In the comentario under the poem “Palabra de Mujer” in his book Caminante John Oliver Simon notes that “Cerro Huitztepec,” a place name in Chiapas, Mexico, “means Mountain Mountain Mountain in Spanish, Mayan, and Nahuatl respectively.”
Puts me in mind of my British Life & Culture teacher 22 years ago in London. He said the River Avon (Shakespeare’s brook!) essentially means River River in English and Celtic. This is probably true of more place names than we realize. When a people comes to a land new to them they ask the present natives what things there are called. If “Avon” doesn’t mean anything to you, it sounds like a proper name, so you have to add a clarifying noun. River Avon doesn’t mean River River to an English speaker because Avon doesn’t mean anything to an English speaker.
“Adam”, I once read, means “Man” so any man named Adam is named redundantly. The Dine people (Dine being what the Navajo call themselves) translates as The People people.
I think this is called semantic opacity. Something “semantically opaque … passe[s] through a system without its contents being inspected or manipulated as if it was a black box.” A “black box” being a box no one thinks to open?
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
John Oliver Simon on Ron Silliman
In Caminante, John Oliver Simon’s sequence of poems written during a several-month travel through Latin America, Simon includes “comentarios” in prose after each poem. The comentario gives the poem context (where it was written, who was around) and explains obscurities and culturally specific references. Under the poem “Not Language”, Simon takes on Ron Silliman:
“’the lie of closure,’ writes l*a*n*g*u*a*g*e poet Ron Silliman, lying to us and to himself on every possible level. Our raw material as poets is not words but things, not syntax but lives. Mortal, we work toward an ending.”
“’the lie of closure,’ writes l*a*n*g*u*a*g*e poet Ron Silliman, lying to us and to himself on every possible level. Our raw material as poets is not words but things, not syntax but lives. Mortal, we work toward an ending.”
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
strapling
context: “Sadir laughed and hoisted me up by my arm. He was a strapling of a man, as strong and ropy as a marathoner. I figured him for a rock climber. The mountains had made him ageless – he could have been twenty-five or forty.”
source of quote: Chasing the Sea: lost among the ghosts of empire in Central Asia, by Tom Bissell
Consider this a sequel to my May 26 post. In his book on the great apes Paul Raffaele described a gorilla nest in which the animal had “snapped and bent some striplings together …” In my May 26 post I noted that I was unable to find a definition of stripling that matched Raffaele’s use of the word. A stripling is not a form of plant growth. A stripling is a young man.
Similarly, I was unable to locate a definition of “strapling” that matched Tom Bissell’s use of the word. The urban dictionary offers, “incredibly good at sex,” and gives this sentence for context, “The strapling young lad pleasured her all night long.”
I don’t think the urban dictionary’s definition is the one Bissell had in mind. “Strapling” does not occur at Dictionary.com or in the Microsoft Word dictionary. Perhaps Bissell confused the words “strapping” (“tall and powerfully built,” according to the MS Word dictionary) and “stripling.”
I remember the strange “strapping” from my childhood. It always seemed to occur in a phrase like, “He was a strapping young man.” Thus I assumed it meant “healthy” or maybe good-natured. When I finally cracked a dictionary to see what it said I learned “strapping” was supposed to mean “muscular.” Tom Bissell’s new friend was certainly muscular – and powerful. If Sadir could have been 25, he must have seemed youthful (whatever “ageless” quite means), so “stripling” must have echoed in Bissell’s brain.
Strapling – it’s not a bad coinage. I rather doubt, though, that “stripling” and “strapping” remain familiar enough for their “strapling” offspring to achieve a long life.
source of quote: Chasing the Sea: lost among the ghosts of empire in Central Asia, by Tom Bissell
Consider this a sequel to my May 26 post. In his book on the great apes Paul Raffaele described a gorilla nest in which the animal had “snapped and bent some striplings together …” In my May 26 post I noted that I was unable to find a definition of stripling that matched Raffaele’s use of the word. A stripling is not a form of plant growth. A stripling is a young man.
Similarly, I was unable to locate a definition of “strapling” that matched Tom Bissell’s use of the word. The urban dictionary offers, “incredibly good at sex,” and gives this sentence for context, “The strapling young lad pleasured her all night long.”
I don’t think the urban dictionary’s definition is the one Bissell had in mind. “Strapling” does not occur at Dictionary.com or in the Microsoft Word dictionary. Perhaps Bissell confused the words “strapping” (“tall and powerfully built,” according to the MS Word dictionary) and “stripling.”
I remember the strange “strapping” from my childhood. It always seemed to occur in a phrase like, “He was a strapping young man.” Thus I assumed it meant “healthy” or maybe good-natured. When I finally cracked a dictionary to see what it said I learned “strapping” was supposed to mean “muscular.” Tom Bissell’s new friend was certainly muscular – and powerful. If Sadir could have been 25, he must have seemed youthful (whatever “ageless” quite means), so “stripling” must have echoed in Bissell’s brain.
Strapling – it’s not a bad coinage. I rather doubt, though, that “stripling” and “strapping” remain familiar enough for their “strapling” offspring to achieve a long life.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
word of the day: climacteric
context: “In the fall of 1996, while my fellow volunteers and I underwent our Peace Corps training, Uzbekistan was suffering its largest agricultural shortfall in history. I knew nothing of this. Nor did I know about the potentially climacteric deals with Western companies such as McDonald’s melting into air because of the Uzbek government’s devotion to nativistic, strong-arm economics.”
Tom Bissell is saying that, even if you were inside Uzbekistan, it was hard to know much about it.
definition: “any critical period”
source: dictionary.com
So those “climacteric deals with … McDonald’s” were crititcally timed deals? The opportunity not grasped at once was lost? … McDonald’s? Yeah. Won’t see its like again.
The “critical period” definition seemed most apropos. However, the main definition seems to be: menopause …
source of quote: Chasing the Sea: lost among the ghosts of empire in Central Asia, by Tom Bissell
Tom Bissell is saying that, even if you were inside Uzbekistan, it was hard to know much about it.
definition: “any critical period”
source: dictionary.com
So those “climacteric deals with … McDonald’s” were crititcally timed deals? The opportunity not grasped at once was lost? … McDonald’s? Yeah. Won’t see its like again.
The “critical period” definition seemed most apropos. However, the main definition seems to be: menopause …
source of quote: Chasing the Sea: lost among the ghosts of empire in Central Asia, by Tom Bissell
Sunday, August 01, 2010
pile of reading
The New Yorker, Dec. 10, 2007
Yes, I’m reading 2 1/2 year old New Yorkers. Hendrik Hertzberg starts “The Talk of the Town” column by castigating “the Bush Administration [over its] Mesopotamian misadventure.” There’s an essay on medicine by Atul Gawande. I recently read a collection of Gawande’s called Complications, a mix of journalism and memoir that reminded me of Lewis Thomas.
Caminante, poems by John Oliver Simon
I’ve met John Oliver Simon and we have friends & acquaintances in common. I’ve never cottoned to his poetry, but I wondered if I’d never given it enough of a chance. I’m enjoying this, a sort of Latin American haibun, in which Simon offers the poem first (always 8 lines) then follows with a prose piece placing the poem in the context of the journey through Latin America that he was taking in 1995-96; the prose also offers English translations of Spanish words in the poem and other helpful exposition. “Slide this chip under your tongue. / This stone is made of water. / Two-headed hurricane eagle crying.” In the following note Simon explains, “The two-headed golden eagle was traded out of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in Colombia …”
The Garden Thrives: Twentieth-Century African-American Poetry, edited with an introduction by Clarence Major.
I found this on the clearance shelf at Half Price Books so it was really cheap. For some reason it jumped the line; I mean, I’ve got stacks of books that I’ve been looking forward to reading yet this relative newbie was the one I picked up.
Captains of the Sands, by Jorge Amado
Continuing to work my way through the many novels of Jorge Amado. When readers come to the Information Desk at the library looking for a new author to fall in love with, I have to admit I repeatedly recommend Amado. I started this then got distracted by life.
The Golden Ass: the transformations of Lucius by Apuleius, translated by Robert Graves
Haven’t gotten far in this either. Each time I read a few paragraphs I like it but I haven’t yet read more than a few paragraphs at a sitting.
Postmodern American Poetry, edited by Paul Hoover
About two-thirds of the way through and I’m discovering poets I like and rediscovering some I’d forgotten about. Michael Palmer: “You would like to live somewhere else // away from the exaggerated music / in a new, exaggerated shirt”
The Twelve Caesars by Suetonius
I don’t know if I’m really tackling this but when I picked it up last night I read this: “Caesar also put on a gladiatorial show, but had collected so immense a troop of combatants that his terrified political opponents rushed a bill through the House, limiting the number of gladiators that anyone might keep in Rome; consequently far fewer pairs fought than had been advertised.” Julius Caesar was just an up-and-comer at the time, not yet dictator, so he had to follow the law, which meant he had reduce the number of shows, which meant he opened himself up to the charge of false advertising. I mean, I’m totally charmed by Suetonius explaining why Caesar’s disappointment of a gladiatorial show wasn’t Caesar over-promising and under-delivering. No, he had to follow the law!
Worse Than War: genocide, eliminationism, and the ongoing assault on humanity, by Daniel Jonah Goldhagen
The prose is a bit leaden and repetitive and the subject deeply depressing, so I read only two or three pages at a time and wondered if I was going to make it through the book’s 600 pages. But then after describing how easy it is to kill many many people – and Goldhagen wasn’t talking about bombs, he was talking about clubs and small arms and machetes – he asks, “Why do the killers kill?” Do they approve of killing? When 40% of the population actively participates in the killing, and another 20% or more seems to approve, how did they get this far in their lives without whacking people over a place in line?
Chasing the Sea: lost among the ghosts of empire in Central Asia, by Tom Bissell
A mix of travel-writing, memoir, and history. Bissell returns to Uzbekistan years after having failed at a Peace Corps gig there. This time he’s on assignment. What happened to the Aral Sea?
Yes, I’m reading 2 1/2 year old New Yorkers. Hendrik Hertzberg starts “The Talk of the Town” column by castigating “the Bush Administration [over its] Mesopotamian misadventure.” There’s an essay on medicine by Atul Gawande. I recently read a collection of Gawande’s called Complications, a mix of journalism and memoir that reminded me of Lewis Thomas.
Caminante, poems by John Oliver Simon
I’ve met John Oliver Simon and we have friends & acquaintances in common. I’ve never cottoned to his poetry, but I wondered if I’d never given it enough of a chance. I’m enjoying this, a sort of Latin American haibun, in which Simon offers the poem first (always 8 lines) then follows with a prose piece placing the poem in the context of the journey through Latin America that he was taking in 1995-96; the prose also offers English translations of Spanish words in the poem and other helpful exposition. “Slide this chip under your tongue. / This stone is made of water. / Two-headed hurricane eagle crying.” In the following note Simon explains, “The two-headed golden eagle was traded out of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta in Colombia …”
The Garden Thrives: Twentieth-Century African-American Poetry, edited with an introduction by Clarence Major.
I found this on the clearance shelf at Half Price Books so it was really cheap. For some reason it jumped the line; I mean, I’ve got stacks of books that I’ve been looking forward to reading yet this relative newbie was the one I picked up.
Captains of the Sands, by Jorge Amado
Continuing to work my way through the many novels of Jorge Amado. When readers come to the Information Desk at the library looking for a new author to fall in love with, I have to admit I repeatedly recommend Amado. I started this then got distracted by life.
The Golden Ass: the transformations of Lucius by Apuleius, translated by Robert Graves
Haven’t gotten far in this either. Each time I read a few paragraphs I like it but I haven’t yet read more than a few paragraphs at a sitting.
Postmodern American Poetry, edited by Paul Hoover
About two-thirds of the way through and I’m discovering poets I like and rediscovering some I’d forgotten about. Michael Palmer: “You would like to live somewhere else // away from the exaggerated music / in a new, exaggerated shirt”
The Twelve Caesars by Suetonius
I don’t know if I’m really tackling this but when I picked it up last night I read this: “Caesar also put on a gladiatorial show, but had collected so immense a troop of combatants that his terrified political opponents rushed a bill through the House, limiting the number of gladiators that anyone might keep in Rome; consequently far fewer pairs fought than had been advertised.” Julius Caesar was just an up-and-comer at the time, not yet dictator, so he had to follow the law, which meant he had reduce the number of shows, which meant he opened himself up to the charge of false advertising. I mean, I’m totally charmed by Suetonius explaining why Caesar’s disappointment of a gladiatorial show wasn’t Caesar over-promising and under-delivering. No, he had to follow the law!
Worse Than War: genocide, eliminationism, and the ongoing assault on humanity, by Daniel Jonah Goldhagen
The prose is a bit leaden and repetitive and the subject deeply depressing, so I read only two or three pages at a time and wondered if I was going to make it through the book’s 600 pages. But then after describing how easy it is to kill many many people – and Goldhagen wasn’t talking about bombs, he was talking about clubs and small arms and machetes – he asks, “Why do the killers kill?” Do they approve of killing? When 40% of the population actively participates in the killing, and another 20% or more seems to approve, how did they get this far in their lives without whacking people over a place in line?
Chasing the Sea: lost among the ghosts of empire in Central Asia, by Tom Bissell
A mix of travel-writing, memoir, and history. Bissell returns to Uzbekistan years after having failed at a Peace Corps gig there. This time he’s on assignment. What happened to the Aral Sea?
Sunday, July 18, 2010
pile of reading
A Single Hurt Color poems by Andrew Demcak
Goss 183 Casa Menendez Press, Bloomington IL
This is Andrew’s third book of poems. I bought it from him where he works as a children’s librarian at the Piedmont Branch of the Oakland Public Library. A few blocks away is the Kaiser Hospital where Kent was having surgery. I’d gotten an Oakland library card when Kent had his first surgery back in March. But I didn’t check anything out at the time. So this second time I was stuck in the neighborhood I made sure to check something out. Oakland library puts you on probation, see. When you first use your card you can only check out one item. Only once you’ve returned the item can you check out more and then up to whatever the limit is, which I forget. I checked out Assembly Required: notes from a deaf gay life, a collection of essays by Raymond Luczak, which I sat at a table to read. When I looked up I saw Andrew was at his desk, so I went over to talk with him. We met when he worked for the Berkeley library a few years ago. Having read his first book already I wondered if Andrew had a copy of his second book with him – I’d buy it! Andrew dithered a moment then went to look in the back room, emerging a moment later with A Single Hurt Color. “You can have it,” he said. “You don’t have to pay anything.” I gave him a ten dollar bill. Andrew wanted to give it back to me. I said, “Buy a drink or something.”
The Golden Ass: the transformations of Lucius translated by Robert Graves from Apuleius
Farrar Straus & Giroux, NY
I’ve barely started this.
Postmodern American Poetry edited by Paul Hoover
W.W. Norton, NY
I’m a bit past half way. Have been reading this anthology off & on for months.
American Hunks by David L. Chapman & Brett Josef Grubisic
Arsenal Pulp Press, Vancouver
Can’t say as I’m a huge muscle fan, but there’s a charming retro quality to this exhibition of Chapman’s collection of male hunk photos and drawings. It’s interesting watching the evolution of the depiction of the crafted male body over the 19th and 20th centuries. Chapman says he has no taste for the body builder form from the 70s to the present as those bodies display the unnatural effects of chemicals like steroids. Indeed, none of the photos in the book show off the hugely distorted bodies we’ve come to expect in contemporary body builder competitions.
Almost Human: a journey into the world of baboons by Shirley C. Strum
Random House, NY
I like reading naturalists’ accounts of animal watching. There are always such good stories among the nonhuman. At the point in the book I’m reading Strum is having to deal with human encroachment on the baboon troops. Though the land is marginal for agriculture the Kenyan government begins to settle farmers there. The baboons ignore the farms at first but when drought makes wild food scarce they notice the crops.
Worse Than War: genocide, eliminationism, and the ongoing assault on humanity by Daniel Jonah Goldhagen
Public Affairs, NY
Can’t read much of this book at a sitting, mainly because it’s depressing to read accounts of atrocities. Plus, it’s long.
A Garden of Peonies translations of Chinese oems into English verse, by Henry H. Hart
Stanford University Press, Stanford CA
Good quality translations from 1938. “The yellow leaves / Fall to the earth, / And the green moss / Is wet with dew.”
NEWAVE! the underground mini comix of the 1980s edited by Michael Dowers
Fantagraphics Books, Seattle WA
My brother David produced a number of mini comics back in the 80s. I even wrote scripts for some of ‘em. None, unfortunately, appears in this anthology. (Though David is mentioned.) Though I tried to keep an eye out for mini comics most of these are unfamiliar. The subtitle declares “of the 1980s” but the anthology starts in the 70s so it may be that much of the work in it originally appeared before I was even aware of mini comics.
Goss 183 Casa Menendez Press, Bloomington IL
This is Andrew’s third book of poems. I bought it from him where he works as a children’s librarian at the Piedmont Branch of the Oakland Public Library. A few blocks away is the Kaiser Hospital where Kent was having surgery. I’d gotten an Oakland library card when Kent had his first surgery back in March. But I didn’t check anything out at the time. So this second time I was stuck in the neighborhood I made sure to check something out. Oakland library puts you on probation, see. When you first use your card you can only check out one item. Only once you’ve returned the item can you check out more and then up to whatever the limit is, which I forget. I checked out Assembly Required: notes from a deaf gay life, a collection of essays by Raymond Luczak, which I sat at a table to read. When I looked up I saw Andrew was at his desk, so I went over to talk with him. We met when he worked for the Berkeley library a few years ago. Having read his first book already I wondered if Andrew had a copy of his second book with him – I’d buy it! Andrew dithered a moment then went to look in the back room, emerging a moment later with A Single Hurt Color. “You can have it,” he said. “You don’t have to pay anything.” I gave him a ten dollar bill. Andrew wanted to give it back to me. I said, “Buy a drink or something.”
The Golden Ass: the transformations of Lucius translated by Robert Graves from Apuleius
Farrar Straus & Giroux, NY
I’ve barely started this.
Postmodern American Poetry edited by Paul Hoover
W.W. Norton, NY
I’m a bit past half way. Have been reading this anthology off & on for months.
American Hunks by David L. Chapman & Brett Josef Grubisic
Arsenal Pulp Press, Vancouver
Can’t say as I’m a huge muscle fan, but there’s a charming retro quality to this exhibition of Chapman’s collection of male hunk photos and drawings. It’s interesting watching the evolution of the depiction of the crafted male body over the 19th and 20th centuries. Chapman says he has no taste for the body builder form from the 70s to the present as those bodies display the unnatural effects of chemicals like steroids. Indeed, none of the photos in the book show off the hugely distorted bodies we’ve come to expect in contemporary body builder competitions.
Almost Human: a journey into the world of baboons by Shirley C. Strum
Random House, NY
I like reading naturalists’ accounts of animal watching. There are always such good stories among the nonhuman. At the point in the book I’m reading Strum is having to deal with human encroachment on the baboon troops. Though the land is marginal for agriculture the Kenyan government begins to settle farmers there. The baboons ignore the farms at first but when drought makes wild food scarce they notice the crops.
Worse Than War: genocide, eliminationism, and the ongoing assault on humanity by Daniel Jonah Goldhagen
Public Affairs, NY
Can’t read much of this book at a sitting, mainly because it’s depressing to read accounts of atrocities. Plus, it’s long.
A Garden of Peonies translations of Chinese oems into English verse, by Henry H. Hart
Stanford University Press, Stanford CA
Good quality translations from 1938. “The yellow leaves / Fall to the earth, / And the green moss / Is wet with dew.”
NEWAVE! the underground mini comix of the 1980s edited by Michael Dowers
Fantagraphics Books, Seattle WA
My brother David produced a number of mini comics back in the 80s. I even wrote scripts for some of ‘em. None, unfortunately, appears in this anthology. (Though David is mentioned.) Though I tried to keep an eye out for mini comics most of these are unfamiliar. The subtitle declares “of the 1980s” but the anthology starts in the 70s so it may be that much of the work in it originally appeared before I was even aware of mini comics.
Monday, June 21, 2010
proper study
In his Worse Than War: genocide, eliminationism, and the ongoing assault on humanity Daniel Jonah Goldhagen says, “In our time virtually all manner of peoples have perpetrated mass murder against virtually all kinds of victims.”
It’s a statement surrounded by examples, of course. And “our time” seems to reach back to Genghis Khan and the Bible. I feel an unlikely optimism when horrors of such intractable and overwhelming nature are approached with reason, scholarship and compassion. Goldhagen, author also of Hitler’s Willing Executioners, a study of the ordinary Germans who joined in the extermination of the Jews, seems to think if we study mass murder, figuring out not only what sets it in motion (& who) but what keeps it in motion and what ends it, we will be better able to prevent it. It’s that attitude that gives me that little lift even when reading the horrific details of killing, hate, and indifference to suffering. I then shake my head. Really? We can get a handle on this evil? We haven’t up to now because nobody’s properly studied it?
It’s a statement surrounded by examples, of course. And “our time” seems to reach back to Genghis Khan and the Bible. I feel an unlikely optimism when horrors of such intractable and overwhelming nature are approached with reason, scholarship and compassion. Goldhagen, author also of Hitler’s Willing Executioners, a study of the ordinary Germans who joined in the extermination of the Jews, seems to think if we study mass murder, figuring out not only what sets it in motion (& who) but what keeps it in motion and what ends it, we will be better able to prevent it. It’s that attitude that gives me that little lift even when reading the horrific details of killing, hate, and indifference to suffering. I then shake my head. Really? We can get a handle on this evil? We haven’t up to now because nobody’s properly studied it?
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
word of the day: cinereous
context: In the middle of winter Katherine is leaving the midwest for California. Her mother is giving her a ride to the train station. “Cinereous snow lay in half-melted heaps, and a feeble light penetrated the taut canopy of clouds. I kicked a chunk of gritty snow off the car’s wheel well and climbed into the back seat.”
definition: resembling ashes
definition source: dictionary.com
quotation source: Blood Strangers: a memoir by Katherine A. Briccetti
definition: resembling ashes
definition source: dictionary.com
quotation source: Blood Strangers: a memoir by Katherine A. Briccetti
Monday, May 31, 2010
word of the day: diuturnity
context: The Director is in communication with angels (or eldila, as author C.S. Lewis terms them in his space trilogy), and they are helping him head off the final conquest of Earth by the fallen angels. Should the bad angels succeed, “Bad men, while still in the body, still crawling on this little globe, would enter that state, which, heretofore, they had entered only after death [i.e., Hell], would have the diuturnity and power of evil spirits.”
definition: Long duration; lastingness.
definition source: dictionary.com
quotation source: That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis
definition: Long duration; lastingness.
definition source: dictionary.com
quotation source: That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis
Sunday, May 30, 2010
word of the day: slatch
context: Katherine is looking back on her childhood. Katherine’s parents have divorced and her mother, who has custody of her and her younger brother, is marrying anew. The adult Katherine contemplates a photograph from the wedding: “[I]nstead of recording untainted happiness, it captures me with a hazy stare and half-smile. … I see myself as I must have been: waiting. Waiting during the lull, the slatch between my past and my future, between one father and the other.”
definition: “a relatively smooth interval between heavy seas.”
definition source: dictionary.com
quotation source: Blood Strangers: a memoir by Katherine A. Briccetti
definition: “a relatively smooth interval between heavy seas.”
definition source: dictionary.com
quotation source: Blood Strangers: a memoir by Katherine A. Briccetti
Saturday, May 29, 2010
word of the day: lamellation
context: Ruth’s father has died. Both Ruth’s parents were Deaf; though Ruth and her brother were born hearing their first language was American Sign Language. “I heard his voice as it was in life. And I saw the gentle lamellation of his signs.”
definition: “an arrangement or structure in which there are thin layers, plates, or scales.”
definition source: dictionary.com
quote source: In Silence: Growing Up Hearing in a Deaf World by Ruth Sidransky
definition: “an arrangement or structure in which there are thin layers, plates, or scales.”
definition source: dictionary.com
quote source: In Silence: Growing Up Hearing in a Deaf World by Ruth Sidransky
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
striplings
Now, this is the sort of thing that’s so minor, even charming, that making any kind of deal out of it seems silly, especially since the topic of the book in which this thing appears is a totally serious (in fact, awfully depressing) topic. Among the Great Apes is Paul Raffaele’s account of visiting the regions where the remnant great ape populations are barely holding out – war-torn Africa mainly, where the chimpanzees, bonobos, and gorillas scrape by, but also the aggressively exploited forests of Borneo where the orangutans are running out of trees.
When I came across the word “stripling” in Raffaele’s book I recognized it as one of the age categories James Davidson discusses in his The Greeks and Greek Love, a book I’d recently worked my way through (it’s long!). A stripling is a youth, a teenager. Age categories were very important to the Greeks.
Raffaele, however, uses “stripling” to mean something entirely different. Sapling, maybe. Slender branch? At first I thought it was just an accidental misspelling of “sapling.” But then he did it again. And in this passage Raffaele does it twice:
“The silverback’s nest resembles an oval throne, fashioned from branches he has snapped to form the foundation, and with a layer of vegetation woven with striplings and leaves to make it soft and springy as a cushion.” A silverback gorilla is the leader of the gorilla family, the patriarch. Nearby are the nests of the females and youngsters. “The two-year old is still practicing nest building and has snapped and bent some striplings together and added a few leaves for comfort.”
By context you know no gorilla is snapping or bending or weaving together youthful human males. But I wasn’t able to find any other definition of “stripling” in a dictionary. Raffaele, by the way, does also know the word "sapling" and uses it elsewhere.
When I came across the word “stripling” in Raffaele’s book I recognized it as one of the age categories James Davidson discusses in his The Greeks and Greek Love, a book I’d recently worked my way through (it’s long!). A stripling is a youth, a teenager. Age categories were very important to the Greeks.
Raffaele, however, uses “stripling” to mean something entirely different. Sapling, maybe. Slender branch? At first I thought it was just an accidental misspelling of “sapling.” But then he did it again. And in this passage Raffaele does it twice:
“The silverback’s nest resembles an oval throne, fashioned from branches he has snapped to form the foundation, and with a layer of vegetation woven with striplings and leaves to make it soft and springy as a cushion.” A silverback gorilla is the leader of the gorilla family, the patriarch. Nearby are the nests of the females and youngsters. “The two-year old is still practicing nest building and has snapped and bent some striplings together and added a few leaves for comfort.”
By context you know no gorilla is snapping or bending or weaving together youthful human males. But I wasn’t able to find any other definition of “stripling” in a dictionary. Raffaele, by the way, does also know the word "sapling" and uses it elsewhere.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Christianity in space
“[T]he vast astronomical distances … are God’s quarantine regulations …”
So says the narrator in C.S. Lewis’ Perelandra.
I’m really bogging down in this book. While the previous novel in Lewis’ space trilogy was a decent adventure story this one is turning into a theo-psychological argument. Not exactly boring because Lewis writes well. But I am wondering why I’m bothering. Oh yeah. Because for years as a teen I shopped at a comic store called Perelandra and I’m still curious what that was all about. I’m not convinced I’ll really have an answer when I get to the last page. It’s just Christianity in space?
I remember one of Perelandra’s owners had the last name: Christ. He insisted Christ rhymed with ‘wrist’ – rather than ‘priced’, say.
“He knew now why the old philosophers had said there is no such thing as chance,” says the Perelandra narrator referring to the main character’s name – Ransom. Christ was a ransom, too?
So says the narrator in C.S. Lewis’ Perelandra.
I’m really bogging down in this book. While the previous novel in Lewis’ space trilogy was a decent adventure story this one is turning into a theo-psychological argument. Not exactly boring because Lewis writes well. But I am wondering why I’m bothering. Oh yeah. Because for years as a teen I shopped at a comic store called Perelandra and I’m still curious what that was all about. I’m not convinced I’ll really have an answer when I get to the last page. It’s just Christianity in space?
I remember one of Perelandra’s owners had the last name: Christ. He insisted Christ rhymed with ‘wrist’ – rather than ‘priced’, say.
“He knew now why the old philosophers had said there is no such thing as chance,” says the Perelandra narrator referring to the main character’s name – Ransom. Christ was a ransom, too?
Monday, April 12, 2010
“It’s awful to read his complete works.”
“Yes, the poet can say only a little and says one and the same thing all the time. It’s awful to read his complete works. It’s awful, you think, how much can one go on about one and the same thing!”
-- Evgeny Kharitonov, from “Tears on Flowers"
source: Crossing Centuries: the new generation in Russian poetry, edited by John High, et al.
-- Evgeny Kharitonov, from “Tears on Flowers"
source: Crossing Centuries: the new generation in Russian poetry, edited by John High, et al.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
“a splended time for poetry”
Evgeny Bunimovich on the change in fortune for poets in Russia after the fall of the Soviet government:
“I think this is a splendid time for poetry. The prestige which writers formerly enjoyed has largely disappeared, and the prestige of poets most of all. As a result, only those who truly need to write poetry still do so. Today you can’t build a career as a poet, or gratify your ego, or make a political statement. You produce a text, and that’s it.”
Yup, no more poets filling stadiums or being celebrated for standing up to the propaganda. Just you & your poem. Kinda like here.
source: Crossing Centuries: the new generation in Russian poetry, edited by John High, et al.
“I think this is a splendid time for poetry. The prestige which writers formerly enjoyed has largely disappeared, and the prestige of poets most of all. As a result, only those who truly need to write poetry still do so. Today you can’t build a career as a poet, or gratify your ego, or make a political statement. You produce a text, and that’s it.”
Yup, no more poets filling stadiums or being celebrated for standing up to the propaganda. Just you & your poem. Kinda like here.
source: Crossing Centuries: the new generation in Russian poetry, edited by John High, et al.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
what an autograph is worth
In a profile in The New Yorker by John Lahr, the actor Ian McKellan proudly recalls helping found the UK gay rights group, Stonewall, after his public coming out in 1988. (Hey, that’s the same year I spent a semester in London.) The struggle of the time (besides AIDS, of course) was against “legislation that aimed to prohibit local authorities from publishing material condoning homosexuality or from referring to it in state schools as an acceptable lifestyle.” The proposed law was dubbed Clause 28.
source: The New Yorker, August 27, 2007
Lobbying against Clause 28, McKellen used his connections to buttonhole politicians, including one of Britain’s most fervid anti-gay spokesmen, Michael Howard, who was later to become the Conservative Party leader. After a fruitless meeting, Howard requested an autograph for his children. McKellen obliged. “Fuck off! I’m gay,” he wrote.
source: The New Yorker, August 27, 2007
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
“with dignity and respect, proud and free”
I've been reading The Trouble with Harry Hay: founder of the modern gay movement, a biography by Stuart Timmons. One of the first gay rights groups was the Mattachine Society, which Hay helped found in the early 50s during a time in which it was illegal to be gay in most of the country - and I don't just mean sodomy, I mean just being alive.
Here's a pledge they recited as they held hands:
Here's a pledge they recited as they held hands:
Our interlocking, sustaining and protecting hands guarantee a reborn social force of immense and simple purpose. We are resolved that our people shall find equality of security and production in tomorrow's world. We are sworn that no boy or girl, approaching the maelstrom of deviation, need make that crossing alone, afraid and in the dark, ever again. In these moments we dedicate ourselves once again to each other in the immense significance of such allegiance, with dignity and respect, proud and free.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Brodsky
“’More than a crime against language or a betrayal of the reader, the rejection of meter is an act of self-castration by the author.’”
- Joseph Brodsky, as quoted by J. Kates in an essay on translation at the back of the anthology In the Grip of Strange Thoughts: Russian poetry in a new era.
I’ve tried. I’ve tried to say something in response to this. It’s one of the awfulest statements of poetics I have ever read. I try again. I erase everything. Based on the above I suspect Brodsky has never written a word worth reading.
- Joseph Brodsky, as quoted by J. Kates in an essay on translation at the back of the anthology In the Grip of Strange Thoughts: Russian poetry in a new era.
I’ve tried. I’ve tried to say something in response to this. It’s one of the awfulest statements of poetics I have ever read. I try again. I erase everything. Based on the above I suspect Brodsky has never written a word worth reading.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
what $10 & a poem got me
I went to the Small Press Distribution open house today. I bought a book for a poem. Then I bought ten more for a dollar apiece. I wrote about all that on LuvSet.
But since I write about books on this blog, this is where I’ll tell you what I got.
For a poem:
The Geography of Home: California’s poetry of place, edited by Christopher Buckley & Gary Young
Each for a dollar:
The Androgyne Journal, by James Broughton
An Inn Near Kyoto: writing by American women abroad, edited by Kathleen Coskran & C.W. Truesdale
Stories in the Stepmother Tongue, edited by Josip Novakovich & Robert Shapard
The Notebooks of David Ignatow, edited by Ralph J. Mills, Jr
Sound Off, poetry by Spencer Selby
Island People, a novel by Coleman Dowell
Three Vietnamese Poets, edited & translated by Linh Dinh
The Talking of Hands: unpublished writing by New Rivers Press authors, edited by Robert Alexander, Mark Vinz, & C.W. Truesdale
The Stuttering of Wings, poetry by Sheila E. Murphy
Bite to Eat Place: an anthology of contemporary food poetry and poetic prose, edited by Andrea Andolph, Donald L. Vallis & Anne F. Walker
But since I write about books on this blog, this is where I’ll tell you what I got.
For a poem:
The Geography of Home: California’s poetry of place, edited by Christopher Buckley & Gary Young
Each for a dollar:
The Androgyne Journal, by James Broughton
An Inn Near Kyoto: writing by American women abroad, edited by Kathleen Coskran & C.W. Truesdale
Stories in the Stepmother Tongue, edited by Josip Novakovich & Robert Shapard
The Notebooks of David Ignatow, edited by Ralph J. Mills, Jr
Sound Off, poetry by Spencer Selby
Island People, a novel by Coleman Dowell
Three Vietnamese Poets, edited & translated by Linh Dinh
The Talking of Hands: unpublished writing by New Rivers Press authors, edited by Robert Alexander, Mark Vinz, & C.W. Truesdale
The Stuttering of Wings, poetry by Sheila E. Murphy
Bite to Eat Place: an anthology of contemporary food poetry and poetic prose, edited by Andrea Andolph, Donald L. Vallis & Anne F. Walker
Friday, December 04, 2009
“a terrible Chinese”
Paisley Rekdal has a mother of Chinese heritage and a father of Scandinavian. As with many multiracial people, new meets frequently try (& fail) to name her ethnicity. Rekdal spent a year abroad, teaching English in Korea. At the end of her trip she traveled in China. Though as a child she heard her grandparents speaking Cantonese, she never spoke it herself. On her trip she finds herself speaking in a muddle of English/Cantonese/Mandarin/Korean:
“[T]he language … bubbles up out of me. Guttural or singing, a swift collection of monosyllables I recognize as the roots of the Korean I’ve been studying, this language comes to me faster and more instinctively than I would have dreamed. But my rising and falling is more Cantonese than Mandarin; I am speaking a terrible Chinese triggered in a brain part only now unearthed, taught or reconstructed by these faceless teachers. Like a resuscitated grudge this language oozes and seethes from my throat with impoliteness and anger. No one can really understand me – I can barely understand myself – but somehow the Chinese pretend to believe what I am saying is Chinese. ‘Where are you from?’ they ask, and a few even look surprised to hear it’s America.”
source: The Night My Mother Met Bruce Lee: observations on not fitting in by Paisley Rekdal
“[T]he language … bubbles up out of me. Guttural or singing, a swift collection of monosyllables I recognize as the roots of the Korean I’ve been studying, this language comes to me faster and more instinctively than I would have dreamed. But my rising and falling is more Cantonese than Mandarin; I am speaking a terrible Chinese triggered in a brain part only now unearthed, taught or reconstructed by these faceless teachers. Like a resuscitated grudge this language oozes and seethes from my throat with impoliteness and anger. No one can really understand me – I can barely understand myself – but somehow the Chinese pretend to believe what I am saying is Chinese. ‘Where are you from?’ they ask, and a few even look surprised to hear it’s America.”
source: The Night My Mother Met Bruce Lee: observations on not fitting in by Paisley Rekdal
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