Right-reading (adj): Having the proper orientation (used in printing)

Today is Friday, March 19, 2010 9:23 pm (U.S. central time).

“People who like this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they like.”
-- Abraham Lincoln

Topics


 

On this date on this blog

Some Recent Comments

  • C.M. Mayo (Madam Mayo blog): Well, it’s something to see. I was recently on a flight out of San Francisco and,...
  • JD: as I said- the eyes have it
  • xensen: As noted in an update to the post above, in response to Jim Hale-Sanders’s arguments in favor of the Sanders...
Tom Christensen
("xensen") . tom [at] rightreading.com
 

Subscribe

rss feed button

Search This Blog



12 Recent Posts

Most posts appear early weekday mornings.


 

Some Popular Pages

1 How to Get a Book Published
2 Persian Ceramics
3 Chinese Jade
4 Creative barcodes from Japan
5 Taoism and the Arts of China
6 The digital divide
7 New graphic design 8 Gutenberg and Asia
9 The Yi jing
10 Glossary of Book Publishing Terms
11 Books for Writers
12 Famous Last Words
13 On Julio Cortazar
14 On Lewis Caroll's Sylvie and Bruno
15 Daybook: September
16 The Making of Masters of Bamboo




Some popular blog posts, 2006-2008

The Old Man’s Verses

I’m on the road and having trouble with my internet connection. So this will be brief.

I’ve mentioned I’ve been helping to judge a translation award. Now that a set of finalists has been announced (although the Chronicle, true to form, omitted the translation category from their story; I’ll list the finalists later) I can say that the book I especially liked among the eligible titles was The Old Man’s Verses byIvan Divis, translated from the Czeck by Deborah Garfinkle.

Divis (1924–99) fled Soviet-occupied Prague for West Germany in 1968. He returned a quarter century later, looking at his homeland (and himself) with the jaundiced eye of sober experience. Garfinkle does a great job of capturing the distinctive voice of these poems, and making it look easy.

Here’s a sample, borrowed from Carol Peters’s site:

In memory of Pavel Plavec

Pavel and I entered the cathedral in Passau,
ill-timed, late, that is, as the services were ending.
The fortissimo tutti of the world’s largest organ
nailed me to the floor.
The institution driving lambs to the fold
with these ear-splitting contraptions, not Christ?
And where did He remain? I asked myself in disbelief,
with the character trait engrained in me,
backed up by everything I’ve known
and scrutinized through and through? And where is He?
And right there He stirred in my breast.
I was flooded with warmth. Come, he said –
and we left. It was September, the month
in which I celebrate my birth.
The pristine trees were clinging to their stiff leaves.
With a clap, a flock of doves took off
like a gunshot.

1.27.1995


.

Print, e-mail, bookmark, share
  • Print
  • email
  • del.icio.us
  • StumbleUpon
  • Google Bookmarks
  • Facebook
  • Reddit

Write a comment