Sunday, October 25, 2026

Polýain’ Odyseû,

How does poetry work ? 


How does a modernist poet craft his phrases, his lines ?

Hugh Kenner in the first chapter of the Pound Era demonstrates it with an example from “Cantos 79/499:520”, an excerpt of the so-called Pisan Cantos.


The Pisan Cantos as we know was written in the detention camp in which Ezra Pound was locked-up at the end of the Second World War.

Death was often on the Poet’s mind. Not only did Pound fear for his own life when he was arrested by Italian Partisans on 3 may 1945, but he also witnessed regularly the disappearance of fellow inmates, who were escorted by their executioners to their grave. Most famous a certain Louis Till, who was made immortal by Pound when he inserted his name in the Cantos. 


Probably thinking over the idea and the role of an executioner, Pound remembered an anecdote, told or witnessed, of an encounter between self-exiled Henry James and exiled Princess Lydia Yavorska Bariatinsky. 


The Russian Princess had approached the famous American writer during a garden party in the Temple and, as I understand it, brought up similarities of their exiled status and the barbarity of their homelands. The Princess bragged that her bodyguard had previously been the town executioner. The unbelieving Henry James and bystanders retorted:


“So they said to Lidya: no, your body-guard is not the

town executioner

the executioner is not here for the moment

the fellow who rides beside your coachman

is just a Cossack who executes…”


The Princess must have been taken aback by the repartee and temptationously closed in on James.


“Which being the case, her holding dear H. J.

(Mr. James, Henry) literally by the button-hole…”


Not really “come il faut”, and even quite shocking to the public in the chique garden of the Temple.


“in those so consecrated surroundings

(a garden in the Temple, no less)”


and saying, for once, the right thing

namely: “Cher maître’

to his checqued waistcoat, the Princess Bariatinsky,

as the fish-tails said to Odysseus, ἐνὶ Τροίῃ,


Pound, in a modernist twist, compares the ingratiating deference of Lydia Bariatynski and the conventions - constrained Henry James, with the “Singing Sirens” and the mast-bound Ulysses. 


A banal everyday anecdote, related as in a Sapphic fragment, infused with the radiance of an eternal Classic…( the Odyssey, The Oxen of the Sun 12/200 )


The two last words, "ἐνὶ Τροίῃ" (eni Troiēi): Ancient Greek for "in Troy”, however do not seem to fit. The Sirens do not speak to Ulysses in Troy, but somewhere at sea…As there is a comma, these two last words may as well be the start of the next sentence were it not for the alinea separation.


saying, for once, the right thing namely: “Cher maître”, 


The flattering and luring words ( Thèlxis ) in the Odyssey sound as follows : «Δεῦρ᾽ ἄγ᾽ ἰών, πολύαιν᾽ Ὀδυσεῦ, μέγα κῦδος Ἀχαιῶν, νῆα κατάστησον, ἵνα νωϊτέρην ὄπ᾽ ἀκούσῃς.» (Deûr’ ag’ iōn, polýain’ Odyseû, méga kŷdos Achaiôn, nêa katástēson, hína nōïterēn op’ akoúsēis.)


  • Δεῦρ᾽ ἄγ᾽ ἰών (Deûr’ ag’ iōn): "Come hither/come forward"
  • πολύαιν᾽ (polýain’): "Much-praised" or "famous" (a unique epithet they use specifically for him)
  • Ὀδυσεῦ (Odyseû): "Odysseus"
  • μέγα κῦδος Ἀχαιῶν (méga kŷdos Achaiôn): "Great glory of the Achaeans (Greeks)"
  • νῆα κατάστησον (nêa katástēson): "Bring your ship to a stop / land your ship"
  • ἵνα νωϊτέρην ὄπ᾽ ἀκούσῃς (hína nōïterēn op’ akoúsēis): "So that you may hear the voice of us two." 


That Pound still describes the Sirens as fish-tails is either a concession to his unknowing reading public or a poetic liberty. Since the display in London in the mid-19th century of the Vulci Siren Vase ( -480 BCE ), people had understood that the Sirens from ancient Greece were half women half bird instead of the Christian inspired half fish. 


Evidence The painter John William Waterhouse who depicted in 1891 the creatures in the Classical way.


Tuesday, October 20, 2026

A.I. : "Ask yourself"

 


While researching subjects from Kenner's Pound Era, my prompts requested such details, that artificial intelligence exasperated redirected me finally to my own blog. Should I be proud or depressed?

Friday, August 8, 2025

Italiensehnsucht



    Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blühn,

    Im dunkeln Laub die Gold-Orangen glühn,
    Ein sanfter Wind vom blauen Himmel weht,
    Die Myrte still und hoch der Lorbeer steht?
    Kennst du es wohl?
    Dahin! dahin
    Möcht’ ich mit dir, o mein Geliebter, ziehn.

    Kennst du das Haus? Auf Säulen ruht sein Dach.
    Es glänzt der Saal, es schimmert das Gemach,
    Und Marmorbilder stehn und sehn mich an:
    Was hat man dir, du armes Kind, getan?
    Kennst du es wohl?
    Dahin! dahin
    Möcht’ ich mit dir, o mein Beschützer, ziehn.

    Kennst du den Berg und seinen Wolkensteg?
    Das Maultier sucht im Nebel seinen Weg;
    In Höhlen wohnt der Drachen alte Brut;
    Es stürzt der Fels und über ihn die Flut!
    Kennst du ihn wohl?
    Dahin! dahin
    Geht unser Weg! O Vater, laß uns ziehn!

    Goethe

Tuesday, January 21, 2025

There is too much writing and not enough reading

 

"Er wordt teveel geschreven en te weinig gelezen".

Frits van Oostrom in an interview with Garrelt Verhoeven in Online Boekensalon, Universitaire Bibliotheek Leiden.

21/09/2023

Sunday, November 24, 2024

He felt quite sure that he would never die.


"Is it difficult to die Daddy?"

'No, I think it's pretty easy, Nick. It all depends.'

They were seated in the boat, Nick in the stern, his father rowing. The sun was coming up over the hills. A bass jumped, making a circle in the water. Nick trailed his hand in the water. It felt warm in the sharp chill of the morning.

In the early morning on the lake sitting in the stern of the boat with his father rowing, he felt quite sure that he would never die.

Ernest Hemingway - Indian Camp


Sunday, December 31, 2023

If Not, Winter - Fragments of Sappho translated by Anne Carson, Folio Society edition


 I’m very pleased with my purchase of this beautiful edition. The letterpress printing and cream-colored paper are simply exquisite—Homer himself might have called it “a wonder to behold.”

The aesthetic quality is especially striking when compared to the Cambridge University Press edition of Sappho, translated by Diane J. Rayor and André Lardinois. That edition, while scholarly and comprehensive, is printed on stark white paper that gives it a "print-on-demand" appearance—somewhat jarring and far less refined than this elegant hardcover.

Yet this comparison highlights a recurring dilemma I’ve encountered with historical Folio Society editions. As physical objects, they are often unmatched in beauty and craftsmanship. However, the content inside sometimes lacks scholarly rigor or up-to-date editorial standards.

In this case, the Cambridge edition contains over 100 more fragments than the Folio, making it the better choice for scholars and serious readers. Still, the Folio edition offers the original Greek text alongside the translation—a rare and valuable feature.

When it comes to the translations themselves, Rayor’s approach is careful, measured, and free from excessive embellishment. In contrast, the Folio edition features Anne Carson’s translation, whose poetic voice (with all due respect) tends to dominate. That said, Sappho’s surviving fragments have long invited imaginative interpretation, and Carson’s rendition fits squarely within that tradition.

Ultimately, each edition has its strengths: the Cambridge for accuracy and completeness; the Folio for beauty and poetic boldness. I’m grateful to have both on my shelf.

Thursday, December 29, 2022

Reading Oscars 2022

All along the year 2022, I crawled slowly further over the lines of Dante Alighieri's Commedia. One canto each evening before bedtime (if not distracted by something else).

By now, I finished the Inferno and moved on to the Purgatorio. Virgil is still guiding Dante, but I expect the elusive Beatrice any day now.

I am reading Dante's poetry from a beautiful bilingual hardcover edition in which every canto is preceded with a synopsis and followed by a detailed commentary.

This is necessary to orientate oneself within this large and strange medieval canvas. The Reader needs guidance to explain the figures, the politics, the hates and loves of the poet. I was able to put the Commedia in context thanks to two excellent and nicely illustrated works that I consult regularly: Dante in Love by A.N. Wilson and Dante's Divine comedy: a journey without end by Ian Thomson.

Still, I interrupt my Dante readings too frequently to plunge into other interesting books.

Recently, while trawling at book markets, I have been buying second hand "La Pléiade" editions of French and Classic works still missing in my library. With a bit of negotiating, one can buy these beautiful orphaned leather-bound tomes at a third of their actual prices. The beauty of these physical books encourages new readings.

So, it comes that I have made lengthy reading excursions within the collections of gems written down by the Greek tragic poets Aeschylus and Sophocles (The Persians, Prometheus bound, Agamemnon, Oedipus and a few more). Whilst not unknown to me, these mythical texts read in the spare surviving text is something quite different than all the modern versions one finds now. (Euripides is planned for 2023).

I have now started the "ordeals of Théagène et Chariclée" better known as the Aethiopica by Heliodorus of Emesa. An adventure story, playing out in Egypt and what now is known as Sudan, written 1800 years ago!

While reading these second hand Pléiades, I have also returned to old friends, heroes of my youth: Saint -Exupéry for instance with his deep Human "Terre des Hommes" and "Vol de Nuit". With nearly half a century gone since my first readings, it is a strange experience to reread those familiar books through older eyes. The remembrance of the text has been superseded by the remembrance of the experience of my first readings.

My dear Father passed away in the last days of 2021. While cleaning up the apartment where he and my mom lived, I have sifted through hundreds of his books and divided them with my sisters. The sheer number of volumes forced us to still give boxes filled away. Cleaning up the library of a loved one is a difficult process. Each book a memory, each quote a remembered moment.

 Still, I recuperated my part and lost myself in some of Dad's most beloved "livres de chevet". I could hear his voice quoting whole chunks of his books (what a memory he had) and laughed with the parts that I knew that had amused him.

Dipping in and out my Dad's best loved books: Histoire de France by Jacques Bainville,  Histoire de France et s'amuser, Les rois maudits by Druon

Totally different but a great experience nonetheless was the reading of the Anabasis by Xenophon. Especially experiencing it in the splendid Robert Strassler's Landmark edition. What a brilliant series! I can’t wait for THE LANDMARK Polybius which is expected for 2023.

Another Classic, as fresh as 2000 years ago was "The Poetics" by Aristotle translated, rearranged and introduced by Philip Freeman. Both books enthused me enough to write a review.

I also read two Herzog's this year. The Twilight World is a short story about Hiroo Onada, a Japanese officer hiding on the island of Lubang in the Philippines, who misses the end WW2 and remains in hiding until 1972. In the last days of the year, I rushed through Herzog latest memories "Jeder für sich und Gott gegen alle: Erinnerungen. He fills in the last gaps of his biography, settles some scores and excuses himself for a few of the errors he made in his life. What a Man!

Heinrich Mann's ( Thomas' brother ), Professor Unrat ( Better known as the blue Angel ), I could not finish for the moment.

But I did finish Bartleby, the Scrivener by Melville, not the original book, but the story memorized and retold within the scope of the Art project "time has fallen asleep in the afternoon sunshine" by Mette Edvardsen

I read another Harsch, Adriatica Deserta / Kramberger with Monkey and enjoyed it. I hope that with his Eddy Vegas book, now in an American edition, he can make his breakthrough.

Finally, two books that I read with a lot of pleasure: "The Bookseller of Florence: The Story of the Manuscripts That Illuminated the Renaissance" by Ross King (2021) and "The Burgundians" by Bart Van Loo. Both books were very instructive. One about the history of Florence at the moment of the introduction of the first printing press. The other about a large chunk of history when the Kings of France competed with the dukes of Flanders about the hegemony of Western Europe.

First prize goes to Xenophon.

Once more a great reading year.