Print Story The Martians could land in the carpark and no one would care
By Bartleby (Tue Jan 23, 2007 at 08:23:48 AM EST) écriture semi-automatique, écriture semi-automatique (all tags)
Yesterday morning I was about to start a diary remarking how it oddly felt like the first spring day of the year, even though it was noticeably colder than the weeks before. It's a good thing I know better than to trust my premonitions.

So, for the record, in the winter of 06/07 I didn't see a single snowflake between 1.11. (11/1) and 22.1. (1/22). And then, in the middle of a sunny morning, blackbirds and all, a huge cloud in angry grey rolled in over the western horizon, blowing a fanfare of strong wind and sleet. And then the snow started to fall...

There was thunder, there was lightning, and then the stars went out...

OK, not quite. What's left today is a sugar coating on roofs, lawns and meadows, and early morning temperatures of -5°C. And shades of grey, white and blue at dusk that make me sort of homesick for winter in Finland.


Read since Xmas (fiction):

Fred Vargas, Pars vite et reviens tard
Pascal Mercier, Nachtzug nach Lissabon
Stefan Zweig, Fouché
Thomas Pynchon, Against the day (up to page 720 so far)
Anatol France, Aufruhr der Engel (La revolte des anges)


Re: spring: sunrise moved back to a spot where I can actually see it from my window.


Life: is no way to treat an animal, says Kurt Vonnegut. Yep.


I wrote a diary last Friday at the library, then removed everything I found boring, dumb, or embarassing, and when the screen was blank, I went home. I made the mistake once to look at old diaries I had actually posted. OUCH! Hence, in an attempt to post at least a diary a month, an exercise in posting without editing. At least that's the plan.

And never look back. Perfection is for statues.

The management would like to apologize for any inconvenience, annoyance, or brain hemorrhage.


Read/skimmed/reading list (non-fiction):

Radegundis Stolze, Übersetzungstheorien
Riitta Oittinen, I Am Me - I Am Other. On the Dialogics of Translating for Children
Tiina Puurtinen, Linguistic Acceptability in Translated Children's Literature
Maria Krysztofiak, Przekład literacki we współczesnej translatoryce
Peeter Torop, Totalnyj perevod
Eugene A. Nida, Toward a science of translating


A lot of words to tell you all I have nothing to say. Ms. Bachmann wouldn't approve, I guess. Wer wahre Worte finden will, soll halt da suchen, wo Licht ist.


Two obscure references that don't fit together in one sentence. I'm so po-mo.


But no(t) pomo. Pomo is Finnish, means boss. True fact.


Can you imagine a writer about halfway between Ingeborg Bachmann and Fernando Pessoa? A character somewhat reminiscent of both appears in one of the books I mentioned above, Nachtzug nach Lissabon ("Night train to Lisbon", not translated (yet) to English, as far as I know).


Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before
And we'll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow

< Seasonal Affective Disorder | BBC White season: 'Rivers of Blood' >
The Martians could land in the carpark and no one would care | 5 comments (5 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback
You have shamed me by georgeha (2.00 / 0) #1 Tue Jan 23, 2007 at 08:26:34 AM EST
I have not even picked up Against the Day to fondle or browse, let alone buy it. My Pynchonmania has waned greatly.

How that? by Bartleby (2.00 / 0) #2 Tue Jan 23, 2007 at 09:37:58 AM EST
I'm already dreading the end of this book, though I must admit it probably helps that it offers me a temporary escape from the other stuff I'm reading right now - and that I think I'd enjoy a great deal if I didn't *have* to read it.

[ Parent ]
I used to be very into Pynchon by georgeha (2.00 / 0) #3 Tue Jan 23, 2007 at 09:47:20 AM EST
I bought Vineland soon after it came out, M & D , too.

I haven't even looked this one up yet.

[ Parent ]
Nothing lasts forever. by Bartleby (2.00 / 0) #4 Tue Jan 23, 2007 at 10:14:53 AM EST
Not even literary infatuations.

As far as I dare say now, with 400 pages left, AtD is fairly typical Pynchon, vintage for the fans, same old for those who don't care much for his books, plus more occultism, perhaps. (Not hard to tell which way I am leaning.) That is to say, unless you regard AtD as the latest and necessary building block in the huge edifice of Pynchon's interconnected books, I couldn't right now make a case why this one is novel in such ways that one just has to read it in addition to all the previous ones.

[ Parent ]
WIPO by TurboThy (4.00 / 1) #5 Thu Jan 25, 2007 at 11:19:28 AM EST
Sommerhus til salg, første række til Kattegat.
The Martians could land in the carpark and no one would care | 5 comments (5 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback