A yokel’s guide to sum’m
I’ve come to suspect that all this country living is turning me into an intellectual bumpkin which, in truth, is rather relaxing.
I find myself drawn more and more to things concrete, cause and effect, clear and simple. More impressed now by a change in the shape of the landscape from one day to the next, the slow and showy fade of day from the sky, than by any fancy pants theory of human existence.
Then again, maybe it’s just age.
As my time as a student becomes an increasingly far-off memory, I feel a proportionate aversion to academic mindsets and long-winded attempts to see who can talk the longest, using a maximum amount of fifty dollar words, and offer nothing new. My eyes glaze over at so much postulation, bragged erudition and closeted sleeves tightly buttoned at the wrist.
An increasing frustration with articles about translation is a case in point: the only ones that interest me these days are those that offer concrete and meaty examples of the thrill and distress of it all. Those where I can either argue out loud or huh and grin in admiration.
No longer bewitched by all the isms, istics and iers that were once my daily fodder, by long series of equations wherein letters replace parts of speech, seeking to schematize the brain’s connections, nor even by attempts to inform me that Baudelaire’s translation of Poe was a homoerotic gesture.
(No matter how appealing the theory, drawing a conclusive leap from the natural intimacy that comes from spending months lost in someone else’s voice, to wanting to hop into the nearest haystack with them is presumptuous, and more of the giddy voyeurism of “biography.”)
So I was glad for the article about the difficulty in translating Wodehouse into French. A step by step view of the process – even if in spite of himself and his talent, the author ends up proving how ultimately impossible the task. (God, I am getting stodgy.)
Theorizing about everything under the sun is natural and compelling and will no doubt continue to be a filthy habit of mine. But as time goes on, I’ve found that experience is gaining the upper hand, and so much esoteric jargon has lost its place in my vocabulary.
After theorizing ’til the bovine manifest an inbred compulsion to return to their original lieu of inhabitation (i.e. ’til your brain bubbles and pops), and once we’ve learned to trust the weight of our experience, we seem always to return to basic truths in simple terms… and, shucks, if it ain’t with newfound understanding.
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Comment
- Stodgy?
Thee?
N E V E R !
— j p Oct 28, 11:20am # - ”...a maximum amount of fifty dollar words.”
Okay, shouldn’t that be quantity? Sorry, I just had to. It’s a pet peeve.
— maddy Oct 28, 12:06pm # - I absolutely agree. And I will shortly be moving to a small town that’s the next best thing to country, so I guess my aversion to theory will only get worse…
— language hat Oct 28, 12:44pm # - Two things:
1. Why is the article on Wodehouse in English? Why do English speakers care that it’s difficult to French Wodehouse? We care that it’s difficult to English stuff. French speakers should care that it is difficult to French stuff, and articles informing them of such difficulties should be written in French.
It’s not that I don’t want to read about Frenching (who doesn’t enjoy good Frenching?); it’s more that I don’t want to let the whole world English.
2. “Till” is a fine English word with an honorable history. Please take note.
Oh yes. Concerning theory: Sokal rules! But then, I live more out of the way than anyone else reading this.
— Simon R. Hughes Oct 28, 4:16pm # - Re: “Okay, shouldn’t that be quantity?”
You’re probably right, but I couldn’t say why. Time to check with Messrs. Strunk & White.
And, Hat, country living is indeed a fine thing; I’m continually surprised by how well it suits me. Although I have discovered that any hermit tendencies you may have will come to full fruition under the influence of all that nature.
And one day you’ll find yourself attending the annual corn roast solely out of a misguided sense of duty towards your fellow townsfolk, astonished by how well versed you’ve become in the weather.
— gail Oct 29, 7:17am # - That’s what my (country-bred) wife tells me—that, and that I’ll really enjoy cross-country skiing. I’m keeping an open mind.
— language hat Oct 29, 1:26pm #
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