By Eliot Weinberger
A number of the twenty-eight essays in Oranges & Peanuts for Sale have seemed in translation in seventeen nations; a few have by no means been released in English earlier than. They contain introductions for books of avant-garde poets; collaborations with visible artists, and articles for guides akin to The ny evaluation of Books, The London evaluate of Books, and October.
One part specializes in writers and literary works: unusual stories from classical and sleek China; the Psalms in translation: a skeptical examine E. B. White’s New York. one other part is a continuation of Weinberger’s celebrated political articles amassed in What occurred right here: Bush Chronicles (a finalist for the nationwide Books Critics Circle Award), together with a sequel to “What I Heard approximately Iraq,” which the Guardian referred to as the one antiwar “classic” of the Iraq struggle. a brand new installment of his fantastic associated “serial essay,” An Elemental Thing, takes us on a trip down the Yangtze River in the course of the Sung Dynasty.
The reader also will locate the not likely convergences among Samuel Beckett and Octavio Paz, images and anthropology, and, in fact, oranges and peanuts, in addition to an encomium for Obama, a manifesto on translation, a quick visual appeal by way of Shiva, and reflections at the colour blue, dying, exoticism, Susan Sontag, and the humanities and battle.
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Don’t imitate the ancients . . . Emphasize grammar . . . Reject depression . . . cast off outdated cliches . . . Don’t use allusions . . . Don’t use couplets and parallelisms . . . Don’t keep away from renowned expressions or renowned types . . . ”) the next yr he waved the banner of the recent in a chain of much more Poundian formulations. (“Speak provided that you might have whatever to claim . . . Say what you might want to say, and say it because it is related . . . converse your individual language, now not the language of others . . . communicate the language of your individual time.
I wrote: A unmarried tree, 100 years previous, stands at the riverbank. I’d prefer to pay attention his lifestyles tale, yet lamentably he speaks no human language. August 12: West Mountain. Misty Rain Gallery. reduce Cliff. Auspicious gentle Gallery. (This scene is particularly strange. ) August thirteen: Fish stomach. Recumbent Dragon Mountain. (When birds see this cliff, they fly the wrong way. ) (The mountain people say. “This isn't any position for people to go back and forth. what's Your Honor doing right here? ” I smile and can’t ponder something to claim. ) August 14: (Too risky to continue.
Absolute stillness. Davenport: “All the genres of portray other than nonetheless existence are discontinuous, and purely the lyric poem, or tune, can declare so historical part of our tradition one of the expressive arts. ” Faverey: “I don't desire to recognize time. ” His first booklet was once known as Poems; his moment, Poems II. while requested how his paintings had replaced through the years, he spoke back that the poems had gotten a bit longer. Faverey: “When there's not anything left / to do it for, / to do it with, / / it stops of its personal accord.
Not anyone within the Clinton camp ever admitted that she had remained at the back of within the well known vote and within the pledged (elected) delegates from the start, and tv, after all, promoted the appearance that this may be a photograph end to maintain us all motionless prior to our units. The funniest second got here whilst Clinton joined McCain in presenting a summer time vacation from the federal fuel tax—a strictly vote-pandering gesture, in particular as neither of them brought a invoice within the Senate to show it into legislation. requested concerning the proven fact that now not a unmarried economist supported the plan, Clinton, perfect Commander of the location Paper, spoke back: “I’m unlikely to place my lot in with economists.
Between American poets, his corporation might were George Oppen, William Bronk, Gustaf Sobin. Like Oppen, free-floating, enigmatic, unforgettable traces. Like Oppen, Poems is his Discrete sequence: opposite to so much writers, the earliest paintings is the least loquacious, has the least connectives. Oppen: “Closed car—closed in glass— / on the lessen, / Unapplied and empty:” Faverey: “Standstill / / below development, demolition / less than building. ‘Emptiness, / / So stately on her stem’:” Faverey. “As some distance because the eye can see, / / the discrete has been obvious.