Reflections 4/25

 To me, the poems by Ginczanka related to human nature were a fresh addition to the talk. The metaphors and the subjects invite dwelling and deciphering. I found it interesting that her poetry was viewed as self-centered, and I think it was both true and natural given her age. At the same time, it is also a fact that her poetry displayed mastery of the form and imagery. I wish more was explored about how these two aspects of her poetry interacted together and why. It was helpful for me to learn that the original last line of the last poem by Ginczanka did not mention birds or implied the author was anyone's prey - it looks like this was one of the instances where some translators tried to make the poem what they wanted it to be, i.e. the poem of victimhood or martyrdom, rather than tried to understand the poem itself. I feel like there was also a level of fetishization that got inflicted on this poem because it was written during WWII and because it talks of material possessions. It is familiar and relatable - imagine someone set you up and went through your things - that's not too hard to imagine. Slashing a pupil to hit an empty socket empty as zero - not so much. Yet it seems that most or a lot of Ginczanka's poetry was more of the latter kind.
I disagree that someone's last poem must be their greatest one, or that someone's death means they would have written much more great poetry otherwise. I believe it is possible to value Ginczanka's art without making such assumptions, and that the less such assumptions we make, the more we can unbiasedly pay attention to what the author has written. 

"Revenge of the Translator" seems to be the author talking to himself, and I am not sure what made it important to listen. He talked of removing something because it "uselessly hinders the reader", yet to me his entire talking had the style that uselessly hindered following him. It felt like he enjoyed torturing himself over the text he didn't like, calling another writer "my author" to compensate for the lack of power he feels, excusing himself before an invisible judge with double negations like "this is surely not insignificant", and other things reflecting him being caught in mind games with his own self. If he wanted to write books instead of translate, he could do that. If he doesn't have respect for what he does - then why do it, let alone flaunt it and make it into a book? I feel that there is a normalization of disrespect in society.

"In Concrete" had a more lighthearted and clear narrative style, it was easy to follow and didn't weigh on the mind. There were some mentions here and there that made me wish to learn more about, that absorbed me into the picture and intrigued me. Even though the author does largely talk to herself here, too, she and their mind don't take the entire space and leave room for the reader to engage. In fact, the author's engagement with her own story works in a contagious way; it's clear she likes what she is writing about and likes writing about it. And so one wishes to be part of it. 

-Ksenia