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Rescooped by Álvaro Holstein from Metaglossia: The Translation World
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Moebius’ Sra: New Translation

Moebius’ Sra: New Translation | Paraliteraturas + Pessoa, Borges e Lovecraft | Scoop.it

Oh man … Moebius, aka Jean Giraud. If you don’t know already …

The French graphic novelist and comics legend was like a pervy psychedelic Zelig: He launched the French predecessor of trippy “mature audiences only” comics mag Heavy Metal, Métal Hurlant. Collaborated with Jodorowsky and Michael Moorcock. Did storyboards for Alien, Tron, Willow, The Fifth Element and on and on. His best work — see the Arzach series for starters, or my personal favorite, his “Crystal Portfolio” — is sort of like all the high desert psychedelia parts of Star Wars minus George Lucas’ bummer-nerd trip, or maybe Frank Herbert’s Dune if he’d gone native down in Mexico.

Plus boobs. Dude often slipped into deeply trippy, taboo-violating sexual illustrations in the pages of Métal Hurlant. He also created strange, violent Western comics featuring a character named Lieutenant Blueberry, stories that hold their own in the Peckinpah/Leone/El Topo universe of surreal, brutalist cowboy mythology.

Much of his best work was brought to America by Marvel’s edgy Epic imprint in the late ’80s, and while currently out-of-print these volumes are widely circulated by well-meaning preservationists online.


Via Charles Tiayon
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Rescooped by Álvaro Holstein from Metaglossia: The Translation World
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Translation as Commentary (or, Commentary as Translation?) — The League of Ordinary Gentlemen

Translation as Commentary (or, Commentary as Translation?) — The League of Ordinary Gentlemen | Paraliteraturas + Pessoa, Borges e Lovecraft | Scoop.it
It is September, which means—inevitably—that I find myself thinking about Paul Celan’s “Todesfugue,” this time (the first time) as a teacher. It is hardly easy, in subject matter or in style—it is credited for being the target of Adorno’s, “Poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric,” and the exception that made him back away, ever so slightly, from this rule. Discussion inevitably turns toward the fact that Celan writes his poetry in German, the language of the Nazis. What sticks in my mind, however, is the curious act of reading his German in English translation.

John Felstiner—whose translation is the only one that “feels” right to me—has also written an essay on the process of bringing the poem into English, “Translating Paul Celan’s ‘Todesfugue’: Rhythm and Repetition as Metaphor.” (Despite the academic title and its home in an academic text, it’s a fascinating piece worth reading for anyone interested in questions of translation.) The essay itself is sometimes described as a commentary to Felstiner’s translation, but what has become clearer to me is that Felstiner approaches the translation itself as, perhaps unconsciously, a kind of commentary.


Via Charles Tiayon
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