meme

[ashcanprobably]

LJ Interests meme results

1. caseation:
   If I'm not mistaken, this is the process by which a thing is converted into cheese. When I first read it, I thought of the cheese one relates to flesh, the sagging, the wrinkly dimples and creases, basically the wasteland left behind when one loses a lot of weight, regains it, and loses it again. Words like

Comments

[ashcanprobably]

What you read was actually my translation of a prologue J.L. Borges wrote for a collection of Blake's poetry in Spanish. For now, the entirety of the_criterion is composed of translations and obscure literary excerpts/references, and it will remain this way until I am intruded upon by angels that will instruct me otherwise. The misunderstanding we have here lies in the style of Borges and the way it was meant to be understood by Spanish readers. Reading it in English, one might distinguish more force or finality and get the impression that Blake exhibited direct contempt for Nature, but in the original, it is clear that he chided the limits of Nature only when in favor of Imagination as a superior realm. In The Ghost of Abel, Blake writes, "Nature has no Outline, But Imagination has. Nature has no Tune, but Imagination has. Nature has no Supernatural, and dissolves: Imagination is eternity."

I take it that Borges was attempting to characterize Blake as a man so removed from the tyranny of Nature that he has him laughing at his impending DEATH and accrediting angels for his LIFE's work.

The quote in question comes from Blake's Jerusalem:

I know of no other Christianity and of no other Gospel than the liberty both of body and mind to exercise the Divine Arts of Imagination. Imagination, the real & eternal World of which this Vegetable Universe is but a faint shadow, & in which we shall live in our Eternal or Imaginative Bodies when these Vegetable Mortal Bodies are no more.

I see no disagreements in whatever interpretation. What are the differing sentiments? I remember having read the letter you cited before. Was it not in response to criticism that his paintings were of a quality too unreal? He goes on to brag that his vision is not subjugated by a heightened interest in Nature, like many of the other Romantic poets, rather his vision uses Nature as just another implement. He delights that his paintings and engravings seem unreal.

[one_earth_heart]

Interesting. Do you know if Borges read Blake in English, or did the work of translating Blake into Spanish himself? I can't imagine how Blake sounds in Spanish. Seeing that you've done translation work with Spanish literature, would you be willing to offer any recommendations on decent volumes of Borges work in English (poetry or otherwise)? I'd also be interested in any good Lorca translations that you know of.

Reading it in English, one might distinguish more force or finality and get the impression that Blake exhibited direct contempt for Nature, but in the original, it is clear that he chided the limits of Nature only when in favor of Imagination as a superior realm.

Makes sense. The essential distinction in the quoted letter seems to be his summation: Nature is Imagination. To me, this appears to cast an ironic light on the stark oppositions he presents in The Ghost of Abel, which maybe he intensified to goad Byron "in the wilderness" ? (whom Blake addresses the piece to). The passage in Jerusalem has less of this oppositional feel, but does picture Imagination subsuming Nature. I guess, for my own part, I've never really felt what could be called a "scorn" for Nature in Blake's work. Though these passages do inspire more reflection. The suggestion that this world, as Blake says, is the world of Imagination; brings me back to plate 22 in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell: "The idea that Man has a Body distict from his Soul is to be expunged." As well as the final line: "Everything that lives is Holy." The feeling I recieve from such lines reinforces the sense of unifying the Imaginal and Natural: in the order of Nature being Imagination. Where I stopped the quote, Blake continued: "You certainly Mistake when you say that the Visions of Fancy are not be found in This World. To Me This World is all One continued Vision of Fancy or Imagination." Much like Shakespeare's affirmation in The Tempest:

...the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep

So, with Blake, "As a man is so he sees", Nature only appears limited in proportion to one's capacity (or incapacity) to recognize that all is Imagination, and thus infinite/eternal. Whatever the case, I'll really have to study Jerusalem more deeply. Thanks for the clarification.

[ashcanprobably]

English was actually the first language that Borges had learned growing up in Buenos Aires; his grandmother was a Briton. Some speculate that he read the Quijote in English before reading it in Spanish. He won a literary prize at the age of nine for translating Wilde's "A Happy Prince". So, there's no wonder about why his writing translates so well and concisely, and I conjecture to say that, although he may not think to himself in English, he writes Spanish in its patterns and his flow is almost British in nature. He often said that English was the language of literature, the reason being Shakespeare, but he often followed that by saying Spanish was much richer. He is astoundingly direct and perspicacious in Spanish to the point of constantly bewildering me, and reputably, he's also a veritable juggler of German and the Romance languages.

Hmmmm ... decent volumes of Borges. ciranox asked me about this several posts ago, and I directed him to this link, where I sort of ridicule Andrew Hurley. Hurley's translations are for the most part correct and his work is bountifully available at the moment, but his productions are flaccid and clinical. His style is just enough, it's average, and people who have read a lot of Borges in Spanish fail to recognize his prominence in Hurley. I can only argue that he is more accessible to the average Joe, and there's also Harold Bloom's comment about how nice it is to that have all of Borges's fiction written in a single English voice. For me, it reads as unbearably nasal, but to each his own. I own most of Borges's English stuff, and if you're going to buy any at your local book store, I suggest you avoid the Penguin Editions (except the selected poetry and nonfiction, which lack a majority of Hurley) and pick up his books as published by New Directions, Grove Press, or Everyman's Library, these being compilations of stories by various successful interpreters like Reid, Kerrigan, and Weinberger.

There's the case of the Borges translator: Norman Thomas Di Giovanni. He met Borges at Harvard and latched on to him for five years. In close collaboration, they were responsible for translating, or rather re-creating, much of Borges in English. Di Giovanni had the express luxury of being in his presence and asking him what he specifically intended by writing this or that line. Sometimes, it would happen that they'd be translating a story line by line and something would sound clearer in English, so Borges would actually correct the Spanish original to reflect the nuance. I read Di Giovanni's essays in rememberance of Borges and I was struck by his absolute obsession with proving his worth and that of his translations. He pulled no punches in deriding the mistakes of other translators as well. In short, he's an uppity asshole with delusions of importance, but you'll only be able to find him in the public library or by special order. Personally, I don't like the idea of a sixty-one year old Borges being influenced by some zealot who is a mediocre writer in his own right, but he allowed it. The reason that Di Giovanni is no longer in print is because Borges had set up a deal with him by which the royalties of the English translations were split 50/50, and when Borges died, Maria Kodama, his wife of eight weeks, sold all of the English rights to a publisher in order to cut Di Giovanni's monetary drain to the estate. If you can find Di Giovanni's translations, of course, they are worth reading, but since I read Borges in Spanish now, I haven't really been looking. My favourite of Di Giovanni's translation work is The Chronicles of Bustos Domecq, a collaboration between Borges and Adolfo Bioy Casares.

[ashcanprobably]

I exceeded the prior comment space, but I wanted to quickly touch upon the work of Blake in Spanish. I just want to say that that Blake comes off as mystical or Gothic to a greater degree, and his poetry is far more ornate and elaborate in Spanish. What's lost in some of the rhymes is made up by the arcane quality of the words and the illustrious beauty of the meaning. I don't know, phrases that feature words that are very close to their Latin origins just add a lot of dignity to expressions, in my opinion. For example, when I saw the quote in the prologue concerning the cut worm, I couldn't immediately trace it back to the source, I couldn't recognize it even though I was familiar with the original line. It went el gusano partido en dos perdona el arado. Note the length and the soft reverberation of o's. It stresses the idea that the worm was not only cut, but it was halved. It's just beautiful, and let me say that I garnered more meaning from the Spanish than the original; you accept the fact that the worm, as a naturally ignorant entity, accepts suffering and pain as a regular part of life and must concede forgiveness in the face of a greater scheme. But, in Spanish! It reminded me of Environmental Science class in high school where we'd make these diurnal ponds in jars with brine shrimp, amphipods, copepods, detritis, and flatworms. We would cut these flatworms in half and, if done correctly, each piece would become a brand new flatworm.

[one_earth_heart]

Thanks for the thorough response, Luis. Very helpful. Your comparative analysis of Hurley was great. I've done a little translation work myself, of Chinese poetry, so I'm sensitized to the basic folly of trusting any one translation to convey the original sense. Everything is filtered through the relative awareness and taste of the translator. IMHO, very few people have the necessary aptitude to translate poetry; certainly far less than actually attempt it. But I guess there's some virtue in even a bad attempt, perhaps giving someone else the initiative to do better -- and providing a comparative template for mistakes to avoid. Then again, I think of a lecture I saw Charles Simic give on poetry translation a couple years ago. The summation was unforgettable: "Poetry is that which cannot be translated; and yet, it must be translated." Which he followed with the qualification: "I'm not sure that God exists, but I'm certain there's a place in hell for bad translators." He's a funny guy. Anyway, I'll look into the Borges translations, and hopefully be able to read the original someday. After going to Peru, Spanish is definately something that I want to learn, in the least, to give me some options if shit really hits the fan here. But really, I want to read Neruda, Lorca and Paz in their original sound.

Also, this comment on Blake in Spanish was quite interesting. Thanks for sharing that. I'm putting you on my friends list. Peace.