Awkward

they do say when you stop searching you find what you are looking for…. personally I don’t believe that but you never know …..and who the fuck are they anyway????

That is bollocks. You’ll never meet anyone following that baseless adage. I know from long years of sexless experience.

Ahh…another dip into the complexity of your existence. Quite honestly I don’t know how you don’t get confused with all of these women about.

I get a bad vibe from the new girl, Gillian. Through bitter experience, if an asked for deposit is not forthcoming, she’s either skint or crooked. Look out for the rather gorilla-shaped “boyfriend” to arrive in the next few days.

Live in fear.

The only drama teacher I know does not make a good conversationalist. Too self-centred.

Just a thought, but if you’re still helping out at Relay Hate, can’t you get at the list of unsuccessful interventions? Probably a lot of attractive and frustrated women in it.

How can you not be interested after that description?

Actually, I had a female roommate once who was stunning. But there was such a complete and utter lack of chemistry between us that the possibility never came up. Not once!

Yeah, you’d better move on from Red. Bloody American.

At least he bought you a drink, awkward as it may have been. He could have done a lot worse, I suppose.

And I agree with you. Waiting for something (or someone) to simply fall into your lap is a losing game.

Golly. You should’ve known I’d pick up on the Queneau purchase. Yours will probably be the recent second edition, redrafted and improved by the now sadly late and much lamented Barbara Wright, whose illness and decline delayed its publication, just as I was trying to finish my own projects and needed a new copy for obscure reasons. I wish I’d known the reason why; instead, I was just ignorantly peevish at having to wait.

Mind you, I’m not convinced of the wisdom of her replacing the very racist indeed “West Indian” (five from the end) with the only slightly xenophobic oo-ars of “Country". But perhaps a half-way house of political correctness, if not actually its terminus, is to be expected - even admired - of a nonagenarian translator of modest, French genius. Nobody’s perfect.

(I know all about lodgers not paying their way in a timely manner, by the way; just see my recent post. KNOW YOUR RIGHTS.)

looking forward to you letting us know that the cynics among us are wrong about our misgivings regarding Gail. hoping the deposit arrives shortly.

Poor Looby, you don’t sound happy love.  While the dating sites must suck at how frustrating they make life, don’t you think it’s better to persevere?  You’ve actually met loads of great people, and some not so great, but aren’t you that little bit nearer to finding someone who becomes a good fit soon?  I’d hang in there. And chin up x

TSB/DF re Gail: yes, this is making me nervous about tomorrow, when she said she’ll sign it. I’ll try and nail her down about it today. I hate having to say things in black and white but I *need* this money for Italy.

UB: I did appreciate Boyfriend’s gesture. He’s behaved impeccably throughout, both to me and the girls, and clearly wants to do the decent thing.

Someone can look like a cross between Abi Titmuss and Nigella Lawson and if there isn’t that mental connection, physical attraction just won’t be there. It’s not a simple switch that can be turned on and off by a stimulus.

SB: Yes–that’s the edition, by Calder, who’ve got a fine catalogue (my “Fictions” is by the same publisher). If the language is racist in the original though, then it has to remain racist in the translation, and explained. I wonder what your “obscure reasons” were? :)

Peach: Great to see you back in the blogworld, and thanks ever so much for your nice comment. It’s always just in the future, supposedly. I’ll give it another bash I suppose but I’m running out of energy for it at the moment.

No one moves into a flat in Sydney without forking over a helluva lot of dosh FIRST

Won’t make that mistake again.

Good luck with getting the money tomorrow. I’ve been there, and it’s quite hard being all landlord-y but also sharing spaces with people, if there’s tension about money. And don’t let her do the “It’s only money. You’re so materialistic’ thing, trying to make it your fault. But you know that (I wish I had!)

With the racism, I do know what you mean - literary processes should not find themselves bowing to linguistic squeamishness - but I would say that the translation of something like Exercices proposes a knotty problem anyway: do you translate the content, or the effect? What does it mean to translate something, anyway?

Eco is interesting on this, and I’m about to start reading David “Perec Biographer” Bellos on the impossibility of true translation as well. It’s not a problem specific to Oulipian caprices, of course, but I think they tend to throw it into sharp relief.

For reference I think the original is Javanais or something in the French - I have a cat on me and can’t reach my copy of it - and a strict translation might not have done the original intention justice. Certainly Wright takes necessary liberties with other aspects: Loucherbem becomes Pig Latin, etc. because it would be too tortuous to keep the original French premise; moreover, with negative effect.

You could say that in translating Oulipo, almost anything is up for grabs. To misquote Frank Ramsey: what we can’t say, we can’t say; but we might whistle it instead.

“Pig Latin” is a happy accident isn’t it, given the origins of loucherbem?

Someone I know spends his spare time translating Verlaine and Mallarme and I find chatting to him about the art of translation endlessly fascinating.

Just had a look in the SOED for “translate” and it comes from the past participle of Latin transferre–in the sense of moving to another place, which I think, at least in a purely literary sense, is an attractive representation of what’s going on in translation.