Tag Archives: fantasy

Translation Tuesdays: The Flying Creatures of Fra Angelico, by Antonio Tarbucchi

A series dedicated to literature in translation whether classic or contemporary.

flying

Originally published as I volatili del Beato Angelico
Translated from the Italian by Tim Parks
Archipelago Books

Orphans, prodigies, larvae, and ghosts inhabit Antonio Tarbucchi’s short stories in his collection, The Flying Creatures of Fra Angelico. As Tarbucchi writes in the introductory Note, these micro-stories “are the murmurings and mutterings that have accompanied and still accompany me; outbursts, moods, little ecstasies, real or presumed emotions, grudges, and regrets.”

Beginning with the titular story, it tells about Fra Giovanni of Fiesole’s strange encounters with angelic beings while he harvests onions. The short story rides a fine line between the whimsy of magical realism and the unsettling experiences in a docu-realistic approach. Fra Giovanni is visited by angelic beings, but they do not seem like the stereotypical angelic representations one sees in woodcuts or saccharine images around the holidays. One angel has legs like a plucked chicken, despite having gigantic multicolored wings. Another appears thin and frail, closer to a dragonfly. While the tone of the story is one of bucolic agricultural simplicity. Fra Giovanni, a farmer by trade, has a plain view of things. He is a monk but no scrivener, making his angelic encounters all the more perplexing. Eventually, his encounters inspire him to paint these angelic beings. While this summary may seem perfunctory, reading the short story leaves one with an overwhelming strangeness

The next story is “Past Composed: Three Letters,” a collection of three correspondences. Like “Flying Creatures,” the story possesses an ecstatic strangeness. The first letter is from Dom Sebastião de Avis, King of Portugal to the painter Francisco Goya. Dom Sebastião was raised in a courtly life steeped in mysticism and ceremony, whereas Goya was a painter known for his brutally honest depictions of the Peninsular Wars and the atrocities of Napoleon’s troops. The King of Portugal led a doomed crusade in the 16th century with the end result of having his entire army obliterated, his dynasty ended, and Portugal under Spanish rule. These perplexing correspondences continue with a letter from Napoleon’s fortune-teller, Mademoiselle Lenormand, to a female revolutionary named Dolores Ibarruri. Ibarruri was a leader in the Spanish Civil War. Finally, after all this mysticism, we get a letter from Calypso to Odysseus, with Calypso yearning for Odysseus and the desire to become mortal.

The Passion of Dom Pedro” is written like an author’s summary for a novel. Tarbucchi simultaneously regales the reader with a story of passion and betrayal, all the while peppering the account with metafictional jabs at his own creation. “The opening scenario smacks of the banal.” But the next story, “Message from the Shadows” is like a brief prose poem, about the in-between shadow world between light and dark. On one level, it is a succinct little poetic fragment. On another level, it is a commentary on the shadow world his writing inhabits, halfway between classical myths and fables and halfway in postmodernist metafictional contraptions.

A second epistolary short story is a fictional correspondence between an Indian Theosophist and Tarbucchi. We learn that Tarbucchi went to India to research his novel, Indian Nocturne, and he was a translator for the Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa. This short story collection subtly weaves together collisions and recollections of previous stories.

The final story, “Last Invitation,” is told in a formalized language. It begins,

For the solitary traveller, admittedly rare but perhaps implausible, who cannot resign himself to the lukewarm, standardised forms of hospitalised death which the modern state guarantees and who, what’s more, is terrorised at the thought of the hurried and impersonal treatment to which his unique body will be subjected during the obsequies, Lisbon still offers an admirable range of options for a noble suicide, together with the most decorous, solemn, zealous, polite and above all cheap organisations for dealing with what a successful suicide inevitably leaves behind it: the corpse.

Again we encounter Portuguese culture and the threat of death. The narrator continues on with his analysis of Lisbon and a noble suicide. Death, the inevitable end, the mortal threat we all face, but also, as the last story, the inevitable end of the reading experience.

Tarbucchi’s short stories vary widely in tone and form, but throughout we meet ghosts and angels and kings drenched in mysticism and agnostic Italian writers. With these short stories, Tarbucchi teases out the strangeness, the uncanny, and the humorous in poetic fragments, epistolary stories, and arch satires.

The NSFW Files: The Story of the Eye, by Georges Bataille

storyofhteeye

In this week’s installment of CCLaP’s “The NSFW Files,” Karl Wolff investigates the 1928 Georges Bataille shocker, “Story of the Eye,” a very early precursor to bizarro fiction.

Joao Cerqueira interview … in Italian!

joao-cerqueira

My recent interview with author Joao Cerqueira has been translated in Italian for the arts website Fucinemute.

CCLaP Fridays: The Heroin Chronicles, edited by Jerry Stahl

HeroinChroniclesDrugs are bad.  Over at CCLaP, I review The Heroin Chronicles, edited by Jerry Stahl.

CCLaP Mini-review: The Lazarus Machine: a Tweed & Nightingale Adventure, by Paul Crilley

LazarusMachineOver at CCLaP, I reviewed The Lazarus Machine: a Tweed & Nightingale Adventure, by Paul Crilley.  Steampunk fun for those who like the witty dialogue of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Warehouse 13.

CCLaP Fridays: The Blue Kind, by Kathryn Born

TheBlueKind

Today’s book review: “The Blue Kind,” a dystopian drug novel by Chicago-area author Kathryn Born, and put out by academic imprint Switchgrass. I assert that “More novelists writing in science fiction should take these kinds of chances.”

An Interview with Joao Cerqueira

joao-cerqueira

Today I interview Joao Cerqueira, the Portuguese writer who wrote The Tragedy of Fidel Castro.  We discuss God, Communism, and art.

Why write a novel about Fidel Castro?

I have a special interest in this complex historical figure. He led a revolution, defied America for decades and almost started a nuclear war. The Berlin Wall has fallen, the Soviet Union no longer exists and China has become capitalist – but nothing seems to overturn Castro. The CIA tried to poison him, to shoot him, hired the Mafia to kill him and nothing works. He is old and sick, he can’t do seven-hour speeches anymore, but he is still El Comandante – he is still in charge. So, I have been to Cuba three times and I spoke with a lot of people. The scene in the book featuring demonstrations against the regime and throwing stones was told to me by Havana citizens who were there. They also told me the story of the execution of one of the nation’s heroes, General Arnaldo Ochoa (he is the inspiration for the character Camilo Ochoa, who owes his first name to Camilo Cienfuegos). In a way, the idea for writing a novel about El Comandante began at this point. Besides, how many novels are there about Fidel Castro?

What were the reasons for how you represented God, Christ, and Fátima?

As most Portuguese, I had a traditional Catholic education. I was christened, I went to catechism classes, I was confirmed and I went to mass (was obliged to go) until the age of fourteen. So, from a young age religion has played an important role in my cultural development. At the same time, I have always been intrigued by the story of the Miracle of Fatima: the Virgin Mother and the angels descend from the heavens and reveal three secrets to three shepherd children – the description of hell, the end of communism and a third secret, which for a long time was believed to be the end of the world. In addition the Holy Virgin warned them that the sun would move on the 13th of October, 1917 and thousands of people traveled to Fátima and swore that they really did see it move. Could there be anything more extraordinary than this? And, to make the case all the more interesting, during the 80s theories and books appeared claiming that there had been an extraterrestrial intervention in Fátima. The Virgin Mary and the angels were beings from another planet. My imagination had all it needed to create a story featuring these characters. Then, as there was a prediction about the end of communism, the connection between the sun miracle and Fidel Castro became – in terms of literature – credible.

How does your background in Art History inform your writing? Be it fiction, editing an anthology, or writing about the Spanish Civil War.

I started The Tragedy of Fidel Castro when I was doing my masters, while my adviser was marking my thesis. When I have a good idea, I immediately begin writing it. What followed was a kind of osmosis: the perfecting of my writing style so important to the success of my thesis helped to improve the novel and I even ended up putting some of the themes, such as Vernacular Architecture and Modernism, into the story. The Tragedy of Fidel Castro, however strange this may seem, owes much to the thesis on The holiday home of the Municipality of Caminha. On the other hand, knowledge of the Spanish Civil War – the conflict between the republicans and the nationalists – may have inspired the scene in the novel in which the inhabitants of a village divide their loyalties between the Padristas (pro-Castro) and the Putistas (against Castro), and which ends in a duel between a padre and a prostitute.

Can you tell us about the interrelationships and/or friction between Spanish- and Portuguese-language cultures within the Latin American world?

The major friction lies with the Portuguese language itself. The Portuguese government has created an Orthographic Agreement to standardize the Portuguese language. Brazil, Angola, Mozambique, Guinea-Bissau, Cabo Verde, São Tomé and Príncipe, and Timor have signed the agreement, which should establish a single way of writing Portuguese. But, as always happens when you try to change reality from the confines of a government department, the result has been a disaster. The majority of Portuguese people refuse to change the way of writing they learned at school, Angola withdrew from the agreement, and in Brazil nobody seems interested in changing the way they write. So, at the moment there are three ways of writing Portuguese: the old way, the agreement way and the Brazilian way. Fidel Castro centralized everything in Cuba – from the economy to culture – but he never dared to give orders when it came to language. With this problem created, Portuguese culture’s diffusion into Latin America will prove even more difficult.

With the recent resurgence in popularity of Spanish-language literature, most notable in the hype surrounding the late Roberto Bolaño, where is an accessible point of entry for readers new to Portuguese-language literature?

As a Portuguese person my opinion is hardly impartial. This said, I believe that Saramago and Lobo Antunes were the greatest writers of the last twenty years – for Harold Bloom, Saramago was unrivaled among living writers, and he made similar praise of Lobo Antunes. Bolaño, when compared to them, is a lesser writer. With relation to new authors, I would advise readers from other countries to consider Mário de Carvalho’s novel A God Strolling In The Cool Of The Evening – a story about the rise of Christianity in the Roman Empire, where the governor of a Roman town is forced to choose between his conscience and the laws he swore he would defend. The leading novels about Rome are Memoirs of Hadrian, by Margarite Yourcenar and I, Claudius by Robert Graves – in my opinion, the novel by Mário de Carvalho is better than both. Another writer who is creating something new in Portuguese literature is Afonso Cruz – http://afonso-cruz.blogspot.pt/.

Can fables have political impact?

Aesop and La Fontaine used the fable to pass on messages about ethics and morals to improve society. But it was Orwell who used the fable solely with a political purpose. Animal Farm not only portrays Soviet totalitarianism, but also reveals the reason for the impossibility of this succeeding: human nature does not comply with Communism. Man – personified by the mare Mollie, who refuses to stop wearing necklaces – prefers the pleasures of consumerism, or the satisfaction of her own interests, to the revolution and classless society. Animal Farm did not overthrow the soviet empire, but it must have opened millions of readers’ eyes. And the proof that this fable had a great political impact can be seen in the trouble Orwell had to deal with when he tried to publish the book. Everyone who refused his book understood that it was a much more dangerous weapon than any missile.

As it doesn’t feature any animals, I believe that my novel is not a fable but rather a parable – the message of which is the defense of freedom of thought (religious or political). For these same reasons, the book has not pleased everyone: a Chinese literary agent told me it would be impossible to publish it in China; a Christian Fiction agent replied only with: “God bless you Mr. Cerqueira’’, and in a far left blog it was considered “an irritating read”. I suppose that Cuba’s leaders are unlikely to appreciate it either. I would like however for it to be published in Cuba one day and to be read by many readers, because they will know better than anyone if my portrait of their reality is a faithful one.

Is the current crisis within the Catholic Church (including the resignation of Pope Benedict XVI) akin to the political crisis Communism suffered that hastened the collapse of the Soviet Union?

In the novel I have Castro writing this about the Catholic Church: “It has centuries of accumulated knowledge, a complex organization, and an unrivalled ability to survive and adapt to every historical period and regime. The Church is one of the most fascinating and accomplished of human creations but also one of the most dangerous.’’ Indeed, the Church faces big problems – most of them self inflicted – but its size and importance are far too big to allow it to collapse like the Soviet Union. But, there is also another difference: Roman Catholics are not forced to believe and pray; they obey the Pope because they want to. Niall Ferguson, in his book Civilization: The West and the Rest, points out that Christianity – Protestants and Catholics – have played a very important role in our history. Even those who don’t believe they are influenced by Jesus’ teachings. After all, he was the first to say that all men are equal – this political statement is the basis of all western societies. One day communism will leave Cuba, but the Church will remain.

Who are some of your favorite writers, poets, and artists?

My favorite writers are: Fialho de Almeida , José Saramago, António Lobo Antunes, Mário Cláudio, Mário de Carvalho, Sérgio Sant’Anna, Marcel Proust, Pär Largerkvist, Kafka, George Orwell, Mikhail Bulgakov, Margarite Yourcenar, Italo Calvino, Amin Malouf, W. G. Sebald, Enrique Vila-Matas, Philip Roth, Cormac McCarthy, Paul Auster, Jorge Amado and Erasmus (In Praise of Folly).

My favorite poets: Luis de Camões, Fernando Pessoa and Garcia Lorca.

My favorite artists: the old Egyptian painters, Giotto, Botticelli, Bosch, El Greco, Bronzino, Velasquez, Goya, Turner, Monet, Gauguin, Van Gogh, Amadeo Sousa-Cardoso, Klimt, Munch, Rousseau, Kirchner, Picasso, Bonnard, Hooper, De Kooning, Rothko, Basquiat, Paula Rego, José de Guimarães.

Let me also say that I think that great cooks should be considered great artists too.

NSFW Files: Gynecocracy, by Viscount Ladywood

Gynecocracy

This week at CCLaP, I investigate Gynecocracy, by Viscount Ladywood for the NSFW Files.  In the novel, a wayward aristocratic man gets a stern lesson in forced feminization and the proper wearing of a corset.  Who knew the Victorian era was so naughty?

Translation Tuesday: The Tragedy of Fidel Castro, by João Cerqueira

A series dedicated to literature in translation whether classic or contemporary.

COVER FINAL

Originally published as A tragédia de Fidel Castro (2008)
Translated from the Portuguese by Karen Bennett and Chris Mingay
River Grove Books

The Tragedy of Fidel Castro by João Cerqueira can be read as alternate history, political fable, or dark comedy. The novel finds JFK and Castro in a fatal battle. Beset by demonstrations and riots, Castro must find a way to prevent his ouster. But this is not your usual political thriller, although it is populated by spies, conniving advisers, and renegade priests. The novel is also about the limitations of faith in the modern world and the mutual shortcomings of the two dominant socioeconomic systems of the Cold War.

After an initial prologue in Heaven, the novel begins at a muddy fairground where JFK has come to exchange goods with the Cuban government. He gets quality Cuban cigars and Castro gets bourbon. Beneath all the bluster and rhetorical bombast of the two leaders, Cerqueira reveals the humanity beyond the politics. In the end, these are two men who appreciate the finer things, not because cigars and bourbon are key indicators of capitalist decadence or Cuban Communist hypocrisy, but because of the inherent human desire for pleasure.

Backing up to the prologue in Heaven, we meet God as he gets interrupted by Fátima.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” exclaimed God in exasperation.

The Fátima in the novel refers to Lúcia, the last surviving sibling from Fátima, Portugal, who witnessed a series of miracles in 1917. These miracles included “extraordinary solar activity” and that “Russia would be converted to the Immaculate Heart of Mary and Communism would soon come to an end.”

Tragedy follows two parallel tracks. On the temporal plane, we see the rivalry between JFK and Fidel Castro, each castigating the other’s socioeconomic system. Anyone even slightly awake since 2009 knows that unfettered capitalism has a few weak spots. Anyone with a decent memory of events prior to the 1990s realizes that Communism was far from a pro-worker utopia. In the heavenly sphere, God attempts to persuade Christ to return to earth to stop the imminent battle between Castro and JFK. Unlike other conflicts, the Cold War involved thermonuclear missiles. The end result wouldn’t mean one side would be victorious, but could very well result in human extinction.

Amidst the political wrangling and theological struggle, Cerqueira fills the novel with humor. There is a wrestling match between a priest and a prostitute, each representing a political faction as Cuba descends into chaos. Castro journeys deep into the jungle to come to terms with his military plans and collapsing popular support, only to be admitted into an insane asylum as someone who thinks he’s Fidel Castro.

When Christ and Fátima meet and journey towards the final battle between the opposing forces, both discuss what can be done to get humanity’s attention. Unlike earlier eras, humanity wouldn’t be easily swayed with miracles. Science, society, and morality have all changed drastically. Their discussions about faith and morality are introspective and melancholy without being heavy-handed. There’s enough irony and dark humor in the book to forestall any conclusion that Cerqueira is a sanctimonious scold.

Tragedy is a funny strange little book. There are some historical inconsistencies that occasionally trip up the book, but once understood as a farcical political fable, the readers can let them slide. Except for those minor things, the book possesses a lean beauty and a humane perspective, Fellini-esque in its carnival of excess.

diatomhero: religious poems, by Lisa A. Flowers

diatomhero

“There are roach motels/Set out around almost every portal to heaven.” So begins “Emere’s Tobacconist,” the tour de force long poem that opens diatomhero: religious poems, by Lisa A. Flowers. Informed by death and life, “Emere’s Tobacconist” is an alchemical brew of the historical, the mythic, high-brow, low-brow, the demotic, and the hallucinatory. A strange afterworld journey that plays like a riff on a David Lynch road movie (either Wild at Heart or Lost Highway), it is an attempt at reconciliation from something traumatic. What it is is never fully explained, only hinted at,

In the weeks following her death,

When my mind was not fit to live in

I stayed in a small hotel

On the outskirts of my consciousness

The hallucinatory imagery is reflected in the book’s cover art, “Black and White Man with Fetus,” by Alicia Caudle. A man in a black suit has a fetus for a head, carrying another fetus in his hand, his suit’s only marking an armband made of text. The image is a strange mashup of Boschian nightmare and Max Beckmann-esque Expressionist dread.

The book of poetry is large sized yet only a little over fifty pages long, making it look and feel like a high quality magazine, some lost pagan relic turned afterlife samizdat. Flowers, who founded Vulgar Marsala Press, published diatomhero. Vulgar Marsala’s mission statement involves the releasing of poetry that “seeks to facilitate the internal bleeding of poetry into arthouse cinema, visual art, classical music, and any number of other mediums.” Like The Book of Knowledge, by Chad Faries, another Vulgar Marsala poetry collection, this is poetry that struggles to break the bonds of the Language Poets and other academically-oriented groups. This poetry bleeds, cries, and rages. In less than fifty pages, Flowers has transported us into multiple realms, riding the waves of the collective unconscious and the disjecta of pop culture, folklore, and classic cinema. The poetry here tells us about her struggle with unnamed, undefined traumatic events. Is it the job of the critic to divine what these events were? What was the specific impetus for the creation of this poetry? In this case, no. Sometimes the enigmas shouldn’t be explained. The explanations would empty the poetry of its pregnant meanings. Not everything needs to be measured, weighed, and evaluated under the dictatorial-rationalist gaze of Urizen.