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yes brain, you can has

April 2015

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The Blogger's Prayer

Lo, there do I see my posts.
Lo, there do I see my tweets.
Lo, there do I see my gifsets and my picspams.
Lo, there do I see the line of my blog, back to the beginning.
Lo, they do call to me.
They bid me take my place among them on the Internets,
Where the geek may live forever.

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astro_noms: (it's where all my friends live)

What is your earliest memory?


I don't really remember that much anymore? I know I used to have really vivid memories from an age where I possibly couldn't have memories from, but they've pretty much faded. The one that's probably going to stay with me forever is running out of "kiddie" books to read (I was about three, maybe three and a half when I taught myself to read, and then proceeded to devour everything I could get my hands on) and my dad reaching up to a shelf that was probably about six feet up, but at the time seemed like the top of a very tall tower, and handing me a copy of The Hobbit. In my memory, the whole thing plays out in slow motion with angelic choirs and glittering light streaming down... Yes, I'm aware that The Hobbit is a children's book, but it was miles beyond the simple stuff I'd been reading up until then.


Mirrored from Tangents and Digressions.

astro_noms: (you sparkle; we should frolic)

There's supposed to be talk of my favorite quote today, but I have so many that to pick just one is damned near impossible. So I'll give you my favorite quote out of the last book I read, With the Material Witness In the Safehouse (yes, I know, shut up), which is part 1 of the Curse of Raven's Cliff series (yes, I know, shut up) from Harlequin Intrigue (I said SHUT UP):


      When the kiss ended she smiled up at him. "I remember we talked about kids once, about having them. I want that, Ryan. Someday I want to have your babies."

      "I'd like that, and we'll make sure they speak not just English but two other languages, as well."

      She looked up at him curiously. "Two languages?"

      His eyes lit with a devilish glean. "We'll teach them to speak Norwegian and Texan."

      She laughed, then sobered. "We'll teach them one more language, as well." This time it was his turn to look at her curiously, and she smiled. "We'll teach them the language of love."


I'm taking advantaged of the fact I have a little bit of time left until I have to dive into school reading and catching up on some light and fluffy material. It only takes a few hours to read each book, and they're hilariously, amazingly awful, and at the same time totally awesome as well. I'm looking forward to seeing how the whole curse business turns out!


Mirrored from Tangents and Digressions.

astro_noms: (infinity in the palm of your hand)

So I'm reading this novel right now that I might be translating, and I keep thinking about translations and how the different languages and different styles translate across to various audiences. I'm not a super-experienced translator (which is why I keep bemoaning the lack of more literary translation under- and graduate programs in Polish universities - I know that sworn translation is where the money is, but a little more diversity would be nice), so I can't really judge the technical aspects of the translated books I've read, so I'm speaking as a reader rather than as a translator. Although now that I've studied some aspects of it, it's kind of hard to turn that part of my brain off.


A few years back, I saw the movie Night Watch, which was based on Sergei Lukyanenko's novel of the same title. And I loved it, and wanted to know more about the world Lukyanenko created. Seeing as I was working in a bookstore at the time, I took advantage of my employee discount and picked up the three books in the series that were available at the time. I started reading Night Watch, but I never finished, because the translation read so awkwardly to me that it kept jarring me out of the novel. I don't remember what exactly it was about it that made me stop, but I suspect the translator had attempted to maintain the style and diction of the original language, which just doesn't work for me. I don't really know Russian beyond a few words and phrases, but iirc it's similar to Polish (they're both Slavic languages, but Polish is West Slavic, and Russian is East Slavic, although I expect they have some commonalities) and I imagine that just as Polish sentence structure and syntax don't really translate straight across, Russian wouldn't either. There is a translation of Mikhail Bulgakov's Master and Margarita where the translators specifically said in the introduction that they tried to maintain the original style and diction, and it made for such awkward reading that I ended up finding a different translation (and eventually ended up picking a Polish translation, which read better, possibly because of the similarity of the languages?) (that reminds me, I really should try and finish reading that one of these days).


This one is a romance novel with a strong intrigue subplot, and while it reads similar to other novels that have been pretty popular lately, plot-wise, it's actually quite easy reading. I haven't read enough in Polish lately to be able to say whether it's well written, but as a reader, it's good enough to keep me engaged and turning the pages. It's slightly formulaic, but that doesn't make it a bad read. I've tried to read some Polish translations of less-than-reputable popular fiction, and it was a bad experience all around. Although I guess I have to give kudos to the translator for maintaining the style of the original (which was hard to read not just because of plot/characterization elements, but also because it was badly written).


I don't know. Again, I'm not really experienced enough in translating, so I'm not speaking as a translator, only as a reader. And while I'm sure some of my impressions are colored by what I've studied, and what I've started picking up automatically (ask me about how much I hate watching movies with voice-over translation on TV *shudder*) I think most of my reading experience is still that of a reader. It's sometimes hard to shut off my inner translator, though, so I notice things that seem artificial, like purposefully imposing characteristics of one language onto another, and with the combination of "reader" and "translator," they don't always work for me the way they might work for other readers.

astro_noms: (dear doctor)
Sunday Six: Each Sunday, post six sentences from a writing project-published, submitted, in progress, for your cat—whatever.
"Ava, who's this?"

"It's Conner, mama," Ava says, giving Alex a long-suffering look that's a non-verbal equivalent of a "duh."

"Guess we're going to have to rename the cat, hunh?" Alex eyes the boy, who must have been among the last wave of people to arrive, judging by his appearance.

"No, mama. This *is Conner," Ava says, laughing. "He was a cat, and now he's a boy."

"Of course he is," Alex mutters to herself, backing away from the children. She glances at the wall clock and wonders if it's too early to start drinking.
I haven't had a chance to pick at this too much yet, mostly because I've been stressing out over essays and my inability to sit down and actually start writing them. Bleah.

I'm reading (well, listening to the audiobook) The Sign of Four for class, and while I get a certain glee from picking up bits and pieces that have become recognizable as Sherlock Holmes-specific things, it's a little... disappointing, I guess? I've read some other ACD works - A Scandal in Bohemia, The Hound of the Baskervilles, etc., and I don't know if it's because I'm listening with a more critical ear or what, but it's kind of like getting a look behind the scenes at a magic act and knowing how it's all done. I guess it's always been like that - it seems that the whole plot is built around what ACD wants *Holmes to be able to do and say, and then the mystery is built around it, rather than the mystery coming first and then Holmes' investigation being built around that. I don't know if that's really explaining my issues with it very well, but it's *too archetypal, I guess? Obviously, the Holmes stories are basically casefile stories, and it feels like there's no sense to mystery to the actual mystery, and we (with Watson at the fore) are just poor dumb schlubs waiting for the Magnificent Sherlock Holmes to enlighten us. Watson comes off as a bumbling idiot, Holmes comes across as a smug asshole, and the whole thing reads like a really substandard fanfiction written by someone without a lot of skill. I guess part of that is Watson's narration, which in this particular instance is so awkward it's painful..

IDEK. *hands*
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