it gets closer; and as it gets closer the betting becomes more intense. The official date for the announcement of the winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature has not been proclaimed and scheduled; however it is susceptible and with in due reason that it will be awarded next Thursday. However this year it has become more restricted and all precautions have been taken to maintain the secrecy of the award, and its integrity. According “The Vancouver Sun,” the additional measures that have been taken this year are: there will be no press release delivered by courier to any news agency, including the associated press; as well as the Permanent Secretary of the Swedish Academy Peter Englund will not be giving any interviews leading up to the(se) final week(s) towards the announcement date.
In an e-mail to the Associated Press Peter Englund had explained that “we think it is better this way,”—and for all the complaints and outrage about the prize going to the obscure or undeserving (first off that’s not their call) but it follows suit in the integrity of the will of Alfred Nobel, and his wish to keep it secret.
That being said betting is on! Haruki Murakami still is at the forefront followed by another Asian writer; Chinese Mo Yan. However this is where it gets good. William Trevor an octogenarian writer and one of the greatest practitioners alongside Alice Munro of the short story; has taken quite the leap forward via Ladbrokes and is now in third place with odds of 11/100. Past favourites Ko Un and Adonis have taken a step back though – this of course is bittersweet. Both poets are fine poets; and are readable I find as well. An ability to communicate a wealth of idea’s in a simple way and being comprehended by the everyday. Formal experimentation almost appears to be abandoned; or rather it is put aside in regards, to focus on beauty and aesthetics and spiritual enlightenment in a different way; were it is not placing the style and standards of poetry and honing it into a crystalline form and then placed on a pedestal in a intellectual and literary clique. Where it remains. A singular place among a very few groups of people.
English Poetry for myself personally has always been a formal experimenter. One in which it is a code. It is hermetic and reclusive. Punctuation and words are used as dictated by style and form. Interpretation becomes dictated and stale as stagnant water. Whereas I have found the poetry of such poets like: Nobel Laureates Wislawa Szymborska and Tomas Tranströmer; Ko Un and Adonis to be more flowing and freer than that of English poetics of such poets as Byron, Wordsworth and Blake – that speak of romanticism and holy and heavenly moments, but lack the grounded earthly composure as such as the other poets above.
Look at “The Moon,” by Ko Un
“Every time the moon rose, she prayed.
Finally Wol-nam's mother, at forty, bore a son.
In dreams before pregnancy,
she swallowed the moon.
After her son was born, Wol-nam's mother
would lose her mind
without fail
every time the moon rose.
Late at night, washing dishes,
she'd smash one bowl-
the moon then hid in a cloud
and the world grew blind.”
The poetry deals with the miracles of daily life. They deal with the absurdities the trails of life and the individuals that inhabitant life. These poems are precious echoes of laughs; peals of tears; and offer insights into the human spirit.
Adonis may have more difficulty winning the prize; because of the minor outrage that he was not awarded the prize in two-thousand and eleven because of the Arab Spring – of course Peter Englund had retorted that the Nobel for Literature was not awarded for political reasons describing it as “Literature for Dummies,” and he is right. Though it does hurt his chances; for some reasons awarding it again in another year to another poet is always a risky move. The politics of what is going on in Syria can also cause a controversy. Either way this year’s prize is interesting. Admittedly, I hope for Alice Munro; but also Ko Un and Adonis. In a few years Cesair Aira’s will be on the list as well; to really skip the rock across the water it would be really neat to see an author that I have just started to read (and really like) -- Jacques Poulin: a Canadian-Quebecois writer whose inmate and quiet style reminds me of being curled up next to a fire place, when the glowing embers are still warm on the back. – And truly in secret I also hope for a real obscure author whose award will force its way into translation.
For now the Gentle Reader we wait in (im)patience for the award, to see who bet right and who for sure put their money on the wrong candidate.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
Thursday, 4 October 2012
Requiem: A Hallucination
Hello Gentle Reader
In the Portuguese language there is a word called: ‘saudade,’ which has no immediate translation into English. However it best described as a desire for something in the past or the future – not a deep sadness, but rather a melancholic dreamy wistfulness. The English language with all its complexities of technical pyrotechnics and tyrannical rules and rebellious rule breakers, does not have a word that can translate or even compare to ‘saudade.’ Of course one could say that it could compare to nostalgia. However nostalgia is rooted in a past experience or in the past permanently. Such as one having nostalgia for childhood. A simpler time, is best described feeling of nostalgia. A time where everything made sense and where worldly worries and problems were solved, in less complex and adult fashions. Whereas ‘saudade,’ is ghostly in its definition: as being a vague longing or feeling for something that does not or cannot exist. This gives the Portuguese language a strange feeling. A language full of fantastical words of phantasmagoric meanings, even Fernando Pessoa, the enigmatic and almost schizophrenic author with his various different heteronyms is one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century and one of the greatest poets that wrote in the Portuguese language. Antonio Tabucchi is a Italian author by birth. He however adopted Portugal as his homeland, and in turn Portugal had adopted him back. All of this because of the poet Fernando Pessoa, who in the nineteen-sixties had touched a young Antonio Tabucchi studying at the Sorbonne. Antonio Tabucchi was charmed so much that he even decided to learn the language for better appreciation of Pessoa’s work. In nineteen-sixty nine Antonio Tabucchi had written his thesis titled ‘Surrealism in Portugal,’ from there on out Tabucchi’s life took an intellectual turn of events. In nineteen-seventy three Tabucchi was appointed a teacher of the Portuguese language and Literature at Bologna. But his breakthroughs were to come in just a few short more years. In nineteen-seventy eight Tabucchi was appointed to the University of Genoa, and from there his writing career started, with his early published works, “The Little Canal,” followed by “The Game inside and out: and other stories,” as well as “The Women of Porto Pim,” – which interestingly enough will be published in twenty thirteen by Archipelago Books, a not-for profit publishing house that is devoted to publishing excellent translations of classic and contemporary world literature. Also interestingly enough in October of two thousand and twelve “The Flying Creatures of Fra Angelico,” by Antonio Tabucchi will be published by Archipelago Books and will be translated by Tim Parks. It was not until nineteen-eighty four however that Antonio Tabucchi did not receive the recognition that he deserved. With “Indian Nocturne,” Antonio Tabucchi found his literary audience, and with it Tabucchi was awarded the Prix Medicis and award given to authors, whose fame does not yet match their talent. This novel was also made into a French language film, directed by Alain Corneau. It is from this first novel that others were to succeed it like “Pereira Declares,” “the missing head of damasceno monteiro,” “It’s Getting Later All The Time,” and “Requiem: A Hallucination.”
In his later years, Antonio Tabucchi was often a Nobel Contender for the Prize in Literature. He would have made a great Laureate in my opinion. Following in the cosmopolitan footsteps of previous winners like Herta Müller (though some would say she is a dissident writer) Jean Marie Gustav Le Clezio, Doris Lessing (who grew up in the failing days of a colonial world – and often primarily identified ‘English author,’) as well as others like Ivan Bunin who in his later life took up residency in France, like other writers to follow Ernest Hemmingway for example. Even Franz Kafka who had died before his literary achievements were noticed, is also such a writer who had transcended countries and borders and also languages – as Franz Kafka was Jewish and a Czech but wrote in German. Another such author is the Yugoslavian Ivo Andric who too this day is difficult to classify as a writer because of the turbulent time in which he was born. He was born in what is now known as Bosnia to Croatian parents, and then later lived and worked in what is now known as Serbia. Which places him a author in all three literary categories, which larger more detailed language cracks forming as well – causing further debate amongst the three, countries as to whom Ivo Andric belongs. In the end Antonio Tabucchi would have fit in perfectly with the other authors who, explore the freedom of human authorship and the ecstasy of the world and its varied cultures, how different languages offer different perspectives. However this achievement will never be realised. Antonio Tabucchi was one of the first names in the two thousand and twelve to have died, back in March. His death defeated his chances of winning one of the most prestigious prizes in Literature. His death also one of the many too come to leave a hallow void in the pit of my stomach. However his death pushed me to read whatever I could get my hands on.
“Requiem: A Hallucination,” is one of Tabucchi’s more interesting novels, because it was originally written in Portuguese rather than the mother tongue of the author Italian. This further intensifies the love story that the author has for the country of Portugal, and of course one of his most influential authors on Tabucchi and his work Fernando Pessoa, who interestingly enough makes a cameo in this novel (though not actually named) and who is also hinted at throughout the book. The first being hinted at, with the Lottery-Ticket Seller, being the most obvious and straightforward.
This novel however is rich with the main character not being the narrator himself, or the journey that moves like a wistful dream, but rather because of the characters that populate it. The nameless characters who with their distinct personal backgrounds and characteristics give the city its own charm and life of its own.
The sweet taxi driver who though does not have his actual taxi drivers license, continues to help the narrator find a place where he can get a clean shirt. To where he meets an old gypsy who in the baking heat underneath the unforgiving sun of Lisbon, is dressed in black and a yellow head scarf. There she reads the fortune of the narrator and sells him two ‘genuine,’ Lacoste polo shirts – where all you need to do is just stick the alligator onto to the shirt and ta-da it’s genuine. Other characters also come by like Tadeus who treats the narrator to new and exciting meals of Portugal. He meets his now dead father while having a sleep in a boarding house – where he explains his father death to his father’s younger self, who takes the future like a bitter pill that needs to be swallowed. Each of these shades of the past look towards the future. Much as the narrator himself looks toward the past for answers.
As one reviewer has stated “Requiem,” is not a novel that tries to pose itself as a novel that follows in the same merits and is by far a reflection of what it is passing itself off as one in some illusionary yet cheap trick. Instead Tabucchi takes what would be a cheap street parlour trick for most authors, and turns it into an act of magic itself. Rather than imitate Fernando Pessoa, Antonio Tabucchi recognizes his own limitations as an author, but also realizes and thrives in his own strengths. Instead Antonio Tabucchi writes of a hymn of indirectness. Everything is misled, and the world itself is lost in a heat wave, which subjugates the world further into a place of fantastic characters.
The characters as pointed out again in another review can be alluded to Fernando Pessoa but as well as one of Fernando Pessoa’s greatest creations and probably most confusing creation of an author who continues to baffle me – : Heteronyms. The literary creation of Fernando Pessoa, but differ from a pen name or alias in the fact that Heteronyms are a creation and life of their own. They are more than just names; they are people in their own rights. They hold distinct biographies in their own right. These Heteronyms to this day, Fernando Pessoa, continue to confuse me, not as literary creations but on whether the author was sane or not. To varying degrees while reading about Fernando Pessoa and his creations via the internet and articles on his most famous work “The Book of Disquiet,” confuses and flabbergasts me, and makes me wonder if the author himself is schizophrenic or suffer from an identity disorder. Maybe it is my western thought on the matter. The desire and need to know as well as identify the subjected problem or what is suspected as a problem, which does not fit into the concept of normalcy in my thinking. However since the first initial discovery of the thought and idea of Heteronyms I have been more lenient and less rigid then they have been. Rather than attempt to understand the concept I have seen it as a form of literary ventriloquism or acting – or in this case throwing one’s own identity and taking on the shape of a new one with different fictional components. As if donning a mask, and for brief moments becoming posed in the fictional world of that character. However what becomes interesting with these concepts of Heteronyms and their relation to Fernando Pessoa, which therefore is of interest to Antonio Tabucchi, lead another reviewer to suspect or at least theorize on the very notion that some of the characters (to all of characters with the exception of the one who the narrator is to meet) are layers and layers of different identities and characteristics of the narrator, who continues to subjectively experience the world and seek answers from the past with a sense of saudade.
My only regret with this novel is that it wasn’t longer. At a mere short one hundred and six pages, I had the book read in an afternoon between chores and a few real life trivialities that needed to be tended too. However Antonio Tabucchi is an economical writer. His writing is lush and expansive, yet it is contained. Antonio Tabucchi is a writer who won’t waste his time writing expansive prose that continue on for pages on end. His writing is indirect in its writing, and also shifts from page to page, continuously however it is a readable writing and also continues to amaze and astonish.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
In the Portuguese language there is a word called: ‘saudade,’ which has no immediate translation into English. However it best described as a desire for something in the past or the future – not a deep sadness, but rather a melancholic dreamy wistfulness. The English language with all its complexities of technical pyrotechnics and tyrannical rules and rebellious rule breakers, does not have a word that can translate or even compare to ‘saudade.’ Of course one could say that it could compare to nostalgia. However nostalgia is rooted in a past experience or in the past permanently. Such as one having nostalgia for childhood. A simpler time, is best described feeling of nostalgia. A time where everything made sense and where worldly worries and problems were solved, in less complex and adult fashions. Whereas ‘saudade,’ is ghostly in its definition: as being a vague longing or feeling for something that does not or cannot exist. This gives the Portuguese language a strange feeling. A language full of fantastical words of phantasmagoric meanings, even Fernando Pessoa, the enigmatic and almost schizophrenic author with his various different heteronyms is one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century and one of the greatest poets that wrote in the Portuguese language. Antonio Tabucchi is a Italian author by birth. He however adopted Portugal as his homeland, and in turn Portugal had adopted him back. All of this because of the poet Fernando Pessoa, who in the nineteen-sixties had touched a young Antonio Tabucchi studying at the Sorbonne. Antonio Tabucchi was charmed so much that he even decided to learn the language for better appreciation of Pessoa’s work. In nineteen-sixty nine Antonio Tabucchi had written his thesis titled ‘Surrealism in Portugal,’ from there on out Tabucchi’s life took an intellectual turn of events. In nineteen-seventy three Tabucchi was appointed a teacher of the Portuguese language and Literature at Bologna. But his breakthroughs were to come in just a few short more years. In nineteen-seventy eight Tabucchi was appointed to the University of Genoa, and from there his writing career started, with his early published works, “The Little Canal,” followed by “The Game inside and out: and other stories,” as well as “The Women of Porto Pim,” – which interestingly enough will be published in twenty thirteen by Archipelago Books, a not-for profit publishing house that is devoted to publishing excellent translations of classic and contemporary world literature. Also interestingly enough in October of two thousand and twelve “The Flying Creatures of Fra Angelico,” by Antonio Tabucchi will be published by Archipelago Books and will be translated by Tim Parks. It was not until nineteen-eighty four however that Antonio Tabucchi did not receive the recognition that he deserved. With “Indian Nocturne,” Antonio Tabucchi found his literary audience, and with it Tabucchi was awarded the Prix Medicis and award given to authors, whose fame does not yet match their talent. This novel was also made into a French language film, directed by Alain Corneau. It is from this first novel that others were to succeed it like “Pereira Declares,” “the missing head of damasceno monteiro,” “It’s Getting Later All The Time,” and “Requiem: A Hallucination.”
In his later years, Antonio Tabucchi was often a Nobel Contender for the Prize in Literature. He would have made a great Laureate in my opinion. Following in the cosmopolitan footsteps of previous winners like Herta Müller (though some would say she is a dissident writer) Jean Marie Gustav Le Clezio, Doris Lessing (who grew up in the failing days of a colonial world – and often primarily identified ‘English author,’) as well as others like Ivan Bunin who in his later life took up residency in France, like other writers to follow Ernest Hemmingway for example. Even Franz Kafka who had died before his literary achievements were noticed, is also such a writer who had transcended countries and borders and also languages – as Franz Kafka was Jewish and a Czech but wrote in German. Another such author is the Yugoslavian Ivo Andric who too this day is difficult to classify as a writer because of the turbulent time in which he was born. He was born in what is now known as Bosnia to Croatian parents, and then later lived and worked in what is now known as Serbia. Which places him a author in all three literary categories, which larger more detailed language cracks forming as well – causing further debate amongst the three, countries as to whom Ivo Andric belongs. In the end Antonio Tabucchi would have fit in perfectly with the other authors who, explore the freedom of human authorship and the ecstasy of the world and its varied cultures, how different languages offer different perspectives. However this achievement will never be realised. Antonio Tabucchi was one of the first names in the two thousand and twelve to have died, back in March. His death defeated his chances of winning one of the most prestigious prizes in Literature. His death also one of the many too come to leave a hallow void in the pit of my stomach. However his death pushed me to read whatever I could get my hands on.
“Requiem: A Hallucination,” is one of Tabucchi’s more interesting novels, because it was originally written in Portuguese rather than the mother tongue of the author Italian. This further intensifies the love story that the author has for the country of Portugal, and of course one of his most influential authors on Tabucchi and his work Fernando Pessoa, who interestingly enough makes a cameo in this novel (though not actually named) and who is also hinted at throughout the book. The first being hinted at, with the Lottery-Ticket Seller, being the most obvious and straightforward.
This novel however is rich with the main character not being the narrator himself, or the journey that moves like a wistful dream, but rather because of the characters that populate it. The nameless characters who with their distinct personal backgrounds and characteristics give the city its own charm and life of its own.
The sweet taxi driver who though does not have his actual taxi drivers license, continues to help the narrator find a place where he can get a clean shirt. To where he meets an old gypsy who in the baking heat underneath the unforgiving sun of Lisbon, is dressed in black and a yellow head scarf. There she reads the fortune of the narrator and sells him two ‘genuine,’ Lacoste polo shirts – where all you need to do is just stick the alligator onto to the shirt and ta-da it’s genuine. Other characters also come by like Tadeus who treats the narrator to new and exciting meals of Portugal. He meets his now dead father while having a sleep in a boarding house – where he explains his father death to his father’s younger self, who takes the future like a bitter pill that needs to be swallowed. Each of these shades of the past look towards the future. Much as the narrator himself looks toward the past for answers.
As one reviewer has stated “Requiem,” is not a novel that tries to pose itself as a novel that follows in the same merits and is by far a reflection of what it is passing itself off as one in some illusionary yet cheap trick. Instead Tabucchi takes what would be a cheap street parlour trick for most authors, and turns it into an act of magic itself. Rather than imitate Fernando Pessoa, Antonio Tabucchi recognizes his own limitations as an author, but also realizes and thrives in his own strengths. Instead Antonio Tabucchi writes of a hymn of indirectness. Everything is misled, and the world itself is lost in a heat wave, which subjugates the world further into a place of fantastic characters.
The characters as pointed out again in another review can be alluded to Fernando Pessoa but as well as one of Fernando Pessoa’s greatest creations and probably most confusing creation of an author who continues to baffle me – : Heteronyms. The literary creation of Fernando Pessoa, but differ from a pen name or alias in the fact that Heteronyms are a creation and life of their own. They are more than just names; they are people in their own rights. They hold distinct biographies in their own right. These Heteronyms to this day, Fernando Pessoa, continue to confuse me, not as literary creations but on whether the author was sane or not. To varying degrees while reading about Fernando Pessoa and his creations via the internet and articles on his most famous work “The Book of Disquiet,” confuses and flabbergasts me, and makes me wonder if the author himself is schizophrenic or suffer from an identity disorder. Maybe it is my western thought on the matter. The desire and need to know as well as identify the subjected problem or what is suspected as a problem, which does not fit into the concept of normalcy in my thinking. However since the first initial discovery of the thought and idea of Heteronyms I have been more lenient and less rigid then they have been. Rather than attempt to understand the concept I have seen it as a form of literary ventriloquism or acting – or in this case throwing one’s own identity and taking on the shape of a new one with different fictional components. As if donning a mask, and for brief moments becoming posed in the fictional world of that character. However what becomes interesting with these concepts of Heteronyms and their relation to Fernando Pessoa, which therefore is of interest to Antonio Tabucchi, lead another reviewer to suspect or at least theorize on the very notion that some of the characters (to all of characters with the exception of the one who the narrator is to meet) are layers and layers of different identities and characteristics of the narrator, who continues to subjectively experience the world and seek answers from the past with a sense of saudade.
My only regret with this novel is that it wasn’t longer. At a mere short one hundred and six pages, I had the book read in an afternoon between chores and a few real life trivialities that needed to be tended too. However Antonio Tabucchi is an economical writer. His writing is lush and expansive, yet it is contained. Antonio Tabucchi is a writer who won’t waste his time writing expansive prose that continue on for pages on end. His writing is indirect in its writing, and also shifts from page to page, continuously however it is a readable writing and also continues to amaze and astonish.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
Wednesday, 3 October 2012
The German Book Prize Shortlist (expanded)
Hello Gentle Reader
On this blog it has already been discussed about the shortlist for one of Germany's most prestigious literary prizes. However now arts .21 have released the video, documenting the books and the authors that have written them. Please turn all cell phones off, turn down the lights, have some pop corn, and enjoy the program:
http://mediacenter.dw.de/english/video/item/663583/Nominees_for_the_German_Book_Prize/
(for the first bit about the German Book Prize please see the following link to to a later blog post):
http://morose-mary.blogspot.ca/2012/09/the-german-book-prize-short-list.html
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
On this blog it has already been discussed about the shortlist for one of Germany's most prestigious literary prizes. However now arts .21 have released the video, documenting the books and the authors that have written them. Please turn all cell phones off, turn down the lights, have some pop corn, and enjoy the program:
http://mediacenter.dw.de/english/video/item/663583/Nominees_for_the_German_Book_Prize/
(for the first bit about the German Book Prize please see the following link to to a later blog post):
http://morose-mary.blogspot.ca/2012/09/the-german-book-prize-short-list.html
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)