Tag: literature

Literature, to be enjoyable, must eschew judgment and the expression of torment. In this way, it pleases the reader, instead of hurting him. But we should ask: what kind of artist would opt for such an attitude? or rather: how can we justify the artistic impulse by writing pleasantly? It seems that pleasant literature is also literature that is disguised, that lacks sincerity and verve, that is boring because of its futility—despite its “lightness”. From this it follows that the sincere artist is unlikely not to arouse discomfort and, therefore, not to attract a strong rejection.

I am still impressed by the feat of a translator who ruined my experience with the Yoga Sutra. I could not contain myself and researched about the man: I found, on the site of a British university, a photo where I could see him, bald and smiling, above a long text detailing everything he had studied from the cradle and all his venerable academic degrees—and to see how appearances can be deceiving: I was almost saying that the fellow reminds me of Buddha! My impulse was to look for a way to contact him, a phone number, e-mail address, or something else. I soon gave up the idea, but my spirit urged me to tell him: “Sir Master Doctor, your comments are simply unbearable! Reading your translation of the Yoga Sutra is like trying to watch a movie with someone pausing at each scene to explain all the details, the cast’s filmography, the cultural context of the story, the exact phase of the director’s wife’s menstrual cycle at the time of shooting… all this while we simply wish for the movie to happen, for one scene to follow in sequence to the other, so that we can connect them, understand them, and have direct contact with the movie! But you, no, you do not allow it at all! You pause the movie at every speech, for every sentence, you want to immediately explain the semantics of the words, the subliminal meaning of the inflections, the symbolic connotations of the dialogue… Sir, do the world a favor: stop commenting on books! Stop, please, stop immediately! Exonerate the readers from your comments!”

If prose gives some satisfaction by making work seem productive, it is nowhere near the real pleasure of composing a righteous verse that satisfies in form and conveys the desired idea or feeling. It does not matter how many hours one spends ruminating: a single accurate verse saves the day and cheers the spirit, repeating itself in one’s mind to infinity after the work session. Prose, on the other hand, does nothing but conjure up a truckload of problems after the brief and faint feeling of duty done. Incomparable…