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IAN GIBSON "Lavapiés is the best village in Spain "

"Lavapies is the best village in Spain"

Ian Gibson, in the square-CRISTOBAL MANUEL Lavapiés

Ian Gibson (Dublin, April 21, 1939) is an Irish-born Hispanic and English citizen in 1984. It is known for his biographical works on Federico García Lorca, Salvador Dalí and Antonio Machado.
Gibson earned a degree in English Literature and French at Trinity College Dublin in 1960. He began his career at the University as professor of English at Queen's University Belfast in Northern Ireland. In 1968 he went to the University of London, where he remained until 1975, when he decided to leave academic life and devote himself full time to writing, going to live in the south of France. Since 1972 he was reader (one grade below professor) Modern English Literature. After three years on French soil, the moved to Madrid, where he began writing the biography of Federico García Lorca. In 1991 he settled in El Valle, a small town located between Granada and the Mediterranean. There remain thirteen years until in 2004 he returned to Madrid to work in his biography of Antonio Machado.
During his stay at the University of London wrote his first book, The Nationalist repression of Granada in 1936 and the death of Federico García Lorca, published in English in France in 1971 by Iberian Turn. The book was immediately banned in Spain (in 1996 this book was adapted into a movie with the title Death in Granada). Subsequently addressed related to the Civil War the murder of José Calvo Sotelo or the killings of Paracuellos. In the biographical genre, also addressed the figures of Rubén Darío and Camilo Jose Cela.
is part, along with Hugh Thomas and Paul Preston, the Hispanic group in the British Isles has been devoted to studying the recent history of Spain, especially in the Second Republic and the Civil War. Apart from his literary work, has conducted an intensive journalism, radio and TV. Following the publication of his biography of Rubén Darío was elected a corresponding member of the Nicaraguan Academy of the English Language.

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Ellen Interview SEVILLANO - Madrid -

"Make me friendly if you can, I know it's difficult," he half-jokingly begged Ian Gibson (Dublin, 1939) portrays the photographer that the square of Lavapies. Wrong. It is very easy to get along with the historian and biographer of the likes of Garcia Lorca and Dali. A day earlier, the phone, did some praying. "It you're going to ask for the book I'm working and I can not talk about it." A white lie - "no, no, talk about the summer and other trivial things" - and Gibson has already accepted. Must be in Lavapies, the neighborhood where he has lived for five years. After the photos are on the bar Güishi Er. "Let's see if open. Antequera serve muffins. " Is, and it runs as a journalist who also wrote a biography of Lorca. "Of course quoting you all the time," the Hispanic piropea.

Question. So chilly that you would be in Dublin ...
Response. When I go there and do not know anyone. People ask me if I miss Dublin, and no, because I have inside. Constantly reread your Dublin Joyce and I have quite made up his mind and feelings. But I feel lost here, when I suffer. P.
Before he lived in a village in Granada. What brought you here?
R. The National Library, which is almost where I live, I was far away. I really am in Madrid and I have to be here, I need to Madrid. P.
The parties will be relieved Lavapiés August.
R. I have not gone far. I do not like the crowd noise. I'm no mass, but not snobbery, but it scares me a little. Also, I'm obsessed with what I'm doing. But sometimes I go out and take a drink or go to restaurants with my wife. P.
What about the other night?
R. Go to the movies or watch movies at home because I'm working on a biography of Luis Buñuel. Not only his 32 films, but the whole film world that surrounded him: Fritz Lang, Lubitsch, comedians like Buster Keaton, Chaplin, Harold Lloyd ... It's something new, because I've been mostly reading. It's a little embarrassing, but there are many films that I saw in his time. I saw Last Tango, which is my time. Who has not seen! P.
What is Lavapiés?
R. I came because I wanted to be next to the Reina Sofia, power walking. Occasionally jokingly asked my wife if we're going to Madrid. The great thing is that it's Lavapiés people, the people I like in Spain, because it is in Madrid. And up by these fabulous earrings. Montmartre is like the English. P.
Recommend a site that no one should miss.
R. The civil cemetery, that nobody knows. It's a small place, secluded, shady. Must see the grave of Salmon, with its inscription, "He left the office for not signing a death sentence." There are all the people of the First Republic, the Free Institution of Teaching, Jews, reds and the Masons. It is the most fabulous story book reading in August. P.
Give me a clue to this book that told her not to ask him.
R. Ah, no, I can not. It's just a test. P.
The simultaneous with the biography Buñuel.
R. Always work in two or three projects at once. Buñuel took a year and I will take another two. P.
In 15 days, delivery of the test. And then, vacation?
R. I Huelva 10 days. My holidays are usually related to the job. You should talk to my wife. Is far from being married to a biographer. I see the house of Juan Ramón Jiménez in Moguer because I see a role there. P.
Not from the beach.
R. I hate beaches. I like to teach the flab I've accumulated in front of the computer. I always say that in September I start the gym, but I do not. I have to do something. If I am almost half dead. I have almost 70 years. I I did not think I ever would. The others yes, but not me. It sucks, it's awful.
He laughs out loud and looked toward the bar. "Well, let's eat these muffins."

What Happens When A Puppy Is Dewormed

Great Moments in philological incompetence, I International Congress

If you have a minimum of intellectual curiosity, and traces of sensitivity to language, literary and / or philological translation (literary translation, say) appears in the eyes of everyone as a phenomenon almost as fascinating as the creative writing -and, for the scholar, sometimes, certainly more fascinating than the sacred creation. Nor dare I rehearse here the slightest or most trivial trill pseudoteorizante cogitation on the theory and practice of translation, it seems at times that so much has been written on this subject that we run the risk of reaching a similar situation the Erasmians that described when they said that if all the self-styled reassembled relics of existing lignum crucis would be obtained as a result would not be the two most famous logs from year zero, but a rattle or a galleon, such was the volume relics of authenticity guaranteed currents in monasteries and other spiritual institutions of the time. But I enjoy collecting, but are not systematic or any claim or anything like that, some of the time when the translator betrays, sleeps up to Homer and rave like the Beltenebros wanted to emulate. Here's a really egregious case - and sorry for the anglicized.

I have before me the essential anthology of English poetry by Angel Rupérez prepared for Austral library, which was released in 2000. Rupérez poet himself, and prose writer, literary critic for various literary supplements, and even once, to the astonishment of strangers and I guess even own, the author of opinion pieces published in El Pais , associate professor everlasting Complutense, and as such partner My (fairly superficial, why deny it) during my years of purgatory in this cuboid evil, "is considered one of the most knowledgeable of opera in English in our country, founded by a prestigious anthology, Lyric nineteenth century English , beautifully edited by Trieste in 1987. (How beautiful books of Trieste, which printed it, what nice to have on hand and read. And how few editors today seem to value these things.) Almost fifty names that populate this anthology are those the reader would expect, from Thomas Wyatt to Andrew Motion, through the inevitable Spenser, Sidney, Shakespeare, Donne, Dryden, Pope, Blake, Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Many, Many Others . (Although one wonders what Chaucer has made the poor for not appearing here.) Apart from the anthologized poems, in translation, offers a reflection Rupérez "On Translation" (pp. 49-54), which warns the giddy readers, the discrete come and warned of home, of course, risks, limitations, shortcomings and deficiencies of any translation of poetry, and transactional nature to be all poetic translation is: you lose, no doubt, in the process but let us focus on what remains in the translation, not what was lost (though one, of course, Machado gets, and his lucid perception that is precisely what is lost what is sung -for all purposes ). No warning, with tragic results, as discussed, other pitfalls lurking for the translator, other potholes in the translation of poetry can and often falling down.

change directions, but we move forward towards our goal. I'm pretty sure one of the poets anthologized by Rupérez not deserve even a second of my attention when I read "partial and selective, the book lazy naps in the summer of 2000, but in recent years, however, his name has appeared in my life for various reasons. This is John Betjeman, whose centenary was celebrated in 2006 with an exhibition at the Bodleian Library; Betjeman, who was a student of Magdalen College, was character of some notoriety and a poet of wide acceptance in British society, because he knew wrapped in poems of the mindset of some part of it. My friend and colleague David Pattison is a member of the Betjeman Society, cult Senate that seeks to keep alive the work and figure of Betjeman by conferences, lectures , Recitals of his poetry and other forms of poetry-reading revival. All these circumstances led me to become interested in Betjeman, and extensions to wonder if my curiosity was Betjeman's poetry was translated into English. When I asked my colleague and friend Pattison, said no, he knew, and most likely the reason is local and situational nature of many of Betjeman's poems, to escape, if not understanding, itself to the enjoyment of those unfamiliar with local circumstances. The consultation of on-line catalogs several English libraries and the catalog of the English Agency of ISBN confirmed the impression from my colleague.

One day I asked if Betjeman would have deserved the honor of being canonized - more Bloomian - by Rupérez. And yes, indeed it was. And between Robert Graves and WH Auden, nothing less. Pages 377 to 382 of the Anthology of Rupérez contain, apart from a brief vita that some errors are repeated, on the other hand, are common even among English critics, for example, the reasons for the animosity that flamboyant young Betjeman professed her austere guardian CS Lewis, David Pattison recently specified in a notice published in the Floreat Magdalena Hilary 2009 -, two fragments of two poems by Betjeman, "Christmas" and the largest "Summoned by Bells ", and epicedio which he dedicated to the memory of fellow of Pembroke College Walter Ramsden, a poem that captures the quintessence of a certain mode of life genuinely Oxonian. Both, of course, translated by Angel Rupérez.

And here is where the two sides agree in writing until now. Rupérez prints the following, in his fragmentary translation of "Christmas"

And is it true? Because if so,

fingers or the loving ties that give

in this paper frills,

or the sweet and silly Christmas things,

or Bath salts or the cheap perfume

or the horrible ties that seek to affect,

not love living in families,

[...]

be compared with this simple truth:

that God became man in Bethlehem

and in the Bread and Wine is still living.

When you check out the translation of Rupérez, draw little attention to the "Bath salts" which appear in these lines: given a taste of Betjeman by the material things that bring memories of his past, one might think that we are facing a typical product of the city of Bath such as the delicious and Bath buns dulcérrimos . But no, we are dealing with a typical manufacture of melancholy and elegant city of Somerset. Let's take a look at the original text, for help.

Leaving aside the many considerations-many- poetic taste and value that could be possible, even necessary, to ask, here are the original lines for the translated up there:

And is it true? For if it is,

No loving fingers tying strings

Those Around

fripperies tissue,

The sweet and silly Christmas Things,

Bath salts and inexpensive scent

And hideous tie so kindly meant to,

No love that in a family dwells,

No carolling in frosty air,

Nor all the steeple-shaking bells

Can with this single Truth compare:

That God was man in Palestine

And lives today in Bread and Wine.

The mystery is revealed: it is, of course, bath salts. One, of course, even accepting the excuse of the potential confusion created by the use of the universal-that it would be hard to accept, "should reflect on what has before it, and few I argue that, without a shadow of doubt, we are faced one of the greatest moments of philological incompetence that a translator may have ever shown.