Friday, June 07, 2013

Department of Literary Yields

Czech Crop for English Readers in 2013

So far it looks like The Devil's Workshop (my translation of Jáchym Topol's most recent novel, published yesterday in the UK by Portobello Books) and Lord Mord (by Miloš Urban, translated by Gerald Turner for Peter Owen Publishers) may be the only works of Czech fiction appearing in English translation this year.


Otherwise, according to the latest database of translations published by Chad Post on the Three Percent blog yesterday, there are no other books translated into English from Czech scheduled to appear this year. (Before anybody objects, I of course realize there is a Czech author on the list — Monika Zgustová — but she lives in Barcelona and wrote her novel The Silent Woman, due out in November, in Spanish.)

Major kudos to Mr. Post, by the way, for having had the foresight to start his lists. Without their existence, people like me would be less likely to do this kind of analysis, and the number of important debates and discussions they've given rise to is surely too many to count. Thank you, Chad! On the other hand, nobody's perfect, and there are a few Czech books missing from the list for 2013:
  • Grove Atlantic is slated to publish Ivan Klíma's mammoth memoir, My Crazy Century, translated by Craig Cravens, in November. (Although this is a memoir, not fiction.)
  • Twisted Spoon Press, in Prague, is supposed to bring out interwar giant Vladislav Vančura's classic novel Markéta Lazarová, in Carleton Bulkin's translation, although the originally scheduled pub date of spring (or March) 2013 has since been reported as May, then June, and it now seems to be due out in September. So we'll see.
  • Finally, Jantar Publishing, in London, is planning to bring out two works this fall: Kytice, by Karel Jaromír Erben (bilingual edition, trans. Susan Reynolds), and The History Teacher, by Tereza Brdečková, trans. Elsa Morrison and Jan Čulík.

For comparison's sake, here are the numbers of works of Czech literature translated into English in the past five years (again, data from Three Percent):
2012: 4  
2011: 2 
2010: 5 
2009: 6
2008: 5
I did some research and came up with a few more past publications:
2012: –1 + 5 + 2 
  • Harlequin's Millions, by Bohumil Hrabal, trans. Stacey Knecht, Archipelago Books, was slated for publication in April 2012 but is now listed as due out in April 2014 
  • Václav Havel: Leaving and The Memo, trans. Paul Wilson; The Increased Difficulty of Concentration, trans. Štěpán Šimek; The Vaněk Plays, trans. Jan Novák; The Pig, or Václav Havel's Hunt for a Pig, trans. Edward Einhorn; all Theater 61 Press 
  • A Bouquet of Czech Folktales, by Karel Jaromír Erben, trans. Marcela Malek Sulak, Twisted Spoon Press 
  •  On Flying Objects, by Emil Hakl, trans. Petr Kopet and Karen Reppin, Comma Press
2011:  +2 
  • Prague, I see a city . . ., by Daniela Hodrová, and The Angel-maker, by Michal Mareš, both trans. David Short, Jantar Publishing
2010: +1 
So the revised numbers would be:
2012: 10  
2011: 4 
2010: 6 
2009: 6
2008: 5
I did the best sleuthing I could, but if I've missed any books, I'll look forward to hearing about them! (P.S. I realize my labels are incomplete, but Blogger allows only a limited number of them.)

Friday, May 31, 2013

Rational Calculations Department

My Two Cents on Burma

"Attacks on Muslims in Myanmar" — nice of the Times to op-ed this. They are mistaken, though, in their invoking of the tired old bugbear of "old hatreds" (typically, when it comes to genocide, as in Rwanda and Yugoslavia, the favored variation is "ancient hatreds").

Image: http://arakanindobhasaa.blogspot.com/2011/11/bbc-under-fire-on-rohingyas.html

One of the biggest obstacles to accurate understanding, and therefore effective prevention, of genocide is the failure to see it as a political phenomenon, i.e., a calculated decision on the part of a sector of society for the purpose of gaining (or regaining) power. The fact that "police and security officials," as the Times editorial board notes, "have been accused of failing to prevent attacks on minorities or being complicit in them," as well as the fact that the Rohingya Muslims are not the only minority who have been targeted — the Kachin, Karen, and Shan peoples have all been on the receiving end of violence and human rights violations by the Burmese government — should make it obvious that the country's rulers see a benefit in doing so.

If it's true that sanctions didn't help, it's also true that praising president Thein Sein for his progress on reforms while making no mention of the continuing massacres he's carrying out (described by Human Rights Watch last month as crimes against humanity), as Obama did last week when he welcomed him at the White House, is nothing but shameful and helps no one except the regime and the companies it does business with.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Department of Say What?

Bad Translation Makes Mexicans Think Prague Has Special Subway Cars for People to Have Sex

slew of Mexican news sites reported over the weekend that a campaign to increase ridership on the Prague Metro included designating a car on each train where passengers could knock boots.

Photo: vanguardia.com.mx

Metro.cz writes that the campaign, described in English here, will create a special car where singles can meet ("vagon, kde se budou moct lidé seznámit"), but that's as far as it's meant to go.

Some of the Mexican sites, like the one above, illustrated their stories with photographs from New York City's annual No Pants Subway Ride.

Filip Drápal of Ropid, the Prague transport company, is quoted as saying that nobody who enters the car will be forced to make contact with their fellow riders.

Other features of the campaign to induce Praguers to ride the Metro instead of driving their cars include concerts on the platforms and posters with quotes from Michal Viewegh novels and lyrics by pop rockers Mandrage.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Hues and Cries Department

Adam Hochschild, King Leopold's Ghost: A Story of Greed, Terror, and Heroism in Colonial Africa, 280–3:
An ancient English law made it a crime to witness a murder or discover a corpse and not raise a "hue and cry." But we live in a world of corpses, and only about some of them is there a hue and cry. True, with a population loss estimated at ten million people, what happened in the Congo could reasonably be called the most murderous part of the European Scramble for Africa. But that is so only if you look at sub-Saharan Africa as the arbitrary checkerboard formed by colonial boundaries. If you draw boundaries differently — to surround, say, all African equatorial rain forest land rich in wild rubber — then what happened in the Congo is, unfortunately, no worse than what happened in neighboring colonies [. . .]
Photos from King Leopold's Ghost
Around the time the Germans were slaughtering Hereros, the world also was largely ignoring America's brutal counterguerrilla war in the Philippines, in which U.S. troops tortured prisoners, burned villages, killed 20,000 rebels, and saw 200,000 Filipinos die of war-related hunger or disease. Britain came in for no international criticism of its killings of aborigines in Australia, in accordance with extermination orders as ruthless as von Trotha's. And, of course, in neither Europe nor the United States was there major protest against the decimation of the American Indians.
When these other mass murders went largely unnoticed except by their victims, why, in England and the United States, was there such a storm of righteous protest about the Congo? The politics of empathy are fickle. Certainly one reason Britons and Americans focused on the Congo was that it was a safe target. Outrage over the Congo did not involve British or American misdeeds, nor did it entail the diplomatic, trade, or military consequences of taking on a major power like France or Germany. [. . .]
What happened in the Congo was indeed mass murder on a vast scale, but the sad truth is that the men who carried it out for Leopold were no more murderous than many Europeans then at work or at war elsewhere in Africa. Conrad said it best: "All Europe contributed to the making of Kurtz."

Friday, May 03, 2013

Department of Free Speech

Is it brave to tell someone to shut the fuck up when you're a celebrity standing on a stage and they're a nameless person sitting in the audience?

Or, more to the point: Is it wrong for the head of a free speech organization, a man who gives lectures on censorship, to tell a protester to shut the fuck up at a public event?

Photo: Anonymous

This was the question on my mind as I read about what happened at the opening event of this year's PEN World Voices Festival of International Literature, whose main theme is bravery.

According to the account on the PEN Live Tumblr:
This is how the Opening Night Reading to PEN’s World Voices Festival of International Literature in The Great Hall of The Cooper Union started on Monday: Salman Rushdie walked on stage and said super eloquent things like, “The other meaning of courage is real artistic risk ... When we try and find new ways of saying things.”
Then, a belligerent man with an anti-government sign yelled out, “You were for the war in Iraq!” He holds up his smartphone, “I have it right here in front of me! A war based on lies that killed a million people!” This guy was annoying everyone at the event.
Rushdie’s calm, English-accented response: “The only lies being told here are by you, sir. As president of this organization, I led this organization against that war, so you can shut the fuck up. It doesn’t matter how you shout, sir. It doesn’t make what you say correct. That is the technique of the bully throughout history—to try and shout other people down.”
With those words, and Rushdie’s cold-eyed stare hardened by assassination attempts and emboldened with knighthood, the man shut the fuck up. We continued on with the reading. It was an intense night, but in a good way.
The protester was wrong—if by "you" he meant Rushdie. Writing in the Washington Post in November 2002, Rushdie questioned the reluctance of "antiwar liberals" to recognize that "Saddam Hussein and his ruthless gang of cronies from his home village of Tikrit are homicidal criminals, and their Iraq is a living hell." But he cited several reasons why the U.S. war on Iraq was not justified and why he "remained unconvinced by President Bush's Iraqi grand design." He restated this position in a letter to the Guardian in 2007, adding that "as president of PEN American Center, I led that organisation in a number of campaigns against the Bush administration's policies."

If by "you" the protester meant PEN, the answer's a little murkier. A search of the word "Iraq" on the PEN American Center website turns up 16 pages of results—including "Rushdie mobilizes American writers against Bush," "Pamuk: Iraq war is the shame of US and West," "Resolution on the United States of America" (from the 2003 International PEN Assembly, censuring U.S. crackdowns on freedom of the press in connection with the war in Iraq), and "Sara Paretsky: Refusing to allow pressure to silence a critical voice"—but a search of press releases from Sept. 11, 2001, to March 19, 2003 (the date the U.S. invaded Iraq) returns no statement on the subject by the organization as such. Extending the search to Dec. 31, 2003, reveals "PEN protests Ashcroft comments on librarians, urges repeal of Patriot Act." That's it.

Of course there's a difference between being for a war and not being against it, but it seems to me both Rushdie and the protester could be found guilty of exaggerating their claims. (And again, there's the issue of power differential: Can an ordinary person speaking from the floor to the president of a national organization standing on stage honestly be accused of "bullying"?)

What I suspect, although the author of the PEN Live dispatch doesn't mention it, is the protester probably meant to direct his condemnation at neither Rushdie nor PEN, but a woman named Suzanne Nossel. [Note: At the time I wrote this, I had not yet received the photograph above. Now that I have it, it's clear the protester was referring to Nossel, not Rushdie. AZ, 5/4/13]

*****
In January the PEN American Center named Nossel as its new executive director. She comes to the job with some baggage, having lasted barely a year as executive director at Amnesty International USA, resigning in the wake of barbed accusations that Amnesty was guilty of "shilling for US wars."

These charges stemmed primarily from an incident during Nossel's tenure last spring, when Amnesty placed ads on bus shelters in Chicago during the May 20–21 NATO Summit there, congratulating the military alliance for its contribution to human rights for women and girls in Afghanistan:

Photo: http://blog.amnestyusa.org/asia/we-get-it/

Simultaneous with the NATO event, Amnesty USA held a "Shadow Summit for Afghan Women's Rights," featuring former U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright and speakers from the Afghan Women's Network and Women for Afghan Women, among others.

The outcry—both over the poster and at the inclusion of Albright, an advocate for the use of U.S. military force to stop atrocities and advance democracy—was loud enough that Amnesty felt obliged to respond. In a blog post titled "We Get It," AI USA's director of policy admitted that the poster was "confusing," but defended it, explaining:
The shadow summit — and the poster — is directed at NATO, not to praise it, but to remind the leaders who will be discussing Afghanistan’s future this weekend about what is really at stake if women’s rights to security, political participation and justice are traded away or compromised.
We were thinking about the hard won gains Afghan women have made since the fall of the Taliban. Ten years ago, Afghanistan had one of the worst human rights records in the world in terms of women’s and girls’ rights. The Taliban banned women from working, going to school or even leaving home without a male relative.
Today, three million girls go to school, compared to virtually none under the Taliban. Women make up 20 percent of university graduates. Maternal mortality and infant mortality have declined. Ten percent of all prosecutors and judges are women, compared to none under the Taliban regime. This is what we meant by progress: the gains Afghan women have struggled to achieve over the past decade. [. . .]
As a matter of policy, Amnesty doesn’t take a position for or against NATO. We didn’t call for the bombing of Afghanistan — in fact, readers who were members or following our work when the bombing started in 2001 will remember that our message was “justice not revenge” and that we went into crisis response mode out of concern for the impact on civilians.
And we’re not calling for NATO to remain in the country. [emphasis in original]
Sahar Saba, former spokesperson for the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA), founded in 1977 and supported by Amnesty in the past, argued that Amnesty was overstating the gains achieved by Afghan women since NATO entered the country in 2001 and that it was misleading to compare the current status of women with the situation under the Taliban.

Jodie Evans, a cofounder of Code Pink: Women for Peace, led a campaign asking the Amnesty board for Nossel's resignation. She attended the Shadow Summit in Chicago and during a Q&A session asked Nossel about the posters, as well as about reports that Nossel had let go staff from Amnesty's campaign to end the U.S. use of torture and close the detention camp at Guantánamo Bay. According to Evans,
Nossel said the signs [about NATO in Afghanistan] were a mistake but the intent was to talk about how the women were better off and to tell NATO they needed to keep the women safe. I replied that her messaging was still off, and that telling the audience of supporters of Amnesty that war is good for women was a horrible lie.
*****
I'm conscious of the need not to go too far astray here, but it's important to acknowledge that the debate about whether it's possible to promote human rights by military means—a matter of life and death most of all for the people on the receiving end of U.S. firepower—is as current now as ever, and Nossel, because of the jobs she has held and the statements she's made, both in print and in person, is right in the thick of it.

Photo: http://www.pen.org/suzanne-nossel

Nossel became a target for antiwar activists already in 2012, when she was hired as head of Amnesty USA. In contrast to her predecessor, Larry Cox—a lifelong activist with deep grassroots connections, whose involvement with Amnesty dated back to 1976—Nossel came to the job with a management background in both human rights (COO at Human Rights Watch) and corporate media (Dow Jones/Wall Street Journal and Bertelsmann), as well as a two-year stint in the State Department under Hillary Clinton, serving as deputy assistant secretary of state for international organizations.

The most trenchant criticism of Nossel has centered on her statements concerning U.S. foreign policy, beginning with an article she wrote for the establishment journal Foreign Affairs while at Bertelsmann, in 2004, titled "Smart Power." There is nothing terribly new about her argument, which can be boiled down to the idea that the United States, since the end of the Cold War, can no longer rely on military might alone to ensure its preeminent global standing: "trade, diplomacy, foreign aid, and the spread of American values" are equally valuable tools.

(The first person to put forward this position in U.S. policy circles was actually Joseph Nye, a political scientist at Harvard University, in a 1990 book titled Bound to Lead: The Changing Nature of American Power [his main argument is also summarized in this 1990 article for Foreign Policy]. The term Nye used was "soft power," not "smart power," but Nye, notably, was less interested in propping up U.S. hegemony than in "meet[ing] the challenges of transnational interdependence.")

Nossel casts herself as a Democrat, a "progressive" who wishes to "wrest . . . back from Republican policymakers" the tarnished doctrine of liberal internationalism, which argues that liberal states should intervene in other states to pursue liberal objectives. "Progressives," she writes in Foreign Affairs,
must therefore advance a foreign policy that renders more effective the fight against terrorism but that also goes well beyond it—focusing on the smart use of power to promote U.S. interests through a stable grid of allies, institutions, and norms. They must define an agenda that marshals all available sources of power and then apply it in bold yet practical ways to counter threats and capture opportunities. Such an approach would reassure an uneasy American public, unite a fractious government bureaucracy, and rally the world behind U.S. goals.
For Nossel, human rights are more of an instrument than an end, a means to advancing U.S. interests: "Policymakers must pragmatically seek out opportunities for action where idealism and realism intersect and pursue their goals in ways that reinforce, rather than deplete, U.S. power."

Most other criticism of Nossel at the time of her appointment as executive director of AI USA focused on her statements regarding Israel (which she was accused of defending at the expense of Palestinians' rights) and her stance vis-à-vis Iran (which she has argued the U.S. should attack preemptively).

This is not an exhaustive account of Nossel's credentials—far from it—and to be fair, Nossel has taken positions on other issues, and other countries, that are not at all controversial and have therefore gone unremarked. She's also the founder of a blog called Democracy Arsenal, a solidly liberal-Democrat forum that is entirely unexceptional in the range of opinion of its contributors.

The truth is, Nossel is squarely in the mainstream of present-day Democratic foreign policy thinking.

*****
Journalist and author Chris Hedges, who until recently most people knew mainly from his bylines in the New York Times, sprang more openly into the public eye in 2011, thanks to his engagement in Occupy Wall Street. Since then, he's become one of the go-to talking heads of the left, with a weekly column on Truthdig and regular appearances in the media and at public events.

Photo: therealnews.com

In protest against the PEN American Center's hiring of Nossel, in April Hedges announced he was "resigning" from PEN and had turned down the organization's invitation to appear in this year's edition of the PEN World Voices Festival. In a follow-up to his announcement, "The Hijacking of Human Rights," he bludgeons Nossel, the U.S. government, and most of this country's largest human rights organizations for "buying into the false creed that U.S. military force can be deployed to promote human rights."

Nossel supported the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003: It's true. Hedges goes too far, though, in calling her "one of the most fervent cheerleaders for the Iraq War," claiming she "embraced the administration's policy, whether that's drone attacks, the assassination of U.S. citizens, the curtailment of civil liberties, had not spoken out against torture." Given that she was in the State Department for only two years (2009–11), and in a relatively low-profile position, I think his rhetoric is overblown.

The growing convergence of human rights and humanitarian aims with those of U.S. foreign policy—as documented and scrutinized in David Rieff's must-read A Bed for the Night: Humanitarianism in Crisis—is cause for great concern, and in Nossel these tendencies collide, but she, personally, is not responsible for them. The rising pitch of invective against her ("feminist for imperialism," "US imperial lackey," "war hawk") is out of proportion to her role in the matter.

But it is right to ask whether Nossel is an appropriate person to run the second-oldest human rights organization in the United States. (The PEN American Center was founded in 1922. The American Civil Liberties Union was founded in 1920. By the way, the PEN American Center claims that PEN International, founded in 1921, is the world's oldest human rights organization, but some quick web research reveals that that distinction rightly belongs to Anti-Slavery International, founded as the Anti-Slavery Society in 1839. PEN International itself, interestingly, does not make that claim.)

And it is right to point out, as Chris Hedges does, that on the U.S. government's treatment of whistleblower Bradley Manning, the PEN American Center, whose charter declares "that the necessary advance of the world toward a more highly organized political and economic order renders free criticism of governments, administrations, and institutions imperative," has remained silent (as has PEN International).

*****
Should Suzanne Nossel be replaced? I think so. I'm a member of PEN, and I believe we can do better. I also think the PEN American Center should join the Center for Constitutional Rights and the American Civil Liberties Union in standing up for Bradley Manning's constitutional rights.

According to a source who was at the Monday event, when the protester shouted "What about Bradley Manning?" Rushdie replied that PEN was working on it. Maybe. There's no evidence of it yet. Until there is, Salman Rushdie should watch his mouth.

Sunday, December 04, 2011

Department of Realizations Arrived at Lying in Bed, Waiting to Fall Asleep

There is a part of me that does not believe another world is possible. But another part of me knows it's important for me to work with people who do.

Monday, March 08, 2010

Bookslut Smackdown Department


Jessa Crispin, aka Bookslut, who once upon a time ran a review of CSS, picks apart a new book by Spanish --> English translator Edith Grossman.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Department of Falling Walls

My death-defying contribution to the blog promoting the forthcoming Words Without Borders/Open Letter anthology The Wall in My Head. [Note: Original site no longer exists; link updated 5/13/13. Following is the text in full.]


08.05.09 | Quo Vadebas or "The Rubble in Our Heads"
by Alex Zucker

Martin M. Šimečka, primarily a journalist but known to most English speakers as author of the 1993 Pegasus Prize-winning novel The Year of the Frog, published a biting article last May on the Vienna-based site Eurozine titled "Still not free: Why post-'89 history must go beyond self-diagnosis." He begins:
"Some of you may recall the western hopes in the aftermath of the Velvet Revolution that central Europe could enrich the western political world with fresh new ideas, values or insights that it lacked; that perhaps central Europeans might come up with a vision of a 'third way' between capitalism and socialism. These hopes rested on the assumption that central Europeans' experience of suffering under communism had made us better human beings, more inquisitive, sensitive and intellectual. Today, that hope looks pathetic, and it has become clear that western perceptions of central Europe were truly naive."
Šimečka, a Slovak who lives in the Czech Republic, argues that what at the time looked to many in the West like the fall of communism in Central Europe—a liberating event; the apotheosis of, depending on your background and point of view, Reagan's arms buildup and Star Wars missile defense shield or Gorbachev's glasnost or the grass roots stick-to-itiveness of the citizens on the far side of the Curtain (underestimated in nearly every account I've ever read), who, rather than try to break through the wall of Commie officialdom, simply stopped, turned heel, and walked away from it to form their own civil society—was actually no fall at all but a rise: the rise of globalization cum laissez-faire capitalism.

By 1989, Šimečka writes, Adam Smith's invisible hand had "withered into a crippled stump." In Šimečka's homeland, Czechoslovakia (and its successors, Slovakia and the Czech Republic), the installation of capitalism through the 1990s—which is to say, the privatization of businesses, both large and small—was a frantic rush job, jury-rigged in such a way that it inevitably favored the powers that were, leaving most economic power in the hands of the nomenklatura, the "old structures," as they were colloquially known; or, hard to say for Slovaks and Czechs if this was worse or better, transferring it into the hands of foreigners, including the dreaded and envied Germans.

Meanwhile "the West" (whoever that means these days) had lost its moral mirror. No longer could opinion makers dwelling in democracy hold up the Havels and Michniks and Konráds as long-awaited proof of the kinder, gentler society that would necessarily bloom once intellectuals were finally lent the ear that they deserved.

Yet it is not Western naïveté that Šimečka is concerned with. It is the failure of Czechs and Slovaks and Poles and Hungarians themselves to be free, and to be free where it matters most: in their minds. As Šimečka puts it:
"All of us who lived at least part of our adult lives under communism have been marked by the past to the extent that we may never be able to discuss it in the language of a natural, free world. We may be able to distinguish between the courageous from the cowardly and victims from culprits, but not between those who are free and those who are not. The category of a free human being simply did not exist under the communist regime. Defiance, resistance or attempts to live a parallel life outside the system may have represented signs of longing for freedom but they did not represent freedom itself. This is why we can and we should bear witness and many deserve admiration and respect for their courage. Yet this does not entitle us to claim that we can interpret this part of history in a free and unbiased way. We are all like patients who self-diagnose and prescribe their own treatment."
And Šimečka believes that the first place freedom can happen (for it has not happened yet) will be in the rewriting of this part of Europe's history. It is up to the generations with no experience of communism to interpret the past free of personal anger, bitterness, and resentment, as well as of deserved if at times excessive respect and deference toward the members of the generations who swam in it—who sank or swam in it—from the day they were born. In other words, the first freedom will come from the ones with no Wall in their heads, the ones with their heads free of rubble.

I saw this for myself during the five years I lived in Prague, from 1990 to 1995. During a night of drinking with Czech friends my age or older (that is, born prior to, say, 1965) at some point the conversation would invariably come around to what things used to be like in the bad old days. Not that it necessarily turned into a bitch-and-moan session; sometimes it got heavy; some of them had, after all, done time in prison. But as often as not there were laughs to be had in the reminiscing, a welcome relief from the pressure cooker of keeping up with the neck-snapping pace of life after the explosion of time (as Jáchym Topol referred to it). Whereas spending time with Czech friends who were younger than I was (born, say, 1970 or later), I rarely heard any discussion of the old times, unless it was about TV shows or bad pop music. Not that they were any less informed or intelligent than my older friends; they just weren't nearly as influenced by the past, as weighted down by it, for obvious and understandable reasons.

Of course, unfreedom comes in many guises. Many in "the West," including probably most of the people I know, would say that consumerism, marketing, and advertising are the main threats to a free-thinking mind nowadays. I myself have come to believe that whether or not I'm "free"—by which I mean free to make decisions in my own best interest, unharmful to myself or to others, based in love, not in fear—is less a question of my rights, or my exposure to manipulation by advertisers, or the scaremongering of government propaganda, or the diminishment of public space as corporations assume the functions of government (not to dismiss the significance of these things) than of my willingness to take responsibility for myself.

In other words, maybe for us—at least those of us in the United States, a country with a long and, to put it mildly, checkered tradition of seeking to "bring freedom" to other parts of the world—the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall is a good time for us to ask not how free or unfree are the people of Central Europe but how much freer or unfreer since then have we become?

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

New Czech Drama Department


Last night marked the release of Czech Plays: Seven New Works, published by the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center of CUNY. Buy it here.

It contains a play by Iva Klestilová Volánková, called Minach, that I originally translated for the Czech Center New York's staged reading series in 2002. (Not to too blatantly hype myself, but you can also buy a copy of Minach separately from the Theatre Institute in Prague.)

Friday, November 18, 2005

Department of Unexpected Poignancy

A couple weeks ago, I was revisiting Jim Jarmusch's first film, Stranger Than Paradise. My father wandered into the room, as he is wont to do whenever someone is watching a movie and he comes upstairs from his study to take a break from work, and so he watched for a while, and was asking about it. So I was explaining who Jim Jarmusch is, and said that I thought his best film, and one I am sure my dad would like, is Down by Law.

And so the other day, when I was in the library, I noticed they had Down by Law on DVD, so I checked it out and brought it home for my dad to watch if he wanted. Well, who knows if he'll watch it or not, but *I* decided to watch it (I'm watching it at this moment in fact) on this, my last night in Ann Arbor.

But this is my point. When the opening sequence came up, it suddenly dawned on me that this is a *New Orleans* film; and especially the opening sequence. It's long been one of my favorite openings -- for the cinematography (black & white, slow-mo, and wide angle) as well as for the music ("Jockey Full of Bourbon," by Tom Waits) -- but the poignant moment for me came as it suddenly dawned on me that everything in that sequence must now be gone. Forever. In effect the film has been transformed from feature to documentary (as, no doubt, many others have as well; in this, of course, Down by Law is not unique). And, well, I found that poignant.