I want all your secrets beamed right to my eyes
I have a migraine. I'm trying to post about non-depressing things.
1. Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling has a new music video: their cover of Leonard Cohen's "First We Take Manhattan." There is a monkey. Also a plywood violin.
2. Via
fleurdelis28: Cops go undercover to bust Roman gladiators. I'm just waiting for the inevitable update about the pitched battles being fought in the streets between gangs of retiarii and secutores, secretly and unknown to one another almost all plain-sandals policemen.
3. I really like Jonathan Franzen's version of Frank Wedekind's Spring Awakening (Frühlings Erwachen, 1891) except for one line, which is unfortunately the one he uses in his introduction to illustrate his attempts toward a performable as well as readable translation of the play: "Dieses Glückskind, dieses Sonnenkind—dieses Freudenmädchen auf meinem Jammerweg!" Franzen translates this (capitalization his) as "THIS SUNNY CHILD, THIS LUCKY THING—THIS FLOOZY ON MY TRAIL OF TEARS!—" The line is being yelled in totally earnest, hopelessly comic adolescent despair by a fourteen-year-old whose dramatic suicide monologue has just been accidentally interrupted by a former schoolmate who doesn't understand a single reason he wants to shoot himself: Moritz has been tying himself in knots over his failing grades and his unmanageable hormones and Ilse dropped out of school a year ago to model for all the artists at the Priapus Club. She's as unconcernedly Bohemian as he's nervously Werther-ish; she invites him back to her place, he begs off on a confused excuse of homework, and then has about three different directions of second thought and temporarily blows a fuse. Freudenmädchen means joy-girl; a prostitute. The problem with "floozy" is that while it's a suitably funny and frustrated word choice for a character who even after death is chastised as immer noch derselbe Angstmeier!, it doesn't really carry over the original German and so loses all the follow-through from "luck-child," "sun-child," and the contrast with Jammerweg, "misery-road." I don't disagree with Franzen's rejection of previous translations, that "daughter of joy" is too technical, "little whore" overstates the case, and "blissful temptress" is just off. I just looked at the sentence and couldn't figure out why he didn't use "good-time girl."
(Oh, my God. At the Volksbühne am Bülowplatz in 1929, in a production directed by Karl Heinz Martin, this scene was played by Peter Lorre and Lotte Lenya. Will somebody get me a fucking time machine already?)
4. I have just been hit by l'esprit de l'escalier nearly two months late. On the Kipling panel I moderated at Readercon, one of the panelists insisted on reading from a letter written by Kipling in 1919:
Do you notice how their insane psychology attempts to infect the Universe? There is one Einstein, nominally a Swiss, certainly a Hebrew, who (the thing is so inevitable that it makes one laugh) comes forward, scientifically to show that, under certain conditions Space itself is warped and the instruments that measure it are warped also . . . When you come to reflect on a race that made the world Hell, you see how just and right it is that they should decide that space is warped, and should make their own souls the measure of all Infinity. The more I see of the Boche's mental workings the more sure I am that he is Evil Incarnate, and, like all evil, a pathetic Beast. Einstein's pronouncement is only another little contribution to assisting the world towards flux and disintegration.
Which was interesting, but slightly derailing, in that it dropped the conversation back to well-was-Kipling-a-racist-or-wasn't-he? as opposed to exploring how the generation of writers who grew up on him might have absorbed or refuted or engaged with whatever complicated attitudes in their own fiction. This afternoon, it finally struck me that the real interest of that passage is not the degree to which Kipling's anti-Semitism was derived from or merely coexisted with his hatred of Germans, but what it meant that we were holding an entire panel about the influence on speculative literature of a man who freaked out at the thought of relativity.
5. Conversation with
rushthatspeaks indicates that the film of Out of Africa (1985, which they have not seen) is a very faithful version of the book of Out of Africa (1937, which I have not read) and additionally incorporates material from the author's life that was left out of the novel. I guess I should read some Dinesen.
And now we are at the point where I need to lie down or scream or something, so I will leave you with the revamped website for Caitlín R. Kiernan's Sirenia Digest and her Kickstarter project with Kyle Cassidy, The Drowning Girl: Stills from a Movie That Never Existed. Because they are neat.
1. Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling has a new music video: their cover of Leonard Cohen's "First We Take Manhattan." There is a monkey. Also a plywood violin.
2. Via
3. I really like Jonathan Franzen's version of Frank Wedekind's Spring Awakening (Frühlings Erwachen, 1891) except for one line, which is unfortunately the one he uses in his introduction to illustrate his attempts toward a performable as well as readable translation of the play: "Dieses Glückskind, dieses Sonnenkind—dieses Freudenmädchen auf meinem Jammerweg!" Franzen translates this (capitalization his) as "THIS SUNNY CHILD, THIS LUCKY THING—THIS FLOOZY ON MY TRAIL OF TEARS!—" The line is being yelled in totally earnest, hopelessly comic adolescent despair by a fourteen-year-old whose dramatic suicide monologue has just been accidentally interrupted by a former schoolmate who doesn't understand a single reason he wants to shoot himself: Moritz has been tying himself in knots over his failing grades and his unmanageable hormones and Ilse dropped out of school a year ago to model for all the artists at the Priapus Club. She's as unconcernedly Bohemian as he's nervously Werther-ish; she invites him back to her place, he begs off on a confused excuse of homework, and then has about three different directions of second thought and temporarily blows a fuse. Freudenmädchen means joy-girl; a prostitute. The problem with "floozy" is that while it's a suitably funny and frustrated word choice for a character who even after death is chastised as immer noch derselbe Angstmeier!, it doesn't really carry over the original German and so loses all the follow-through from "luck-child," "sun-child," and the contrast with Jammerweg, "misery-road." I don't disagree with Franzen's rejection of previous translations, that "daughter of joy" is too technical, "little whore" overstates the case, and "blissful temptress" is just off. I just looked at the sentence and couldn't figure out why he didn't use "good-time girl."
(Oh, my God. At the Volksbühne am Bülowplatz in 1929, in a production directed by Karl Heinz Martin, this scene was played by Peter Lorre and Lotte Lenya. Will somebody get me a fucking time machine already?)
4. I have just been hit by l'esprit de l'escalier nearly two months late. On the Kipling panel I moderated at Readercon, one of the panelists insisted on reading from a letter written by Kipling in 1919:
Do you notice how their insane psychology attempts to infect the Universe? There is one Einstein, nominally a Swiss, certainly a Hebrew, who (the thing is so inevitable that it makes one laugh) comes forward, scientifically to show that, under certain conditions Space itself is warped and the instruments that measure it are warped also . . . When you come to reflect on a race that made the world Hell, you see how just and right it is that they should decide that space is warped, and should make their own souls the measure of all Infinity. The more I see of the Boche's mental workings the more sure I am that he is Evil Incarnate, and, like all evil, a pathetic Beast. Einstein's pronouncement is only another little contribution to assisting the world towards flux and disintegration.
Which was interesting, but slightly derailing, in that it dropped the conversation back to well-was-Kipling-a-racist-or-wasn't-he? as opposed to exploring how the generation of writers who grew up on him might have absorbed or refuted or engaged with whatever complicated attitudes in their own fiction. This afternoon, it finally struck me that the real interest of that passage is not the degree to which Kipling's anti-Semitism was derived from or merely coexisted with his hatred of Germans, but what it meant that we were holding an entire panel about the influence on speculative literature of a man who freaked out at the thought of relativity.
5. Conversation with
And now we are at the point where I need to lie down or scream or something, so I will leave you with the revamped website for Caitlín R. Kiernan's Sirenia Digest and her Kickstarter project with Kyle Cassidy, The Drowning Girl: Stills from a Movie That Never Existed. Because they are neat.

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Also, re (the thing is so inevitable that it makes one laugh)...seriously? Inevitable? "Oh, I just knew some German/Jew would come up with a set of scientific precepts undermining visible reality one of these days--didn't you, old bean?" Geez, Rudyard.
Otherwise: I think you'd like Dinesen, actually. Those Drowning Girl stills are gorgeous. And I'm sorry about the migraine.
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Thank you, that actually made me laugh out loud.
I think you'd like Dinesen, actually.
Do you have a starting recommendation?
Those Drowning Girl stills are gorgeous.
I love the idea of multimedia exhibitions: for this book to finish in an art gallery would be perfect.
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http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lpc6dhX7vY1qmt8ipo1_500.jpg
Apparently Peter Lorre's early stage work typecast him as a troubled adolescent.
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Yep, that's Moritz by Act III, Scene 7. Awesome. Thank you.
(I also agree with this post.)
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(Dude. You don't get to feel guilty about the fact that I can't check my e-mail when I have a migraine.)
I lay down for a while and got up with the ability to be around noises, so I think today I am going to a museum. Also, reading this story I found in my inbox.
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I mean, I know racism doesn't have to be logical, but I don't even know what Kipling thinks he's saying here.
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Yeah, I got nothing. I am mildly curious to know how he thought of non-Ashkenazi Jews, but I suspect he went all Orientalizing on them.
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I was thinking more of his real-world reactions, also of the timing; "The House Surgeon" dates from 1909 and Max M'Leod and his family are very sympathetic characters.
and the story is timed to be contemporary with the Magna Carta, I also wonder whether, if the point were pressed, he would have continued to differentiate such ideas of Jews from the sort he thought Einstein represented.
I don't know. I could try to read his letters to find out. I might also wind up throwing them across the room and listening to the "Anchor Song" again.
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For sheer joy of knowledge (and for the magnificent journal you would keep) I wish you your time machine--you can pick up Kipling on your way to Berlin.
Nine
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It hasn't gone away, but it has ebbed back to levels where I can interact. I am hoping by tonight it will actually have taken the hint and decamped.
I wish you your time machine--you can pick up Kipling on your way to Berlin.
Now that would give him a heart attack.
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There was one huge miscalculation in Out of Africa that threw the entire film off: casting Robert Redford as Denys Finch-Hatton. Hatton was the quintessential dilettante British upperclass gent, with the emotional opacity to match. Redford as a persona was as American as they come -- plus there was no chemistry between Meryl Streep and him.
Dinesen is a consummate storyteller, I'm frankly surprised you haven't read them, given your predilections. My favorite is Winter's Tales. I also highly recommend Judith Thurman's biography.
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I guessed that the character was not originally meant to have been American, but I thought that the two of them worked very well together; I never had any difficulty believing their conversations about self and belonging and the promises people can and cannot make to one another, which seemed the heart of their relationship.
My favorite is Winter's Tales.
It's on the list, then.
I also highly recommend Judith Thurman's biography.
Thanks!
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Klaus-Maria Brandauer as Bror Blixen was far closer to his real-life counterpart. And in many ways the formative presence during those years was Farah Aden, Dinesen's haughty Somali majordomo.
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But even if their conversations are herself externalized and projected out onto someone who has become, for the purposes of fiction, some other self: they still need to work as characters for a viewer who knows nothing of Dinesen's life; and I found that they do.
Klaus-Maria Brandauer as Bror Blixen was far closer to his real-life counterpart.
I'd seen the actor before, but not to know his name; I'd watch him again.
And in many ways the formative presence during those years was Farah Aden, Dinesen's haughty Somali majordomo.
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No longer about Robert Redford—I haven't seen the 1940 Pride and Prejudice. How so?
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That I have seen—it's one of Viking Zen's favorite films. It made me want to cook. Which is admittedly something I want to do a fair percentage of the time anyway, but still.
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I really love the band. That's the only cover I've heard them play; their original music is all inspired by The Prisoner and the last time I saw them live, an ominous weather balloon was sharing the stage. I assume you will not be in Boston in a week? They're playing at T.T. the Bear's on the 19th.
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Alas, no, I will not. I have orientation on the 25th, and classes start on the 29th, and I'm still looking for a job, so I will not be able to get away probably until the holidays. Otherwise, I would absolutely be on line right this minute buying tickets for that show. :) They have an early-80s punk sound that I find irresistible.
If I ever get back to Wales, I am going to visit Portmeirion. I didn't have time on my first trip.
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They are playing shows in Philadelphia and New York City in September, if either of those is more manageable for you.
If I ever get back to Wales, I am going to visit Portmeirion. I didn't have time on my first trip.
I approve of this plan, although I probably shouldn't if I want to remain a free person.
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I was wondering if the plywood violin in question was a Savart-style, or one of the sort of vaguely faux-rebec-looking ones constructed in a quasi-semi-hemi-demi mandolin-style, or simply a cheap Chinese-made fiddle. Then I realised it must be lyrics, given the monkey, a realisation which Google confirmed.
I'm just waiting for the inevitable update about the pitched battles being fought in the streets between gangs of retiarii and secutores, secretly and unknown to one another almost all plain-sandals policemen.
This is a wonderful image. I'd love to see it in a film, or read a story or poem about it.
3.
Thoughts on translation are always interesting to me. Thank you for sharing this. If I ever get my hands on a time machine, I will be sure to let you use it for going to the theatre.
...we were holding an entire panel about the influence on speculative literature of a man who freaked out at the thought of relativity.
Interesting thought. I wish we could know what Verne would have thought of relativity.
I find myself strangely fascinated that Kipling seems, from this quote, to have almost struggled with whether to dislike Einstein more for being Jewish or for being German.
I guess I should read some Dinesen.
I recommend Out of Africa. I read it as a kid and liked it very much. Not sure about the movie--I reckon I was maybe too young to appreciate it properly. I think the scenery was lovely, which alone might make it worth watching.
I hope you're feeling better, and if said hope is in vain then I hope you will be soon.
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I'm sure someone in the history of string instruments has made and played an actual plywood violin. The question is just whether they were inspired to do so by Leonard Cohen.
If I ever get my hands on a time machine, I will be sure to let you use it for going to the theatre.
Thank you. That's one of the nicest offers I've had in weeks.
(Weirdly, that pretty much is what I'd use it for.)
I find myself strangely fascinated that Kipling seems, from this quote, to have almost struggled with whether to dislike Einstein more for being Jewish or for being German.
I think German, but I wouldn't put money on it.
Not sure about the movie--I reckon I was maybe too young to appreciate it properly. I think the scenery was lovely, which alone might make it worth watching.
I watched it night before last; I liked it very much, but wasn't sure how closely it resembled either its source novel or the author's life. The answer seems to be: much more than I expected on both counts, which is a very pleasant surprise.
I hope you're feeling better, and if said hope is in vain then I hope you will be soon.
Appreciated. I am much, much better than last night.