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Both views are defensible; indeed both are arguably commonsensical. What Douglas Robinson argues in Translating the Monster, however, is that both are gross oversimplifications of a complex situation that he calls on Jacques Derrida to characterize as “the monster.”
The Finnish novelist Robinson takes as his case study for that monstrous rethinking is Volter Kilpi (1874-1939), regarded by scholars of Finnish literature as Finland’s second world-class writer—the first being Aleksis Kivi (1834-1872). Kilpi’s modernist experiments of the 1930s, especially his so-called Archipelago series, beginning with his masterpiece, In the Alastalo Parlor (1933), were forgotten and neglected for a half century, due to the extreme difficulty of his narrative style: he reinvents the Finnish language, to the extent that many Finns say it is like reading a foreign language (and one contemporary critic called it the “Mesopotamian language … of a half-wit”). That novel has been translated exactly twice, into Swedish and German. Translating the Monster also gives the English-speaking reader an extended taste of the novel in English—en route to a series of reframings of the novel as allegories of translation and world literature.
Both views are defensible; indeed both are arguably commonsensical. What Douglas Robinson argues in Translating the Monster, however, is that both are gross oversimplifications of a complex situation that he calls on Jacques Derrida to characterize as “the monster.”
The Finnish novelist Robinson takes as his case study for that monstrous rethinking is Volter Kilpi (1874-1939), regarded by scholars of Finnish literature as Finland’s second world-class writer—the first being Aleksis Kivi (1834-1872). Kilpi’s modernist experiments of the 1930s, especially his so-called Archipelago series, beginning with his masterpiece, In the Alastalo Parlor (1933), were forgotten and neglected for a half century, due to the extreme difficulty of his narrative style: he reinvents the Finnish language, to the extent that many Finns say it is like reading a foreign language (and one contemporary critic called it the “Mesopotamian language … of a half-wit”). That novel has been translated exactly twice, into Swedish and German. Translating the Monster also gives the English-speaking reader an extended taste of the novel in English—en route to a series of reframings of the novel as allegories of translation and world literature.
Cet essai présente Léon Damas sous un autre jour, opérant un double renversement de perspective, d'abord en le rapprochant du triangle afro-américain (Richard Wright) et des poètes et romanciers de la Harlem Renaissance (Langston Hughes, Claude McKay). Deuxièmement, Damas, contemporain de Fanon dont les chapitres de Peau noire, masques résonnent dans de nombreux poèmes, s'inscrit également comme un surréaliste mineur, dans la lignée de Guillaume Apollinaire et de Ghérasim Luca.
Cette nouvelle circonférence montre le poète de Cayenne comme un précurseur sur toutes les Lignes. Un poète resté hors chant, hors champs, se révèle être le militant décolonial radical resté frustré de voir à quel point la République changeait lentement (« à ti pas »). Le présent essai se veut un « Plaidoyer pour l'Antillectuel » (Sartre) à travers la figure du poète resté dans l'ombre de Léopold Senghor et d'Aimé Césaire. Il montre aussi que l’outre-mer reste un territoire à géométrie variable, le troisième département éclipsé par la Martinique dans les théories d’autochtonie et de fabrique des classiques antillo-guyanais.
The third man of negritude, Léon Damas, aligned himself with the Harlem Renaissance and surrealists to transmit his urgent message: à ti pas, little by little, France was undergoing its decolonial transformation. He claims to be the “Antillectual” who crosses the Lines of language, territory, color, class and gender. This essay presents Léon Damas in another light, operating a double reversal of perspective, first by affiliating him with the African American triangle (Richard Wright) and the Harlem Renaissance poets and novelists (Langston Hughes, Claude McKay). Second, Damas, Fanon's contemporary whose chapters of Black Skin, White Masks resonate in many poems, also registers as a minor surrealist, following in the footsteps of Guillaume Apollinaire and Ghérasim Luca.
This new circumference shows the poet of Cayenne as a precursor on all lines. A poet who has remained off-screen, off-song, proves to be the radical decolonial militant who remained frustrated to see how slowly (“à ti pas”) the Republic was changing. The present essay is intended to be “Plea for the Antillectual” (Sartre) through the figure of the poet who remained in the shadow of Léopold Senghor and Aimé Césaire.
It also shows that the overseas remains a territory with variable geometry, the third department being eclipsed by Martinique in the theories of autochthony and manufacturing of the Antillean-Guyanese classics.
Cet essai présente Léon Damas sous un autre jour, opérant un double renversement de perspective, d'abord en le rapprochant du triangle afro-américain (Richard Wright) et des poètes et romanciers de la Harlem Renaissance (Langston Hughes, Claude McKay). Deuxièmement, Damas, contemporain de Fanon dont les chapitres de Peau noire, masques résonnent dans de nombreux poèmes, s'inscrit également comme un surréaliste mineur, dans la lignée de Guillaume Apollinaire et de Ghérasim Luca.
Cette nouvelle circonférence montre le poète de Cayenne comme un précurseur sur toutes les Lignes. Un poète resté hors chant, hors champs, se révèle être le militant décolonial radical resté frustré de voir à quel point la République changeait lentement (« à ti pas »). Le présent essai se veut un « Plaidoyer pour l'Antillectuel » (Sartre) à travers la figure du poète resté dans l'ombre de Léopold Senghor et d'Aimé Césaire. Il montre aussi que l’outre-mer reste un territoire à géométrie variable, le troisième département éclipsé par la Martinique dans les théories d’autochtonie et de fabrique des classiques antillo-guyanais.
The third man of negritude, Léon Damas, aligned himself with the Harlem Renaissance and surrealists to transmit his urgent message: à ti pas, little by little, France was undergoing its decolonial transformation. He claims to be the “Antillectual” who crosses the Lines of language, territory, color, class and gender. This essay presents Léon Damas in another light, operating a double reversal of perspective, first by affiliating him with the African American triangle (Richard Wright) and the Harlem Renaissance poets and novelists (Langston Hughes, Claude McKay). Second, Damas, Fanon's contemporary whose chapters of Black Skin, White Masks resonate in many poems, also registers as a minor surrealist, following in the footsteps of Guillaume Apollinaire and Ghérasim Luca.
This new circumference shows the poet of Cayenne as a precursor on all lines. A poet who has remained off-screen, off-song, proves to be the radical decolonial militant who remained frustrated to see how slowly (“à ti pas”) the Republic was changing. The present essay is intended to be “Plea for the Antillectual” (Sartre) through the figure of the poet who remained in the shadow of Léopold Senghor and Aimé Césaire.
It also shows that the overseas remains a territory with variable geometry, the third department being eclipsed by Martinique in the theories of autochthony and manufacturing of the Antillean-Guyanese classics.
The series welcomes book proposals for monographs or edited volumes discussing questions of Slavic culture, identity and history as expressed in literature, film and other forms of cultural production.
Authors are cordially invited to submit proposals and/or full manuscripts to the publisher at BRILL, Masja Horn.
The series published an average of one volume per year over the last 5 years.
“Demonstrating the urgency of invoking novel epistemological approaches combining the scientific and the imaginative, this book is a “must read” for those concerned about the present and potential impacts of climate change on formerly colonised areas of the world. The comprehensive and illuminating Introduction offers a crucial history and current state of postcolonial ecocriticism as it has been and is addressing climate crises.”
- Helen Tiffin, University of Wollongong
“The broad focus on the polar regions, the Pacific and the Caribbean – with added essays on environmental justice/activism in India and Egypt – opens up rich terrain for examination under the rubric of postcolonial and ecocritical analysis, not only expanding recent studies in this field but also enabling new comparisons and conceptual linkages.” - Helen Gilbert, Royal Holloway, University of London
“The subject is topical and vital and will become even more so as the problem of how to reconcile the demands of climate change with the effects on regions and individual nations already damaged by the economic effects of colonisation and the subsequent inequalities resulting from neo-colonialism continues to grow.” - Gareth Griffiths, Em. Prof. University of Western Australia
“Demonstrating the urgency of invoking novel epistemological approaches combining the scientific and the imaginative, this book is a “must read” for those concerned about the present and potential impacts of climate change on formerly colonised areas of the world. The comprehensive and illuminating Introduction offers a crucial history and current state of postcolonial ecocriticism as it has been and is addressing climate crises.”
- Helen Tiffin, University of Wollongong
“The broad focus on the polar regions, the Pacific and the Caribbean – with added essays on environmental justice/activism in India and Egypt – opens up rich terrain for examination under the rubric of postcolonial and ecocritical analysis, not only expanding recent studies in this field but also enabling new comparisons and conceptual linkages.” - Helen Gilbert, Royal Holloway, University of London
“The subject is topical and vital and will become even more so as the problem of how to reconcile the demands of climate change with the effects on regions and individual nations already damaged by the economic effects of colonisation and the subsequent inequalities resulting from neo-colonialism continues to grow.” - Gareth Griffiths, Em. Prof. University of Western Australia