Tuirgin

I came to Kij Johnson's The Fox Woman after reading her award winning short story, 26 Monkeys, Also The Abyss. From these two works it would seem that Johnson is an author of sensitivity. She deftly weaves wonder, beauty and sorrow together while preserving mystery, and a respect for both her characters and her readers. She leaves room within the stories for her characters to breathe, and for her readers to reflect without heavy-handed explanations of theme or meaning. (continue reading…)

First a caveat—this is more of a preliminary evaluation of the book than a proper review. I will eventually give it its proper due.

Being a long-time reader of works in translation, I know how important it is to find a worthwhile translation before beginning the reading of any particular work. Poor, or merely dated, translation can render the life out of even the most vibrant and vital of works. My initial feeling is that Hugh Aplin has done a fine job in translating Pushkin here. I began simply by reading the introduction and a few of the stories, with attention to the notes.

As for the introduction, it is helpful and interesting reading, placing this work of prose within the context of Pushkin’s literary development, and of Russian literature in general. The stories are quite readable. They don’t suffer from strangulated translation. They don’t read like a 21st century writer wearing the affectation of 19th century “pantaloons, waistcoat, and frock,”—“these words are not of Russian stock…”—and therefore give relatively direct access to English readers of Pushkin’s stories. (continue reading…)

Anton Chekhov was a master of the short story. However, he gets poor treatment by the Interwar Period translations of Constance Garnett. I first came to dislike Garnett’s Russian translations while discovering the writings of Fyodor Dostoevsky. The great Russian writers all have very distinctive writing styles and Constance Garnett succeeded in making them sound like Victorian era British novelists. She is known for her very fast, “smoothed over” style of translation in which difficulties in the original are simply dropped from the work. This is simply not the way to get the flavor of the great Russian writers. I can only surmise that the decision to go with the Garnett translation of these stories rested upon the economics of public domain versus newer, licensed translations.

My preference would be for one of the modern translations, and in particular the Pevear/Volokhonsky translations are wonderful. They are quite literal and maintain a strong sense of the “Russianness” of the works. They don’t Westernize, they don’t turn Russians into Latins, they don’t turn a perhaps unfamiliar “liturgy” into a familiar “mass”. Instead, they provide ample endnotes to ellucidate the aspects of Russian culture and history which are likely to be opaque to the Western reader.

With a poor translation as the foundation for this audio book, I still held out hope for a powerful reading. Unfortunately, the problems were only compounded by poor production choices made by reader/producer Max Bollinger. (continue reading…)

From The Art of Fiction:

In theory it may be proper that teachers ignore thrillers, science fiction, and the comic books. No one wants Coleridge pushed from the curriculum by a duck “trapped in a world he never made!” But when we begin to list the contemporary “serious” writers who fill highschool and literature courses, Howard the Duck can look not all that bad.

I’ve been reading short fiction lately, and for the reasons I mentioned in a previous post I am focusing almost exclusively on Science Fiction and Fantasy. This week I got the idea of seeking out this year’s award winners, and was pleasantly surprised to see how much was available for reading on the web. Free stories are a treat for the unemployed. (continue reading…)

A response to Paul Mathers.

Will I scandalize you if I question the pure virtue of literacy?

What I mean is, reading, in and of itself, has only a pragmatic value. Literacy is a tool. It happens to be an extremely useful tool, but it’s value is in it’s usefulness. Of what value is it if someone can read, but chooses not to, or reads only the back of his cereal box? Or Glenn Beck?

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I’ve recently made a decision to make an attempt to get back into a habit of writing. Several years back I made a 6 month study of poetry. This time I’m wanting to stretch further into the realm of “I really suck a this” and work on short fiction. I’m looking for suggestions on worthy materials dealing with the mechanics of short fiction, as well as searching out the better examples of actual works.

I’m putting a limitation of sorts on my pursuit, however, because I believe it will help liberate me from some of my worst tendencies. My first steps into this will be restricted to genre fic, and specifically fantasy and sci-fi. (continue reading…)

As I was driving to work one April morning last year, Renée Montagne, host of NPR’s Morning Edition, introduced a story I just couldn’t turn off. Irish author—Man Booker Prize—many literary novels—one of the finest living writers. Okay. She had my attention. He’s turned to writing hard-boiled crime fiction… I’m afraid I may have groaned with a dark, gnawing anticipation. (continue reading…)

:: from an e-mail to a friend on 2002.9.30 ::

J—, I left work today with a headache. But instead of staying at home I went to the library to pick up my reserved copy of Battleship Potemkin and a video series on the Byzantine Empire. I got to the library before they opened and so went to Barnes & Noble for some coffee. I sat and read Anton Chekhov’s “The Lady with the Dog”. (continue reading…)