Nora Ephron: A unique writing talent who put into words and movies what so many women think about life and love. We will miss you.
Nora Ephron died Tuesday, June 26th. This link has some of her best lines. My favorite book is Heartburn, funny, yet sad about her husband's affair. It was fictionalized, but the main characters were obvious. Her ex- husband was Carl Bernstein, of Watergate fame.
"The difference between the almost right word and the right word. . .is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug." Mark Twain
While reading a short story by Anton Chekhov, called Heartache, I was moved by his depiction of loneliness and grief, his concentration on character and mood. And much later I read this story again by a different translator, Constance Garnett, and noticed that several key words in the version I had read earlier had been translated differently. And what a difference it made.
Translators have a difficult job; languages do not translate literally very well and the translator then must choose the right word to stay true to the original language, yet make it meaningful for the reader. Vladimir Nabokov had written scathing critiques of Ms Garnett's translations. And, as a dabbler in writing, not a true writer, it's interesting for me to compare the two versions to note how important the right word can be.
The story begins with the title, and epigraph, both different for each. Ms Garnett--Misery and "To whom shall I convey my grief?" The unknown translator of the second version--Heartache and "To whom shall I tell my sorrow?" Already, I was suspicious. Are you miserable when you have lost someone close to you or does your heart almost literally ache?
The story, set in the winter of the late 19th century in St. Petersburg, is about a cab driver. He has just lost his son and is trying to continue working, waiting with his horse and sleigh to take fares from here to there around the city. It's twilight and snowing hard. As the evening wears on, he has a few fares and he tries to tell them about his son, but they don't listen and are dismissive. This continues with no one really understanding. He finally decides to go back to the stable and as he is bedding down his horse for the night, he talks to the horse and. . ."tells her all about it." (Constance Garnett) or. . ."he tells her everything." What a difference between "all about it," and "everything."
I thought about this story for a long time. I realized how important it is to listen. My husband lost his best friend last week. How patient my husband was when his friend would often call and talk about his aliments and how miserable he was feeling. My husband would listen intently to his friend, asking just the right questions, trying hard to be supportive.
I found a You Tube video of "Misery," read by Kenneth Branagh. His reading is from the Constance Garnett's translation.
Comments about the right word, struggles with writing, translations?
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Happy Birthday, Sir Paul, Homage to the Beatles
This article was written by a Rocky Mountain News (Denver, Colorado) columnist, Gene Amole, as part of his weekly columns and included in a collection of columns, Morning by Gene Amole, Denver Publishing Company, 1983. I edited the first part because of length.
Paul McCartney's 70th birthday was Monday, June 18th.
Red Rocks is a natural red sandstone outcropping, an outdoor amphitheater.
"Phenomenon" by Gene Amole
I love you George.
It was about 2 p.m. when Muffy called me at work. She was very upset because she had lost her ride to Red Rocks to see the Beatles. She wanted to know if there was any way I could take her.
Wednesday, Aug. 1964, was a warm day. Muffy told me we had better leave right away. KIMN was saying Red Rocks was filling rapidly and there might not be room for everyone.
Muffy is my older daughter. She was 12 at the time. I knew she would rather have been there with her friends. I had purchased tickets days earlier. They were $6.60 each, expensive for the time, but Muffy said it was worth it.
We settled down for the long wait. I had never seen so many policeman in one place. The crowd was well behaved, if occasionally quite noisy. Almost everyone was about Muffy's age.
I saw a cowboy hat sticking up above the other heads several rows away. It was Pete Smythe, an old friend. I remembered he had a daughter about the same age as Muffy. And then I began to notice there was an adult male every 20 feet or so. They were the daddies who had driven most of the little girls to Red Rocks.
As the sky darkened. Tension began to build. Any movement toward the stage was greeted with screams. The most noise came when the instruments were set up. A woman in her 40's somehow broke through the police lines, ran up on the stage and kissed the bass drum.
I steeled myself against the growing sound as the concert began. The Bill Black Combo opened the show. The came the Righteous Brothers, the Exciters and Jackie deShannon.
When they finished, promoter Vern Byers walked out on the stage and held up his hands. It was suddenly very quiet. He stood alone in front of the microphone and said, "And now, the Beatles."
There was an explosion of sound that lasted 33 minutes. Everyone stood the entire time. The Beatles started with "Twist and Shout," and closed with "Long Tall Sally."
It was almost impossible to hear the music. Only Ringo Star's drums seemed to slam through. It didn't matter. Everyone could see those thin, black-clad stick figures. It was everything those little girls had hoped for.
Even though the sound was overwhelming, I kept thinking I could hear a small voice saying over and over, "I love you George, I love you." I looked around and then down. It was little Muffy. She was standing almost motionless. There were tears in her eyes. She was telling George from the safety of 30 rows up that she loved him. Suddenly, I felt very old.
I have never pretended to understand what the Beatles meant to the children of the 60's. A psychiatrist told me he believed all those protests during the troubled decade had somehow been triggered by their chemistry. Maybe so. My memory is more personal. I can still hear Muffy's voice. It was an innocent moment of poignancy, suspended in a time of chaos.
There is no questioning the importance of their music. It ranged from the earthy to the mystical. Younger generations carried it forward and gave it their own meaning.
But there will never be another time like the 16th of August, 1964."
