Maintained in Translation?

Reading and discussing Brain Friel's play, Translations for class has provided us with numerous ways in which things can be "lost" in translation--whether those things be meaning, sound, feeling, or something else.

My mission in this blog is two-fold: First, I would like to suggest, using the text of Translations as evidence, that often this phenomenon of "losing" things in translation occurs as a result of human laziness; and, secondly, I would like to provide an example of a "translation" that maintains the integrity of the original in order to prove the point that things don't have to be "lost" in translation if we make the effort to prevent that loss.

Mission Part 1: Human Laziness is to Blame (Surprise, Surprise) There is a scene in Translations that really suggests that sometimes we lose meaning of words (and sometimes the words themselves!) in translation because we, as human beings, have a tendency to be lazy and easily frustrated. This occurs on page 59, while Owen is trying to translate a conversation between Yolland and Maire. As we learn later, Yolland and Maire become romantically involved, and this scene may have been the beginning of their romance, as they attempt to share an "intimate" moment while discussing their waving to each other across the fields: Maire: We wave to each other across the fields. Yolland: Sorry-sorry? Owen: She says you wave to each other across the fields. Yoland: Yes, we do; oh yes, indeed we do. Maire: What's he saying? Owen: He says you wave to each other across the fields. Maire: That's right. So we do Yolland: What's she saying? Owen: Nothing--nothing--nothing. (to Maire) What's the news? (59). It is obvious that Owen has no interest in the awkward flirting going on between Maire and Yolland or the romantic undertones in their words, and he eventually grows frustrated with the whole conversation and stops translating; what could have been a romantic moment turns suddenly business-like. As a result, that nervous, awkward, "butterflies-in-your-stomach" romantic vibe between Yolland and Maire is "lost in translation." This seems to be a direct result of Owen's laziness, lack of interest, and frustration.

Mission Part 2: We Don't Have to Lose the "Feeling" of Words through Translation!



In my poetry class, we are currently studying the work of German poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Rilke has written some amazing poems, and the text we have by him includes both the original German versions and their translations by Stephen Mitchell. Mitchell does such a magnificent job translating the emotion, feeling, and images that Rilke creates in his poems that the English versions are extremely powerful. You can read and listen to both the English and German versions here. I admit, I don't speak German, but I think the fact that I find the English translation so powerful suggests that translation doesn't have to result in a loss of feeling.

For those of you who have studied abroad, have you ever "lost" something in translation due to your own or another person's laziness or frustration? Is maintaining the "feeling" of words worth the extra time and effort it requires?

Death vs. Banishment

After we discussed the differences between the U.S. judicial system and that of the Taiga tribe in the novel Power, I realized one of the critical aspects of a judicial system that we failed to mention: punishment. I would like to briefly address this issue here, with the hope that I may spur some thought or discussion that the rest of you may choose to pick up on via your own blog or a comment on mine.

In Power, the Taiga tribe sentences Ama to be "banished" for her crime of killing the panther and failing to bring them its hide. In the U.S. legal system, we do not really have a "banishment" sentence, although life in prison is probably pretty close. In some states, however, we do have the death penalty; and I would say this, in terms of the "worst" punishment that the convicted can receive, is the U.S. equivalent of "banishment." To the Taiga tribe, "banishment is equal to death" (172). The Taiga believe the most devastating punishment receivable is "to be split from your own people, your self, to go away from the place you so love" (172). In short, the Taiga believe feeling isolated is the worst thing a person can experience. The U.S. legal system takes a different approach, believing that death is the ultimate punishment.

Why (from the U.S. legal system's viewpoint) is death worse than banishment and isolation? Is it because we are so caught up in material wealth and possessions that the prospect of losing them is unbearable? One could argue that death also seems the worst punishment possible because it also results in the loss of relationships with loved ones, but banishment and isolation accomplish that as well. So what are the major differences between the isolation caused by being banished and death itself? In a way, death seems like the easier of the two, especially for someone who is truly guilty of a terrible crime. Both death and banishment result in isolation and loss of relationships, but death--depending on what you believe--may also provide escape and relief. A dead person does not have to relive his guilt and suffer his lack of relationships every day of his life.

Of course, this could easily evolve into a religious issue that hinges on personal belief systems, but I'm still curious: Which is the worse punishment in your opinion?

Running in the Rain

MIAA Cross-Country Conference Championships 2007 (My Freshman Year at SMC)...A Rainy and AWESOME Run!!!

Omishto's connection with nature in the novel Power caused me to reflect on some of my own experiences with nature. I ran cross-country and track all throughout high school (I was also on the Saint Mary's cross-country team last year, but I had to sit out this season due to injury...I am hoping to return to competing next season). Running has always been a major stress-reliever for me, but it also helps me feel connected to nature (one reason that I detest running on treadmills). I have always felt particularly connected to my high school cross-country course, which includes a lot of trails and wooded areas, as well as a very STEEP and infamous hill that has been christened "Agony" (I know we have been discussing analyzing names in order to uncover their significance, but I think this one speaks for itself). Reading about Omishto's experience in the storm as well as some of her amazing imagery and personification of nature compelled me to compose the following prose piece about one of the semi-state cross-country meets that I ran in high school, which was held on our home course at New Prairie High School on a particularly cold and very rainy Saturday morning.

Frigid and penetrating, the icy raindrops cascade down my spine as my toes squishes and squirms through the muck to find its pace along the newly-smeared line of white paint. The crack of the starting gun reverberates through my skull as my nearly-numb feet struggle to push off of the soggy ground and begin navigating the swamp that is left of the course. Sheets of rain create a curtain of hazy gray. My eyes squint and catch glimpses of images that are blurred by the rain and my speed: a fallen orange cone, collecting rainwater; a familiar face, sheltered under a midnight black umbrella, shouting incoherent words of encouragement against the wind's deafening war; and, finally, the sight that evokes that peculiar mixture of dread and adrenaline: Agony.

Pulsating with veins of rainwater, she towers over me: strong, intimidating, seemingly alive, and needing to be conquered. The silver points of my running spikes mercilessly stab her as I begin my ascent. A sudden flush of heat rises to my cheeks, contrasting with the brisk coolness of the unrelenting raindrops. Perspiration steadily trickles from my forehead, stinging my eyes. The scents of sweat and this morning's shampoo invade my nostrils, while my taste buds cringe from a mixture of kicked-up mud and regurgitated Lucky Charms. My pumping arms rub against my cotton uniform, and the friction creates a fire along the inside of my inner biceps. I reach the top of my mountainous foe, my legs cramping from the effort but relieved that she's behind me now.

With the finish line in sight, I sprint through tunnel of brightly multicolored flags. The rains stabs at my face like thousands of little needles, and pinpricks cause me to wonder if Mother Nature has taken up acupuncture. The crowd screams, fueling the lactic acid surging through my muscles. My legs stride out, hungry for the white line ahead of me that will provide them with relief. And then I'm done, and too tired to feel anything anymore.

A Perfect Fit: Lucy's Cover

The painting by Paul Gauguin on the cover of Lucy is a perfect reflection of what lies beneath it: the story of a young woman exploring and embracing her sexuality and discovering who she is. The woman in the painting on the cover of the novel is obviously very open and comfortable with her sexuality, as she is naked from the waist up (this is actually a common form of "dress" in Gauguin's work). Interestingly, a picture of Lucy depicted in nearly the exact same way as the woman on the cover of the novel is described on page 155: "He [Paul] brought us...a photograph he had taken of me standing over a boiling pot of food. In the picture I was naked from the waist up; a piece of cloth, wrapped around me, covered me from the waist down." This picture (and the one on the cover) helps us understand that, although Lucy is very open about her sexuality, she does not use it with the intention of forming relationships with the men she is with. In the painting on the cover, the woman has her hand raised slightly, almost as if trying to distance herself from the people looking at her; she embraces her sexuality but avoids attachment. Similarly, when Paul gives Lucy the photo described on page 155, Lucy says, "That was the moment he got the idea he possessed me in a certain way, and that was the moment I grew tired of him" (155). Lucy loses all sexual interest in Paul as soon as she sees that he thinks he has some kind of ownership or relationship with her. The painting on the cover serves as a visual depiction of Lucy's sexuality and desire for independence throughout the novel.


Another interesting aspect about the cover art of Lucy is the title of the painting, Savage Poems. This has several connections to the novel. First of all, it reminds us of the daffodil poem that Lucy had to recite in school when she was young (for more on this subject, refer to my blog post directly preceding this one). Secondly, the word "savage" takes on several meanings. Perhaps this is how Lucy feels others view her, or maybe this is how the English colonists (like the ones who made her recite the daffodil poem) viewed the people living on the island that she comes from.

I hate to use a cliche, particularly given the fact that I am an English Wrting major (hopefully none of my English profs will read this blog), but sometimes a picture really is worth a million words. To evoke a less corny and overused argument for the power of the cover art, I'll refer you to a question that Lucy poses on page 121 and encourage you to share your responses to it: "Why is a picture of something real eventually more exciting than the thing itself?" Do you agree with Lucy that pictures are often more intriguing than the things depicted in them? Why or why not? How would you interpret this question with regard to the cover art of Lucy or the photograph described on page 155?

A "Pilgrimage" Story?

I think that Jhumpa Lahiri’s short story, "This Blessed House," is a pilgrimage tale, but perhaps not in the traditional sense of the word. Twinkle does indeed seem to be on a journey in search of great moral significance, but I don't think that is it necessarily the religious qualities of the relics she finds that she is interested in. According to the Wikipedia article about pilgrimage, "Christian pilgrimage was first made to sites connected with the birth, life, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus." In a sense, I feel that Twinkle's "pilgrimage" is a journey/attempt to "resurrect" her marriage. It does not seem as if Twinkle is looking for religious answers in her obsession with the search for Christian relics, as she clearly states to her husband that "[they] are good little Hindus" (137). Rather than religious ideas, the objects that Twinkle finds represent hope, beauty, and optimism for the future: when Sanjeev notices the Ten Commandments dishtowel that she finds, Twinkle tells him to "[f]ace it. This house is blessed" (144). In a way, there is a parallel between the condition of their house and the condition of their marriage; both may need "to be dusted" (137) in some spots, but if Sanjeev and Twinkle work/search hard enough, "God only knows what... [they'll] find" (153). The house (and marriage) contain all kinds of hidden treasures. When Twinkle asks Sanjeev if he thinks "the previous owners were born-agains," it is almost as if she is asking him if he thinks they too can be "reborn" in their love for one another (137). In some ways, this "pilgrimage" does lead to great discovery: at the end of the story, Twinkle's discovery of the solid silver bust of Christ leads Sanjeev to have an epiphany of sorts. When he sees that the bust "contain[s] dignity, solemnity, beauty even," he discovers that "to his surprise these qualities [make] him hate it all the more" (157). Perhaps this is suggesting that Sanjeev has finally discovered the "dignity, solemnity, [and] beauty" in Twinkle as well as the silver bust she found, and he realizes that he does not (and perhaps cannot) appreciate these qualities. To summarize, the real "pilgrimage"--the real journey--of the story is the search for true beauty, which is discovered at the end. Twinkle seems to appreciate this beauty, while Sanjeev comes to hate it.

Perhaps I am over-reading the text, but this is just one way in which I think the story can be interpreted as a "pilgrimage tale." I'm sure there are other interpretations out there, as well as counterarguments to my own interpretation, and I would love to hear them; please share. :-)

In closing, I would like to leave you with a brief clip from another "pilgrimage story." I know it would be wrong of me to post a youtube video without tying it into the text we are studying in some way, so I'll do my best. I've posted the similarities I see below the video. This is one of my favorite scenes from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, a "pilgrimage tale" about King Arthur's quest for the Holy Grail. Enjoy!!


Ties to "This Blessed House:"

1. King Arthur is on a pilgrimage, and as I've discussed above, I see This Blessed House as a "pilgrimage tale."
2. King Arthur is in search of the grail, a holy relic, and Twinkle is in search of Christian objects--these are both religiously affiliated.
3. King Arthur tries to recruit the Black Knight to join his search. Twinkle sort of recruits the guest at her party to join her search: "the whole party joined forces and began combing through each of the rooms" (153).
4. The Black Knight reminds me a lot of Sanjeev. He tries to block King Arthur from continuing on his quest, much like Sanjeev discourages Twinkle's search for and display of Christian relics; he refuses King Arthur's offer to join the quest, and Sanjeev "had no desire to join" Twinkle's group in searching for objects; the Black Knight says "I move for no man," which is similar to Sanjeev's stubborn and superior attitude throughout the story; and finally (and this one's a streeeeeeetch), all that remains of the Black Knight after his encounter with King Arthur is his torso, sort of like the silver bust of Christ that Twinkle brings down from the attic (teeheehahaha).
   

Why Julia Stiles?

While I was perusing some of our classmates' blogs, I noticed that Casey inlcuded a clip from 10 Things I Hate About You, an adaptation of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew starring Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles. You can check out both the clip and Casey's thoughts about it on her blog at http://caseyslivesandtimes.blogspot.com/.

Of course, I'm not simply blogging to rave about Casey's blog (which I quite enjoyed by the way). Watching the clip from 10 Things I Hate About You called to my attention that Julia Stiles has been in several movie adaptations of Shakespeare's plays. This got me thinking about the casting choices for O. Was Julia Stiles chosen simply because she has a history of acting in Shakespeare adaptations? What makes her so suited for those roles? Obviously, she plays the leading lady in O as Desi, an adaptation of Desdemona; Casey points out that she also plays the leading lady in 10 Things I Hate About You as Katrina; and check out this clip of her as Ophelia (with Ethan Hawke as Hamlet) in the 2000 movie adaptation of Hamlet:



I wonder if Julia Stiles was chosen for her roles in O and Hamlet because directors believed she performed well in her first role in a Shakespeare adaptation as Kat in 10 Things I Hate About You, or if directors simply see something "Shakespearean" in her as an actress. All three of these movies came out in a relatively short time frame: 10 Things I Hate About You in 1999, Hamlet in 2000, and O in 2001; however, they all had different directors: Gil Junger (10 Things I Hate About You), Michael Almereyda (Hamlet), and Martin Scorsese (O). Why do you think Julia Stiles was cast as the leading lady for all three?

Of course I want to hear what all of you think, but this wouldn't be a true "Sam-style" blog post if I didn't elaborate on my own opinion a bit. First of all, I should probably admit off the bat that anything I say is bound to be a tad bit biased because I love Julia Stiles as an actress, and thus believe she is pretty magnificent in ANY role she plays. However, I think she is particularly suited for Shakespeare adaptations due to both her physical appearance and her acting abilities. First of all, I think (and this is personal opinion) that Julia Stiles has kind of an innocent and unique look. The innocence suits Shakespeare roles very well, as he tends to often paint the women in his plays as victims. The unique quality (which I can't quite put my finger on, but I think it is something about her eyes, perhaps) also suits Shakespeare roles, as his plays usually involve manipulation, and the uniqueness of Stiles's look adds a sense of mystery to her character. As far as her acting ability goes, she is amazing in dramatic situations. Scenes that involve her crying or in a frantic state do not come off as forced, fake or overly dramatic (see the above clip as well as the clip on Casey's blog for two examples). I think these qualitites made her the perfect casting choice for Desde in O. What does everyone else think?

2 Two-Faced Iagos

Okay, so call me immature, but the first thing I thought of when I started reading Othello and saw that the name of the villain was Iago was my all-time favorite Disney character--the parrot in the movie Aladdin (yes, the one with the annoying voice). By the way, Aladdin is undoubtedly THE greatest Disney movie of all time, and if any of you dare to challenge me on that, I am more than open to the idea of starting a blog war regarding Disney movies.

ANYWAY, back to the point of my blog (yes, it does have a point!!). I find a lot of similarities between the Iago in Othello and the one in Aladdin (okay, yes, one is kind of a bird, but trust me, there ARE similarities). I think the easiest way to point these out to everyone is to show you a clip of what is probably my favorite scene from the movie and then to list the similarities I see between our Iagos. So here it is, enjoy!!

Similarities I see:

(1) We will begin with the obvious. They are both named Iago. Quite insightful, I know.

(2) They are both villains (another brilliant deduction).

(3) Note Iago's (cartoon version) ability to imitate Princess Jasmine in the clip. It's uncanny. This reminds me of how Iago in Othello is able to trick everyone around him into believing that he is someone that he's not (i.e. Othello says "Iago is most honest" [2.3.7]).

(4) Iago (cartoon version again) says "And to think we gotta keep kissing up to that chump and his chump daughter." This is similar to how the Iago in Othello seems to always be kissing up to pretty much everybody in the play, including Brabantio.

(5) Cartoon Iago devises an evil plot to take over a position of power when he suggests to Jafar that he marry Princess Jasmine and become Sultan. This is kind of similar to Othello's Iago devising a plan to overthrow Othello because he is upset that he did not get the promotion to lieutenant (even though we are never technically very clear on Iago's true motivations).

(6) Cartoon Iago has persuasive powers that are demonstrated when he talks Jafar into his plan. These powers are mirrored in Othello's Iago's ability to convince multiple characters to take part in his plan (for example, when he convinces Roderigo that he is the perfect candidate for “knocking out [Cassio’s] brains” [4.2.229]).

(7) Cartoon Iago's plan involves murder. 'Nuff said.

I also want to point out that the end of this scene is utterly hilarious, as it ends with Jafar and Iago cackling evilly back and forth. This has absolutely no relevance, but I can't help laughing hysterically every time I watch it.

Displacement: Applying a Physics Perspective to a Literary Concept

You guys are going to have to forgive me: I may be an English Writing Major, but I am also a Chem/Math double minor, so I do have a tendency to sometimes think about abstract or literary concepts in a "scientific" manner. When we started our brainstorming of the term "displacement" in class on Thursday, the scientist in me immediately jumped to the physics definition, which refers to "how far out of place an object is." I know, I know, you are probably all uttering something along the lines of "ummm...duh?!" I realize this definition of the word is pretty much explicitly implied in the word itself: DIS-PLACE-ment; but I think there is more to the definition than what appears on the surface. I started explaining my interpretation in class as taking this to mean a kind of journey, as in how one might actually get from her starting point to her destination. After class, I realized that I had the concepts of "displacement" and "distance" flip-flopped (thank God I decided to go with the English thing, right?), and the difference between the two in physics is actually what allows the scientific definition to be applied for our purposes. So, for a clarification, check out

http://www.glenbrook.k12.il.us/GBSSCI/PHYS/CLASS/1DKin/U1L1c.html.

This is a groovy little tutorial that does a really good job explaining the difference between "distance" and "displacement." And NOW, for my probably over-reaching and annoyingly lengthy interpretation:

I think it's important to note that distance refers to "how much ground an object has covered," whereas displacement refers to where the object actually is in relation to where it began. So, technically, an object (or a person, for our purposes) may travel a great distance, undergo a long, hard, and complex journey, and still find itself right back where it started. I like this idea of displacement being independent of a person's ventures in life. It suggests that we can make mistakes and have regrets but still ultimately have a sense of and be able to return to where we started and where we belong. The only way we can truly be "displaced" is if we venture out, lose our way, and don't find a path that takes us back to where we started; in essence, if we "lose ourselves completely." Also, the website says that displacement is "the object's overall change in position," which we can apply in both a literal and figurative sense. A person may find herself diplaced if her physical location changes, but also if her political, religous, or any other personal belief ("position") changes. For example, I believe that Othello finds himself "diplaced" when his position regarding human nature changes. Iago originally portrays Othello to be of a generally optimistic and trusting nature, saying that "[t]he Moor is of a free and open, nature,/That thinks men honest that but seem to be so" (lines 382-83). Iago then notes a change (a "displacement") in Othello after he as planted the seed of jealousy in his mind: "The Moor already changes with my posion" (line 342). Invoking the physics definition, we interpret Othello's "position" regarding human nature to have undergone an "overall change," i.e., jealously has caused him to lose his generally trusting nature, and we thus consider him "displaced."

Girl, Interrupted: A "Christian" Perspective

I have my own opinions and reactions to the film Girl, Interrupted, which I could easily share here, but I feel as if I have done a sufficient job in shoving my opinion down everyone’s throats in my last few blog entries. Thus, I set out on a quest to find another individual’s response to the film, preferably one which looked at it from an angle or perspective which I had not considered. Low and behold, thanks to my amazing Googling abilities, it took little effort on my part to find what I was looking for…

Now, I realize that just because we happen to attend a Catholic University, not everyone here is Catholic or Christian. However, I think that a review of the film from a Christian perspective may serve as interesting for members of any religion. So here it is: http://www.christiananswers.net/spotlight/movies/2000/girlinterrupted.html.

This article reviews Girl, Interrupted from a Christian perspective. In it, the reviewer, Bob MacLean, comments on how the movie does (and does not) uphold Christian beliefs and values. He makes a lot of bold arguments and often calls the film “offensive,” referencing the profanity, sexual content, frequent drug usage, and the suicide scene. True, from a Christian viewpoint (and probably from a lot of non-Christian viewpoints as well), these things are surely considered “offensive,” but wasn’t that the point? By being “offensive,” didn’t these scenes effectively convey the intensity and difficulty involved in trying to recover from a mental illness?

One of MacLean’s major criticisms of the film, which I believe makes some unfair assumptions, is this:

“Since Susanna is not a Christian, she cannot, and the film does not, offer any real answers to some very important questions. Rather [it] raises the human spirit up as the answer to our problems. I find this solution curious. If we had such great spirit, why do we repeatedly put ourselves into these terrible situations?”

MacLean implies that the only way to recover from a mental illness is through religion, and that “the human spirit” alone is not strong enough to overcome the struggles associated with such disorders. So, according to MacLean, are we to assume that there is no hope for non-Christians who suffer from mental illnesses? If this is the case, then why have so many antidepressant medications been developed by researchers, approved by the FDA, prescribed by doctors, and taken by patients suffering from depression? Would people really be taking them if they were ineffective? Also, in his final question, MacLean basically assumes that those suffering from mental illnesses inflicted the condition upon themselves. To ask “why we repeatedly put ourselves into these terrible situations?” is basically an attack on the identity of mental illnesses as medical conditions. Would you ask a diabetic why he gave himself diabetes? Would you ask a brain cancer patient what she was thinking when she put a tumor in her head? MacLean does admit that “the movie forces one to understand the horror of having to deal with mental illness and does not glamorize being insane,” but then goes on to say that “God knows and deals with the deepest horrors we visit upon one another and forgives us,” which again implies that mental illness is caused by human behavior and something that needs to be “forgiven.” True, perhaps by “the deepest horrors we visit upon one another,” MacLean may be referring to the cruel ways some of the women in the film treated one another, but couldn’t that behavior also be considered a symptom of the mental illnesses they were suffering from?

Do you think that mental illness is an issue that needs to be treated from a religious standpoint, a medical standpoint, or a combination of the two?

Gone Fishin'

A Fisher of Words


Equipped with nothing
but the thin rod
grasped in my right
hand, I face the expansive

sea of potential.
A hook
baited only with
a wriggling idea—

exposed—cast
into the unknown.
Reeling. The return
is smooth, and I—

I’ve got nothin’.
I toss the line again
and will myself
to practice patience,

as I cast and reel,
cast and reel,
cast and reel—
methodic and unrewarding.

Not until I relax my effort
and divert my focus
do I feel the snag of inspiration
on my end of the line.

And I am satisfied
with the day’s catch,
however small
it may be.

Jesus fed five thousand
with a few loaves of bread
and only
two small fish.



Hey everybody! So, while I feel like I've come to be quite the pro "facebooker," I admit I'm a rookie "blogger." Please be patient with me as I get accustomed to the format. On the writing issue (assuming I--in my technologically handicapped capacity--can actually get this thing posted and thus enable you to respond to the question I am about to pose), does anybody else feel like the harder you try to write something inspiring/powerful/non-crappy, the harder it is? I hate writing under pressure...it stifles the muses, ya know? :-) Like when I was in high school, we always had to write these timed literary essays in class without being given the topic ahead of time, and it just made me panic. I was wondering if anyone has any specific coping/relaxation techniques that kind of help them in the writing process.