RED (rouge) (rood) (rojo) (rosso) (rot) (Pepto Bismol)

The first time it happened I felt, for some reason, that I'd been cheated. I bought a translation of the Sufi poet Rumi (the best selling poet in the United States, btw) and reading through the "About this Translation" forward I discovered the translator was employing something called "free translation"; that is he, a poet and academic, was translating from another's literal or scholarly translation of the work. It wasn't a too bad translation in the end (I have other Rumi against which to compare, but don't like the guy enough to do so).

A few years later the so called "free translation" approach (I don't even know if that's a legitimate term, or one used only by the American poet and academic who translated that Rumi I read) was suggested as an exercise in crafting a poem for my poetry workshop during my writing degree. The idea was to get a poem in the original language, have someone fluent in that language provide a literal translation (word by word with different meanings of words provided if more than one) and then to use that to decipher what the original poet meant in translating the poem to English. No one I knew who speaks Chinese (I asked several people) would do that for me at the time, so I did not partake in the exercise. More than one classmate did try it and it was a fascinating exercise -- in one case a classmate spoke the original language of another classmate's translated poem and was able to read both and compare.

Of course, no matter the translation or translator (or, even, the languages involved) any translated work constitutes a NEW work. This is certainly true of poetry. I think of Hughes' translation of Ovid, where he fills in so many holes with images never hinted at in the original, certainly not at least when compared with Martin's wonderbar line-by-line translation.

I've just finished Stephen Mitchell's "A New English Version Gilgamesh" which was interesting but wholly unsatisfying as it worked to open the classic up to a modern audience. I've only read one other, "scholarly" translation which provides all the bits and pieces from various tablets found here and there and everywhere and that can be terribly stuffy, BUT it somehow better captures the sense that you're reading something 1700 years older than Christ hisself(1000 years older than Homer!). Sure the "modern" accessible translation lacks the page upon page upon page of repetition which, of course, marked the poem's original oral history, but I read the new translation in a few hours last night and was left with no acute sense of awe whatsoever. The monster wasn't scary and the run through the Sun's tunnel lacked any anxious moments for this reader.

Nor did I get, in Mitchell's version, any sense that Gilgamesh and Enkidu were boinking, even though there's talk of them stroking each other as a man would his wife. The identical Flood Story as stolen by the writers of the Bible and the intense love between the two heroic figures (Gilgamesh and Enkidu) as stolen by Homer in his recounting of the, ah, friendship of Achilles and Patroclus leaves a fellow totally convinced of the historical accuracy of a flood, AND also of one major faggot love affair between two very senior heroes in the ancient-ancient world.

Speaking of Homer. Fagles is your translator there. And back to translation: An Italian writer, Alessandro Baricco decided to read the Iliad in public -- given that's how it was originally delivered, spoken to people. Finding a producer who loved the idea, he was stymied by the fact it would take some 40 hours to read the work. So he set out to write a prose translation (using another "full" prose translation as his starting point) that he could (and did) read publicly, to more than 10,000 people over two nights. He did not cut any scenes totally, removed all references to god inspired action (for as he explains all action can be explained by human behaviour in the poem) and dropped all the redundancies. He gave the story to the voice of the characters themselves. And he rarely added anything (but does include the Horse and fall of Troy, which Homer does not cover in the Iliad). The work ("An Iliad") has now been translated into English (and several other languages) -- and I've just started reading it.

Now what I need is a translator to turn this ramble into an interesting blog...

RED (Bastard)

I invite you to join me in changing the vernacular of tyranny.

Success will be measured by the use of "Maoist" at least an equal number of times as "Nazi" when one chooses to describe the many possible horrors that arise from human against human. Crimes against humanity are, of course, relative -- all bad, but some so much worse in degree or quantity. So, not to belittle the level of sheer nastiness served up by Hitler and his Nazis, Mao makes pale the dark tyranny of Hitler, Stalin and Pol Pot bound together by Suharto. [Don't do the body-count math as I mean only to make a point, but Mao still might come out on top.]

The thing that particularly bugs my ass about Mao's historical record -- and my degree in international relations specialized in Maoist China -- is that he truly did hoodwink the World with myth (including those who taught those who taught me, and thus me) into thinking he was at least full of philosophically good, even honourable, intentions, even if he was forced to be evil and ruthless in trying to reach his goals, or that many bad things were done in his name; he unable to control his adherents.

Turns out that is all, all, utter, fucking bullshit.

You might by now have guessed I've decided to read (re-read the third I'd read when first beginning the book a year ago) Chang and Haliday's "Mao The Unknown Story."

I believe I've blogged about that first third read last year, but let me repeat that there's barely a page in the book that doesn't rewrite history in a fundamental way.

I'm at a loss considering what from the book to perhaps convince you of the enormity of Mao's complete absence of any concern for anything but his own well-being (read, power).

Let me leave you with these tidbits:

Mao wanted World War III and he more than once promoted the use of nuclear weapons. He told Khrushchev that the Chinese people "are willing to endure the first [U.S. nuclear] strike. All it is is a big pile of people dying." The broader context into which the comment was uttered is that Mao truly didn't care about the horrors that might arise from nuclear war -- so long as he survived, of course.

Seventy million Chinese died in peacetime with Mao in power. SEVENTY MILLION

And he was completely aware of all of it as his total control of the country meant he got complete and full reports, and indeed often lectured on deaths being needed and important.

Confronted with food shortages (for Chinese) that he engineered (he paid for Soviet weapons with food -- China's ONLY export), Mao suggested people eat less. HA! I mean, that's truly a funny thing to say.

In the four years of The Great Leap Forward 38 million Chinese people starved to death or died from being over worked to produce food that was not given them to eat (In the second year of The Leap, Mao exported nearly 5 million tons of grain while his country was literally starving to death). Rural food rations provided less calories for Chinese than were served in Nazi death camps.

"In...1960, 22 million people died of hunger. This was the largest number in one year in any country in the history of the world."

None of this begins to touch the facts of tens of millions more Chinese who died as part of Mao's key tool of rule -- terror campaigns. He ruled with fear and was, indeed, a master of doing that.

And the fucker died an old man in his bed.

PS -- as for the title of this blog, I'm maligning pinko commie bastards as Mao wasn't a Communist except in name.

(MORE) Red

Red brake lights, red hotdog stand, red coat through yellow leaves.

A branch claiming early, red glory by dying first.

(RED) shite

So by now you've seen the hot, red iPods and the GAP all resplendent with red clothing (and the other UK or American brands) selling "(RED)" branded products.

If you need a new t-shirt at GAP, go ahead and buy the red one and if you were about to buy a new iPod, by all means get the red one, but if you're thinking to buy the products 'cause x percent goes to a charity, can I encourage you to instead to look at the price of such items, then don't buy them, and then send the entire amount not used to buy the product to an AIDS charity. That way 100% of your purchase goes to the cause. A good cause -- aimed at the same one the (RED) thing is meant to support: AIDS in Africa -- is the Stephen Lewis Foundation, which can be found (with an easy to find banner to take you to where you can contribute) at
http://www.stephenlewisfoundation.org/

Sure (RED) will produce $ for charity and that's very good. But it's also an incredible marketing campaign that will do, as someone said this week (sorry forget who--think it was Lewis himself), a hell of a lot more for the manufacturers than it will for those suffering from AIDS in Africa.

penguin

[go ahead click on the question mark, blogger in its infinite annoyance -- or perhaps the mess known as Apple -- refuses to publish photos for me]

I actually own a tuxedo. Bespoked, not for me, but a former boss of mine for his wedding in the mid-'80s. The grand opening of Casino Rama (for which I did the media relations work -- while working for the PR firm co-owned by the giver of the formal attire) was a black tie affair. Discussing rental tuxes, my then boss suggested I was about the size of his wedding day self. Turns out I was. The tailor who lengthened the pants said the rest of the suit was as if built for me. When the casino event was over, the former boss said I might as well keep it. It still has his name and the date of creation on a label in the pants.

For the life of me I couldn't find my shirt studs, but managed with a button strip instead. From seeing the rest of the penguins in attendance last night, the habit is to now leave the cummerbund behind, but I wore mine. Sadly, I do not know how to tie a bow tie, so it's a clip on :( Such a knot is on my list of "to dos" before death.

I was invited by a dean at work to join their table at an industry gala -- and gala it was.

Oh, and I ate a huge slab of bloody beef. Pythagoras will be visiting me in my sleep railing about blood of my labour on my lips! I was starving and damn it was good :) Sorry, Bambi.

He Who is Here Now took about 400 photos of me in the tux (he being a MAJOR suit homo) but this is the only one that turned out -- apparently his hands were shaking :)

Art With Heart (Auction 06)

Casey House's big art auction, Art With Heart, is coming November 1st.

Went last year -- the art's okay (in that most of it falls well outside the realm of what I like, and collect), but the event is fabulous, held in The Carlu.

Tickets ain't cheap (but not much more, even less, than a meal with wine at a good restaurant) but it's charity and I'll go again this year.

Now there's no art I own that I'd sell, BUT it hurts still that five or six years ago I passed up an opportunity to purchase a Lukacs silkscreen for about $2000 (memories of the price are just above or below that amount among a few people) and one of those silkscreens is in this year's Art With Heart catalogue with a price estimate (e.g. what it would cost at the gallery) for 10 THOUSAND dollars. A couple of years ago I discovered a couple of the silscreens were still available for $7,000, gave it some thought, but as that's about 4 times what my car's worth again passed it. [Sounds alot like the story of St. Michael, the painting, I passed up year ago too, which went up in price 5 times when next it was there in front of me to buy! -- well, at least it proves I've got an eye for good art, perhaps :) ] I predict the Lukacs goes for MUCH more than the estimated price, btw.

My art buying has nothing to do with art as an investment (better off heading to Vegas) but still the ones that got away frustrate a little. And given my retirement savings strategies of "sugar daddy" or lottery win" are unlikely to prove successful....

Anyway, go to artwithheart.ca, see what's up and consider buying a ticket in support of Casey House -- this particular art auction really does provide a highly interesting night of watching-people entertainment, not to mention champagne and unbelievably high-brow "snacks."

Oh, and if you're out and about take in the art show at Craig Scott Gallery in Toronto. A show of particular talent by an Italian artist (and master art restorer), Eugenio Orciani. The gallery is at 95 Berkley. Walk up the street when you're done there and visit the O'Connor Gallery too (Berkley at Queen) to see Kim Douglas Harrison's landscapes. Not my thing, landscapes, so that's why I'm a bit more excited by Orciani's figurative work -- which is of a technical finesse that is almost frightening.

Oh, speaking of art, cars used to approach that category much more often they do now, ahem. The photos (taken with He Who is Here Now's point and shoot digital) are of a '38 (I think) Buick spotted on main street Stratford (when He Who is Here Now and I, on a whim, took in The Glass Menagerie at the Festival last weekend). You could see all the way to the horizon in the car's shine!




[Oh, and fuck blogger, it won't publish the photo for reasons it's chosen to impose today only, BUT if you click on the faint little box icon you'll be able to view (most of) the photo... ???]

Diplomacy's Teeth

I occassionally remember why I used to be such an animal of international politics --the language of diplomacy makes me hot:

"We are not going to live with a nuclear North Korea," Assistant Secretary of State Chris Hill told the U.S.-Korea Institute at Johns Hopkins University Wednesday. "We are not going to accept it."

North Korea "can have a future, or it can have these weapons. It cannot have both," Hill said.

WAH!