Falange

FalangeOur arrival is gradual, discreet,but we’re certain, as certainas six and seven make thirteen.The hour doubles itself, heightensas we drive past, ever smugand rounding up silences.We’re severe, as completeas… More

Paulo Henriques Britto: Lullaby

LullabyNight after night, exhausted,digesting the day, past wordsand this side of sleep, we lie simplified,stripped of past lives and projects,weary of voices and verticals,relieved to be only bodies side… More

“At sunrise I arose . . .”

At sunrise I aroseTo the sound the machine animals makepassing by in the streets over headsWas it briefly interminable orinterminably brief or bothIt was the face ever undone by… More

On Translation

Translation is of course conspiracy. Whatever else it is or may intend, translation represents a concerted move of the few against the many, the foreign against the domestic, there… More

The Weight of Words

Talking about Mishima the writer is difficult without invoking Mishima the individual and Mishima the suicide. A lot of what’s been said tonight—by me principally—is extratextual. The question is:… More

Narrative Transmutations

Ralph Manheim, the great translator from the German, compared the translator to an actor who speaks as the author would if the author spoke English. A sophisticated and provocative… More

Diverse Realities

Hearing this story, I thought to myself: This is straight out of Gabriel García Márquez. It was an epiphany for me. I suddenly saw García Márquez’s fiction on a… More

Socialist Realism

I’ll begin by quoting the first paragraph of my review of One Hundred Years of Solitude when the book was first published in the United States thirty-two years ago.… More

The Eternal Present

Many months later, besieged by thoughts of an all-too-foreseeable future as an engineer, which I did not want, I went out one winter for a walk in the snow.… More