Passé obscur (Mira) (French Edition)
Nobody will be sad. And the terrorist will celebrate as well…because she is a Jew anyway.. Mira Bar-Hillel is not bordering on the neurotic, she is quite simply mad as a hatter. Her family must be really ashamed of her. She is the daughter of the brilliant neuroscientist Prof. When I trained as a simultaneous interpreter with Mira in the s she displayed of her current insanity. Maybe she just wants to grab the headlines and no longer be the obscure architectural correspondent of the Daily Telegraph. The amusing part is that her behaviour is typical of certain Jews, only Jews have this capacity for self-hatred.
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Is Mira Bar Hillel really Jewish? Does Mira Bar Hillel pass the test of le dor va-dor generation to generation? One interpretation of their message is: What the narrator is really saying is something like this: A beautiful image, but quite a mouthful. After testing several iterations, I settled upon: Furthermore, I had transformed the clause from active to passive — the fly was frozen now, instead of fluttering its wings in constant flight — diluting its impact in the process.
I had also removed the parallel to a contradiction in the next line: I started over, playing with verbs that could convey the idea of perpetuity: I liked the sonority of that last option, and the links to the larger themes of time, memory, and eternity in the book, but I decided against it. If Bouanani had wanted, he could have used the verb immortalizer for the same reasons.
Author knows best, right? In dem Brunnen baden Kinder, und wir wollen auch baden.
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Wir wollen lieber mit unseren Fahnen zu der Musik und da sein, wo alle anderen Menschen sind. Unsere Mutter verspricht uns, dass Thorsten bunten Puffreis zu Hause hat. Wir teilen sie nach Farben auf. Hanna ist langweilig, sie hat keine Lust zu spielen. Wir wollen endlich los. Hanna and I want to stay there.
Children are swimming in the fountain, and we also want to swim. We would rather be here with our flags and the music, where all the other people are. Our mother promises us that Thorsten has colored Puffreis at home.
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Those are the rubbish bins, Thorsten explains and shows us in the back of the courtyard. Hanna and I take the bowl of Puffreis placed on the kitchen table.
We sort it by color. Red is my favorite color, green is hers.
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Thorsten takes my mother by the hand and leads her into his big bedroom and closes the door […] We can hear my mother and Thorsten giggling. They definitely should not have closed the door. At last we want to go. I go to the door, where Thorsten and my mother disappeared. I try the handle many times, but the door will not budge. This relationship between the mother and Thorsten, seen through the eyes of the young narrator, deals with the necessity to confront her allegiances: A German reader would immediately identify that the action takes place in East Berlin, with the mother and her lover trying to escape with the children to the West.
I chose to keep as many words as I could to squarely root the story in s East Berlin. Although the theme is universal, the story must be represented as it was intended. The mother and her lover would speak Russian, not French or another Western language, to keep secrets. They would eat Puffreis, not Rice Krispies. The little girl has a command of her words that seemingly derives from her emulation of her mother.
Of course, she is precocious, but parroting her mother—and her father—gives her a certain edge, a wisdom beyond her years that almost guesses what her mother and Thorsten are really up to. The subtlety of language in the German forces us to question just how much the girls really know. Grammatically, the subjunctive case is far more common in German than in English, for example in: Yoshimasu had requested that the notes drafted to accompany his poems not appear as the traditional notational apologia for texts and their translations.
The single guideline he spooled out was that they should better approximate the modality of the poems they glossed. In somewhat playful recompense, I decided to align the text of the notes in vertical columns. Still, the change was not a sufficient match for the spatial, the typographic variability of the poems. A striking feature of his poetry is what it does physically, materially, before or as it succumbs to reading for content.
Hints of strange visual and, out of these, cognitive-acoustic patterns emerge then slip away. Moving forward on the assertion of space as the fundamental sensory datum and that from the inference of matter in it, its observation and grammatization, duration follows, I tried to achieve a level of spatial heterogeneity in the notes tantamount to what existed in the poems. This decision of course proved subversive to traditional notions of translation.
But more interestingly it also subverted, in tandem with the text and in however minute a measure, the growing, globally socialized construction of time as one homogeneous present wherein the tripartite temporal paradigm of past, present, and future, dissolves. The more closely we hew to vectors of technicization bent on turning time into an infinitesimal interval, the more rapidly our individual procedures for constructing duration recede from us. This recession runs apace with the technological apparatus enabling global sociability, which remove matter — so necessary for constructing duration — from physical space and replace it with immediate, virtual omnipresence.
Meanwhile the devilish irony looming over this whole enterprise is that my collaboration with Sayuri depended on devices conducive to just this distortion. Our communication often skipped instantaneously back and fourth between different parts of the United States, Europe, and Japan, but we did not once meet in person while working on the translation; our schedules simply prevented all such encounters.
Our means of interaction could scarcely have been at greater odds with the theoretical conventions I had devised to solve the problem of the notes. Without the support of integrated, digital communication networks, our work would likely have foundered. Do the circumstances under which Sayuri and I translated together undermine the credibility of how I spatially translated the notes and why I chose to translate them the way I did?
I do not think so; not quite. Sayuri and I communicated via e-mail daily, sometimes once or twice hourly within the span of a day, at which point the pace of our exchanges grew so rapid that we both found it more productive to withdraw from the immediate, integrated present. What became apparent was our desire for actual rather than virtual space and for presence within that space, diachronically cordoned off outside of global synchrony, where we could feel our own time pass at the pace of gesture observed, of spatially and materially present conversation as we traded ideas and suggestions.
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The Internet was and continues to be a means of overdetermining the present, and also of mitigating distance, but not of obliterating it. For us it was always a second choice even if, practically, the only choice. And inasmuch as it continues to neglect certain necessities of human interaction, it turns our attention, through their absence, to a reconsideration of just what those necessities may be.
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