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READIN
READIN started out as a place for me
to keep track of what I am reading, and to learn (slowly, slowly)
how to design a web site.
There has been some mission drift
here and there, but in general that's still what it is. Some of
the main things I write about here are
reading books,
listening to (and playing) music, and
watching the movies. Also I write about the
work I do with my hands and with my head; and of course about bringing up Sylvia.
The site is a bit of a work in progress. New features will come on-line now and then; and you will occasionally get error messages in place of the blog, for the forseeable future. Cut me some slack, I'm just doing it for fun! And if you see an error message you think I should know about, please drop me a line. READIN source code is PHP and CSS, and available on request, in case you want to see how it works.
See my reading list for what I'm interested in this year.
READIN has been visited approximately 236,737 times since October, 2007.
The roasted vegetables will be ready about now, so take them out of the oven. Leave the oven on to 450° so it will be hot for cooking the pie.
When the cabbage starts to soften, fill the pie crusts. Cabbage and onions, then zucchini slices and mushrooms, then red peppers. Cook at 450° until crust is nice and brown, approximately 20 min.
The inspiration is Robyn Hitchcock's Cooking with Rockstars post from a couple years ago. It seems like a nice dish to bring to the potluck supper which will follow this afternoon's concert.
posted morning of November 20th, 2011: Respond ➳ More posts about Recipes
De repente sentà que alguien me hablaba. DecÃan: señor Salvatierra, Amadeo, ¿se encuentra bien? Abrà los ojos y allà estaban los dos muchachos, uno de ellos con la botella de Sauza en la mano, y yo les dije que nada, muchachos, sólo me he traspuesto un poco...
— Amadeo Salvatierra January, 1976
Amadeo Salvatierra's voice is one I could go on listening to for a long time without getting tired of it. His narratives seem to me to serve a special purpose in the vastness of part 2 of Savage Detectives, in that they keep the enclosing story of Belano et al. searching for Cesárea Tinajero front and center in the reader's mind. Below the fold, some lovely commentary from Salvatierra, in Natasha Wimmer's rendering, on the subject (near and dear to me) of mistranslation.
Salvatierra is showing Belano and Lima his treasured copy of the old Visceral Realist journal Caborca.
...Cosmopolites that they were, the first thing they turned to were the translations, the poems by Tzara, Breton, and Soupault, in translations by Pablito Lezcano, Cesárea Tinajero, and yours truly, respectively. If I remember correctly, the poems were "The White Swamp," "The White Night," and "Dawn and the City," which Cesárea wanted to translate as "The White City," but I refused to let her. Why did I refuse? Well, because it was wrong, gentlemen. Dawn and the city is one thing and a white city is another, and that's where I put my foot down, no matter how fond I was of Cesárea back then. Not as fond as I should have been, I grant you, but truly fond of her all the same. Our French certainly left much to be desired, except maybe Pablito's. Believe it or not, I've lost my French completely, but we still translated, Cesárea in a slapdash way, if you don't mind my saying so, reinventing the poem however she happened to see fit, while I stuck slavishly to the ineffable spirit as well as the letter of the original. Naturally, we made mistakes, the poems wound up battered like piñatas, and on top of it all, believe me, we had ideas of our own, opinions of our own. For example, Soupault's poem and me. To put it simply: as far as I was concerned, Soupault was the greatest French poet of the century, the one who would go farthest, you understand, and now it's been years and years since I've heard a word about him, even though as far as I know he's still alive.
I'm counting the hours going by until this weekend -- have tickets to see Robyn Hitchcock at The Bell House on Saturday night, and tickets to see Robyn Hitchcock at Mark and Elaine Costanzo's studio on Sunday! This is going to be a great weekend... Here is some classic Hitchcock to tide us over in the mean time.
I've been listening to "All I want to do is fall in love" a lot lately, it is on its way to replacing "Birds in Perspex" as my favorite love song. John and I covered it the other night and I think we did a really good job... The studio concert is being billed as "requests only" -- this is a strong candidate for my request.
Update with some further posts about the Sunday show -- the Food Pie I brought along for the potluck; my notes and set list (which he signed for me!)
posted evening of November 17th, 2011: 1 response ➳ More posts about Gig Notes
I'm sticking to my idea that Savage Detectives is two books -- the first book is part 1 + part 3 + the sections in part 2 narrated by Amadeo Salvatierra, the other book is the rest of part 2. I love both of them but I am having trouble seeing much of a connection between them...
It is frustrating and surprising to find that there is no audiobook of Los detectives salvajes available. (The only Spanish-language Bolaño audiobook I see is Nocturno de Chileread by Walter Krochmal, which I expect is great.) The interviews in part 2 should absolutely be read out loud, and preferably by different people. It would make a great reader's theater, except it would go on for a couple of days...
posted afternoon of November 13th, 2011: 1 response ➳ More posts about Readings
Substance McGravitas has been all over the place in the last few days... From Memphis, city of music and Wonder™, to Cleveland for beer and ugly monuments, magical collage houses in Detroit; now he is lost in the desert somewhere out west. Beautiful photography everywhere.
Todo el realismo visceral era una carta de amor, el pavoneo demencial de un pájaro idiota a la luz de la luna, algo bastante vulgar y sin importancia.
— Laura Jáuregui January 1976
The text of part 2 of Savage Detectives is seizing me, is pulling me along, is making it difficult to put the book down. And I'm remembering what pulled me in last time around -- GarcÃa Madero's diaries are lovely, impressionistic reading to be sure; but they are mainly about him. In these interviews every voice is clear, distinct, fully realized.
"Interviews" is definitely how I'm understanding these clips of text -- they are not explicitly presented as such, but they read like they are compiled from tape recordings of interviews done by someone making a documentary about visceral realism -- Natasha Wimmer's "faceless interviewer whose presence is only hinted at by the tone of the many characters who testify to their involvement with Arturo Belano and Ulises Lima." Who is this documentarian? And what do the dates on the entries signify? They must be the date on which the interview took place. The identity of the person who spent 20 years on building this archive of interviews became, for me, the central mystery of the book, the first time I read it -- a mystery I was not ultimately able to solve. (It can't be GarcÃa Madero or Belano, as the first interviews are recorded in January 1976, while those two are driving around Sonora.)
Speaking of mysteries and clues, one of the fun pieces of reading this book, for me, is tracking down information about the infrarealists, the poets whose lives and identities form the basis for many of the book's characters. (And also the stridentists, approximately the visual-art arm of the infrarealist movement.) I'm going to use this entry, below the fold, as a notepad for links about the infrarealists, updating it as I find good new information.
infrarrealismo.com is the central point for information and links about the infrarealists. It is maintained by Ramón Mendez, who is the background for the character of Pancho RodrÃguez.
Juan Esteban Harrington (a Chilean poet) is widely considered to be the background for GarcÃa Madero, although he himself denies it, saying "GarcÃa Madero was all of us." Harrington wrote a brief manifesto for infrarealism. Ossandón's article linked above features some delicious reminiscences by Harrington.
Piel Divina is the only poet who had the same handle in real life and in the book -- he is Jorge Hernández, a few of whose poems can be read in translation at Calque. Youtube has a recent video of Piel Divina reading poetry.
The author whose traces Ulises and Arturo are setting out north searching for, is Cesárea Tinajero, the mother of real visceralismo, who Wikipædiatells me is based on Concha Urquiza, the mother of el realismo infra. Many of her poems are online at A media voz, also some early unpublished pieces in Margarita León's paper Concha Urquiza: poemas de adolescencia.
At Caravana de recuerdos, Richard finds two articles by Bolaño about the Estridentistas.
There is a vivid quality to GarcÃa Madero's diary entries in these last couple of days that was not as much present, I think, in the earlier entries. At the beginning of the December 30th entry he says, "Today I returned to the Fonts' place. Today I let Rosario down." And indeed his character changes kind of sharply here -- he becomes more confident, more assertive. He is freaked out by having sex with Lupe in a way that his previous experiences don't seem to have affected him, not quite sure how to fit these two bits together but they seem related.
And we are off to part two, covering 1976-1996, on a bit of a cliff-hanger!
The author whose traces Ulises and Arturo are setting out north searching for, is Cesárea Tinajero, the mother of real visceralismo, who Wikipædiatells me is based on Concha Urquiza, the mother of el realismo infra. Many of her poems are online at A media voz, also some early unpublished pieces in Margarita León's paper Concha Urquiza: poemas de adolescencia.
Ellen and Sylvia met me at the museum this evening after work. Saw some great paintings together and got some nice photos of each other -- click through to see a couple more.
Jorge López reviews Peter Gabriel's "New Blood" orchestral tour -- the performance he saw at Santiago's Movistar Arena on Wednesday has left him with a smile that is not going away.
reviews
