Showing posts with label T.S. ELIOT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label T.S. ELIOT. Show all posts

Friday, August 16, 2013

T. S. ELIOT + ESTONIA + ANTS ORAS + MURDER




a--       Gloominess if it can be thought of as such would be easy to ascribe to a reading of the New York Times Book Review or any of the other book reviews in the country at the moment. 
            But not giving into the gloom yet writing into the sparsely populated steppes of this site.

a--       Yale University Press sent me Volume 4 of THE LETTERS OF T.S. Eliot… 1928-1929… but how should a reader describe such a book?  Naturally one reads the letters because Eliot wrote The Waste Land, the single most important poem to come out of the Twentieth Century and it will live on in that select company of The Divine Comedy, Paradise Lost, The Duino Elegies, Eugene Onegin.  Eliot’s letters are part of the background music to a  life that produced that poem and then had to live on and on in some way.  Of course there are the other poems:  Four Quartets, The Hollow Men, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

a--       Well, how to read a book of letters:  via the index, of course.  I remembered Eliot had published Hermann Hesse in The Criterion and when Anna and I were in Estonia we found the Hesse family plot in the Reopalu cemetery in Paide where Anna’s father’s mother was buried… 

a--       Hesse was in the index but the eye drifted down to the bottom of the page and there, ‘The Hollow Men’ (TSE): Estonian translation.  A Letter to Ants Oras was included in the book  and he did indeed translate The Hollow Men into Estonian and I have here in the house a book by him, in both Estonian and English, ESTONIAN LITERATURE IN EXILE, published in English by the Estonian PEN Club in Lund, Sweden in 1967 with a  bio-bibliographical appendix by Bernard Kangro.

a--       A footnote to the letter includes a quote from Oras’s original letter, “I am quite aware that any attempt to translate your verse is a daring enterprise but I hope some of its style and spirit can be retained in Estonian without deviating too much from the wording of the original poems.  Our language has attained to a considerable degree of flexibility and precision.” 
            The editor tells us that Oras had taken a B.Litt in English from Oxford  and was a lecturer, later a professor at the University of Tartu and wrote The Critical Ideas of T. S. Eliot.

a--       A few weeks after reading this letter we had lunch with Denis Donoghue who had reviewed the Eliot book for The Irish Times.  He had not mentioned Oras and I guess there was no reason for him to do so.  He had heard of Oras and mentioned that he had read a book by Oras in English on the pause patterns in Elizabethan drama.


a--       From Wikipedia one easily learns that Oras was a professor in Tartu from 1934-1943 when he left for Sweden and from where he went to England and then to the US becoming a professor of English at the University of Florida in Gainesville.  This leaving of Estonia was much ahead of both Anna’s mother and father who didn’t leave Estonia until well into 1944 when things had really turned…

a--       I had mentioned to Anna’s mother my discovery of Ants Oras and she said she remembered the name from her growing up in Tartu as she is 92 and had lived in the part of Tartu that housed many professors at the university and other prominent citizens.  Her own father had been a judge on the Estonian supreme court who was arrested and later murdered by the NKVD in the Gulag in 1941.  She had mentioned Oras’s book about Estonian literature in exile and that the family had it both in Estonian and in English. 

a--       The Critical Ideas of T. S. Eliot by Oras was originally published in German and Russian it seems and then translated into English.  There is a copy in the Hunter College library.

a--       So even in 1929 Eliot  was being read in Estonia.. reminding me that Solzhenitsyn once wrote that for Russians, Estonian was the first European country they came to when leaving the USSR:  the presence of Latin on buildings…



a--       But, but this map hints at what always lurks when the word Estonia is mentioned and while this is not the occasion for that discussion…  the single best book about Estonia and the murder of all of her Jews and gypsies by BOTH the Estonians and Germans see MURDER WITHOUT HATRED by the Estonian writer Anton Weiss-Wendt.

a--       Via the Wikipedia biography I discovered in addition to the two books of literary criticism by Oras another book, BALTIC ECLIPSE and it was also available at the Hunter College library and it is on my desk as I type this. 

a--       Oras born in 1900 was fluent as a result in Estonian, Russian, German and English.  Baltic Eclipse published by Gollancz in London in 1948, is Oras’s memoir of the life during both the Soviet and German occupations of Estonia.   

a--         Not read much, I fear, as it did not appear in the bibliography of Weiss-Wendt’s book it is however still a well written detaling of the life endured by Estonians first under the communism and then under the Nazis.  But I will save that report for another time. 

a--       BALTIC ECLIPSE  fully acknowledge the murder of the Estonian Jewish population though Oras does not  really come to grips with the fact that the main killers of the Estonian Jews were Estonians, with the full approval of their German masters, thus strangely duplicating Estonian history that had long been  a story of the Baltic German nobility telling the Estonians peasants what to do and the Estonians hat in hand sucking up to their German masters. 
  
a--            Oras understands the debilitating role, the destructive presence of the Baltic Germans in Estonian history but while mentioning a few of the Estonians collaborators the murder of the Jews is really only mentioned but not explained.  Oras is very good on just how vile and personally corrupt many of the German soldiers were and how this mirrored the long relationship between Estonians and Germans.

a--       I write of this as Estonia and our relationship with that country is always shadowed by that word: JUDENFREI.

a--       However BALTIC ECLIPSE is still a very important document for understanding what it was like to live in Estonia and has helped me understand a little better the life Anna’s mother and father during the two occupations.

a--       Oras begins his book:  “The lecture was over. Twelve girl students and one man--- the only male student of the English department who had not been forced by the German occupation authorities to enlist with a military or labour unit or had not gone into hiding to evade conscription—had been listening to an attempt to unravel the intricacies of Richard Crashaw’s mind and style, taking careful notes as usual.”
            It is that wonderful tone, detailed and suggestive which is the reality of the book.  Oras will continue on to mention that it is the last day of March 1943.  He will finish the class, go to the CafĂ© Werner--- where Anna and I had lunch four years ago--- and meet a friend who will tell him in a few days they are fleeing by boat to Sweden.
             
              Final thought:  at first I thought it was because Estonian was a small country that the revelations contained in MURDER WITHOUT HATRED had really changed our understanding of Estonia and had in some way made it very hard to think of going back to Estonia, even though Anna’s first language is Estonian and she thus has total access to that country right down to an Estonian passport, mirroring my own Irish passport. 
 b--           The smallness and the resulting intimacy of the Estonia and out coming from the vastness of the United States… and the detail about how after the Jewish children had been murdered in Tartu the Estonian killers had distributed their toys and clothing to deserving poor Estonian children… but I felt again the discomfort as I drove across Oklahoma a month or so ago as one passes a series of signs about entering and leaving the various Indian nations.        AGAIN, one of those uncomfortable reminders of the near genocidal campaign against the native peoples of what became the United States. 
b--            I would quickly tell myself well, the Irish part of my blood didn’t get to this country until after the closing of the frontier but the Whitney part of the family had been here since one boat after the Mayflower and what had they been doing, back then…  I am avoiding the Joycian word: nightmare

Final thought:  does any of this lurch to Estonia take anything away from Eliot?  I think not. 
b--            Reading is always a constant re-reading of one’e own history

Final thought:  The Critical Ideas of T. S. Eliot by Ants Oras is of interest as it does not avoid  Eliot’s long interest in the writings of Charles Maurras though to go into that can send the reader right to Action Francaise and what happened to Maurras in France at the end of World War Two…
b--            So I hope I have established the value of reading Volume 4 of THE LETTERS OF T.S. ELIOT while going to Estonia and discovering the Baltic Eclipse by Ants Aoras who died on 21 December 1982 in Gainesville, Florida.  My mother died on 21 December 1972 at Saugerties, New York.

Friday, August 12, 2011

SOME REMAINS WORTH READING:: STILL


2===Within my brief interest the book sections of newspapers in the US have shrank, become nearly extinct, are barely holding on…while new  books continue to appear and will go un-noticed and while most book deserve to go un-noticed it is now to our slightly new gain that it is possible to share the appearance of some books both new and old that deserve to be read and held to one’s self… and even the Library of America which is well established has coming in the Fall two books and a collection of novels that deserve to be discussed or noted

3===I was thinking, as I held the latest in the collected Philip Roth,  that I was the man with nail and hammer moving about his casket at the last moment so with the 7th… but I had to be honest:  Julien Gren had the honour of having the most in-print volumes in the Pleiade while still alive and while Roth will never be the equal of Green in the real  cosmopolitan world for too many reasons to go into…  but Roth is an honorable writer and there is a little unfairness to choosing him for this lavish attention and ignoring to date John Updike, Ernest Hemingway, and the famously missing poetry of Herman Melville, but better Roth than the announcement of the collected Toni Morrison or Don DeLillo…

4=== but the LOA has done a wonderful service  with a volume devoted to the writings of AMBROSE BIERCE including his essential Devil’s Dictionary from which I will quote a word much on my mind as I am recovering from spine surgery---making progress--- but ever mindful of my fate: OBLIVION, n. The state or condition in which the wicked cease from struggling and the dreary are at rest.  Fame’s eternal dumping ground.  Cold storage for high hopes.  A place where ambitious authors meet their works without pride and their betters without envy.   A dormitory without an alarm clock.

6=== race, skin colour… as with everything in the United States all institutions  seem to wobble a little when it comes to the colour of the author’s skin.  The LOA of course gave in to the normal segregation impulse by having Toni Morrison “edit” the two books of James Baldwin while friends noted long ago.. now,  40 years ago at Columbia: why is that the NYTimes only had negroes reviewing negroes?   This thought lingered after reading the obit for the death of George Cain, whose novel BLUESCHILD BABY came out and of course it was reviewed by the appropriate negro and there would not be a second book.

7=== so with no Langston Hughes, no Ralph Ellison, a seriously compromised Richard Wright, a stalled James Baldwin, we are presented  with HARLEM RENAISSANCE NOVELS, nine novels ranging from the visible to the obscure.  I will list the titles and the authors: CANE by Jean Toomer, HOME TO HARLEM by Claude McKay, QUICKSAND by Nella Larsen, PLUM BUN by Jessie Redmon Fauset, THE BLACKER THE BERRY by Wallace Thurman, NOT WITHOUT LAUGHTER by Langston Hughes, BLACK NO MORE by George S. Schuyler, THE CONJURE-MAN DIES by Rudolph Fisher and BLACK THUDER by Arna Bontemps.  A celebration of academic packaging, and while I am grateful for the chance to read BLACK NO MORE and THE CONJURE-MAN DIES I think  I would rather have had volumes devoted to Nella Larsen, to Jeam Toomer…

9=== of course my voice is small but I am making the point that LOA is one of the few positive aspects of publishing today and as a result I take it seriously and only wish that the LOA… had more courage and filled their volumes with more texts so as to my nearly approach the grandeur of the Pleiade  by which it is still so over-shadowed, so incompetent  when compared with what the French so ably do in the Pleiade which is a commercial venture, we must remember.

10=== a little nutty you might think but then I am running the shop.  Here are some new and forthcoming books that I hope some readers might want to write about as I will also be writing about them:

789: THE ROVING SHADOWS and SEX AND TERROR by Pascal Quignard.  Coming from Seagull Books, the essential publishing house today which together with DALKEY ARCHIVE  and ARCHIPELAGO BOOKS and NEW DIRECTIONS are probably the only actual living publishers today with an occasional alive books from FSG and Knopf.  I am sure you have read Quignard’s THE SALON IN WURTTEMBERG, ALBUCIUS , ON WOODEN TABLETS APRONENIA  AVITIA.

790:  PARALLEL STORIES by Peter Nadas, at more than 110 pages, with not a single page that can be skipped.  If I was an editor I would devote a whole issue to this book and Nadas’s other books, but mainly this book.  It is totally accessible, readerly, complicated only in that you the serious reader will only be able to read a page or two at a time… so you see the problem--- there will be many fake reviews of this book, cribbing from various handout from publishers…

791: again from SEAGULL, two books by Annemarie Schwarzenbach: ALL ROUTES ARE OPEN, in Juner 1939 two women drive to Afghanistan…  enough said .  Also, published is LYRIC NOVELLA  which disguises a lesbian subtext as the two protagonists of this novel should have been women…

793: from Yale, Two volumes of the Letters of T. S. Eliot so with finally the publication of the letters bck on track one can read for him or herself the life of the author of the only poem that is likely to survive the 20th Century, THE WASTE LAND.  Well annotated and indexed the reader has been freed from the sleazy popularizations of aspects of Eliot’s life in favor of reading it from his own view point and then the making up of the mind

794:  from New Directions: NEVER ANY END TO PARIS by ENRIQUE  Vila-Matas.  I began reading this before I went to hospital for surgery; I read it in recovery and continue to read it: I am rationing it out one chapter a day.  I do not want it to end.  You most likely have his Bartleby & Co, which I reviewed but in this one we are with Vila-Matas, living in Marguerite Duras’s attic room and discovering Paris as a poor young man, using sometimes texts from Hemingway as his reliable guide, as his treasured guide… a perfect book as it depends upon its readers in a comforting sort of way.

795:  from DALKEY ARCHIVE: Gerald Murnane is from Australia and while that is reason enough to never read him as it is for the poor slobs who call Canada home, MURNANE is an exception.  Years ago Braziller published a little book of his THE PLAINS which was his hook and people thought of course he was writing about the plains in the US… but no, he is the only writer in Australia who writes as if he is living in Paris, in London, In New York, never provincial, never isolated, he becomes universal by his complete attention to what is in front of him… BARLEY PATCH:  the first line:  Must I write?

796: from DALKEY ARCHIVE:  DUKLA by Andzej Stasiuk. DUKLA deals with light, a journey to discover light, to describe light, whatever do we mean when we talk about the light of a certain place…
I reviewed his ON THE ROAD TO BABADAG for the LATimes:  here is my version---- ON THE ROAD TO BABADAG Travels in the Other Europe by Andrzej  Stasiuk
The best travel books like “On the Road to Babadag” are read for more than mere information, they are read in order to go.  Setting out from his tiny village of Czarny near the Polish Slovakian border , Andrzej Stasiuk heads for that area where the Ukraine, Romania, Slovakia and Hungary come together, not a exactly a destination  immediately called to mind when we say a person went traveling in Europe.  And from there he goes on to further reaches of an obscure Europe, Albania and eventually the coast of Romania where the Danube dissipates into the Black Sea near the town of Babadag.
Stasiuk, now the most prolifically translated Polish writer with six other books in English, is a patient traveler, “Sometimes in the dark, you saw sparks from a horseshoe.”  As Whitman was Kerouac’s Shade in “On the Road” E.M. Cioran  (“The Short History of Decay”) is Stasiuk’s  welcome literary ghost, for  in the Cioran’s native village, he notices the smells, ” the soil between the cobblestones had collected a century of horse piss; wisps of the stable from innumerable harnesses; from the fields came the choking air of pasture, from the gutters the cesspool seep of barns and sties; and one day in the river I saw entrails floating.”  Hard stuff, but the genius of Stasiuk is in the necessary contrasting quote from Cioran,” It would have been better for me had I never left this village.  I’ll never forget the day my parents put me on the cart and took me to the lyceum in town.  That was the end of my beautiful dream, the destruction of my world.” 
Of course the reader is entering a place where all familiar landmarks are gone, a place where, “For us everything starts or ends with a war.”  It is place where work is still real, a place where one feels “the enormity and continuity of the world.”  A place where one sees, “between two rows of houses moved a herd of sated cattle.  They were accompanied by women in kerchiefs  and worn boots or by children.  No isolated island of industrialization, no sleepless metropolis no spiderweb of roads  and railroad lines could block out this image as old as the world,  The human joined with the bestial to wait out the night together.”
Stasiuk takes us to real places and on the Day of the Dead he lights candles in a war cemetery, ”the roots of these trees have been  feeding for more than seventy years on the bodies of Estonians and Croats, in a corner of the world no one visits.” 
Go travel with Stasiuk this summer.  You don’t need a plane ticket.

So what remains? 
Tell me what you have found!