Nicanor Parra fylder 100 år den 5 september

I dag står i de spanskskrivende digteres tegn, i det mindste på Promenaden. Den chilenske digter Nicanor Parra, helt sikkert en af Latinamerikas største nulevende digtere, fylder 100 år den 5 september. I den anledning bringer Promenaden to digte på dansk oversat af Niels Hav. Nicanor Parras lysende forbitrelse, hans selvironi, hans rebelske og klare udsagn ofte udført med sproglig økonomi og knivskarpe blik adskiller ham fra utrolig meget af den mere retoriske del af den moderne spansksprogede digtning fra Latinamerika til Spanien. Han var tidligt på den i det tyvende århundrede, Nicanor Parra. I 1937 debuterer han med Cancionero sin nombre, disse digte bærer præg af Lorcalæsning, samme år bliver han færdig med sit matematikstudie. Han underviser i matematik og fysik. Det er også året, hvor han første gang møder Pablo Neruda. 17 år senere I 1954 udsender han Poemas y antipoemas, som blir en milepæl og på sin vis gør ham til Pablo Nerudas antipode. Tidligere har jeg bragt et langdigt her på bloggen fra Poemas y antipoemas, nemlig “Soliloquio del individuo”/ “Individets klagesang.” . Læs resten

Fire nye digte af Madriddigteren Raúl Campoy Guillén

Promenaden bringer fire nye digte på dansk af den spanske digter Raúl Campoy Guillén (Madrid, 1978). De to første digte er fra den sidste bog Etanol Mortis, der udkom i 2013 på Olifante, Ediciones de Poesía, en bog som konceptuelt sprogligt og indholdsmæssigt beskæftiger sig med alkohol, en lyrisk indre monolog eller indre lyrisk dialog, hvor digterjeget konfronterer sig selv med sig selv og sit misbrug: Y en estado sobrio es cuando más bebido estoy. /Nunca vi/puertas entre el cielo y la tierra. /No tengo miedo – y ese miedo es mi miedo. ( Og det er når jeg er ædru jeg er mest fuld/ Jeg så aldrig døre mellem himlen og jorden./ Jeg har ingen frygt, og dette er min frygt.). De sidste to digte ”Tyngdekraft” og ”Grib” er fra work in progress. Læs resten

Politisk offentlighed og offentlig skønlitteratur

For et par uger siden udkom Tue Andersen Nexøs bog Ikke de voldsomme. Politisk offentlighed og offentlig skønlitteratur, England 1640-1750 Museum Tusculanums Forlag. I den forbindelse har Nexø givet et par smagsprøver i form af artikler i Weekendavisen og Information; og det ser virkelig ganske spændende ud, jeg glæder mig til at få læst bogen. Nexø har længe interesseret sig for forholdet mellem poesi og politik (blandt andet manifesteret i tre samtaler med Martin Larsen her og her og her), eller måske, for at udtrykke det bredere, i hvad en politisk offentlighed er og kan være, og hvilken rolle litteraturen har (eller kunne have) at spille i den forbindelse.

  Læs resten

Lydia Davis

Fik ikke hørt Lydia Davis på Louisiana i weekenden, tyvärr, men jeg fik hørt Peter Højrup læse fra Island, heldigvis. Og fandt ud af, at han for flere år siden har oversat nogle af Davis’ korte tekster. En af dem ‘Story’ fra Break it down kommer her. Tak til Peter for at vi må låne den.

Historie

Jeg kommer hjem fra arbejde, og der er en besked fra ham: at han ikke kommer, at han har travlt. Han vil ringe tilbage. Jeg venter på at høre fra ham, omkring klokken ni tager jeg hen, hvor han bor, finder hans bil, men han er ikke hjemme. Jeg banker på døren til hans lejlighed og derefter alle garageportene, fordi jeg ikke ved hvilken garageport, der er hans – intet svar. Jeg skriver en seddel, læser den igennem, skriver en ny seddel og klæber den fast på døren. Hjemme er jeg rastløs, og det eneste jeg kan foretage mig, selvom jeg har nok at gøre, da jeg skal rejse i morgen tidlig, er at spille klaver. Jeg ringer igen klokken kvart i elleve og han er hjemme, han har været i biografen med sin gamle kæreste og hun Læs resten

Den danske interviewfeber

I dag udkommer Dy Plambecks roman ”Mikael”. Har man læst aviser, magasiner, hørt radio i de sidste to uger, har man ikke kunnet undgå at høre om historien bag den; forfatteren som rejste til Helmandprovinsen for at skrive reportage (og researche til roman) og som endte med at blive forelsket i, siden gravid med en, nu forhenværende, soldat. En rigtig love story som aviserne elsker det. Læser eller hører man flere interviews bliver det hurtigt tydeligt, hvor meget det første interview former fortællingen. Det har ikke noget med denne forfatter at gøre, det sker stort set for alle, det bliver de samme ord, i samme rækkefølge, der kommer ud af munden.  Har man læst et interview, har man stort set læst dem alle.

Læs resten

DIGTERENS INVENTAR

Digteren og bloggeren Caspar Erics første bog er på gaden. Selvom bogen som objekt ifølge den nyeste optik (som jeg går ud fra Caspar Eric repræsenterer) på en eller anden måde kunne tænkes at være irrelevant i forhold til blogger, instagram, twitter og facebook virkeligheden, begærer de Læs resten

First hand account from a Palestinian nurse from Jerusalem who went to Gaza to volunteer

On Aug 5, 2014, at 12:27 PM, OmarJoseph Nasser-Khoury wrote:

Dear Friends,

I am writing to share with you an e-mail I received from my mother, Dina Khoury-Nasser, who is now in Gaza. She went five days ago with a team of Palestinian medics from the Augusta Victoria Hospital and other Palestinian hospitals in Occupied Jerusalem in response to the emergency appeal that the Gaza hospitals have issued. The extent of the carnage brought about by Israel has left them incapacitated.

My mother, for those of you in Britain, is a Nightingale theatre nurse; she was trained at the Royal College of Nursing and St Thomas’ Hospital in London (Ironic, given that it is that very hospital, and the reason she is now in Gaza, overlooks Parliament, which has its own responsibility towards this ongoing War).

You are very welcome to share this if you want.

Best,

OmarJ

***

From Al Shifa Hospital in Gaza. 01:55 am 5th August 2014

Today was day four in Gaza. The first two days were like limbo. We felt we were in Gaza but not yet feeling what was happening around. We live in the hospital compound: eat in the compound, work in the compound, sleep in the compound. We see the injured, hear the ambulances, see the bodies and people strewn around everywhere – still it does not sink in. Yesterday evening things started to get real when I saw a child sleeping with his father in the open air on a piece of cardboard. He was there in the morning, there in the evening, and again this morning and this evening. I wonder where is his mother, where is his family? The stories one hears about entire families being annihilated, completely erased from the national registers of citizenship makes your hair stand on end! But still, it does not sink in. Perhaps because I am in the operation room and used to seeing people injured. Then reality hits when the shelling in Jabalia starts. At ten in the evening we receive a lady in her sixties. She is full of dust, full of earth and full of holes throughout her body. Head lacerated, thighs lacerated, leg crushed. I think of where she could have been sitting, what were her thoughts when the shell hit…I thought of mom, I thought of all the older women I know.

When the bombing started this morning, it was children. Our first patient was a little boy around six years old. He had massive lacerations to his groin, abdomen, face and head. He had burns all over his body as well. We were able to manage him in the theatre. I wait to see how he is doing. Then comes Haneen. She is an eight year old; my colleague from the emergency room, Dr. Haytham informed me that a child is coming up with her hand hanging on her side. I went up to Haneen who was waiting calmly in the holding bay. Her eyes were closed. She had a bandage across her head; her eyes were closed because of the swelling from the oedema and the burns to her face. I approached her and held her, and greeted her, and informed her of my name. I held her little hand on the injured side. I told her that I will be with her – she held my fingers. She informed me that her hand hurts. I told her that it was injured and that we will try and fix it. She then asked me about her father and two sisters. I told her that her father was waiting for her. I could not tell her that her sister had died. I still could not tell her that later that evening, her other sister was brought in dead from under the rubble…they were both less than four years old.

I saw Haneen in the ICU later. She was awake and extubated. I greeted her and told her that I was Dina. One eye was now open. She asked me if I had a daughter, I said yes. She asked me what is her name. I said Haya. She said that is a pretty name.

It was a tough day that ended with hopeful news. The plane up above, called zanana (drone) keeps buzzing all around. My colleagues from Augusta Victoria Hospital in Jerusalem arrived today with supplies. I felt proud to greet them. The Hospital had done an excellent job sending supplies and individual packs to each of us. They were greeted and their support appreciated. Being there is all that matters. On a personal level, I feel responsible for a big group now. It is very nice to have Dr. Haytham here; he is a wonderful professional colleague. My other colleagues are in Nasser Hospital in Rafah (South of Gaza), treating the injured and witnessing the toll of martyrs. One other colleague is at Al Aqsa Hospital working in surgery.

The smell of blood and death is around the young and the old. Each day we are greeted with the car coming to take the martyrs. Our room is close to the mortuary. You look at the faces of people here – they are all stunned. A nurse on duty looks deeply sad – her son comes with her to work. My friend Bassam from Gaza came to visit me and brought me a lot of goodies to eat. I distributed them among our team and colleagues. I was worried when I looked into his eyes and saw how red they were. The strain on his face was apparent. His son had a close call, and his nephew has ben injured. They are children. They were playing in the street and had just stepped into the house….

The nursing director here had to take a deep breath as he recalled all the children that he had seen. We will need time to heal she said, the pain will take time. The stories are overwhelming and the loss has not yet stopped.

Læs resten

Region X

15 dage i Portugal med en god flok svenskere, otte dage i Lissabon og resten ved Atlanten. Den sang, vi sang, når vi gik fra sted til sted, var ’En Så’n Karl’ (Lill Lindfors’ cover af Emma Redes ’Just Like A Man’), og den poesi, der blev læst højt i halvmørket, mens vi gloede ud over havet, var Bruno K. Öijers Svart som silver. Det forekom helt passende.

Selskabets højtlæsningsbog, den der blev sendt rundt imellem os og blev til en levende lydbog med mange forskellige stemmer, var Pär Thörns og Andrzej Tichýs Region X fra i år – en ”kollektivroman i stafettform, där ett antal människors aktiviteter griper in i varandra.” Den er god og god at dele – her får I en passage (i skyndsom oversættelse) med især Bengt Norin, der lige har bestilt en pizza hos Mahmoud på pizzeria Lazio, stedet er Malmø (såmænd). Læs resten