They all Ignored Rhyme

- Posted: 28.Nov.2007.




The website of Karl Young is a perfect example to every other serious writer: well presented and complete. What's more, the material (and I have not seen 80percent of it) is just the thing the reader of Crystalpunk craves for: well-pondered insights on ethno-p and writing and language. "Chinese Couplets and Dialogues - On Chinese sources" makes perfect sense as part of our Pound-Chinoiserie-Cathay vortex, as you can see:

Although the Chinese of the T'ang era employs a sort of loose, floating grammar, word order resembles that of English. In contrast, Japanese grammar becomes a native English speaker's nightmare. Piles of seemingly unrelated clauses, verbs appearing at the end of sentences, if sentences get formed at all, a plethora of word types with no western counterparts, etc. may suggest possible alternatives, but remain so only on a theoretical level. Making facsimiles of central Mexican manuscripts and other works lead naturally enough into attempting Chinese calligraphy. This I couldn't manage at all. However, it's difficult to learn any Chinese without getting a sense of how to write it. Chinese dictionaries usually list characters according to radicals or stroke numbers, and unless you have some sense of stroke type and order, using reference works becomes problematic. Using Chinese dictionaries and workbooks gave me an extended sense of how differently languages could function, and how writing systems could evolve along different lines. Old English, French, Spanish, Italian, Latin, Greek, Icelandic revealed variations on a basic theme. Added to the iconographic writing system of central Mexico and the etymological layers of Chinese, the nature and possibilities of language formed what Pound might have called a cogent and stimulating ideogram, even though Chinese itself wasn't dependent on the kind of ideograms Pound imagined and put forward as a basis for poetry. Had I become proficient in Chinese, my sense of many of the differences between languages may have decreased. In the twilight zones between ignorance and knowledge, the differences in the way people think and express themselves, the possibilities of alternative perception and expression, seemed particularly profound.

The Personal Hatred in Which I am Held by Many

- Posted: 17.Jan.2008.




Cathay (1915) started out as a limited edition of Ezra Pound's mostly Chinese translations which the author handed out to friends. Now it is regarded as a key moment in literature. Download a hi-res scan at the ever-growing Archive.com. The most amazing thing however is the typical odious tone of the afterword.

I have not come to the end of Ernest Fenollosa's notes by a long way, nor is it entirely perplexity that causes me to cease from translation. True, I can find little to add to one line out of a certain poem:

You know well where it was that I walked
When you had left me.

In another I find a perfect speech in a literality which will be to many most unacceptable. The couplet is as follows:

Drawing sword, cut into water, water again flow
Raise cup, quench sorrow, sorrow again sorry.

There are also other poems, notably the "Five colour Screen" in which Professor Fenollosa was, as an art critic, especially interested, and Rihaku s sort of Ars Poetica, which might be given with diffidence to an audience of good will. But if I give them, with the necessary breaks for explanation, and a tedium of notes, it is quite certain that the personal hatred in which I am held by many, and the invidia which is directed against me because I have dared openly to declare my belief in certain young artists, will be brought to bear first on the flaws of such translation, and will then be merged into depreciation of the whole book of translations. Therefore I give only these unquestionable poems.

The Hidden Span

- Posted: 17.Jan.2008.

Great segment about the native fabulism of China to be found in a larger essay by Elliot Weinberger:

The Hidden Span

The Taoist universe is an infinity of nested cycles of time, each revolving at a different pace, and those who are not mere mortals pertain to different cycles. Certain teachings take 400 years to transmit from sage to student; others, 4,000; others, 40,000. It is said that Lao-tzu, the author of the Tao Te Ching, spent 81 years in the womb.

Taoist ritual begins with the construction of an altar that is a calendar and a map of this universe. At its perimeter, twenty-four pickets, the Twenty-Four Energy Nodes, each representing fifteen days, to form a year of 360 days. Within, a proliferation of markers for the Two Principles (yin and yang), the Three Energies, the Three Irrational Powers, the Five Elements, the Five Tones, the Six Rectors, the Eight Trigrams and Sixty-Four Hexagrams of the I Ching, the Nine Palaces and the Nine Halls, the Ten Stems, the Twelve Branches . . . Each is a supernatural being, a gate, a direction, a part of the body, a measurement of time, a philosophical concept, an alchemical substance. As Lao-tzu said, "The Tao created one, one gave birth to two, two to three, and three to the ten thousand things."

Typically of Taoism, this system has an inherent flaw: a hole in time, called the Irrational Opening. If, at a certain moment, which is always changing, one walks backward through the various gates in a certain order, one can escape time and enter the Hidden Span. In this other time beyond all the other times, one finds oneself in the holy mountains; there one can gather healing herbs, magic mushrooms, and elixirs that bring immortality.

The technique was first taught to the Yellow Emperor by the six calendrical Jade Maidens, who in turn learned it from the Mysterious Woman of the Nine Heavens, also known as the Lady of the Ultimate Yin. Its most famous practitioner was a very real military strategist, Chu-ko Liang (181-234). To repel an invading army, he placed hidden markers on an enormous plain to secretly replicate a Taoist altar, and then tricked the troops into entering through a certain symbolic gate. Although the landscape appeared unremarkable, the army found itself trapped in a labyrinth of an alternate time from which it could not escape.

19 Ways of Looking at Wang Wei

- Posted: 13.Jan.2008.




OOOOOHHHHH this is such a lovely little volume. Eliot Weinberger brings together 19 (+1) translations of a 8th century poem by Wang Wei. As it happens the oldest known copy of this poem is from the 17th century and nobody knows what has been changed in the void between. As a collection this volume matches the best of Borges (who Weinberger translated) and the Oulipo group, as a work of poetry it brings together a century of western attempts to get a grip on Chinese poetry. Octavio Paz (who Weinberger translated) wrote the afterword. Go get this. Here is the preface by Weinberger:

Poetry is that which is worth translating.

For example, this four-line poem, 1200 years old: a mountain, a forest, the setting illuminating a patch of moss. It is a scrap of literary Chinese, no longer spoken as its writer spoke it. It is a thing, forever itself, inseparable from its language.

And yet something about it has caused it to lead a nomadic life: insuating itself in the minds of readers, demanding understanding (but on the reader's own terms), provoking thoughts, sometimes compelling writing in other languages. Great poetry lives in a state of perpetual transformation, perpetual translation: the poem dies when it has no place to go.

The transformations that take shape in print, that take the formal name of 'translation,' become their own beings, set out on their own wanderings. Some life long, and some don't. What kind of creatures are they? What happens to a poem, once Chinese and still Chinese, becomes a piece of English, Spanish and French poetry?

TinTin in Cathay

- Posted: 01.Jan.2008.




Where would be be without academia? Tintinologist Tara Jacobs deconstructs Herg�'s view on China as portrayed in one Tintin's adventures: The Blue Lotus. (pic)

The portrayal of Chinese people in The Blue Lotus fluctuates over the course of the book, and does not easily integrate into a single perception of the Chinese. Firstly, there is Chang, the primary Chinese character in the story, and so the main representative of his culture. After showing himself willing and able to change his mind about Westerners, Chang further redeems himself by proving to be an indispensable help to Tintin, because of his native knowledge of Chinese language and geography. As these are skills only a native could possess, Chinese knowledge is seen as useful, and shows that sometimes Westerners must rely on the help and superior knowledge of people from another culture, especially when they are in their territory. On page 47 of The Blue Lotus Chang saves Tintin from arrest by switching a pass written in Chinese, which is supposed to give the agents authorization to operate in Chinese territory, with one that says "In case you haven't noticed, we are lunatics and this proves it!"

Secondly, there is Wang Chen-yee. On page 17 of The Blue Lotus, Tintin finds out that Wang has just helped him escape from the Japanese villain Mitsuhirato, is the leader of the Sons of the Dragon, "a secret society dedicated to the fight against opium, the terrible drug causing havoc in our country [China]." Here Herg� may be trying to imply that the Chinese are not entirely helpless- they are organizing to fight back. More than this, they are fighting against laziness and drug dependence, a motive the West should approve of, (though in historical truth, the West was a major proponent of the opium trade, because dependence on opium gave the West great control over Eastern trading). However, in the end, the Chinese secret society requires the help of the young European the thwart the mastermind of the opium smuggling ring.

In addition, as previously noted, in the run-in between the abusive Westerner and Tintin over the rickshaw accident, the Chinese man was not even involved in his own defence, or the ensuing argument. And though the Chinese in the book all seem to speak in flawless English (or Tintin speaks flawless Chinese - unlikely), they use phrases that are awkward because they are (assumedly) directly translated from Chinese, such as the use of flattering titles like 'honourable friend,' and 'venerable master.' Yet, though they are unnatural, their phrases are poetic and eloquent (on the last page, page 62, Change says, 'There is a rainbow in my heart, Venerable Lady� I weep because Tintin is going but the sun shines because I have a new mother and father!). This could be taken as a compliment, but at the same time speech is a factor that differentiates the Chinese them from the Westerners, even when they are speaking the same language. Though Herg� is respectfully trying to maintain, even praise, distinctions between the two cultures, he cannot avoid the possibility of creating a hierarchy between them, making either aspects of Chinese culture or Western culture better than the others.

Though it remains unclear whether Herg�'s portrayal of Chinese people is complimentary or not, it is obvious that in The Blue Lotus he takes every opportunity to 'de-Other' the Chinese. He establishes the Japanese as the Other, so that the Chinese and the reader are, by default, on the same side (though there are still elements of the story and character development that could be interpreted as supportive of a dialectic in which the weak Chinese require Western help). Then Herg� has the Chinese character Chang invalidates the idea that Chinese are entirely different from us.

From +Cathay to -Cathay

- Posted: 19.Dec.2007.




The Image of Cathay was shifting in 1834...

Many, though, instead of merely devaluing Chinese civilization in the wake of the Opium War, increasingly spoke of China with an air of condescension and mockery. In fact, a new and unflattering construction of the Chinese emerged in this period, the entire purpose of which was to generate laughter. First, Chinese males became effeminate fops, who dressed in motley silk costumes and sported ridiculously long fingernails. Second, the Chinese enjoyed a diet that consisted of rats, mice, dogs, and cats. Third, they were heathens who worshipped strange deities and regularly bowed down before gaudy idols. Fourth, their officials were pompous buffoons who proudly adhered to their own customs and beliefs despite unmistakable evidence the rest of the world had passed them by. And finally, they were opium addicts who were comically pathetic in their inability to resist the poppy and the pipe. Like Cathay, this construction of China and the Chinese was more grounded in fantasy than in fact. Unlike its picturesque predecessor, though, it lacked innocence and charm. It was a cruel Cathay.

Cathay is the Crystalpunk China

- Posted: 19.Dec.2007.




As Crystalpunk Note 2 rightly said: We Are The Real Chinese! "The Romance of China" by John Rogers Haddad, available at Gutenberg-e, is marvelous for A to Z but the following paragraph could have been stolen from us:

When men of science proved unable to demystify China, they left behind not only a vacuum of empirical data but also an enticing opportunity. And a rather unlikely group took great delight in stepping into the gaping void. Women and children in Europe and America elected to fashion their own version of China by interacting creatively with sources of imagery that were readily available within their homes: Chinese paintings, porcelain plates, and the volumes of Arabian Nights. The China that they created was truly splendid, it being replete with bucolic landscapes, enchanting mountains, picturesque pagodas, bountiful fruit trees, graceful willow trees, exotic birds and fish, meandering streams, and charming wooden fishing junks. Of course, this idyllic land was not China but Cathay. At the smallest whim, women and children could embark on pleasurable excursions to Cathay simply by invoking the strange land in their imaginations

We Are Still the Real Chinese!

- Posted: 03.Jun.2008.

Reading a pop-academic book about the history of China I realize that the China (no Cathay!) we populate is not the China of starch filial Olympian Confucianism but the China of anarchic nothing-is-as-you-think-it-is Taoism. I am not keen on mysticism, but what I find is an attitude that I can use and also already know, but can't find in the West. Of course I am remaking it in my own image. As a tradition it is free of images.

Some quotable quotes from Chuang Tzu

Go Away! Do not defile me! I would rather enjoy myself by frolicking in the mire than be haltered by the ruler of a state. To the end of my life I will never take office. Thus I will remain free to follow my own inclinations.

The tree whose trunk is so deformed that one cannot put a measuring line to it, and whose branches are so twisted that one cannot use the square and compass on them... Axes will never shorten its life and nothing will ever harm it. Since there is no use for it, how can it come to grief or pain?

All men know the use of the useful, but do they know the use of the useless?

Pound and his Chinese Dictionary

- Posted: 13.Jul.2009.


(Click for full size)

Like all madman Ezra Pound is very photogenic, here he is pounding on his typewriter with a Chinese dictionary nearby.

Mijn Dubieuze Vertaling van Ezra Pound's Cathay

- Posted: 23.Jun.2009.

CATHAY, De Nederlandse Vertaling

In mijn kast staat een kleine selectie Chinese poëzie in Engelse vertaling maar ik heb nog nooit een van deze boeken echt gelezen. Om mezelf te dwingen er eens goed naar te kijken, om mezelf er eens echt op te concentreren ben ik begonnen aan de Nederlandse vertaling van Ezra Pound's grillige Cathay. Omdat de geschiedenis ervan me boeit en omdat de traditie hiermee begon. Of de vertalingen allemaal werken durf ik niet te zeggen, maar ieder mens heeft recht op een hobby, en als manier om grip te krijgen op Chinese poëzie in vertaling kan ik de methode echter van harte aanraden.

What is the/a Kiang???

- Posted: 23.Jun.2009.




The Pound Era by Hugh Kenner gives a few examples of where Pound went astray in his Cathay, concluding that, "Pound did not bring to the notebooks a prior scholarly grasp of canonical Chinese poetry, and often made wrong decisions when he was unaware of making a decision at all." Kenner also notes that Cathay contains one of the finest WWI war-poems, if this is so it has not been recognized by the anthologies I have checked.

Each Generation must Translate for Itself.

- Posted: 10.Jun.2009.




T.S. Elliot about Pound's Cathay, true but borish, picture snapped.

As for Cathay, it must be pointed out that Pound is the inventor of Chinese poetry for our time. I suspect that every age has had, and will have, the same illusions concerning translations, an illusion which is not altogether an illusion either. When a foreign poet is succesfully done in the idiom of our own language and our own time, we believe he has been "translated"; we believe that through this translation we really at last get the original ... His translations seem to be - and that is a test of excellence - translucencies: we think we are closer to the Chinese than when we read, for instance, Legge. I doubt this: I predict that in three hundred years Pound's Cathay will be a "Windsor Translation" as Chapman and North are now "Tudor Translations": it will be called (and justly) a "magnificent specimen of XXth Century poetry" rather then a "translation." Each generation must translate for itself.

This is as much to say that Chinese poetry, as we know it today, is something invented by Ezra Pound. It is not to say thare is Chinese poetry-in-itself, waiting for some ideal translator who shall be only translator.

Cathay From Fenollosa to Pound

- Posted: 09.Jun.2009.




One of reasons at the time for the literary success of Ezra Pound's Cathay (1914), his wobbly translations based on the notes of Ernest Fenollosa (see above), is, so writes his biographer Noel Stockman, "Some at least of the pleasure comes from the way a decidedly English idiom is used to convey a fresh subject with which it had not been previously been associated." Stockman also gives examples of Fenollosa's raw copy and Pound's edits:

From The River Merchant's Wife.

Fennolosa:

My hair was at first covering my brows (child's method of wearing hair)
Breaking flowers I was frolicking in front of our gate
When you came riding on bamboo stilts (you - ride on - bamboo-horse - come)
And going about my seat you played with the blue plums
Together we dwelt in the same Chokan village
And we two little ones had neither mutual dislike nor suspicion

Pound:

While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers.
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse,
You walked about my seat, playing with blue plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan:
Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.

From Exile's Letter.

Fenollosa:

I would answer that my sorrow is as much as the falling flowers of spring
Struggling with one another in a tangle
Words cannot be exhausted
Nor can the feelings be fathomed
So calling to me my son I make him sit on the ground for a long time
And write to my dictation
And sending them over to you over a thousand miles we think of each other at a distance

Pound:

And if you ask how I regret that parting:
It is like the flowers falling at Spring's end
Confused, whirled in a tangle.
What is the use of talking, and there is no end of talking,
There is no end of things in the heart.
I call in the boy,
Have him sit on his knees here
To seal this,
And send it a thousand miles, thinking.