A Journey Round My Skull Is Now 50 Watts
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A Journey Round My Skull is now 50 Watts http://50watts.com/ I'm importing the archives to the new site and posting new material daily. Please visit and update your links. Thanks. *** Gilbert Alter-Gilbert is a critic, translator, and literary historian whose work has appeared in numerous magazines and journals. His book-length translations include: The Mirror of Lida Sal by Miguel Ángel Asturias Streetcorners: Prose Poems of the Demi-Monde by Francis Carco Manifestos Manifest by Vicente Huidobro Scarecrow and Other Anomalies by Oliverio Girondo Dead Man & Company by Marie Redonnet Strange Forces: The Fantastic Tales of Leopoldo Lugones. For Xenos Books, he's working on three short story collections in translation: On a Locomotive and Other Narratives by Massimo Bontempelli (Italian); Metaphysical Tales by Giovanni Papini (Italian); and Unsavory Tales by Léon Bloy (French). For Green Integer Press, he's doing additional book-length translations: The Fantastic Tales of Alberto Savinio [sample] and Jesus Christ, Flashy Adventurer (tentative title, which I think should be made permanent) by Francis Picabia. Alter-Gilbert has acted as redactor, revisionist, ghost writer, and factotum for many periodicals. He's also an art and architecture critic. In this capacity he's done reviews, catalog essays, and book prefaces. I first encountered Alter-Gilbert in his role of anthologist, through Life and Limb: Selected Tales of Peril, Predicament, and Dire Distress. He has several other anthologies in the offing, such as Pipe Dreams: The Drug Experience in Literature for Leaping Dog Press. He discusses some of these forthcoming collections in his first response below, but I want to share his story about The Riddle of Existence: A Compendium of Short Philosophical Fiction: This work was under consideration for publication by OUP, whose editor asked Alter-Gilbert to cut the length of the manuscript from 2,000+ pages to just over 200. Some of the many authors Gilbert Alter-Gilbert has translated: Cristina Peri Rossi, Max-Pol Fouchet, Francis Jammes, Mohamed Choukri, Kajii Motojiro, Rodrigo Rey Rosa,Enrique Anderson-Imbert, Felisberto Hernández, Ana María Shua, Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Santiago Dabove, Marco Denevi, Fernando Sorrentino, Jean Richepin, Augusto Monterroso, Norberto Luis Romero, Charles Nodier, and Meliton Barba. Above, Photograph: Gilbert Alter-Gilbert, oil portrait by Valentin Popov, 2002 Below, Photograph: Portion of Gilbert Alter-Gilbert collection of literary memorabilia ***** This post will morph slightly over the next few weeks as I add additional links to the authors and movements Alter-Gilbert discusses. (I'll also attempt to add accent marks to names. I realize I'm incredibly inconsistent with accents throughout my entire blog.) I'll soon post excerpts from Alter-Gilbert's translations of Asturias, Carco, Huidobro, Lugones, Redonnet, and Girondo. He has also given me permission to post his not-yet- published translation of "The Infusion" by Léon Bloy. Alter-Gilbert provided me with some anecdotes from literary history. These appear in a gray, italic font throughout the interview. ***** The Interview JRMS. --Leaping Dog Press will publish two of your anthologies of international writing and you've edited anthologies in the past.* Can you talk about the genesis of the two new collections, how long it took you to compile them, and discuss your research methods? How do you make selections – out of often vast oeuvres – from previously untranslated authors? A-G. --The anthologies slated for publication by Leaping Dog Press are Pulse of Doom: Selected Tales of Fate and Fatalism and Gnostic Clock: A Tenebrist Miscellany. Pulse of Doom is intended as a sort of sequel to my compilation Life and Limb: Selected Tales of Peril, Predicament and Dire Distress, an earlier collection of short fiction concerned with the operations of destiny (even if masquerading as chance or coincidence) in human affairs. In Life and Limb, the emphasis is on situations of immediate jeopardy: in one story, a teenager, on a dare, scales the crumbling ladder of a derelict gas tower, gets stuck when some of the rusted rungs collapse, and finds himself dangling precariously in mid-air, unable to go up, unable to come down; in another, a man walking home through a field overgrown with tall grass tumbles into an abandoned shaft and finds himself trapped in a pit from which he can't escape – the common denominator of these accounts is the existential predicament of immediate physical threat to life and limb. InPulse of Doom, the focus is on tales of predestination in which, no matter how drastic or devious the extremes the protagonist may adopt in an effort to outwit fate, everything slowly eventuates towards a foreordained conclusion. Detonation may be delayed, in other words, but is nonetheless inevitable. The second anthology scheduled by Leaping Dog is Gnostic Clock, a compilation of dark and pessimist writings down the ages. I've always been fascinated by this genre because it appeals to my Schopenhauerean tendencies. The pessimist attitude naturally strikes a responsive chord in anyone spiritually honest, since the fact of the matter is that the human condition, metaphysically speaking, is largely, if not ultimately, one of solitude and forlornity, despite all the warm and fuzzy expedients man has contrived to conceal it. As for why I am attracted to the anthology format, I suppose it's because I have a deep- seated taxonomic streak. Something in me wants to scientifically classify everything, analyze, dissect. (In literature, the Goncourt brothers notably exhibited that proclivity.) There are rich fields for discovery still waiting to be explored. What slays me is that there are major research departments, programs, facilities and staffs devoted to absurdly precious and insular endeavors such as examining glove styles or eating habits during the time of Ben Jonson instead of opening up entire bodies of literature neglected or never adequately appreciated or understood. Pulse of Doom was one of several anthologies I researched simultaneously at one period. The others were The Riddle of Existence: A Florilegium of Short Philosophical Fiction; Saturnian Harvest: Selected Tales of the Grotesque and the Malign; Worlds Within Worlds: An Omnibus of Imaginative Literature; and Anthology of Alogical Literature. With regard to investigative methods, I'm omnivorous, ruthless – I plow through everything indiscriminately, covering all the global troves. Where literary production is concerned, cultures are most definitely not created equal, but where ore is present, there are often vast depths and recesses which have not been adequately tapped, and where the skein of literary excellence is rich and abundant. In compiling the anthologies I consulted publishers' catalogs, drew upon resources of libraries around the country, made many pilgrimages to university reading rooms and catacombs containing special collections, used interlibrary loan services, the internet, scanned the latest publications in the bookstores, and followed up references hoarded over a lifetime of reading. Along the way, I encountered a certain amount of obstructionism but, occasionally, help from unexpected quarters. It's amazing how difficult it's become to obtain certain titles. Alas, ours is a post-literate era! At any rate, when I do hit the library, I tend to roll through the stacks like a threshing machine, just gobbling up everything in sight. When I find a prospective diamond in the rough, I make a quick mental translation, or seek a translation or compact exegesis in English, if it exists. But my decoding faculties are fallible, and I can't get to everything. There are always more treasures waiting to be unearthed – after all, that's what keeps things interesting… ***** "Balzac kept wax dolls in his desk drawer as writing aids to remind him of his characters." ***** JRMS. --From reading your many introductions and prefaces, I know you think a lot about how to introduce the authors you translate to English-speaking audiences. Do you like writing these intros? Do you think of yourself as a literary historian? Who are your role models as literary historians? A-G. --I regard the function of introducing authors as a sacred office, and approach it with the utmost solemnity. I enjoy the impresario factor – it's a quiet but genuine thrill to introduce a "new," important writer. I like writing prefaces and introductions because so many authors are intriguing personalities and their lives are every bit as dramatic and poignant (and, in some cases, mysterious) as their works. As I've written neither a full- length literary biography nor a full-length book of criticism, I think it unlikely anyone in authority would officially consecrate me a literary historian as such, unless it was to extend membership in the League of Soi-disants. Admittedly, however, if I may be permitted to indulge in a modest exercise in self-stylization, I suppose I can legitimately claim to practice a sort of esoteric literary archaeology which entails sustained and repeated forays into the adjunct disciplines of paraphilology and cryptohermeneutics. Literary historians I admire are too numerous to list. Off the top of my head, I would mention John Drinkwater, Joanna Richardson, Roger Shattuck, Angel Flores, H. P. Lovecraft, Louis Untermeyer, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Paul Vangelisti, Seymour Menton, Enid Starkie, Wallace Fowlie, Jorge Luis Borges, Douglas Messerli, Clifton Fadiman, Robert Peters, Michael Richardson, Babette Deutsch, John Fitzell, C. M. Bowra, Arthur Symons, Leon Vincent, Chris Baldick, Lafcadio Hearn, the Goncourts, de Quincey, Michael Holyroyd, Lewis Turco, William Hazlitt, André Breton, Max Brod, Edmund Wilson, Mario Praz, Gary Kern, and George Slusser. Historians and critics I don't admire would comprise at least as long a roster. As for theorists in the mold of René Wellek (and anyone who has seen his personal library will readily concede his breadth of learning), the attempt to systematize the span of all things (an impulse to which I myself am profoundly prey) is, by its very nature, doomed to failure, and inevitably backfires so that we wind up exiting through the same door as in we went.