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absolutebl · 3 years

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This Week In BL

April 2021 Part 5

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Close Friend Ep 2 (JaFirst) - First is a cat. No actually a cat. It was WEIRD. Cute, but creeping towards beastiality. It reminded me of that strange series out of China (@heretherebedork says Youth in the Breeze). The most amusing thing to me was that the cat used Thai formal linguistic register when of course cats would use informal rude guu mueng with EVERYONE. No cat would use pom. Don’t be ridiculous, Thailand.

Second Chance Ep 5 - still invested, things progressed for all 3 couples, in one direction or another. They cuties. I love them. Carry on.

Y-Destiny Ep 5 - the “virgin scoreboard” is gonna make the seme real hard to redeem with this pairing. If they bother. This might be a life lesson episode. What does it remind me of? Oh yes. Kids. *SHUDDER* Point of interest: did you notice Team uses ha with Mon? What a pushy flirt.

Lovely Writer Ep 10 - honestly I just love it when Poppy shows up in anything, why is he such a delightful screen presence? (Gene’s brother) Sorry, distracted. What happened in this one? Oh, ya know, stuff and things. Family drama. (It is just me or have they been giving us some long ass episodes lately?) Obligatory beach trip activated. (Result = dumb probability mathematics jokes.) Next week it looks like we have Keeping Actor’s Closeted 101. You know the Casting Couch? This is the Casting Closet.

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 4 - early stage confession, how fun. It’s not unprecedented it just usually means we are in 4 act structure, not 3, which means Fish might go more serious than I thought. Honestly? I’m losing interest mostly because I’ve gone from mild annoyance to active dislike of Pi. Happened to me with Tine too. They better redeem this obtuse tsundere uke soon or he’s not tsundere at all he’s just a jackwit.

Brothers Ep 13 fin - a kiss and the family finds out about the not-so-brotherly brothers, drama, graduation, THE END. My side-dish happy heart made thumps over Q + delivery boy, I’m sad they got so little screen time. My babies KhunKaow did get a tiny coming out sequence as such. I’m seriously considering doing myself a bootleg of just the KhunKaow plot, but that means I’d have to rewatch the whole darn series and I can’t STAND the idea. Which should give you insight into how not good this show it. Very NOT good. Must we get a season 2? Please stop now, Line.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 7 - Muren is the cutest peanut and anyone who says otherwise can fight me, although they probably have to go through Licheng first. I was NOT invested in these two at the beginning, but as a couple? They own my soul. The other storyline is still the dumpster fire that I can’t decide to roast marshmallows over (knowing they’ll get tinged with eu de trash) or flee from in horror clutching my pearls and my nose. H4 continues to provide the quality psyche torture I’ve come to expect from this franchise. *sarcastic thumbs up* *** A word on seeing Boxiang show up (side dish from H3:MODC). It was an unexpected pleasure, I loved his pairing (May/December is a winner for me *glares at Method*) but I do think it was a bone from the franchise telling us that we are never getting that spin-off or reboot that people yearn for. However, how AWESOME that Licheng has someone to go to and ask about topping properly. Otherwise he’s sure to have screwed it up. (Pun intended.)

Papa & Daddy (Tailwan) Ep 1-2 - this came out of nowhere and is ADORABLE. Applies a ton of BL tropes (cheek kiss, his closet, B&W stripes, drag baby around, boop) but what IS it? More slice of gay domesticity than romance. Like 2019′s Kinou Nani Tabeta? or currently airing Close Friend. I enjoy this style, very wholesome, but I’m not sure what to call it. (Bonus points for cutie lesbians.) A bit weird to have a kid with your partner and STILL not be out to your parents. I hope they aren’t going to throw in a break up for dramatic effect.

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 4 - I’m really enjoying this series. It’s unabashedly queer, although there’s some problematic stuff lurking under the wig. How it ends is gonna dictate if they handled this stylishly. But hot damn the leads ZING on screen together and their crackling prank-flirting is a joy to watch.

Word of Honor (China) Ep 31-33 - moving into the home stretch. Big rescue and the band is back together (presumably for the final slaughter). Then a death! *this is my shocked face* Did I tear up? Of course I did. 4 act structure is designed for maximum pathos during the final 1/4. Did we all faint from the symbolism of the love token hair stick being gently thrust into Ah Xu’s bun? Sure we did. All that and sill I’m flagging. This is a long-arse show. Save me, Korea, with your iItsy bitsy teenie weenie...

Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (Korea) Ep 5-6 - I am getting such strong 12th Night vibes from this. Tae Hyung is now brigadier of BL’s historical himbo brigade. (To be deployed whenever you are in need of poetry or a cut sleeve.) This show is all ridiculous charm and I LOVE it. Although, five seconds of Lee Sang is not enough Lee Sang. I had to immediately rewatch Wish You.

Gossip

Nitiman gave us an actor intro BTS teaser.

Kang In Soo (AKA Kyang Insoo) posted a cute behind the photo shoot of Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding plus a silly interview with Jang Eui Soo on his YouTube channel (you should subscribe, it’s a fun channel, his fitness regime is both insane and inspiring).

My Engineer 2 dropped a couch interview with the boys but it feels like one that was filmed a while ago (oh and no subs).

STARTING SOON: Nitiman, Love Area, Top Secret Together, Be Loved in House, & I Promised You The Moon

Nitiman (Thai) May 7, One 31. University set, moons, engineering students, enemies to lovers, adapted. - Looks to be a solid 2 Moons knock off, I’m in.

Love Area (Thai) May 8, AIS Play, 10 eps total. Restaurant set, stars Pak Chavitpong (the only good thing about Cupid Coach) and the OST is sung by Jeff Satur (Ingredients). - It’s boys in love revolving around food = my kryptonite, try to stop me from watching this probable trash.

Top Secret Together (Thai) May 14, Line TV. 5 couples, one IRL (Newyear from I Am Your King), story arcs revolve around secrets. - I’m getting fatigued by these multi-couple sampler pack dramas, but I’ll try it for Newyear’s sake.

Be Loved in House: I Do (Taiwan YES!) May 20, Viki. Office set, relationships prohibited at work by a new boss, one of the employees is determined to figure out why. Grumpy/tsundere pairing so loads of drama. - I am so flipping excited for this one. A 4th BL series from Taiwan in less than a year? That’s unprecedented. GO BABY ISLAND GO!

I Promised You the Moon (Thai) May 27, Line TV. Follow up to I Told Sunset About You with the boys now at university. - I won’t be watching this as I have yet to finish season 1.

Possibly Gameboys season 2. - Rumors are all over the place right now on this.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

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riversofmars · 3 years

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Hope you enjoy the next lot of twists and turns coming up! :D

Charter 11: Past Prologue

Edinburgh, 2021

“I’m not sure we’re gonna find anything here…“ Ryan scanned the dressing room. It was a very neutral area. Barton was not the sort of person to make himself comfortable anywhere, particularly if it was just for the duration of a speech. “Not like he was here any length of time…“ Ryan’s eyes fell on the only item that wasn’t part of the furnishings. “Unless…“

“Forgot his jacket.“ Graham grinned and picked up the coat that had been flung over the side of an armchair. She reached into the pockets and quickly found what he was looking for: “Wallet.“ He announced, pleased with himself and opened it.

“Anything interesting?“ Ryan asked, looking over his grandfather’s shoulder, just as a business card fell out.

“Card…“ Graham picked it up and read: “Anastasis Project. Rings any bells?“ He turned it in his hand while Ryan gave a shrug. There was nothing else on the card apart from the name.

“Let’s meet up with the others.“ Ryan said, and they took the wallet and the coat with them.

“You didn’t follow him?“ Graham asked surprised when they found the rest of the team waiting outside.

“We’ve attached a transponder to his car but he didn’t exactly sound like he was going to see his contacts, quite the contrary, he’s going to be staying away and laying low.“ Jack explained.

“He’s certainly provided some kind of financial support, even if he’s not directly involved.“ Kate’s voice sounded in their ear-pieces.

“Let’s see where the money goes.“ Martha said and Ryan asked:

“Is there anything referring to an Anastasis Project in his portfolio?“ There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Meanwhile, they passed around the wallet and the business card.

“Not as such… but it seems like one of his research funds is supporting such a project.“ One of the Osgoods spoke at last. “Freelance. No direct ties.“

“Of course, so he can’t be made responsible for it.“ Gwen huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Do we have the address to an office or anything like that?“ Jack asked.

“There is a registered address, yes, probably fake though…“ Kate supplied, sounding doubtful.

“Still worth checking out.“ Ryan shrugged. It was better than returning to base with nothing. Whether they would have admitted it or not, being back in action made them realise how much they had missed it. Maybe they just weren’t made for the quiet life.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd century

“You lied to me.“ The Doctor growled at the Master. She took a couple of steps back, bringing some distance between herself and the two men. Her mind was reeling. She should have known better, she had been through it so many times. A little part of her had believed the Master would at least value the idea of a family enough to forgo a blatant lie. She had seen it when Missy had given her condolences upon learning of River’s death. The Master had always respected her relationship with River. It should have extended to their child. Or so she had hoped. Hope was so hard to resist. But in the end, the Master never failed to disappoint her.

“I did no such thing, I had no idea.“ The Master retorted and his voice was surprisingly calm and measured. He watched his doppelgänger, seemingly trying to figure out what was going on. They were identical, that was for sure but there was something unfamiliar about him too. His delight at the novelty of it had passed, now he required answers.

“Oh I see what’s happening, you're getting the wrong end of the stick here.“ The other Master grinned, clapping his hands joyfully. “See, I didn’t expect you to bring him.“ He carried on, gesturing to the Master. “I didn’t expect you, either, Doctor. Not this version of you. Last I saw you, you were so much younger… What happened to your little human friends? I really hope they died. Painfully. Not that he’s any better, mind, but I really hated those two… that mouthy med-tech and the do-gooder linguist… I should really have killed them when I had the chance…“ He carried on, and the Doctor couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. That part of her life had been lifetimes ago. Five lifetimes to be exact.

“What are you talking about?“ She asked, bewildered. She had met the Master so many times since then, when he had been posed as Harold Saxon, when he had been Missy…

“Oh, Doctor, do I have to spell it out for you? Is old age finally getting to you?“ He chuckled patronisingly, and the Doctor looked at the Master she had arrived with, wondering if he might have answers. He looked just as confused as she felt. “You don’t really think I’m the Master, do you? The Master!“ The other man cackled like it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

“Then who are you?“ The Doctor pressed through gritted teeth. She hated feeling stupid.

“Your greatest enemy, of course.“ He took a dramatic bow which only served to infuriate the Master next to her more. His eyes flashed dangerously as recognition appeared to dawn on him.

“How did this happen?“ The Master took a threatening step towards the other man.

“What are you talking about?“ The Doctor frowned. Perhaps she had been wrong. There was something familiar about the other Master but the more she heard him speak, the less she believed her initial assessment. Something was very wrong here.

“I should have made sure you were dead last time around.“ The Master spat, baring his teeth at the other man whilst clearly contemplating how he would accomplish the feat again.

“Ah recognition at last. If that imbecile can figure it out, surely you can, Doctor. Has it really been so long for you that you don’t remember me anymore?“ The other Master smirked at the Doctor. “The fun we’ve had.“ He giggled, his voice changing slightly. “Gallifrey? The Crucible of Souls? Artron’s Tomb? You were there for that one, too.“ He winked at the Master.

“Spit it out already!“ The Doctor snapped as a terrible thought crossed her mind. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Oh dear, you don’t have the same presence I used to have.“ The man’s voice changed and suddenly sounded an awful lot more familiar to the Doctor. “I’m frightfully hurt, old chum.“ His voice changed again, laughing and then he barked: “Can we just kill her already.“

“No.“ Colour drained from the Doctor’s face. They should be dead. She was sure of it.

“So what are you doing impersonating me?“ The Master cut in, having had enough of the exchange.

“Impersonating you? I think you’ll find I’ve had this face much longer than you! I wear it better too.“ The other man grinned. “Also, I don’t do impersonations anymore, not since… well, the Nine?“ He looked at the Doctor ravelling in the look of shock on her face. “Remember that, Doctor? I impersonated you and then you impersonated me, and that was just embarrassing.“ He laughed as the Doctor just shook her head incredulously.

“You’re lying. The Twelve died on Gallifrey.“ She was sure of it. The Twelve had died in an explosion, their body had never been recovered.

“Yes. I was there. I am the Thirteen.“ The Thirteen smirked, satisfied that finally, the penny seemed to have dropped.

“You can’t be, you are a future version of him.“ She pointed to the Master. Her experiences with the Eleven and the Twelve had been lifetimes ago. Thousands of years of her own life, before the Time War, there was no way he was here now. “I don’t know why I trusted you.“ She snapped at the Master next to her.

“Now that’s something you should never do.“ The Thirteen agreed, enjoying watching them bicker. They would be far easier to deal with if they weren’t working together.

“Just you wait till I get my hands on you.“ The Master snarled at the Thirteen. “Believe what you will, Doctor, but do you not think you might be getting a little distracted from why we’re really here?“ His dark eyes darted around the room. They weren’t alone anymore. Soldiers were lining at the edges of the room, slowly advancing towards them. It was a trap. “Even if that is a future version of me, which I can assure you, it’s not…“

“The very thought…“ The Thirteen chuckled.

“Do you not have something to ask of the nice man here?“ The Master urged and the Doctor overcame her disbelief at the situation she found herself in. The Master had a point. They were here for a very good reason. Regardless of whether this man was the Thirteen, the Master or Rassilon himself, her question remained the same.

“Where is my son?“ The Doctor fixed her eyes on the Thirteen, her voice turning low and threatening. Enough of the games.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?“ The Thirteen feigned shock and grasped his chest. “Did you lose someone precious to you?“

“Whoever you are, you know something.“ The Doctor took a threatening step towards him.

“Well, he’s not here if that’s what you’re asking.“ The Thirteen gave a dismissive wave. “In fact, Doctor, I hadn’t really planned for this detour.“ He gestured around the room. “But it does get one thing out of the way…“

“What’s that?“ The Doctor shot back.

“You.“ the Thirteen grinned, and as if on cue the soldiers pointed their guns at her and the Master.

“Thanks for bringing her here, really, couldn’t have calculated it better myself.“ The Thirteen gave the Master a grin. “And just to be perfectly clear, Doctor, that we’re not the same person? I’ll have him killed, too.“ He glanced back to the Doctor who was looking around. The TARDIS was not far behind them. Was there time to turn and run? But if they ran, they wouldn’t find out what he knew.

“I will tear you limb from limb this time around.“ The Master’s eyes flashed dangerously as he recalled killing the Eleven. It was a bit of a blur, too many of his past selves had been present, but he recalled the deed well enough to be sure it happened. This time, he would make sure he couldn’t regenerate.

“What was it you said last time we met about compassion?“ The Thirteen looked to the Master. “I distinctly remember your lady version saying you weren’t without it… Well, I am. Which is why I will win and you will lose.“ He smirked.

“Still think that’s me?“ The Master looked to the Doctor who was at a loss for words.

“I…“

“Any clever ideas, Doctor?“ The Master stepped closer to the Doctor as the guards advanced further.

“The Doctor and the Master, sitting in a trap, K I L L I N G.“ The Thirteen sang. “No, doesn’t really work.“ He huffed. “Open fire on my mark.“ He called his men.

“OI!“ A female voice called out and suddenly an explosion rocked them, and the hangar filled with smoke.

——

Demon’s Run, Holding Cells, 52nd Century

“Here we go…“ River mumbled, connecting one last cable, as the force field turned off. “You'll be a good boy now, okay?“ She mumbled and pressed a kiss to her son’s head. This wasn’t exactly the right environment for a newborn but she didn’t have a choice.

There was an explosion somewhere, and alarms started wailing.

“Sounds like it’s the right time to get out of here.“ River soothed her son as he started crying because of the noise. She held him close as she walked down the corridor. She had to find a way off this space station. Her best bet would be the hangar bay.

“Professor Song!“ A voice called behind her suddenly and River whipped around as it was familiar and welcome.

“Madame Vastra!“ River exclaimed as she spotted the lizard woman who was just climbing out of a maintenance hatch.

“You’re… alive…“ Vastra marvelled at seeing her like this. Not just a consciousness trapped on a data stick but alive and whole and with her son in her arms. The relief and joy Vastra felt in that moment overshadowed all past anguish up until this point.

“Courtesy of my captors.“ River answered with a smirk as she stepped closer while Vastra helped another woman out of the tight hatch who River hadn’t met before. She could only presume she was a friend at the obvious relief on her face, too.

“Are you okay? Both of you?“ The girl asked, straightening herself up next to Vastra, and River nodded. Perhaps getting off this rock wouldn’t be so difficult after all, now that the cavalry had arrived.

“Professor, I’m so sorry, we tried…“ Vastra felt the overwhelming urge to make her apologies. She reached out and touched the little boy’s head, hoping to convey her deep regret for having failed to protect him.

“It’s okay, we’re okay, shall we chat later? And get out of here first?“ River gave her an encouraging smile. She didn’t blame her, how could she? Without knowing any details of what had happened, she knew that Vastra, Jenny and Strax would have done their utmost to keep her child safe. If they had failed to do so it could only have been through overwhelming odds. And now they had come to their rescue. They were the most loyal of friends. “I imagine we will have company soon. I may have tripped some alarms when I broke out of my cell.“ River pointed out the flashing lights and sirens while she tried to calm her son down.

“This way. We have a ship.“ Vastra nodded in agreement, and they rushed down the corridor. They had no time to lose.

“Now, now, Melody, can’t leave you alone for two minutes.“ They came to an abrupt halt as Madame Kovarian, backed by numerous soldiers, appeared at the top of the corridor they were heading towards.

“Yaz, take the long way around, take her to our ship!“ Vastra pulled her sword from its sheath and grabbed a blaster with the other. “Now!“

“But what about…“ Yaz started protesting.

“I will buy you some time, go!“ Vastra insisted, staring down the guards that were advancing towards them.

“Vastra!“ River grabbed her friend’s arm. They had to get out of here, they had to run, but they should be doing it together. She could risk her son getting injured. As much as River wanted to fight and finally, finally put an end to Madame Kovarian, her mother's instincts gripped her more tightly. She had to keep her son safe.

“It’s okay, you two go and don’t look back! I will find Jenny and Strax, we will make our own way. NOW GO!“ Vastra insisted with steely determination.

“I will find a way to come back for you!“ River promised hastily.

“GO!“ Vastra snapped and Yaz grabbed River’s arm. There was no arguing with Vastra.

“Thank you.“ River breathed and allowed herself to be pulled along.

——

London, 2021

“Dead end.“ Jack huffed, looking around. They found themselves in front of an empty plot with nothing but a post box in a dodgy area of town. They hadn’t all been able to go. Edinburgh to London was quite the track so they had decided to split up. Mickey, Martha and Gwen had returned to the Torchwood hub while Jack had taken Ryan and Graham for a ride with his vortex manipulator. Three was the limit, despite various modifications. “Thought it might happen. Nothing but a company shell…“ Jack carried on as they walked onto the abandoned plot. There was a bit of rubble and grass but nothing much. It was wedged between two warehouses.

“But then why have the card?“ Ryan mused, turning it in his hand.

“Why indeed.“ A voice sounded and suddenly the three men found themselves surrounded by four thugs that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“What the…“ Jack reached for his gun but before he could do so, they each had one pointed at their heads.

“See, we might not be able to make you disappear easily but that doesn’t mean we make you disappear another way. You can be useful after all. We need some new subjects.“ One of the men grinned, and the Torchwood agents realised they had fallen into a trap.

——

Demon’s Run, Main Hanger, 52nd Century

It was utter chaos but the Doctor quickly figured out what was happening when he heard a familiar voice yelling:

“DIE ALIEN SCUM!“

“Strax?!“ The Doctor yelled through the smoke, ducking a laser blast, one of the few things visible in the smoke.

“Not to worry, Doctor, we’re here!“ Jenny called back and they found each other quickly, following the other’s voice.

“How did you get here?“ The Doctor asked surprised and delighted at once.

“Could ask you the same thing!“ Jenny retorted looking around not to get caught out. For the time being, Strax appeared to be doing an excellent job of dealing with the soldiers.

“We thought this might be where they’ve taken my son.“ The Doctor answered quickly.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s definitely where they took your wife.“ Jenny replied quickly and pulled the Doctor behind a crate. She fired at two soldiers that emerged from the smoke dangerously close to them.

“My wife? River is here?!“ The Doctor exclaimed in disbelief. She was in shock, her words barely registered. How could River possibly be here?

“Her consciousness anyway. Some Timelord who calls himself the Thirteen stole it from the Library. We followed him here.“ Jenny carried on to explain.

“So it is him…“ The Doctor mumbled, trying to get things straight in her head.

“Told you, didn’t I, he’s not me!“ The Master found them behind the crate and took cover as well.

“Then why have you got the same face?“ The Doctor shot back angrily.

“I don’t know, Doctor, do I, do you think I’m thrilled he’s running around giving me a bad name?“ The Master bit back just as angrily.

“You do that all by yourself, usually.“ She snapped back.

“And you are…“ Jenny was at a loss for a moment.

“The Master.“ The Doctor answered before he could.

“Right… well, this Thirteen fellow…“ Jenny decided not to comment for the time being. There had to be a good reason for why the Master was here, seemingly with the Doctor.

“Looks exactly like him, you can’t miss him. And we have to find him, I want some answers! And River…“ The Doctor looked out from behind the crate, most of the hangar was still shrouded in smoke.

“We will find her. Vastra and Yaz are looking for her as well. We will get both of them back.“ Jenny explained hastily.

“Touching reunion and all but perhaps we might deal with the more pressing issue at hand? The bomb will go off at any moment.“ The Master announced and instructed: “Everybody get down.“

“What?“ The Doctor looked back at him incredulous. She straightened up a little to glance over the top of the crate but the Master pulled her down.

“Duck!“ He snapped, just as an explosion shook the hangar deck. He had clearly been busy in the moments before rejoining them.

“What the…“ The Doctor shoved him off and stood quickly, assessing the damage. “Why did you do that?“ She shook her head in disbelief at the destruction in front of her. Half the hangar had blown up, emergency force fields had jumped into place where the hull had ripped away.

“How about a ‘thank you Master’?“ The Master scrambled to his feet and brushed off his suit. “I just laid waste to your enemies. It was fun too.“ He grinned.

“Excellent maneuverer, Sir.“ Strax came up behind them, and Jenny let out a sigh of relief upon seeing him. He could very well have been caught up in the Master’s explosion.

“I’m glad someone appreciates it.“ The Master huffed.

“It wasn’t necessary!“ The Doctor snapped, scanning the room. Most of the enemy soldiers were dead, some of the wounded tried to pull themselves up but they seemed to have lost the appetite for fighting. The Doctor quickly realised why: they were leaderless. “Where is he? Where is the Thirteen?“ She looked around, panicked. They couldn’t have lost him.

“Oh I hope I incinerated him… stealing my face, how dare he…“ The Master mumbled and the Doctor turned on her heels.

“I need him for answers!“ She snapped.

“Perhaps I can oblige.“ A voice called from the other end of the hangar and as they all looked around, they recognised Vastra and with her, being shoved along, Madame Kovarian.

“Vastra!“ Jenny called in relief and rushed over to her wife.

“Madame Kovarian…“ The Doctor’s response was more measured as she narrowed her eyes.

“Oh don’t tell me, a new face.“ Kovarian gave the Doctor a once-over and groaned in annoyance. It was bad enough to have her men bested by a lizard woman, this was adding insult to injury. The Doctor came to meet them halfway as Jenny flung herself around her wife’s neck.

“I should have known you were involved.“ The Doctor clenched her jaw, trying her best not to let her feelings overwhelm her. Instead, she decided to focus on the important questions: “Where is River? Where are you keeping her consciousness?“

“She escaped in our shuttle.“ Vastra cut in, letting go of Jenny at last.

“What?“ The Doctor looked at her confused.

“They’re gone, they got away. And it’s not just her consciousness either, they brought her body back, too.“ Vastra explained more patiently. She smiled contently, River would be safe now.

“Really?“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say. A wide grin spread across her face. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. She tried not to let herself get swept away in the excitement, keep a level head until she had actually seen River and made sure that she was okay. But she trusted Vastra and she would never doubt her. River was alive. The reality of it still had to sink in.

“Yaz took her back to our shuttle while I was dealing with them.“ Vastra continued. “And your son, too, Doctor.“ She added more softly.

“He’s here, too?“ Tears of joy jumped to the Doctor’s eyes.

“Oh Doctor, you just keep falling for the same trick, don’t you.“ Kovarian cut in, a cruel smile creeping onto her features.

——

Dorium’s Shuttle, 52nd Century

River collapsed against the bulkhead, cradling her son to her chest. Her hearts were racing in her chest, she tried to catch her breath. They had done it.

“Dorium…“ She gasped a greeting but managed a small smile, despite her exhaustion.

“Nice to see you in one piece, Professor, and in the flesh too, pardon the pun.“ Dorium mirrored her fond expression. He had been sat waiting, unable to do anything to help and it was a relief to see they were being successful.

“We can’t stay, Dorium, Vastra said to go, they will find their own way later.“ Yaz explained as she joined them on the bridge. “We need to get the Professor and her child to safety.“

“Certainly.“ Dorium agreed. “Where to, Professor?“

“Luna University, all my things are there.“ River answered after brief consideration and Yaz nodded, working the controls with Dorium’s help. As soon as the air corridor had detached from Demon’s Run and wheeled in, they set off with a jerk, putting distance between the space station and themselves.

“Are you okay?“ Yaz asked, looking at River who had settled in a chair with her child.

“Getting there…“ River sighed. “I’m sorry, I barely caught your name?“

“Yasmin Khan, friends call me Yaz.“ Yaz answered with a smile, watching her rock her son.

“You’re a friend of the Doctor’s?“ River deduced and she nodded.

“And you’re her wife. And mother to her child.“ Yaz smiled.

“Her?“ River raised her eyebrows, surprised. “My, things have changed… how long have I been in that Library for?“ She shook her head to herself.

“Miss Khan, if you could be so kind and jump us into hyper speed, there is only so much a head can do.“ Dorium said. “I will be very glad if I never have to see Demon’s Run ever again.“

“Likewise.“ River chuckled and Yaz turned back to the controls:

“My pleasure.“

It happened as the stars blurred outside and River screamed. The connection severed. Her son disappeared from her arms, dissolving into a white substance, dripping onto the floor. A flesh avatar.

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gurguliare · 7 years

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I would love your thoughts on Dirhavel, vocaroo or text? Just because you were recently blogging about Hurin and I suppose this is kind of related. :)

A lot of my interest in Dirhavel is in his sources. The most detailed description we get of who he consulted in composing the Narn is from a pretty early stage of Tolkien’s legendarium-composition, which, let me just paste that here:

…this lay was the work of a Mannish poet, Dirhavel, who lived at the Havens in the days of Earendel and theregathered all the tidings and lore that he could of the House ofHador, whether among Men or Elves, remnants and fugitivesof Dorlomin, of Nargothrond, or of Doriath. From Mablung he learned much; and by fortune also he found a man namedAndvir, and he was very old, but was the son of that Androgwho was in the outlaw-band of Turin, and alone survived thebattle on the summit of Amon Rudh.(2) Otherwise all that timebetween the flight of Turin from Doriath and his coming toNargothrond, and Turin’s deeds in those days, would haveremained hidden, save the little that was remembered amongthe people of Nargothrond concerning such matters as Gwindoror Turin ever revealed. In this way also the matter of Mim andhis later dealings with Hurin were made clear. This lay was allthat Dirhavel ever made, but it was prized by the Elves andremembered by them. Dirhavel they say perished in the last raidof the sons of Feanor upon the Havens. His lay was composedin that mode of verse which was called Minlamad thent / estent.

Okay. So the first glaring Problem is Mablung: we know Mablung didn’t escape Doriath in the final timeline. But of course Mablung is in all other ways the ideal source for the Narn poet—we need that Mablung’s eye view on Nienor and Morwen on the trip to Nargothrond, Turin as he was that final morning in Brethil, etc. There’s another possibility, I suppose, which is that Dirhavel talks to one of the unnamed riders who form the rest of Morwen’s escort and (perhaps?) escape the clusterfuck at Nargothrond to ride out with Mablung again when he goes seeking Nienor and Turin in Brethil—but that’s not super satisfying, unless we can come up with anything else about the rider. We could also think in terms of people Mablung might choose as a confidante. Beleg’s out. Melian’s out, unfortunately. Hmm. Well, let me not string you along, I obviously have an idea here, although it’s a stupid one: NELLAS. Maybe a) Mablung started talking to Nellas after the trial/Beleg’s disappearance, since no one else was going to keep her updated and she was not going to stop creepily staring at him from a tree until he gave her an answer … b) it developed into a genuine friendship?? … c) Nellas took inspiration from Nienor and disguised herself as one of the riders who go with Mablung to Brethil? Or just legitimately went as a volunteer, who cares. Or like, everyone knew she was going along as a volunteer, but she still went in disguise, because it made her feel better.

…Hmm. Anyway, my point is, I like the idea of Nellas among the refugees in Sirion, and I like the idea of her making Dirhavel promise that he’ll list “Mablung” as his source, not “Nellas, who hates publicity.” I think it fits well in a few other ways—we know she spoke (and passed on to Turin) the beautiful ancient Doriath dialect or whatever, and one of the few pieces of information we’re given about Dirhavel is that he “has great skill in” Sindarin, which suggests to me not just fluency but mastery of multiple registers and a linguistic interest in Sindarin’s character as a language: maybe he got some material from Nellas, or it was what allowed him to talk to Nellas in the first place, or ideally both. Also, I have no basis for this actually, but Nellas seems like the kind of person who would be a really good mimic, A+ impressions—I hope this played a role in her teaching Turin about animals—and again I think it would be cool if there really was this feeling of Nellas like, channeling Mablung for the purposes of getting his testimony, in kind of the flip of Beleg summoning her for Turin’s trial.

Downsides to this theory: CoH specifically says that “Nellas of Doriath never saw [Túrin] again, and his shadow passed from her.” I don’t want to take this from Nellas!! I want to let his shadow pass from her! Still, I feel like ‘burning voyeuristic curiosity’ is distinct from ‘helpless loyalty to a memory,’ so maybe I can fudge it.

Moving on, I’m also suuuuuuuper interested in what “the people of Nargothrond” means here tbh. GWINDOR SURVIVED AND WENT TO THE HAVENS jk I love the freaking jab about “the little that… Gwindor or Turin ever revealed” too much to tamper with his post-mortem reticence, at least for the duration of this theory post. But, so, people from Nargothrond… I mean, I guess what puzzles me is the idea that it’s specifically Nargothrond’s survivors who know what happened to Mim, for example. Does that mean there were survivors in the area up to 5 years after the sack?? I guess that makes sense, now I think about it—people living off the land/going from part-time woodelf back to full-time woodelf, people who were left for dead in the battle—but I had never considered it before and it’s kind of weirding me out. Or do we imagine that Glaurung reserved a subset of the prisoners for his own slaves? That’s. Uhhh. Weird. I really don’t know what to picture for “witnesses to Mim’s death,” although I guess they could just have found the body after Hurin left. That’s a little more reasonable. That said what would make way MORE sense would be for Mim to have been one of the sources, given how many private Turin-Mim conversations are recorded. I realize Androg is supposed to have been eavesdropping but did he REALLY relay ALL of his eavesdropping to his adult son. Also, if you were Mim, would you not take this golden opportunity to pointedly enter your own “death” into the historical record

“I actually just camouflaged with the hoard because I was wearing so much shiny shit at that point. But listen, I saw his face, he WOULD have killed me if he hadn’t been busy playing hackey-sack with the Nauglamir. What do you mean he threw himself into the ocean somewhere near here, why would the ocean kill him, this isn’t safe”

…As for Dirhavel himself, I don’t know if I have a ton of headcanons. I guess I was thinking of him (??) as the kid of refugees from Brodda’s house, although man, now that I say that that feels like the kind of thing that would absolutely be mentioned if ‘true.’ Okay, here’s my thinking: I imagine him growing up in the Havens, not having ever been himself enslaved by the Easterlings, even as a child, and I also assume he was at least late 30s/40 when he died, so it would make SENSE if his parent(s) escaped in the 490s, and… hm. I guess that’s not super strong evidence. Because he’s listed as a man of the House of Hador and not, say, a man with a Hadorian mother and a Haladin father or something, I was thinking it would make sense if both his parents came from Dor-lomin and knew each other before Sirion, which was much more of a melting pot, but there’s really a bunch of unjustified assumptions I’m making there that don’t stand up to close examination, so, eh. On the other hand it’s kind of cute. Look. Whatever. I’m going to arbitrarily say I also picture him being related to Asgon. OH the other reason I was thinking about Brodda-refugees was because I was like, “where would the special affinity for Sindarin have come from,” and we know Brodda specifically seized most of Hurin’s holdings/people, and like sure everyone spoke Sindarin by then but I imagine nowhere moreso than in Hurin and Morwen’s service? To be polite to all the elf ambassadors constantly tramping through the garden if nothing else? So, that is my still deeply shaky basis. Thanks.

I was going to throw in some bullshit meta at the end here about blah blah the longest lay from those days not because more stuff HAPPENS in the Narn but because of the human preference for some granular description in the language whereas elves save the details for the telepathic music video, and also about the elves prizing the Narn because elf musicians never INTERVIEW people, the survivors of Nargothrond have never been INTERVIEWED before, no one ever talks to us!! It’s so enlivening. Then I decided I wouldn’t type it out. Then apparently I typed it out anyway. I do love the Narn being composed in Sirion because it really captures something about Sirion’s feeling of ill-defined urgency, like, we know we have to do SOMETHING… it’s all down to us… but what…… and in what timeframe… oh god, are we going to have to talk it out. I like the mechanical constraints—it can’t be a Numenorean reconstruction or whatever because it’s too immediate and living a piece of history, and he wants it to be history, and yet the Narn is in some senses about the end of history for Beleriand, or the end of its great bastions, so how do you get it written? Well, by engineering one more pause for breath. Okay. Sirion. And Dirhavel running around in the middle of that is someone I FEEL like I have a very clear image of, even if I haven’t actually talked about hypothetical personality at all here, nor would I because I suck at textual ghosts. Cute, though.

#Anonymous #no one expects the fannish inquisition #silmarillion #holy shit this is long.#'maybe i should go back and put in some thoughts on andvir--' 'MAYBE NOT'#dirhavel #nellas #sirion

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how2to18 · 6 years

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NONFICTION SECTIONS of our bookstores feature two radically different kinds of books on the human condition. They update the age-old question — do humans soar with the angels or grovel with the beasts — by arguing for or against human exceptionalism.

The first kind of book still assumes humans are the crown of creation, but now resorts to highlighting our “glorious” free will, consciousness, morality, culture, and so on. Many anthropology books dance around this theme, not denying evolution per se but presenting humans as “a spectacular evolutionary anomaly.” Other animals are invoked not so much for what they can do, but for what they cannot do.

The second kind of book resolutely insists on a biological framework, describing us as one animal among many and stressing our kinship with other species. In this regard, consider the amygdala, that pea-shaped part of the brain that has recently received so much press. Activated by both fear in rats and phobias in humans, it has a common function across species. Last year’s Behave by Robert Sapolsky, a Stanford primatologist and neuroscientist, exemplifies this second type of book, insisting on the neural organization and transmitters we share with all other mammals.

As a student of animal behavior, I won’t hide my overwhelming preference for the second approach, especially after the last few decades when cognitive science has blown big drafty holes in the wall supposedly separating us from the rest of nature. Focusing on human uniqueness is like having eyes only for the tip of the iceberg, whereas we need to grasp the whole submerged mountain to know where we come from. Books that set us apart face the problem not just of shrinking evidence, but also of evolutionary continuity: how to reconcile the slow and smooth transitions of evolution with the assumption that humans represent a fundamental departure? William James, the founder of American psychology, pointed out this dilemma more than a century ago. He predicted that if we keep assuming that humans alone are thinking, self-aware beings, then we’ll have great trouble explaining our origin: “We ought ourselves sincerely to try every possible mode of conceiving the dawn of consciousness so that it may not appear equivalent to the irruption into the universe of a new nature, non-existent until then.”

Cecilia Heyes’s Cognitive Gadgets addresses the perceived human difference by proposing precisely the kind of irruption James warned against. A British expert of animal cognition, Heyes has made waves in her country by questioning nearly every new discovery in this burgeoning field. When chimpanzees were said to recognize their own reflection by inspecting a mark painted on their face, Heyes proposed that they just randomly touch themselves in front of a mirror. When it was reported that Japanese macaques learn how to wash sweet potatoes from watching each other, Heyes suggested that they very well might have been chased into the ocean while holding a spud. Simple associative learning, she argues, is the key to nearly everything animals do. While few of her armchair hypotheses have held up, it is no surprise that after decades of pooh-poohing the abilities of other species, Heyes needs a miracle to explain how we got where we are today. Her answer is that we have culturally invented new ways of learning. These are our “gadgets.” We are masters of imitation, for example, not because we possess mirror neurons or are endowed with a special instinct, but thanks to a uniquely human advance: matching the movements that we see with the movements that we make, and vice versa. Thus, a recent paper by Heyes carried the title: “Imitation: Not in Our Genes.” It’s a cultural innovation.

Her proposal for shoring up our exceptionality ignores the overwhelming evidence for spontaneous matching of movements in other species. Why else do we have the verb “aping”? Fireflies flash in unison, dolphins jump out of the water as one, and a monkey who watches another monkey press a button will press its own button in perfect synchrony. Heyes also downplays the fact that human copying starts so early in life that a cultural explanation is unlikely. It is well-documented, for example, that human babies stick out their tongue in response to an experimenter doing the same, a reaction also seen in other infant primates. Her denial that this even happens has her clashing with developmental psychologists, who went so far as to reanalyze the data in her favorite study. Instead of finding the “mortal blow” to neonatal imitation she had touted, they actually found support for it. Regardless of who is right here, the deeper problem is that Heyes tries to account for human exceptionalism by bypassing evolution, which doesn’t permit the sort of jumps she envisions. A cultural explanation is a poor alternative, though, because culture is by definition variable. It tells us why people differ from place to place, but does not account for traits that characterize our species as a whole. For this, we still need biology.

Explanations of human behavior grounded in biology are wonderfully straightforward. Instead of engaging in theoretical acrobatics à la Heyes, they stress commonalities across species — even with respect to the emotions. In The Emotional Foundations of Personality, the late Estonian-American neuroscientist Jaak Panksepp and his former student Kenneth L. Davis develop an evolutionary approach for understanding human personality. Panksepp founded the field of affective neuroscience, placing human and animal emotions on a continuum, and thus helping to make animal emotions a respectable topic. Known for his studies of joy and “laughter” in rats (registered in their ultrasonic vocalizations), he found that rats actively seek out tickling fingers, probably rewarded by opioids in their brains. His work went far beyond this arcane topic, however, situating emotions in ancient subcortical brain areas shared across all vertebrates rather than in our recently expanded cerebral cortex.

In their book, Panksepp and Davis challenge the so-called Big Five personality traits, still the most popular method for plotting human personality. Its method reflects blinding faith in the thousands of labels that we use to describe personality. A large number of them are thrown into a giant statistical “grinder” (as one critic called it) to see how they hang together. The end product is a factor analysis that usually yields five dimensions: openness, conscientiousness, extraversion, agreeableness, and neuroticism. In the old days, the computations were so burdensome that any graduate student who could complete them in four years was said to deserve a PhD. Today, we do them by computer obviously, but we still end up with the same five factors.

The method may be sophisticated, but unfortunately the theory behind it is largely nonexistent. Panksepp and Davis suggest that there is, in fact, little connection between the Big Five and their manifestations in daily life. For one thing, if we analyze adjectives in languages other than English, we often end up with a different number of dimensions. For another, the approach isn’t based on any ideas about how personalities come about in evolutionary terms, how they are expressed, or how they intersect with human biology and neuroscience. In one well-respected study, twins reared in the same household were found to be as similar in personality as twins reared apart. This means that genes are important drivers of personality, which may indeed also explain the parallels between human and animal personalities.

The book devotes several chapters to the temperaments of primates, dogs, rats, even fish. Anyone who has had two cats or two dogs at home knows how much their behavior varies. For my part, I have had aloof cats, who keep their distance, as well as cuddly ones who love to snuggle with both humans and their feline fellows. Panksepp and Davis recognize the same set of basic emotions in all mammals, and argue convincingly that we should ground the science of human personality in bio-drivers rather than linguistic labels. If we can apply genetic selection to the aggressiveness of fish, for example, then this hints at a biological personality trait grounded in an emotion, one called Rage/Anger by the authors, also found in other species, including our own.

The third book under discussion, Alan Jasanoff’s The Biological Mind, is the most accessible, written in an engaging style and with a clear message. He mobilizes his culinary experience in passages like this one: “When I first touched a brain, it was braised and enveloped in a blanket of beaten eggs.” This is certainly one way to evoke the brain-body connection! Since the brain is part of the body in humans as in other species, argues Jasanoff, we should never consider one without the other. Director of the MIT Center for Neurobiological Engineering, he strenuously objects to any hint of dualism between body and mind according to which the brain is in charge. In other words, we can’t say “we are our brain” without also saying we are our body. The brain is connected in a million and more ways to the body, and shaped by everything that happens to it and in it.

A patient’s personality may change after an organ transplant, for example, seemingly adopting part of the donor’s proclivities. Thus, the recipient of a cyclist’s heart may suddenly become a cycling enthusiast. There is also evidence that altering someone’s gut microbiome via a fecal transplant can affect their mental health. These are certainly interesting examples of how the body affects the mind, but the best-documented effects involve the bodily states known as emotions. We describe our emotions in visceral terms for good reason: every one of them arises in the body. Here, too, William James had something insightful to say, claiming that bodily changes accompanying an emotion are not just an expression of it: they are the emotion. Our guts are wrenched by sadness, our blood boils in anger, our heart throbs with infatuation, and so on. Moreover, we are by no means exceptional in this regard. We make ourselves large in anger or get “cold feet” when afraid, similar to the temperature drop in the feet and tail of a scared rat.

Jasanoff rightly objects to the cerebral mystique known as “neuroessentialism,” which reduces our lives and societies to the workings of the human brain. The idea that the brain can be hacked or digitally preserved is one rather extreme manifestation of this view — and in places like Silicon Valley, cryogenically freezing one’s head is now a fad. Wannabe immortalists anticipate the day when their brain’s contents will be “uploaded” to a machine. They are willing to pay a fortune for such a digitally immortal future. Never mind that science hardly knows what a mind without a body would look or feel like — or indeed whether waking up in digital format would constitute a happy moment. Happiness is a bodily state in humans as in other animals, and a brain severed from the body probably doesn’t feel much.

To drive this point home, Jasanoff’s final chapter imagines his own brain in a vat. He, or “it,” can still explore the world to satisfy his curiosity, but because these adventures lack corporal movement or embodiment, they are rather boring and lacking in purpose. The notion that the brain can live by itself undoubtedly stems from the absurd metaphor that brains are machines. Many of us fall for this metaphor even though the brain looks much more like soup than a computer. As Jasanoff writes:

The true brain is a grimy affair, swamped with fluids, chemicals, and glue-like cells called glia. The centerpiece of our biological mind is more like our other organs than a man-made device, but the ways we think and talk about it often misrepresents its true nature.

For me as a biologist, we live in happy times with so many books that expertly treat where we come from, who we are, and how we operate. So long as these books resist the temptation, so prevalent in our culture, to treat the human mind as its own creation, they will, I hope, over time encourage us to embrace our kinship with both the beast within and the beasts without, and consider the angels and our closeness to them just a figment of our imagination.

Frans de Waal, a primatologist and professor of psychology at Emory University, is the author of Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are? (Norton, 2016).

The post Closer to Beast Than Angel appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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newstfionline · 7 years

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How do you say ‘lowlife’ in another language? Trump’s tweets lose much in translation

Ann M. Simmons, Los Angeles Times, Jan. 26, 2017

His syntax is often broken, the meaning of his comments is sometimes unclear, and he is prone to rambling, repetition and exaggeration.

President Trump’s language is an annoyance to some, a balm to others. But for one group, it’s something else--a professional hazard.

If native English speakers are having trouble processing Trump-speak, think of the challenges facing foreign translators and interpreters, who must grapple with the president’s verbal idiosyncrasies and make them understandable in another language.

“There are several things that make an interpreter’s life easy,” said Christiane Abel, who teaches French translation and interpretation at the Middlebury Institute of International Studies at Monterey and is on the U.S. State Department’s roster of contract interpreters. “When people finish their sentences … when the syntax is well-structured … when the speaker starts speaking and you kind of understand where the person is going, you can kind of decode the underlying thought.”

Not so with Trump. The new leader of the free world is driving translators crazy.

“He has the ‘Apprentice’ personality thing going on,” said Alessandro Duranti, former dean of the division of social sciences in the UCLA College of Letters and Science, whose expertise includes language as a cultural practice, and political discourse. “He has a certain use of hyperbole. He actually insults people. He calls people ‘dummy,’ ‘lowlife,’ ‘fraud.’ He talks in a way that is not the typical political speech. When there’s a choice, he goes for whatever is the most colloquial.”

All of those attributes create minefields for those translating his words.

Chinese interpreters struggle with Trump’s inclination toward hyperbole, according to Mandarin speakers. For example, “huge,” “enormous” and “tremendous” all translate into the same word in Chinese: “da,” or “big.”

“Sometimes the translation is much more restrained than the original because the words he chooses are very ostentatious,” said Yin Hao, a graduate student at the South China University of Technology in Guangzhou, who has made a hobby of translating comments by U.S. politicians and posting them online.

Weibo, China’s version of Twitter, increasingly fills with questions about the meaning of terms like “no nothing,” a reference to Trump’s tweet: “I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH RUSSIA--NO DEALS, NO LOANS, NO NOTHING!”

Trump’s sarcasm can also pose a challenge for Mandarin speakers, according to Yin. A Taiwanese news agency misunderstood a tweet about the controversial phone call between Trump and Taiwan’s leader after Trump’s election victory, Yin said.

“Interesting how the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars of military equipment but I should not accept a congratulatory call,” Trump wrote.

The tone was one of sarcasm and indignation, but the Taiwanese news organization thought he was expressing regret, Yin said.

Duranti, the UCLA professor, noted that simple words and phrases such as “nice”--which Trump uses frequently as a sort of exclamation--can be difficult to translate into other languages, because “it covers a huge semantic field.”

And take the phrase, “it bombed,” which Trump used in a Washington Post interview to describe Arnold Schwarzenegger’s low ratings when the former California governor debuted as host of “The New Celebrity Apprentice,” an updated version of the TV show Trump used to host.

“It cannot be properly translated,” Duranti said.

The literal translation of the word “bombed” in Russian is “bombili” or “razbomlenni,” which means something has been destroyed by bombing.

David Quinto-Pozos, who directs the American Sign Language program at the University of Texas and is president of Mano a Mano, a national organization for Spanish-English-ASL interpreters, said that Trump’s use of terms such as “bad dudes” (“We have some protesters who are bad dudes, they have done bad things”) can cause challenges for signers.

“ASL doesn’t have a sign for ‘dude,’ and Spanish doesn’t have a good word either,” Quinto-Pozos said.

“What is particularly challenging … is sometimes you get these words that you would not expect from someone who was running for president, was president-elect and is now president.”

An example is Trump’s comments that surfaced in the outtakes of the television show “Access Hollywood,” in which he crudely spoke about making advances on a woman without her consent and about women allowing him to grab them by the genitals (and that, of course, is a translation from more vulgar English) because of his celebrity status.

“It’s a little jarring for interpreters and translators, not knowing how to find the equivalent in another language that matches the same register,” Quinto-Pozos said.

It has been especially challenging for translators in the Arab world, which remains very conservative about matters of sex and anatomy. While many U.S. news outlets, including The Times, quoted Trump’s use of the vulgar term for vagina, the Lebanese newspaper Ad Diyar translated it as “special physical area,” while the Saudi broadcaster Al Arabiya went with the chaste “sensitive areas on a woman’s body.”

And when Trump said of then-Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly, “there was blood coming out of her eyes, blood coming out of her wherever,” the Qatari news outlet Al Araby translated it as: “Blood was coming out of her eyes and from all parts of her body.”

Beyond the problem of squeamishness, there is the question of register--determining the tone, decorum and feeling of what is being expressed. Simply put, some translators give Trump’s words a dignity and clarity that they might not have in English, because they can’t quite wrap their minds around a president who speaks the way he does.

“What we usually teach our students is that when you interpret in French you use a higher register in the language,” said Abel, the Middlebury Institute professor, who said at some stage her students would be trained to practice on Trump’s speeches.

“If you interpret word for word in French it’s going to sound really colloquial,” Abel added. For example, when rendering “good job,” you’re going to try to make it a bit more polished in French, such as “your performance has been excellent.”

Japanese writer and translator Agness Kaku supplied more examples of this phenomenon in an essay on the LinkedIn website.

She recalled that after Gold Star mother Ghazala Khan stood beside her husband as he addressed the Democratic National Convention, Trump said: “[S]he probably, maybe she wasn’t allowed to have anything to say, you tell me, but plenty of people have written that.”

According to Kaku, the Japanese broadcaster NHK interpreted that as: “She likely wasn’t allowed to give a statement.”

“I think there is the risk of cleaning it up,” Quinto-Pozos said. “Especially for a foreign market that might not expect certain language from a person in this position, it does get cleaned up.”

Trump is far from the only political figure to receive such treatment. History is replete with examples of leaders whose language was sanitized by translators.

In her book “Man Without a Face: The Unlikely Rise of Vladimir Putin,” author Masha Gessen writes of an incident in which the Russian president said at a news conference in Paris that he was “inviting” Islamist terrorists to Moscow, where they would be “circumcised … in such a way that nothing will ever grow there again.”

The official interpreter, she said, “did not dare translate Putin’s response in full.”

Some linguistic specialists said Trump’s uncensored and off-the-cuff speaking style, though attractive to his support base, could expose him to ridicule.

“He’s talking in a way that makes you feel that any person in the United States, regardless of their education, background, familiarity with the language of politics and bureaucracy, can listen to him and talk to him,” said Duranti of UCLA.

The problem, for those reading and listening around the globe, is that his American everyman language could get lost in translation.

#translation #Donald Trump tweets #American English

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