Heath is not only a loyal Open Letter subscriber, but has also previously reviewed for Three Percent. And to tote Open Letter things a bit more, one of the translators of this beautiful collection of poetry is Kazim Ali, who was one of the translators of which Open Letter published last year. Also, BOA Editions is another local Rochester, NY publisher, and operated by great people. So this is really like one big group hug糖心传媒攖hat you’re all welcome to join!

Here’s the beginning of Heath’s review:

I have wanted to read Persian poetry ever since having heard so many good things about it from my Palestinian friend. Sohrab Sepehri糖心传媒檚 collection, The Oasis of Now: Selected Poems, however, sounded quite new-agey糖心传媒攁s if the poetry was canned lyricism awash in love, peace, and overly sensual descriptions of nature糖心传媒攁nd this worried me. I feared that Sepehri糖心传媒檚 poetry would surely turn me off to anything Persian for a long time. Even when I started to read the first lines of the opening poem, 糖心传媒淲ater糖心传媒檚 Footfall糖心传媒� (the title already felt like a distasteful personification), I felt depressed to have been selected to read the book. Very quickly, however, I began to shed my misgivings.

While Sepehri is not especially well known in the West, he is one of the five most popular Persian poets of the modern Persian poetry movement known as 糖心传媒淣ew Poetry糖心传媒� (the other four being Nima Yushij, who is considered the father of modern Persian poetry, Ahmad Shamloo, Mehdi Akhavan-Sales, and Forough Farrokhzad; 糖心传媒淣ew Poetry糖心传媒� is most notably characterized as having no meter or rhyme, which is a break from traditional Persian poetry). Sepehri was not even particularly popular in his own time糖心传媒攖his has, however, changed since then. Philosopher Soursh Dabbagh explains, 糖心传媒淚nclinations towards more abstract thoughts subjected him to criticism by his contemporary literary critics such as Shamloo, [Rezi] Barahani, and [Dariush] Ashoori.糖心传媒� Recently, Sepehri has become an emblem of justice and peace. During the 2009 Iranian election protests, the closing lines of his poem, and title of this collection, 糖心传媒淭he Oasis of Now糖心传媒�, were used on signs and banners and stitched into people糖心传媒檚 clothing. They read, 糖心传媒淚f you look for me, / come soft and quietly, lest you crack the glass heart / that cups my loneliness.糖心传媒�

For the rest of the review, go here.

While Sepehri is not especially well known in the West, he is one of the five most popular Persian poets of the modern Persian poetry movement known as 糖心传媒淣ew Poetry糖心传媒� (the other four being Nima Yushij, who is considered the father of modern Persian poetry, Ahmad Shamloo, Mehdi Akhavan-Sales, and Forough Farrokhzad; 糖心传媒淣ew Poetry糖心传媒� is most notably characterized as having no meter or rhyme, which is a break from traditional Persian poetry). Sepehri was not even particularly popular in his own time糖心传媒攖his has, however, changed since then. Philosopher Soursh Dabbagh explains, 糖心传媒淚nclinations towards more abstract thoughts subjected him to criticism by his contemporary literary critics such as Shamloo, [Rezi] Barahani, and [Dariush] Ashoori.糖心传媒� Recently, Sepehri has become an emblem of justice and peace. During the 2009 Iranian election protests, the closing lines of his poem, and title of this collection, 糖心传媒淭he Oasis of Now糖心传媒�, were used on signs and banners and stitched into people糖心传媒檚 clothing. They read, 糖心传媒淚f you look for me, / come soft and quietly, lest you crack the glass heart / that cups my loneliness.糖心传媒�

From Kazim Ali糖心传媒檚 introduction, we learn that Sepehri was influenced not only by his home religion, Shi糖心传媒檃 and Sufism, but also by Buddhism and Hinduism, which he explored later in life. He was interested in 糖心传媒渙rdinary things, discarded things, with the spiritual and divine,糖心传媒� and this view is reflected throughout the poems in this collection. We get a heavy dose of such themes particularly in the aforementioned opening poem, 糖心传媒淲ater糖心传媒檚 Footfalls糖心传媒�, which reflects on the death of his father, and how one wanders the world with such grief. As one would expect, the poem is dense and heavy, but Sepehri creates (or observes) pockets light, 糖心传媒淟ike a breeze, my Ka糖心传媒檃ba drifts from orchard to orchard, town to / town.糖心传媒�

What surprised me most about this collection is the sensuality of the language, and the abstraction of everyday imagery. Sepehri has a way of morphing language to imply a deeper, fresher meaning. This seems obvious to the well-indoctrinated poetry reader, but when one expects cheesiness, and instead gets heart, one discovers treasure. That moment came, still in the opening poem, when he grafts the two most used themes of poetry, love and nature, and given the nature of the poem, the image rises right before the reader糖心传媒檚 eyes: 糖心传媒淚 understand the language of ripe berries bursting in the mouth of the / climaxing lovers.糖心传媒� This line, itself a sort of climax, marries our everyday senses and that of nature flawlessly.

It helps to know that Sepehri was trained as a painter, and particularly that he was considered one of Iran糖心传媒檚 foremost modern painters. As already shown, Sepehri infuses his poetry with a painterly eye, even if they are not always as lush as 糖心传媒淲ater糖心传媒檚 Footfalls.糖心传媒� In 糖心传媒淭he Sound of an Encounter,糖心传媒� a poem that appears in the second section (of three sections), he finds the color and light, when as a boy, he is sent out to get pomegranates and quinces:
bq. The orchard糖心传媒檚 long hours of worry glittered in the shadow of each fruit. / Some unknown thing shone among the quinces. / The pomegranates spread their dark red across the country of the pious. / Any thoughts I had about the people around me vanished / before the gleaming ripeness of oranges.

The translation of the text did not leave images or metaphors hanging indecipherably on the page; nor did they leave the reader alienated by complete foreignness. If a moment of cultural material arose, an endnote accompanied it. While the book appears for a moment糖心传媒檚 instance to be bilingual, the truth is that each section is divided by a single page from one of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 poems in Persian.

I felt the need to slow down after reading these pieces, so much so that I just wanted to walk around my apartment, look at things, without expectations, certain that if I waited long enough something beautiful would emerge out of its ordinariness. And what if we looked at the objects or emotions we find mundane, or cheesy, or over sentimental, or pastiche; what could we learn from them? What would we see? That糖心传媒檚 the question Sepehri糖心传媒檚 poetry taught me.

From the poetry jury:

In Elisa Biagini糖心传媒檚 eerie interiors, nothing is quite what it seems. 糖心传媒淧eeled hands糖心传媒� become tapestries, teeth are 糖心传媒渨hite and dry like kneecaps,糖心传媒� a woman irons as a way of 糖心传媒渟topping decomposition / by joining collar points.糖心传媒� What at first glance might seem like straight-forward lyrics of domesticity or celebrations of the ordinary, turn quickly violent and grotesque. Female selves are not dissolved, martyr-style, for their loved ones, but cut-up into pieces, a butchery that is sensuously and surreally chronicled: 糖心传媒淢y body is a bag of fluids,糖心传媒� 糖心传媒淚 see myself in pieces in the supermarket.糖心传媒� Reading Biagini we realize how frequently we do, in actuality, leave traces of our bodies with, in, and upon the ones we love: 糖心传媒測ou smile at your seed in me / (you糖心传媒檝e just eaten your lipstick) / and if I draw my face near / I see a wisp of my hair / in your gloves.糖心传媒� 糖心传媒淭he guest糖心传媒� of Biagini糖心传媒檚 title shifts viscerally, now a growing embryo, now the familiar fairytale innocents in the forbidding wood, now language itself, whose 糖心传媒渨ords [are] glowworms in / this my / dark.糖心传媒� Reading this collection, our own worlds, our own homes, our own narratives, our own words are illuminated in their already existing strangeness. That Biagini糖心传媒檚 haunting, disturbing, brilliant, and beautiful poems retain this power and immediacy—above all this passion—in their English translations is a testament to the work of her translators: Diana Thow, Sarah Strickney, and Eugene Ostashevsky.

The first runner-up, Four Elemental Bodies by Claude Royet-Journoud is translated from the French by Keith Waldrop, and published by Burning Deck, a press that almost always has at least one title on the list of BTBA poetry finalists. This is the second volume of Royet-Journoud’s to come out from Burning Deck, and contains four volumes: Reversal, The Notion of Obstacle, Objects Contain the Infinite, and Natures Indivisible.

Here’s a bit more about his from the Burning Deck

Claude Royet-Journoud is one of the most important contemporary French poets whose one-line manifesto: “Shall we escape analogy” marked a revolutionary turn away from Surrealism and its lush imagery. His spare, 糖心传媒渘eutral糖心传媒� language, stripped of devices like metaphor, assonance, alliteration has had a great influence on recent French poetry.

Poetry judge Bill Martin wrote The Oasis of Now up earlier today, and since his piece is so comprehensive and interesting, I’ll just let him speak for this runner-up:

Something that Dabashi hints at and another scholar, Massud Farzan, addressed forty years ago as crucial to Sepehri糖心传媒檚 work is, in addition to the influence on it of Buddhism, its connection to Sufi apophatic theology, the 糖心传媒�via negativa . . . the cleansing of the heart糖心传媒檚 and mind糖心传媒檚 mirror of its dust and grime.糖心传媒� This mystical affiliation informs the frame that Ali and Mahallati give his work in the introduction to the book, and also affirms the fantasy I had in reading him of an affinity with Toma啪 艩alamun, another poetic descendent of Rumi. (I imagined a genealogy involving other poets on the American scene, too: Whitman, Dickinson, Rilke, Trakl, Lorine Niedecker, Robert Lax, Gary Snyder, Fanny Howe; but none seemed so closely related.) Like 艩alamun’s poetry, Sepehri’s cleaves and coheres at odd angles to the Anglophone avant-garde. But while 艩alamun refracts sense paratactically and with scintillating speed, Sepehri is much slower, tellurian, more liable to syntax, haunting, his epiphanies so figurative and deliberate they often come across as platitudes. Yet the experience of reading him is more robust, ample, and structured than it may appear at first sight:

Beyond the poplars
sweet innocence beckons.

I paused by the stand of bamboo to listen as the wind susurrated through.
Who was speaking to me?

A lizard slid into the water. I walked on.

Hayfield, cucumber patch, rose bush, oblivion . . .

At the stream I doffed my sandals to dangle my feet in the water.
How alive I am,
how green like the garden.
So what if sadness creeps down the mountain slope?
Who is that hiding behind the trees?
Only a water buffalo grazing.

Like most of the poems in The Oasis of Now, this one, 糖心传媒淕olestaneh,糖心传媒� reads like a rehearsal of reverse apperception, with the 糖心传媒渉uman position糖心传媒� of the subject reconceived in relation to nature through repeated gestures糖心传媒攓uestions, reappraisals, simple descriptions, epiphanies糖心传媒攁 repertoire of moderated ecstasy. This poetic redirection of the subject toward nature, or as Jonathan Skinner has put it, this 糖心传媒渢urning of the poem out of doors糖心传媒� and the 糖心传媒渆xtending and developing糖心传媒� in these poems of the 糖心传媒減erception of the natural world,糖心传媒� that signals the potential inspiration of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 work for ecopoetics. This is not a book that immediately announces itself as avant-garde or new, it does not brandish its modernism, and does not in fact seem so easily commodifiable, but the more time one spends with it, the more it astonishes and yields.

The Oasis of Now by Sorab Sepehri, translated from the Persian by Kazim Ali and Mohammad Jafar Mahallati (Iran; BOA Editions)

One of the books that surprised and impressed me most from this year糖心传媒檚 BTBA poetry submissions was Sohrab Sepehri糖心传媒檚 The Oasis of Now, translated by the American poet Kazim Ali and the Iranian scholar of religion Mohammad Jafar Mahallati. Like most readers of English, I was unfamiliar with the work, because like most Persian-language writers, Sepehri糖心传媒攚ho was born in 1928, lived most of his life during the reign of Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, and died in 1980, a few months after the revolution糖心传媒攊s practically unknown in Anglophony. But something of his poetics, I糖心传媒檝e since discovered, has long been available 糖心传媒渋n translation糖心传媒� in the films of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 countryman Abbas Kiarostami, a staple of film festivals and world cinema courses. The muted colors and rustic life-world, simple narration and gentle irony of Kiarostami糖心传媒檚 first international success, Where is the Friend糖心传媒檚 Home? (1987), for instance, can be understood not only as opening a view onto everyday life in Iran糖心传媒攚hich was my primary takeaway when I saw it many years ago糖心传媒攂ut as enacting a philosophy that the filmmaker and the poet shared (the film糖心传媒檚 title is a line in one of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 canonical poems, 糖心传媒淭he Address,糖心传媒� which is included in this book). According to Hamid Dabashi, who has written at length about this connection, Kiarostami糖心传媒檚 faith in immediate observation and the 糖心传媒渇ictive lucidity of the real糖心传媒� can be attributed to the influence of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 poetry (and probably of his painting as well糖心传媒攈e was equally well known in his lifetime as a visual artist).

Historically American readers have tended to understand literature from politically repressive countries unaffiliated with the United States mainly in terms of its political value, without reflecting on the ways in which our own reading practices are ideologically determined or inflected. What this may mean for literary translation and the place of world literature, of translated poetry, of a book like this, in the US, is a question at the back of my mind in reading it. Sepehri糖心传媒檚 work does not ask to be understood 糖心传媒減olitically糖心传媒澨切拇綌by contrast with other poets of his generation like Farough Farrokhzad and Ahmad Shamlu糖心传媒攂ecause his domain is the lyric subject糖心传媒檚 engagement with nature and his mode is highly deflective even in its insistence on a kind of affective immediacy. Nevertheless, this poetic itself has come to be understood in political terms. Dabashi puts it in a nutshell: 糖心传媒淪ohrab Sepehri cut through the thick politicization of his age to grasp a primal moment of wonder in the world.糖心传媒� And this may also be a key factor in his translatability. Although Kiarostami糖心传媒檚 Iran of the eighties, a fundamentalist theocracy hobbled by a war instigated by its (then US-backed) neighbor Iraq, was far different from the country Sepehri lived in a decade and more earlier (when he was criticized for not taking a stand against the abuses of the糖心传媒攖hen US-backed糖心传媒擯ahlavi regime), their mutual embrace of the primacy of perception may have provided existential coherence in a time and place disorganized by political ideology. Is that coherence available to us, English-language readers, disorganized (or organized糖心传媒�you choose!) as we are by capitalism? Can 糖心传媒減rimal moment of wonder in the world糖心传媒� ever be anything other than a commodity for us market segments? And what would it mean for this poetry to win a prize endowed by a megacorporation as part of its brand positioning? (A lot of money, that糖心传媒檚 what!)

Well, there are universal values, and translation is possible. Something that Dabashi hints at and another scholar, Massud Farzan, addressed forty years ago as crucial to Sepehri糖心传媒檚 work is, in addition to the influence on it of Buddhism, its connection to Sufi apophatic theology, the 糖心传媒�via negativa . . . the cleansing of the heart糖心传媒檚 and mind糖心传媒檚 mirror of its dust and grime.糖心传媒� This mystical affiliation informs the frame that Ali and Mahallati give his work in the introduction to the book, and also affirms the fantasy I had in reading him of an affinity with Toma啪 艩alamun, another poetic descendent of Rumi. (I imagined a genealogy involving other poets on the American scene, too: Whitman, Dickinson, Rilke, Trakl, Lorine Niedecker, Robert Lax, Gary Snyder, Fanny Howe; but none seemed so closely related.) Like 艩alamun’s poetry, Sepehri’s cleaves and coheres at odd angles to the Anglophone avant-garde. But while 艩alamun refracts sense paratactically and with scintillating speed, Sepehri is much slower, tellurian, more liable to syntax, haunting, his epiphanies so figurative and deliberate they often come across as platitudes. Yet the experience of reading him is more robust, ample, and structured than it may appear at first sight:

Beyond the poplars
sweet innocence beckons.

I paused by the stand of bamboo to listen as the wind susurrated through.
Who was speaking to me?

A lizard slid into the water. I walked on.

Hayfield, cucumber patch, rose bush, oblivion . . .

At the stream I doffed my sandals to dangle my feet in the water.
How alive I am,
how green like the garden.
So what if sadness creeps down the mountain slope?
Who is that hiding behind the trees?
Only a water buffalo grazing.

Like most of the poems in The Oasis of Now, this one, 糖心传媒淕olestaneh,糖心传媒� reads like a rehearsal of reverse apperception, with the 糖心传媒渉uman position糖心传媒� of the subject reconceived in relation to nature through repeated gestures糖心传媒攓uestions, reappraisals, simple descriptions, epiphanies糖心传媒攁 repertoire of moderated ecstasy. This poetic redirection of the subject toward nature, or as Jonathan Skinner has put it, this 糖心传媒渢urning of the poem out of doors糖心传媒� and the 糖心传媒渆xtending and developing糖心传媒� in these poems of the 糖心传媒減erception of the natural world,糖心传媒� that signals the potential inspiration of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 work for ecopoetics. This is not a book that immediately announces itself as avant-garde or new, it does not brandish its modernism, and does not in fact seem so easily commodifiable, but the more time one spends with it, the more it astonishes and yields.

The Oasis of Now is made up of three sections of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 poetry from the mid-1960s, the high point of his career, which followed on his encounter with Buddhism and coincided with extensive travel in China and Japan, India, Pakistan, and Afghanistan. It begins with the long poem 糖心传媒淲ater糖心传媒檚 Footfall糖心传媒� (峁d膩-ye p膩-ye 膩b, 1965), which Omnidawn published as a bilingual chapbook in 2011; the midsection comprises the 25 poems of the book 糖心传媒淎 Measure of Green糖心传媒� (岣jm-e sabz, 1968), which as Houman Sarshar points out, in his excellent entry on Sepehri, was written between 1962 and 1967 and 糖心传媒渃omprises virtually all of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 best-known and most anthologized works糖心传媒� (a translation of this book by David L. Martin was published in 1988); and it wraps up with another long poem, 糖心传媒淭he Traveler糖心传媒� (Mos膩fer, 1966). Sepehri糖心传媒檚 collected works, 糖心传媒淓ight Books糖心传媒� (Ha拧t ket膩b, 1978), included everything already published along with a previously unpublished series of poems, M膩 hi膷, m膩 neg膩h糖心传媒攁 title that is basically untranslatable but means something like 糖心传媒淲e are nothing but looking,糖心传媒� as Kazim Ali says in the interview below. Sarshar also points to the influence on this final phase of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 poetry of Ralph Waldo Emerson糖心传媒檚 essay 糖心传媒淣ature,糖心传媒� and to the echo in this title of Emerson糖心传媒檚 line: 糖心传媒淚 become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing, I see all.糖心传媒� Hopefully English-language readers will be able to read more of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 remarkable and important work very soon.

I was curious to hear more about the translation of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 work in preparation for writing these ruminations, so I conducted a brief interview with Kazim Ali over Skype last week. Here it is:

WM: How did you come to Sohrab Sepehri糖心传媒檚 poetry?

KA: My father, in around 2002糖心传媒�2003, was working in Iran on an international hydroelectric dam project, which is what he does. And he asked me what I would like him to bring back as a gift. I said I糖心传媒檇 love to read some Iranian poets. So he brought back some volumes of poetry that had been translated into English from Farsi, but published in Iran in a very basic translation. I didn糖心传媒檛 think too much of it, although I recognized that there was a mystical aspect that was appealing to me, in terms of the work that I do myself. It wasn糖心传媒檛 until a while later that my partner, Marco, who is a photographer, needed text for a project he was working on, and took the book off the shelf and read this couplet out loud to me, which as I later learned is an iconic Sepehri couplet: 糖心传媒淚 am a Muslim, the rose is my qibla.糖心传媒� I thought it was actually very beautiful, and I often thought of that line and quoted it and other lines from the same passage later on. But I didn糖心传媒檛 think about doing a translation of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 poetry until several years later when Poets糖心传媒� House and City Lore, two institutions in New York City, held their 糖心传媒淧oetries of the Islamic World糖心传媒� event [in May 2011].

In preparation for that event, I felt like, even though they had invited me as an American Muslim poet, I wanted to bring something from the Muslim world. Particularly because the Cold War against Iran has not only been a political Cold War, but has had a cultural impact as well, in terms of its cultural isolation. So I thought I would bring some Iranian poets to the attention of the American audience. Because, as you know, it is a very ancient and storied literary culture, I mean it糖心传媒檚 incredible, the literature of Iran and literature in Farsi, the classics, everything. And not just literary culture, but visual culture and music, all of it. I was thinking of what has happened with the cultural damage and fallout from the Iraq invasion, and the horror of something like that happening again. So there was a political motivation for me. I really wanted to get something of Iranian literature to American readers so they that they can better understand what this country is about.

Luckily for me, I have a colleague here at Oberlin, Jafar Mahallati, a wonderful scholar in the Religion Department, who is very interested in Iranian poetry. I asked him if he would be interested to tackle this with me, and we sat down and did it. I had the old, bad translation to work from, and he and I would sit together and he would recite the Farsi to me, and we would talk through the poem and all the different nuances. You know, with Sepehri there are so many different layers of meaning, oftentimes we would be very confused by the images and metaphors he was using and have to tease out the multiple layers. He uses lots of images of birds and plants and stuff like that. And Jafar would say something like, 糖心传媒淲ell, you know, the interesting thing about this plant is that it only blooms in the nighttime, so Sepehri is saying such and such by using it.糖心传媒� So we would spend an hour on a page of poetry, just talking through it. And then I would go and create it as an English poem. And then I would send them to him and he would say, 糖心传媒淭his is great,糖心传媒� or 糖心传媒渢his image is not exactly right,糖心传媒� that sort of thing. We did the whole book like that together. The final part, 糖心传媒淭he Traveler,糖心传媒� I did mostly on my own. But he did go through it, so it was a collaboration from beginning to end.

WM: The book you got from your father, from Iran, was that a single volume of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 work, or was it his work in an anthology?

KA: It was two books of his in one: the long poem 糖心传媒淲ater糖心传媒檚 Footfall糖心传媒� and another book which we糖心传媒檝e translated as 糖心传媒淎 Measure of Green.糖心传媒� And there was another volume as well, which we糖心传媒檙e working on now, which had two more books of Sepehri糖心传媒檚 in it. One of them is 糖心传媒淭he Traveler,糖心传媒� which went into The Oasis of Now; and the other is a book with a title that is very hard to translate, but means something like 糖心传媒淲e are nothing but the looking糖心传媒� or 糖心传媒淥ur life itself is an observation.糖心传媒� It糖心传媒檚 like Emily Dickinson糖心传媒檚 line 糖心传媒淎s all the Heavens were a Bell, and Being, but an Ear.糖心传媒� But with Sepehri, being is a looking. We don糖心传媒檛 know how we糖心传媒檙e going to translate the title. This is the problem when working on Sepehri, it糖心传媒檚 all very esoteric and metaphysical and philosophical.

Sepehri had six collections of poetry that he published in his lifetime, and then included two sections of new poetry in his collected works, Eight Books. We糖心传媒檙e just working our way through it. We糖心传媒檇 like to finish his body of work, but it糖心传媒檚 going to be a long project.

WM: You mention Dickinson. Another poet I thought of when reading the book was Rilke, in terms of a kind of embodied metaphysics in Sepehri糖心传媒檚 poetry. And I thought of the way American poetry was saturated with Rilke in the 1980s, and also of the presence here of a poet like Toma啪 艩alamun, and this made me wonder why Sepehri isn糖心传媒檛 more available in English, and where you see Sepehri糖心传媒檚 home on the American poetry scene.

KA: There are actually other recent English versions of Sepehri out there. Sholeh Wolpe, who has published translations of Farough Farrokhzad both here and in England, has done some of his work. Kaveh Bassiri and Jean Valentine did a handful of his poems together. The poet Robin Magowan has also done some. So some individual poems have been translated by different people here and there, but yes, The Oasis of Now and the Omnidawn chapbook are the only full books available here. I feel very personally connected to Sepehri糖心传媒檚 work, as a poet who is invested in the metaphysical stuff, and someone who is steeped in the religious tradition as well. Sepehri was an iconoclast in a sense, he wasn糖心传媒檛 part of the Muslim orthodoxy. That line 糖心传媒淚 am a Muslim, the rose is my qibla,糖心传媒� is an ironic line, in a way, but I feel there is a deep sincerity under the skin of irony. Sepehri often plays fast and loose with literal meanings and metaphorical meanings, flirting with the ordinary and quotidian and turning it into a mythical condition. Working with a native speaker has allowed me to really get underneath the skin of those lines and find a universality in them.

As for finding a home for his work on the American scene, one of the criticisms that we糖心传媒檝e gotten so far, in a review in American Poetry Review, was that I made Sepehri sound too American, or something like that. But there is something about the postmodern American lyric that糖心传媒檚 very close to the classical poetics of disjunction that exists in Farsi and Arabic poetry. You know Adonis, the Syrian poet? He wrote an interesting piece on modernism in the Arab world, where he said that, 糖心传媒淥ur modernist moment in Arab literature happened in 700 A.D.糖心传媒� What happened to British and American literature in modernism in the 20th century was already happening in the Arab world in the 700s. So their classical literature is like our postmodern literature. The ghazal and all these other forms, which are centered around the notion of disjunction, came out in 1700糖心传媒�1800 over there; and their contemporary lyric has a lot of affinities with what糖心传媒檚 happening now in contemporary American literature. So as far as Sepehri sounding American, I can see that.

WM: Is there anything else about Sepehri, about the book, that you would want people to know, in terms of framing it, its reception in English?

KA: Sepehri is one of the major figures of 20th century Iranian literature. Like a Whitman or Robert Frost. You know how 糖心传媒渢he road less travelled糖心传媒� is a line from Frost糖心传媒攖he same thing goes for Sepehri. People quote him in everyday life situations. When we were preparing the introduction, we discovered that a newspaper in Afghanistan had just used a line of his for the headline of an article on religious intolerance糖心传媒攊t was the line that goes 糖心传媒淲e have to rinse our eyes clear of habit so we can actually see糖心传媒澨切拇綌and it was unattributed because everyone knows it. Sepehri is a great window into a certain type of contemporary, progressive Iranian thought. Which people here don糖心传媒檛 think exists. So I糖心传媒檓 really glad that the book got out there. I糖心传媒檓 very grateful to BOA. I mean, they rushed it; they took the book in February and published it in October. So I糖心传媒檓 really grateful to them for seeing the importance of the book and getting it out there, and I糖心传媒檓 grateful to every organization that糖心传媒檚 promoting it, because I think it糖心传媒檚 very important to engage with literature from this part of the world now.

You can read the whole thing but here are a few highlights.

Jennifer Solheim: In your beautiful introduction, Kazim, you write, 糖心传媒淿尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤_, never before translated into English, is at the heart of a constellation of texts, both verbal and visual, by Marguerite Duras, sometimes called the India Cycle.糖心传媒� So what is the story behind the translation of 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤? Why now? Did you approach Open Letter Books, or did they approach you? Why hasn糖心传媒檛 it been translated previously?

Kazim Ali: I was a Duras lover, very enamored of her prose style, which seemed even more powerful in her middle-period (1965 糖心传媒� 1984, roughly) when she started recycling plots throughout her books. I happened upon 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 in a Paris bookstore and found it immediately charming and powerful糖心传媒攊n fact, kind of a classic example of this spare disembodied style that she was cultivating. It almost reads like a treatment for a film, so it makes complete sense to me that after writing this book she more or less abandoned fiction for film. During the thirteen years that followed she did write four short prose narratives糖心传媒攖he most well known of these is The Malady of Death糖心传媒攂ut essentially did not write another novel until The Lover.

I can糖心传媒檛 say why no one had attempted a translation yet. It is a very experimental prose style and a very experimental novel in that not much really happens. Yet it has been written about by countless critics, all of whom were doing their own translations of the small excerpts they wished to discuss. I had approached a couple of different publishers, but this is a quirky book, even for Duras, who is quirky all on her own. Open Letter was very excited and enthusiastic about the book. They are doing a wonderful job and are devoted completely to literature in translation. They have another Duras book in their catalog (The Sailor from Gibraltar) and signed us up almost immediately.

JS: Since 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 is a centerpiece of the India Cycle, did the English translations of the other works in the cycle inform you? Were there stylistic or other elements in the translations that you decided you wanted to preserve or eschew?

KA: During the translation process I read every other translation I could find. Duras does sound a certain way in English through the excellent work of Barbara Bray. The few other Duras translations that exist have a different sense. Bray did an odd thing, which is that she did not 糖心传媒淎nglicize糖心传媒� the syntax very much, so the sentences still have that sometimes ornate overdone word order of a French sentence. In 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 Duras writes very simply, very plainly. So I found an inspiration in Gertrude Stein糖心传媒檚 English. But unlike Stein, Duras is in love with the comma糖心传媒攈er sentences can just keep going and going. So it took a draft or two to get the hang of the rhythme du sens, so to speak. Which糖心传媒攅ventually糖心传媒攕eemed really important and related to the constant sound of waves that permeates life at the ocean; meaning the sentence structure and grammar was part of the meaning糖心传媒攊t couldn糖心传媒檛 be changed.

Read the rest

Night.

The beach and the sea are in darkness.

A dog passes, going toward the sea wall.

No one walks on the boardwalk, but, on the benches lining it, people sit. They relax. Are silent. Separated from one another. They do not speak.

The traveler passes. He walks slowly, he goes in the same direction as the dog.

He stops. Returns. He seems to be out for a walk. He starts off again.

His face is no longer visible.

The sea is calm. No wind.

The traveler returns. The dog does not return. The sea begins to rise, it seems. Its sounds getting closer. Muffled thudding coming from the river糖心传媒檚 many mouths. Somber sky.

And as a special bonus, here’s a bit of Sharon Willis’s afterword:

尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 forgets. Of course, this is a novel about forgetting糖心传媒攁nd memory. But its narrative presents itself as dispossessed of the very memory that runs through it in the form of recycled figures and images that recall two of Duras糖心传媒檚 previous novels, The Ravishing of Lol V. Stein (1964) and The Vice Consul (1965). Sometimes known as the 糖心传媒淚ndia cycle,糖心传媒� this extended text, relayed across three books, performs its own forgetfulness, and imposes a frustrating糖心传媒攅ven terrifying糖心传媒攁mnesia on the reader. But to read 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 apart from the earlier novels presents another problem, this time more epistemological: without the trans-textual memory that structures and binds these three narratives into one prolonged text, how does 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 become legible?

Reducing characters to figures as residues, remnants, and fragments, this book produces a textual relay that becomes its own internal memory and that dissolves its narrative frame, substituting its memory of the previous texts for the reader糖心传媒檚 own, implanting memories in us. But like the dead dog on the beach to which 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 returns with unsettingly frequency糖心传媒攁s if this corpse structures the narrative space糖心传媒攖hese are figures in the course of deterioration. Memory is erasing itself. The dead dog, mentioned once in The Ravishing, reappears repeatedly in 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤. Around this dreadful site/sight, a hole in sense, circulate the unnamed residues of characters that the reader 糖心传媒渞emembers糖心传媒� from previous texts. Remembering here means fleshing out these haunting ghosts糖心传媒攚orn to nubs, 糖心传媒渟anded down,糖心传媒� to cite the translators糖心传媒攖ransposed from The Ravishing and The Vice Consul: Lol V. Stein, her fianc茅, Michael Richardson, and Jacques Hold, the narrator who tells their story while he gradually enters into it.

But instead of grinding to exhaustion in its obsessive return to these figures, this novel relaunches them糖心传媒攖ranslates them糖心传媒攊nto film, the medium that will preoccupy Duras in the coming years. Haunted by its shape-shifting textual ghosts (in French revenants; literally, one糖心传媒檚 coming back), 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 also anticipates a cycle of films marked by these same narrative remnants and traces: La Femme du Gange (1972), India Song (1974), and Son nom de Venise dans Calcutta d茅sert (1976). Situated at the join between the prose cycle and the cinematic one, 尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 produces a site of translation, a space where everything keeps turning into something else. Hence this text糖心传媒檚 fascination with liminal or threshold spaces: dawn, dusk, the crepuscular. We might even see this space as the place where we can watch this extended novel turning into cinema.

尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤 is a theater of translation, in which the ongoing conflict between eye and ear, image and speech, stillness and passage, present and past, endlessly mutates. This sense of ceaseless mutation coheres with the persistent boundary failures, between texts, between genres, between textual spaces and between the characters who uneasily inhabit them, that mark Duras糖心传媒檚 work in general, and that emerge within _尝糖心传媒橝尘辞耻谤_糖心传媒檚 narrative unfolding, troubling its ability even to begin and to end.

is available at better bookstores everywhere, or can be ordered from Open Letter “directly.” (And at a really nice discount . . .)