ineffable rooms in the house of memory
João Guimarães Rosa, Brazil's best writer ever, a genius. Virtually unknown in the English-speaking world, mainly on account of poor translations, "literal" renderings intended to please commercially-minded editors.
Want to have an inkling of what he would have sounded like in English? Read on.
NONE
João Guimarães Rosa
Inside the farmhouse, found at random among several other resought far-off places, there came to be, in our minds, irreversible great facts—reflections, flashes of lightning and sparkles—stifled by darkness.
The mansion—strange, vanishing, behind mountains and ranges, ever, at the edge of the woods of some riverbank, which forbids imagining. Or perhaps it hasn't been on a farm, nor along the undiscovered path, nor that far? It is no longer possible to find out — nevermore. (...)
Only now sluggishly there dawns the demanding glimmer of reminiscence, at the end perhaps of an extremely long journey, striking his consciousness. (...) Plentymuch, however, has been and is in those realms as far as my moonlight at the furthest, which I affirm and know.
The house—rustic or manorial—with no visible history, just through shadows, in deaf inks: the parapeted window, the stairhead, the vacant slave bunks, the restless cattle? If I manage to recall it, I’ll recover my calm; if only I could religion myself and guess the true and real one, the has-gone. Is childhood for real?
The Young Lady and the Young Man exchanged a flamemoist gaze when they were alone; a similar gleam beamed from them, a lookalikeness. They looked at each other like sparrows on the spur of their singing with trees on tiptoe and clouds abashed—like embers she fanned into coals of fire, the vehement one. They closegazed, but drouthcalmly, not knowing, not ashamed. (...) Now the Boy wished they would never cease to look at one another that way. Unpierceable bottomless eyes, like life. (...)
The Young Lady was the fairest among beings, endlesslessless beauty. Could be the princess in the castle, up in the tower. Who knows, black eagles round the tall turret? (...)
They let him know what was inside the room. They let him peek. It was an ages old elderly lady of old of ages, an inconceivably ancient woman. (...) They assured him, the old lady was not Death, nor was she dead. Rather, she was life!
There the heart alone within contained awaiting beating breathing life the spirit Shhhhhhh. (...) The Boy beamed inquired, “She sleepingbeautied?” The Young Lady kissed him. Life was the wind trying to put out a lamp. The walking shadows of a motionless me. (...)
Revanished them remembrances, the representation of all is all out of order—really a bridge, which, all of a sudden, collapses, looks like. We fight with memory.
Those are excerpts from "Nenhum, nenhuma," a short story that defies classification, a journey into the deep recesses of the soul, into the mystery of one's own identity in a mystical past. Some notes follow, if you're interested.
Inside the Farmhouse, Found at randOM | aMOng several other resought Far-oFF places,
Here we have specular symmetry, a game of mirrors that reflect the light created at the beginning of the narrative.
there came to be in our minds irreversible great Facts—reFLections, FLashes of Lightning
F ► [ F + L] ◄ L
This light (L) is the archetype of the boy's memory, which represents Western literary traditions beaming, as it were, as they mingle with reality (F), metamorphosing (FL) in specularity (...reflections, flashes...)
SpARKleS — StiFLed by dARKneSS.
The word stifled reflects the first light (stiFLed) and is simultaneously "stifled" by the extremes of yet another example of specular symmetry (sparkles/darkness), now pointing to the opposition between light and darkness in the Bereshit: sparkles is the intermittent primeval reflection in the waters. Literary traditions in the target language (here, the Hebrew Bible as it appears in the King James Version) tantalize the reader and provide some stepping stones soon to be removed by a new twist to the interpretation of that which was supposed to be familiar.
The mansion—strange, vanishing, behind mountains and ranges, ever, at the edge of the woods of some riverbank, which forbids imagining. Or perhaps it hasn't been on a farm, nor along the undiscovered path, nor that far? It is no longer possible to find out — nevermore.
Echoes of “The Raven”:
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
The quotation from Poe is intended to underscore the mystery of the narrative and the mystical character of the boy's effort, an irresolute Telemachus; the allusion to the author of "The Fall of the House of Usher" is also an objective correlative preparing the reader for something akin to the Fall from Edenic bliss, the third pillar of the text.
Only now sluggishly there dawns the demanding glimmer of reminiscence, at the end perhaps of an extremely long journey,
An allusion to Homer's Odyssey.
striking his consciousness. (...) Plentymuch,
Bear in mind that in addition to elements of local traditions (such as Poe and the KJV), the translator has intentionally inserted a local poetic diction, namely that of James Joyce in Ulysses—our "target author." The neologisms in this translation have been based on extensive research into that novel, arguably a literary counterpart of Rosa's work.
as FAR as my moonlight
The circumscription of oblivion in anticipation for a literary fiat lux.
The house—rustic or manorial—with no visible history, just through shadows, in deaf inks: the parapeted window, the stairhead, the vacant slave bunks, the restless cattle? If I manage to recall it, I’ll recover my calm; if only I could religion myself
Here converted into a verb, the noun religion (from the Latin 'religare' - to tie back) highlights the mystical connotations of the original and thus compensates for the nominalization “meu mais-longe” (“my furthest away”) in Rosa's tale.
and guess the true and real one, the has-gone. Is childhood for real? The Young Lady and the Young Man exchanged a flamemoist gaze
Their eyes emit light back on the text in a veiled reference to the King James Version:
The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.a siMilar glEAM bEAMed froM theM,
Alliteration and assonance emphasize the similarity the phrase talks about. Sound and meaning are one—the feature that characterizes true poetry.
It evokes memories of Gerard Manley Hopkins:
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toilSPARrows on the SPUR of their singing
Birds singing, again pointing to the Jesuit poet's mystical musicality:
Because the Holy Ghost over the bentWorld broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
she fanned
Read backwards, the phrase sounds like the Hebrew word nefesh - “spirit”, breath of life given to Adam in an episode to which Rosa seems to refer in the original: "... como do assoprado das cinzas a esplendição das brasas.”
the vehement one.
This allusion to the Song of Songs stresses the intensity of their love:
Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.The reader need not identify every reference. It is enough that the latter should sound familiar, perhaps somewhat unconsciously, thus placing the text in the framework of household literary tradition, likely to be recognizable by the target reader. Baudelaire, however, though present in the original, would probably go unnoticed by the average American reader, the one this translation had in mind.
They closegazed
À la Humpty Dumpty I now make this portmanteau word mean this:
to gaze at someone so intently that one yearns to become a single being with that person (here used intransitively)...
If the translator is skilled enough at manipulating the context, their words will mean anything they want. Words are like people - they change in company. Rosa was a master.
but drouthcalmly
In translating “estiadamente”, I have used
‘drouth’: poetic form of ‘drought’ found in Ulysses.
+
‘calm’: from Greek καύμα ‘heat/burn’!
Irrespective of literary sources used in this translation, the poetic diction emulates that of James Joyce - the target author we have chosen.
not knowing, not ashamed.
The Fall is predicted:
And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed.(...) Now the Boy wished they would never cease to look at one another that way. Unpierceable bottomless EYEs, lIke lIfe.
The assonance is an echo of the bottomless pit in the lovers' eyes!
The Young Lady was the fairest among beings,
New allusion to the Song of Songs:
O thou fairest among women...endlesslessless beauty.
A tribute to a famous passage in "Sirens" (a chapter in Ulysses).
Could be the princess in the castle, up in the tower. Who knows, black eagles round the tall turret?
Ellipses and fragments are quite frequent in Ulysses.
(...)
They let him know what was inside the room. They let him peek. It was
an ages old
elDerLy LaDy
of old of ages,
a n i n c o n c e i v a b l y a n c i e n t w o m a n.
The length of the phrase is that of the old lady's life; the mirror symmetry of words and sounds, the return to the fetal innocence that characterizes her—she was life itself! Albeite fragile (after all, lady is the character whose name begins with a lower-case initial…), she faces Death:
(...)
They assured him, the old lady was not Death, nor was she dead. Rather, she was life!
Listen to the rhythm of Penelope's heartbeat as she waits:
There
the heart
alone
within
contained
await-
-ing beat-
-ing breath-
ing life
the spirit
Shhhhhhh.
Like a candle about to be extinguished as the spirit/wind moves.
The Boy Beamed inquired, “She sleePingBeautied?”
The Young Lady kissed him. Life was the wind trying to put out a lamp.
The walking shadows of a motionless me. (...)
Revanished thEM reMEMbrances,
the representation of
ALL is
ALL out of order—re-
ALLy a bridge, which,
ALL of a sudden, co-
LLApses, looks like.
We fight with memory.
Indeed.
The literary translator should wrestle with tradition itself - unless they are content with the shades on the wall...
-.-.-
There is also an insidious intent behind the allusions, a metalinguistic one: the preparation for the Fall of all - from the innocence and purity of the so-called original text, followed by Humpty Dumpty's fall from his self-sufficient pride—the original text falls and breaks; it falls like Usher's house, Rosa's “farmhouse, found at random among several other resought far-off places”, “mansion—strange, vanishing, behind mountains and ranges, ever”, into the deep and dank tarn of a truly literary translation, in which one hears the voice of a thousand waters writhing in search for a Tantalean original text that keeps croaking in jest: "Nevermore!"
Raven, more! That is the translator's motto. This is the reason for the inversions and mirrors throughout the text, itself a poor, pale, clear, true, oblique or epiphanic reflection of the original, merging with it and dissolving into “no one, nothing”, qōheleṯ's nothingness, in the very sound of the mirror-word NONE.
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