Every morning is a fresh beginning/Listen my soul to the glad refrain/And, in spite of old sorrows/And older sinning/Troubles forecasted/And possible pain/Take heart with the day and begin again.
It's the birthday of Constance Garnett, born Constance Black in Brighton, England (1861). She's best known for providing the first widely available English translations of the important Russian novels of the 19th century. After marrying the literary critic Edward Garnett, she became friends with some Russian exiles and decided to learn the language. She loved it so much that she traveled to St. Petersburg in 1893 and became friends with many writers and revolutionaries.
When she returned home, she decided to begin translating as much Russian literature as she could. D.H. Lawrence visited her house while she was working on the complete works of Turgenev. Lawrence wrote, "She would finish a page, throw it off on a pile without looking up, then start a new page. The pile would be ... almost up to her knees, and all magical."
Her eyesight grew worse and worse, so she had a Russian friend read the novels aloud to her one sentence at a time, and she dictated her translations. She somehow managed to translate about 5000 words a day. She finished Tolstoy's Anna Karenina in six months, and went on to translate Dostoyevsky's complete works, about two and a half million words long. In many cases, her translations of Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Chekhov, and others were the first versions read by English and American writers in the early 20th century.
And there you have it. Perhaps the new goal is to remembered, and to be prolific, instead of timeless? Don't get me wrong, I'm in love. But there's a reason Volokhonsky rhymes with Vronsky. (It's because they're both Slavic.)
The subtext here forms an entire dialectic.
When she returned home, she decided to begin translating as much Russian literature as she could. D.H. Lawrence visited her house while she was working on the complete works of Turgenev. Lawrence wrote, "She would finish a page, throw it off on a pile without looking up, then start a new page. The pile would be ... almost up to her knees, and all magical."
Her eyesight grew worse and worse, so she had a Russian friend read the novels aloud to her one sentence at a time, and she dictated her translations. She somehow managed to translate about 5000 words a day. She finished Tolstoy's Anna Karenina in six months, and went on to translate Dostoyevsky's complete works, about two and a half million words long. In many cases, her translations of Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Chekhov, and others were the first versions read by English and American writers in the early 20th century.
And there you have it. Perhaps the new goal is to remembered, and to be prolific, instead of timeless? Don't get me wrong, I'm in love. But there's a reason Volokhonsky rhymes with Vronsky. (It's because they're both Slavic.)
The subtext here forms an entire dialectic.