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literary-illuminati · 4 months

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Book Review 68 - Babel by R. F. Kuang

Overview

I came to Babel with extremely little knowledge about the actual contents of the book but a deep sense of all the vibes swirling around its reception – that it was robbed of a Hugo nomination (if the author didn’t outright refuse it), that it’s probably the single buzziest and most Important sf/f release of 2022, that it was stridently political, and plenty more besides. I also went in having mostly enjoyed The Poppy War series and being absolutely enamoured by the elevator pitch of an alternate history Industrial Revolution where translation is literally magic. And, well-

It is wrong to say I hated this book, but only because keeping track of my complaints and starting organize this review in my head was entertaining enough to keep me invested in the reading experience.

The story is set in an alternate 1830s, where the rise of the British Empire relies upon the dominance of its translators, as it is the mixture of translation and silverworking, the inscription of match-pairs in different languages on bars of worked silver and the leveraging of the ambiguity and loss of meaning between them that fuels the world’s magic. The protagonist is pluckted from his childhood home in Canton after his family dies in a cholera outbreak and whisked away to the estate of Professor Lowell, an Oxford translator he quickly realized is his unacknowledged father. He’s made to choose an English name (Robin Swift) and raised and tutored as a future translator in service to the Empire.

The meat of the story is focused on Robin’s education in Oxford, his relationship with the rest of his cohort, and his growing radicalization and entanglement with the revolutionary Hermes Society. Things come to a head when in his fourth year the cohort is sent back to Canton to, well, help provoke the first Opium War, though none of them aware of that. The final act follows the fallout of that, by which I mean it lives up to the full title of “Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution”.

To be clear, this was technically a very accomplished book. The writing never dragged and the prose was, if not exactly lyrical, always clear and often evocative. Despite the breadth of space and time the story covers, I never had any complaints about the pacing – and honestly, the ending was, dramatically speaking, one of the more natural and well-executed ones I’ve read recently. It’s very well-constructed.

All that being said – allow me to apologize for how the rest of this is mostly just going to be a litany of complaints. But the book clearly believes itself to be an important and meaningful work of political art, which means I don’t feel particularly bad about holding it to high standards.

Narrative Voice

To start with, just, dear god the tone. This is a book with absolutely zero faith in its audience’s ability to reach their own conclusions, or even follow the symbolism and implication it lays down. Every important point is stated outright, repeated, and all but bolded and underlined. In this book set in 1830s England there are footnotes fact-checking the imperialists talking heads to, I guess, make sure we don’t accidentally become convinced by their apologia for the slave trade? Everything is just relentlessly didactic, in a way that ended up feeling rather insulting even when I agreed with the points Kuang was making.

More than that, and this is perhaps a more subjective complaint but – for an ostensible period piece, the narrative voice and perspective just felt intensely modern? This was theoretically an omniscient third person book, with the narrative voice being pretty distinct from any of the actual characters – with the result that the implicit narrator was instead the sort of person of spends six hours a day getting into arguments on twitter and for this effort calls themselves a progressive activist. The identities of all the characters – as delivered by the objective narration – were all very neat and legible from the perspective of someone at a 2022 HR department listing how diverse their team was, which was somewhere between a tragic lost opportunity to show how messy and historical racial/ethnic/national identities are and outright anachronistic, depending. (This was honestly one of the bigger disappointments, coming from Kuang’s earlier work. Say what you will of The Poppy War series, the narration is with Rin all the way down, and it trusts the reader enough not to blink.) More than that it was just distracting – the narration ended up feeling like an annoying obstacle between me and the story, and not in any fun postmodern way either.

Characters

Speaking of the cast – they simply do not sound or feel like they actually grew up in the 19th century. Now, some modernization of speech patterns and vocabulary and moral commensense is just the price of doing business with mass market period pieces, granted, but still – no 19th century Anglo-Indian revolutionary is going use the phrase ‘Narco-military state’ (if for no other reason than we’re something like a century early for ‘narco-state’ to be coined as a term at all). An even beyond feeling out of time most of the characters feel kind of thinly sketched?

Or no, it’s not that the characters are thinly sketched so much as their relationships are. We’re repeatedly, insistently told that these four students are fast friends and closer than family and would happily die for each other, but we’re very rarely actually shown it. This is partly just a causality of trying to skim over a four-year university education in the middle third of one book, I think, but still – the good times and happy moments are almost always sort of skimmed over, summarized in the course of a paragraph or two that usually talk in terms of memories and consequences more than the relationships themselves. The points of friction and the arguments, meanwhile, are usually played out entirely on the page, or at least described in much more detail. In the end you kind of have to just take it as read that any of these people actually love each other, given that at least two of them seem to be feuding at any given point for the entire time they know each other.

Letty deserves some special attention. She’s the only white member of Robin’s cohort at Babel and she honestly feels like less of acharacter and more a collection of tropes about white women in progressive spaces? Even more than the rest, it’s hard to believe the rest of the class views her as beloved ride-or-die found family when essentially every time she’s on screen it’s so she can do a microagression or a white fragility or something. Also, just – you know how relatively common it is to see just, blatantly misogynistic memes repackaged as anti-racist because it specifies ‘white women’? There’s a line in this that almost literally says ‘Letty wasn’t doing anything to disprove the stereotype of woman as uselessly emotional and hysteric’.

Also, she’s the one who ends up betraying the other three and trying to turn them in when they turn revolutionary. Which is probably inevitable given the book’s politics, but as it happened felt like less of the shocking betrayal that it was supposed to be and more just, checking off a box for a dramatic reverse. Of course she turned on them, none of them ever really seemed to even like each other.

As a Period Piece

So, the book is set in the 1830s, in the midst of the industrial revolution and its social fallout, and the leadup to the First Opium War (which is, through the magic of, well, magic ,but also mercantilist economics, make into a synecdoche for British global dominion more broadly). On the one hand, the setting is impeccably researched, recent and relevant historical events are referenced whenever they would come up, and the footnotes are full to bursting with quotes and explanations of texts or cultural ephemera that’s brought up in the narration.

On the other, the setting doesn’t feel authentic in the slightest, the portrayal of the British Empire is bizarrely inconsistent, and all that richly researched historical grounding ends up feeling less like a living world and more like a particularly well-down set for a Doctor Who episode.

The story is incredibly focused around Oxford as a city and a university. There’s a whole author’s note about the research and slight changes made into its geography and I absolutely believe its portrayal as a physical location and the laws about how women were treated and how the different colleges were organized and all that is exactly as accurate as Kuang wanted them to be. The issue is really the people. With the exception of a few cartoonish villains who barely get more than a couple pages apiece, no one feels, sounds like, or acts like they actually belong in the 19th century. The racism the protagonists struggle with all feels much more 21st century than Victorian, and the frame of mind everyone inhabits still comes across more as ‘unusually blatantly racist Englishman’ than 19th century scholars and polymaths.

This is especially blatant as far as religion goes. It’s occasionally mentioned, sure enough, but to the extent anyone actually believes in Christianity it’s of a very modern and disenchanted sort – this is a society that sends out missionaries as a conscious tool of colonial expansion, not because of anything as silly or absurd as actually wanting to spread their gospel. Also like, it’s Oxford, in the nineteenth century. For all the racism the protagonists have to deal with, they should be getting so much more shit from ‘well-meaning’ locals and students trying to save their (one Muslim, one atheist, one probably Christian but black and protective of Haitian Vodou on a cultural level which would be more than enough) souls.

Or, and this is more minor, it is a central conceit of the whole finale that if a few (like, two) determined revolutionaries can infiltrate Babel they’ll be able to take the entire place hostage with barely any trouble. This is because the students and professors there are, basically, whimpy bookworms who’ll faint at the sight of blood and have no stomach for the sort of violence their work actually supports and drives. Which – look, I really don’t want to defend the ruling class of Victorian Britain here, but I’m not sure physical cowardice is really one of their failings, as a group? I mean, there’s an entire system of institutionalized child abuse in the boarding schools they went to to get them used to taking and dealing out violence and abuse. Basically every upper-class sport is thinly disguised military drill or ritual combat (okay, or rowing). Half of them would graduate to immediately running off and invading places for the glory of the queen. I’m not sure two sleep-deprived nerds with knives would actually have been able to cow the crowd here, is what I’m saying. (This would stick out less if the text wasn’t so dripping with contempt for them on precisely these grounds.)

Much less minor are our heroic revolutionaries themselves. And okay, this is more a matter of taste than anything but like – the Hermes Society is an illegal conspiracy of renegade current and former Babel scholars dedicated to using their knowledge of magic and access to university resources to oppose and undermine the British Empire in general and the work of the school in particular. Think Metternich’s worse nightmare, but in Oxford instead of Paris and focused on colonial liberation (continental Europe barely exists for the purposes of the book, Britain is Empire.) So! A secret society of professional revolutionaries in the heydey of just that, with a name that just has to be Hermetic symbolism, who concern themselves with both high politics and metaphysics.

They are just so very, very boring. This is the age of the Conspiracy of the Equals, the Carbonari, the Seasons! The literal Illumanti are still within living memory! Where’s the pageantry, the ritual, the grandiosity? The elaborate initiation rituals and oaths of undying loyalty? They’re so pragmatic, so humble, so (and I know I keep coming back to this) modern. It’s just such an utter wasted opportunity. Even beyond the level of aesthetics, these are revolutionaries with remarkably little positive ideology – the oppose colonialism and racism for reasons they take as self-evident and so don’t feel the need to theorize about it (and talk about them with the vocabulary of a modern activist, because of course they do), but they’re pretty much consciously agnostic as to what world should look like instead. They vaguely end up supporting a sort of petty-bourgeois socialism (in the Marxist sense), but the alliance with Luddites is essentially political convenience – they really don’t seem to have any vision of the future at all, either in England or the various places they claim as homelands.

On Empire and Industrialization

The story is set during the early nineteenth century, so of course the Industrial Revolution is a pretty core part of the background. The Silver Industrial Revolution, technically, since the Babellers translation magic is in this world a key and load-bearing part of it. Despite the addition of miracle-working enhancers and supports to its fundamental technology, the industrial revolution plays out pretty identically to history – right down to the same cities becoming hubs of industry, despite steam engines using enchanted silver instead of coal and thus, presumably, the entire economic and logistical system that brought this particular cities to prominence being totally unrecognizable. This is not a book that’s in any way actually about tracing how something would change history – which isn’t a complaint, to be clear, that’s a perfectly valid creative choice.

It does, however, make it rather galling that the single actually significant difference to history is that the introduction of magic turns the industrial revolution into a Legend of Zelda boss with a giant glowing weak point you can hit to destroy the whole enterprise.

On a narrative level, I get it – it simplifies things and allows for a far happier and more dramatic ending if destroying Babel is not just a symbolic act but also literally sends London Bridge falling down and scuttles the entire royal navy and every mill and factory in Britain. It’s just that I think that by doing so it trades away any chance for actually making interesting commentary on anti-colonial and -capitalist resistance. A world where a single act of spectacular terrorism really can destroy a modern empire is frankly so detached from our world that it ceases to be able to really materially comment upon it.

Like, the principle reason to not take the Luddites as your role models is not that they were morally vicious but that they were doomed – capitalism’s ability to repair damage to infrastructure and fixed goods is legitimately very impressive! Trying to force an entire ruling class not to adopt a technology that makes whoever commits to it tremendous amounts of money (thus, power) is a herculean task even when you have a state apparatus and standing army – adding an ‘off’ button to the lot of it just trades all sense of relevance for a satisfyingly cathartic ending.

(This is leaving untouched how the book just takes it as a given that the industrial revolution was a strictly immiserating force that did nothing but redistribute money from artisans to capitalists. Which certainly tracks as something people at the time would have thought but given how resolutely modern all the other politics in the work are rings really weirdly.)

All of which is only my second biggest issue with how the book presents its successful resistance movement. It all pales in comparison to making the Empire a squeamish paper tiger.

Like, the book hates colonialism in general and the British Empire in particular, the narrative and footnotes are filled with little asides about various atrocities and injustices and just ways it was racist or complicit in some particular atrocity. But more than that it is contemptuous of it, it views the empire as (as the cliche goes) a perpetually rotting edifice that just needs one good kick; that it persists only through the myth of its own invincibility, and has no stomach for violent resistance from within. Which is absolutely absurd, and the book does seem to know it on occasion when it off-handedly mentions e.g. the Peterloo Massacre – but a character whose supposed to be the grizzled cynical pragmatic revolutionary still spouts off about how slave rebellions succeed because their masters aren’t willing to massacre their own property. Which is just so spectacularly wrong on every axis its actually almost offensive.

More importantly, the entire final act of the story relies upon the fact that the British Empire would allow a handful of foreign students seize control of a vital piece of infrastructure for weeks on end and do nothing but try to wait them out as the national physically falls apart around them. Like, c’mon, there would be siege artillery set up and taking shots by the end of week two. As with the Oxford students, the Victorian elite had all manner of flaws – take your pick, really – but squeamishness wasn’t really one of them.

On Magic

So the magical system underlying the whole story is – you know how Machinaries of Empire makes imperial ideology and metaphysics literally magical, giving expert technicians the ability to create superweapons and destroy worlds provided that the Hexarchate’s subjects observe the imperial calendar of rites and celebrate its triumphs/participate in rituals glorying in the torture of its ‘heretics’? It’s not exactly a subtle metaphor, but it works.

Babel does something similar, except the foundational atrocity fueling the engine of empire on a metaphysical level is, like, cultural appropriation. As an organizing metaphor, I find this less compelling.

Leaving that aside, the story makes translation literally capable of miracle-working – which of necessity requires making ‘languages’ distinct natural categories with observable metaphysical boundaries. It then sets the story in the 19th century – the era of newborn nation states and education systems and national literatures, where the concept of the national-linguistic community was the obsession of the entire European intelligentsia. Now this is not a book concerned with how the presence of magic would actually have changed history, in the slightest, but like – given how fascinated it is by translation and linguistics you’d think the whole ‘a language is a dialect with a navy’ cliché would at least get a light mention (but then the book doesn’t really treat language as any more inherent or natural than it does any other modern identity category, I suppose.)

As an Allegory

Okay, so having now spent an embarrassing number of words establishing to my own satisfaction that the book really doesn’t work at all as a period piece, let us consider; what if it wasn’t trying to be?

A great many things about the book just fit much better if you take it as a commentary on the modern university with Victorian window-dressing. Certainly the driving resentment of Oxford as an institution that sustains itself and grows rich off the exploitation of international students it considers second-class seems far more apt applied to contemporary elite western schools than 19th century ones. Likewise the racism the heroes face all seems like the kind you’d expect in a modern English town rather than a Victorian one. I’m not well-versed enough on the economics of the city to know for sure, but I would wager that the gleeful characterization of Oxford as a city that literally starts falling to ruin without the university to support it was also less accurate in the 1830s than it is today.

Read like this, everything coheres much better – but the most striking thing becomes the incredible vanity of the book. This is a morality tale where the natural revolutionary vanguard with the power to bring global hegemony to its knees through nothing but witholding their labour are..students at elite western universities (not, I must say, a class I’d consider in dire need of having their egos boosted). The emotions underlying everything make much more sense, but the plot itself becomes positively myopic.

Beyond that – if this is a story about international students at elite universities, it does a terrible job of actually portraying them. Or, properly, it only shows a certain type; just about every foreign-born student or professor we meet is some level of revolutionary, deeply opposed in principle to the empire they work within. No one is actually convinced by the carrot of a life as an exploited but exceedingly comfortable and well-compensated technician in the imperial core, and there’s not really acknowledgement at all of just how much of the apparatus of international institutions and governments in the global south – including positions with quite a bit of real power – end up being staffed by exactly that demographic who just sincerely agree with the various ideological projects employing them. Kuang makes it far too easy on herself by making just about every person of colour in the books one of the good guys, and totally undersells how convincing hegemonic ideology can be, basically.

The Necessity of Violence

This is a pet peeve and it’s a very minor thing that I really wouldn’t bring it up if that wasn’t literally part of the title. But it is, so – it’s a plot point that’s given a decent amount of attention that Griffin (Robin’s secret older brother, grizzled professional revolutionary, his introduction to anti-colonialism) is blamed for murdering one of his classmates who had the bad luck to be studying while he was sneaking in to steal some silver – a student that was quite well-loved by the faculty and her very successful classmates, who have never forgiven him. Later on, it’s revealed that this is an utter rewriting of history, and she’d been a double agent pretending to let herself be recruited into the Hermes Society who’d been luring Griffin into an ambush when he killed her and escaped.

This is – well, the most predictable not-even-a-twist imaginable, for one, but also – just rank cowardice. You titled the book ‘the necessity of violence’, the least you can do is actually own it and show that violent resistance means people (with faces, and names, not just abstractions only ever talked about in general terms) who are essentially personally innocent are going to end up collateral damage, and people are going to hold grudges about it. Have some courage in your convictions!

Translation

Okay, all of that said, this isn’t a book that’s wholly bad, or anything. In particular, you can really tell how much of a passion Kuang has for the art and science of translation. The depth of knowledge and eagerness to share just about overflows from the page whenever the book finds an excuse to talk about it at length, and it’s really very endearing. The philosophizing about translation was also as a rule much more interesting and nuanced then whenever the book tried to opine about high politics or revolutionary tactics.

Anyways, I really can’t recommend the book in any real way, but it did stick in my head for long enough that I’ve now written 4,000 words about it. So at the very least it’s the interesting sort of bad book, y’know?

#book review #babel #r. f. kuang #sff #lesbian space atrocities #-ish #hatermode

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fahye · 5 months

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book recs: oct/nov 2023

I read an obscene number of books during my weeks travelling in the USA, so here are some highlights!

A GENTLEMAN UNDONE by cecilia grant - I actually read all three in this excellent series, but this is the highlight. a tense, engrossing regency romance between a gentleman desperate to make money in gambling halls and the woman who teaches him to count cards, who unfortunately happens to be someone else's mistress. extremely horny and very smart.

SHADOW MAGIC by jaida jones & danielle bennett - after HAVEMERCY I desperately needed the rest of the series, and happily I had dinner with jaida and dani and was given them! this one is classic political fantasy: assassins, ambassadors, a devoted bodyguard and his beautiful prince, and a flamboyant little chaos magician who wonders why nobody else in his delegation is enjoying the beautiful local Fashion Robes. this book has never had a heterosexual thought in its entire life.

AMERICAN QUEEN by sierra simone - okay, this is a rec for the entire series (AMERICAN PRINCE & AMERICAN KING follow), a modern arthur-lancelot-guinevere retelling where they're american politicians and they're all in love and kinky and fucked up about it. mostly smut, lots of angst, occasional plot. maybe the hottest thing I've ever read in my life?? damn, sierra simone knows what she's doing.

THE MOON IS A HARSH MISTRESS by robert a. heinlein - what if we were a moon colony and we decided to stage a revolutionary war and we asked a bored AI computer to run the logistics for us? I'm such a sucker for logistics, and heinlein delivers in spades. very funny, great worldbuilding, fun characters. has aged surprisingly well, I think.

10 THINGS THAT NEVER HAPPENED by alexis hall - a pure shot of gay grumpy/sunshine delivered via FAKE AMNESIA TROPE and a plot lovingly and lampshadily borrowed from the classic sandra bullock vehicle while you were sleeping. alexis hall's protagonists and glorious supporting casts always grab me, and this was no exception.

THE FALL THAT SAVED US by tamara jerée - do you like the good omens setup of bookshop angel vs. snarky demon, destined to be enemies but oh no we're in love, and you'd like to add some recovery from family trauma + sex scenes + also they're sapphic? yes. good. enjoy.

CHAIN-GANG ALL-STARS by nana kwame adjei-brenyah - holy shit!! finished this one yesterday and will be thinking about it for a long time. premise: criminals can choose to compete in deadly televised gladiator matches instead of remaining in prison. this is an absolutely brutal examination of the prison industrial complex and the violent commodification of bodies (especially bodies of colour) under our capitalist hellscape. lyrical, wonderful, cutting. very queer and very angry. I flew through it. what a fantastic book.

#book recs

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amateurvoltaire · 2 months

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When you get publicly slapped by 4 surrealist poets because you insulted a guy's historical crush

(translation and context under the cut)

Gallantly Defending Robespierre’s Honour

In the conservative daily paper, Le Gaulois, on March 3, 1923, the journalist and man of letters, Wieland Mayr, expressed his pleasure: there would not be, he wrote, a "vile apotheosis" for "that holy scoundrel" Robespierre. On the other hand, Mathiez had the Surrealists with him. Following the article in Le Gaulois, Robert Desnos (1), accompanied by Paul Éluard (2), Max Ernst (3), and André Breton (4), summoned Mayr in a café and publicly slapped him for insulting the memory of "the Incorruptible."

Why did Mayr get Slapped?

In short: studying history in the 1920s was a messy business, especially when it came to the French Revolution….

To explain why Mayr ended up getting slapped, please allow me to briefly dive into the French Revolution's historiography during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Keep in mind, that this is a grossly oversimplified version.

Before 1848, it was pretty standard for French republicans to proudly see themselves as inheritors of Robespierre’s legacy. (If you’ve ever wondered why in Les Misérables, Enjolras’ character is very much channeling Robespierre and Saint-Just, here’s your answer!) However, things start to change with the Second Republic.

In 1847, Jules Michelet brought back the negative portrayal of Robespierre as a tyrannical "priest" and leader of a new cult. This narrative helped fuel an increasing dislike for Robespierre, with radicals like Auguste Blanqui arguing that the real revolutionaries were the atheistic Hébertists, not the Robespierrists.

Jump to the Third Republic, and the negative sentiment towards Robespierre was only getting stronger, driven by voices like Hippolyte Taine, who painted Robespierre as a mediocre figure, overwhelmed by his role. This trend was politically motivated, aiming to reshape the Revolution's legacy to align with the Third Republic's secular values. Obviously, Robespierre, the "fanatic pontiff" of the Supreme Being, didn’t quite fit this revised narrative and was made out to be the villain. Alphonse Aulard (a historian willing to stretch the truth to make his point) continued pushing Danton as the face of secular republicanism. Albert Mathiez, one of Aulard’s students, was not having any of it and strongly disagreed with his mentor’s approach.

The general disdain for Robespierre began to shift after World War I. One reason was that people could better appreciate the actions of the Revolutionary Government after experiencing the repression during the war themselves. Albert Mathiez and his colleagues were actively working to change Robespierre's tarnished image. With tensions high, it's no wonder Mayr ended up being publicly slapped by a bunch of poets who were defending the Incorruptible's honour!

Notes

Robert Desnos (1900-1945) was a French poet deeply associated with the Surrealist movement, known for his revolutionary contributions to both poetry and resistance during World War II.

Paul Éluard (1895-1952) was a French poet and one of the founding members of the Surrealist movement, celebrated for his lyrical and passionate writings on love and liberty.

Max Ernst (1891-1976) was a German painter, sculptor, graphic artist, and poet, a pioneering figure in the Dada and Surrealist movements known for his inventive use of collage and exploration of the unconscious.

André Breton (1896-1966) was a French writer, poet, and anti-fascist, best known as the principal founder and leading theorist of Surrealism, promoting the liberation of the human mind.

Source: The text in the picture comes from Robespierre and the Social Republic by Albert Mathiez

#robespierre #history #frev #albert mathiez #historiography

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gemsofgreece · 5 months

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Happy November 17th with music!!!

Greece has three national holidays; March 25th, the Independence Day, October 28th, the ΟΧΙ (No) Day aaaaand November 17th, the Polytechneio Day.

In fact, November 17th is considered a semi-national day, as it doesn't commemorate an ethnic uprising against some foreign oppressor or invader but the political intranational uprising against the Colonel Dictatorship of 1967-1974. It is the anniversary of the revolt that took place in the National "Metsovion" Technical University of Athens (Εθνικό Μετσόβιο Πολυτεχνείο - Ethnikó Metsóvio Polytechnío) by its students in November 1973. (Greek Polytechneia are high education engineering universities, so they are not the equivalent to technical schools.) The uprising was the most impactful anti-junta movement in Greece - students commandeered the University, operated a radio station and started protesting against the junta and spreading effectively the message to the Greek people, who started gathering around the school. Their effective protests harmed the dictators, who sent the army to surround the university and threaten the students. While the students and the junta were still in negotiations, the army broke the academic asylum, a tank demolished the gates and soldiers invaded the school. During the episodes that ensued, there were 40 deaths and more than 2,000 injured reported. The Polytechnic movement did not bring down the junta, however it was a crucial contributor to its weakening and to the spread of awareness against it across the globe. (The dictatorship eventually fell about half a year later, during the Turkish invasion of Cyprus, in which Greece failed to provide significant assistance to Cyprus or even protect its own interests.)

The spirit of the university's revolutionaries as well as the general hardship Greece went through in those seven years were the inspiration for a lot of great artists, particularly poets and musicians, and birthed numerous classic Greek songs. Below are four of my favourite ones, from the many that became symbols of this era, and are today sung by school choirs across the country!

Ὀταν σφίγγουν το χέρι - When they clench their fist

youtube

Ο Δρόμος - The Road

youtube

Θα σημάνουν οι καμπάνες - The bells will toll

youtube

Είμαστε δυο - We are two

youtube

Lyrics of the last one in English:

We are two, we are two, it's eight o'clock, turn off the light, the guard knocks, they'll come again at night one in the front, one in the front, and the rest will be following him, then silence and what follows is the usual again. They hit twice, they hit thrice, they hit one thousand thirteen times, you are hurting, I am hurting too but who is hurting the most, only time will tell.

We are two, we are three, we are one thousand thirteen, we ride the times, in time, in rain blood thickens in the wound and the pain turns into a nail. (x2)

The avenger, the saviour, we are two, we are three, we are one thousand thirteen.

#greece #europe #history #greek history #music #songs #polytechneio day #polytechnic uprising #november 17 #greek songs #greek music #lyrics #greek culture #Youtube

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contemplatingoutlander · 8 months

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These moments totally happened at the GOP primary debate

WaPo satirist Alexandra Petri add her spin on the Republican primary debate. This is a gift 🎁 link so that those who do not subscribe to The Washington Post can read the entire article. Below are some excerpts. Enjoy! 😁

If you said, “Would you like to watch Ron DeSantis, Vivek Ramaswamy, Nikki Haley, Tim Scott, Doug Burgum, Mike Pence, Asa Hutchinson and Chris Christie talk to each other for two hours? FYI, the place where they’ll do so is hotter than Beelzebub’s armpit!,” I would have said, “No, thank you.” But if you said, “The alternative is watching Donald Trump talk to Tucker Carlson on the website formerly known as Twitter,” I would say, “I can’t wait to hear what Ron, Vivek, Nikki, Tim, Doug, Mike, Asa and Chris have to say!” [...] Here is approximately how it went. Bret Baier: Hello. We have brought a bell just because we enjoy the sound of a bell. Martha MacCallum: Feel free to speak over it; it will give the evening a fun, musical vibe. Baier: Yes, and speaking of music, candidates, the number one song in America is something called “Rich Men North of Richmond”! Governor DeSantis, introduce yourself by providing a close reading of the subtle lyrics of this song. DeSantis: Hang on, first I have some prepared remarks! Joe Biden’s basement! Hunter Biden’s paintings! “Rich Men North of Richmond”! Taxes! Florida! Baier: Chris Christie, why would you be better as president? Christie: Bret, I have spent the last four years sailing around sharpening my traffic-cone harpoon for my hated foe (from hell’s heart I spit my last breath at him!), and the one question I did not expect was about a scenario where I could actually become president. Uh, I was governor of New Jersey? So, take that for what it’s worth.

[See more under the cut.]

Scott: I have come to this debate with some specific numbers at my fingertips! I was told everyone would be excited about specific numbers! If not, I would really like those hours back. Ramaswamy: Hello! You may be wondering, who is this skinny guy with a funny name? I’m not a politician who is going to offer you a series of prepared, meaningless platitudes. I’m a businessman with no political experience who is going to offer you a series of prepared, meaningless platitudes. Isn’t it time we stopped running away from things and started running toward things? I am not running for president so much as I am running for the title of Favorite Grandson of your Fox News grandmother. Have you ever considered that people don’t love God anymore? [...] Pence: Hello! I am here to recite scripture and keep referring to the Trump-Pence administration, and I’m all out of scripture. That was some Mike Pence humor; I will never be out of scripture! I am unquestionably the best-prepared person in this race, the single individual with the experience that is closest to being the president, with no exceptions that spring to mind. I have been in the hallway. I have been in the White House. Do you like what my administration did with the Supreme Court? [...] Ramaswamy: You think now is the time for incremental reform. I think it is the time for actual revolution. Pence: Good Lord, no thank you. I do not have any revolutionary proposals. I believe in mild, small, incremental change. Except for a nationwide 15-week ban on abortion, which I want to implement because I promised it to God. Haley: Let’s be realistic! Women hate hearing this. Let’s just admit that it will never happen. But we’re all going to say we want it to happen! But, ladies, it’s not going to happen. [...] Young Person: Please tell me that anyone on this stage believes in climate change, the only issue I care about because I anticipate living on this planet for at least 60 years. I am starting to get worried. Can we have a show of hands? DeSantis: No! We are not schoolchildren! We will not raise our hands or acknowledge the existence of science! Ramaswamy: As the only one on this stage who is not bought and paid for, I have a thought. Christie: I have had enough of a guy who sounds like ChatGPT and stole his opening gambit from Barack Obama. I came here to bludgeon Donald Trump verbally, but Trump is not here and I have a lot of verbal bludgeoning built up. [...] Baier: Why do we have homelessness, drugs and crime? Pence: Because Democrats talked about defunding the police, and everyone knows that if you say “Defund the police!” into a mirror three times, crime appears. It’s just science, or, as Governor DeSantis and I prefer, religion. Christie: I disagree. Crime went up because Hunter Biden did it.

Please use the gift link above to read the rest of Petri's cutting satire.

Just one thing I would like to comment on though. I grew up in NJ... BEYOND the exits on the Turnpike. Why does there always have to be a NJ joke?🤦🏻‍♀️There really are nice parts of NJ. Really. I mean it. 😉

[edited]

#gop primary debate #republicans #ron desantis #chris christie #nikki haley #mike pence #vivek ramaswamy #asa hutchinson #tim scott #doug burgum #satire #alexandra petri #the washington post #gift link

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feckcops · 5 months

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The road to freedom runs through Palestine

“The road to Jerusalem, it has so often been said, runs through Cairo. Writing from a regime prison cell in the months after Palestine’s ‘unity intifada’ of 2021, the Egyptian revolutionary Alaa Abd El-Fattah modified this historic injunction: ‘The road to Jerusalem looked like it ran through Cairo — but what is certain is that it must pass through Gaza. Jerusalem is not too proud to ask for Gaza’s help. Maybe Cairo should now show a little humility and do the same.’

“Here we have a lyrical articulation of a simple political truth: that the freedom struggle of the Palestinian people and the wider fight for democracy in the Arab world are one and the same. Only through the violent suppression of popular sovereignty across the region have the military dictatorships, the petro-monarchs, and the settler-colonial project in Palestine survived.

“As Alaa’s mediation suggests, this interconnected struggle is not one-way traffic, a matter of the Palestinians waiting for the Arab peoples to triumph over their autocratic rulers (American clients, more often than not). On the contrary, the Palestinian people often lead the way, generating space for struggle beyond the borders of their historic homeland, in places where the conditions of possibility for mass politics seem to have been crushed. Two weeks ago, it was a march in solidarity with the Palestinians of Gaza that saw Egyptian democrats surge back into Tahrir Square for the first time since the revolution ...

“From the West, action against the complicity of our governments has an indispensable role to play in the struggle to liberate Palestine. That is the most important thing, and the first purpose of an emerging mass movement. In Cairo two weeks ago, the chants quickly turned from Palestine to calls for ‘bread, freedom, and social justice.’ There are no such revolutionary horizons in Britain, but the significance of it being Palestine that offers us a glimpse of mass politics again cannot be overstated.

Not only the Egyptians: we, too, should be grateful to the Palestinian people. We stand with them, but it is the steadfastness of their popular struggle for universal freedom and dignity that shows the way.”

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cleopatrachampagne · 6 months

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i know i’m far from an expert on history but it always bothers me to see bob marley’s portrait hanging in my local weed shop. like, i’ve loved reggae music since i was young, well before i ever smoked weed, i know listening to music is pretty rad when stoned, and i admit i understand that a lot of prominent figures and concepts idolized by the hippies and revolutionaries of the 60’s and 70’s in the usa eventually became synonymous with drug use, esp marijuana, due to smear campaigns against counterculture so maybe it is a kind of defiance to display it proudly? but while i understand the admiration a lot of disillusioned young people in the usa in the 60’s and 70’s would have felt for the people fighting the class war in jamaica and the reggae music emerging with lyrics about said war but still pushing for peace, for one love, as they worked to topple inequity and corrupt systems while redefining perspectives on race, oppression and intergenerational trauma but how did bob marley become “the weed man” in the cultural consciousness when he was a spokesperson for political change and class revolution? is it only that way in the us? do other countries and cultures see him as more than a stoner icon with his face on rasta memorabilia sold at jacked up prices to college kids who have never even heard of the rastafari revolution, the pan-african movement or the jamaican civil war, idk why but it really does bother me to see a strong voice for peace and change reduced to a face plastered on drug paraphernalia and stoner t-shirts. like… damn. that’s the death of a revolutionary in the capitalist tradition, i suppose. bob marley’s portrait hanging above the bud hut cash register, “grunge” clothing sold by fast fashion corporate hellholes, t-shirts with kurt cobain’s suicide note written on them being sold for 800 bucks a pop, eat the rich stickers for sale on amazon of all places, santa muerte being sold as a goth accessory or a “hardcore” generic tattoo in the us stripped of what she symbolizes to me and many other latina/o people who were raised with mexican neopaganism and folk catholic traditions, sanitized street art commissioned by some silicon valley suit that is purely aesthetics with no heart, no soul, nothing related to the authenticity of artistic vandalism, just imaginary street cred points for a rich dick. i get the same feeling in my stomach seeing the “aesthetic” whitewash of counterculture, the clownery of “alt” culture on apps like tiktok, the cashing in on the suffering of the oppressed for a quick buck and the tragic victory of cementing hippies and beatniks and freedom fighters in the minds of the following generations as degenerate druggies (thanks nixon and crew) that i get when i hear that pop remix of “the hanging tree” and it’s a lot to take in while i’m just trying to buy a box of strawberry cough prerolls.

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 2 years

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Rage Against The Machine – Bulls On Parade

#Rage Against The Machine #The Battle Of Mexico City #Bulls On Parade #Format: DVD DVD-Video #Released: Feb 20 2000 #Alternative Rock #RATM #R.A.T.M.#Rage #hip hop heavy metal punk and funk #revolutionary politics and lyrics #USA #Los Angeles California

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mywifeleftme · 2 months

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312: Victor Jara // Manifiesto

Manifiesto Victor Jara 1975, Discos Pueblo

Manifiesto is assembled from recordings intended for an album that was to be called Tiempos que cambian (literally Times That Change, or New Times) smuggled out of Chile by Jara’s widow Joan after the folksinger’s torture and murder by the Pinochet junta in 1973. It was simultaneously released by different labels under a variety of titles around the world. My copy hails from Mexico, released by leftist folk label Discos Pueblo, who make their intentions clear in a statement (machine-translated by me) on the back of the sleeve that reads in part:

“We find it necessary to point out that due to its quality and value, Victor Jara’s work should be disseminated, but always by those who identify with it, and not by the transnational companies that financed his return to Chile by organizing the bloody military coup of 1973. [Ed. Something in their use of word “retorno” is probably being lost in translation here; I think it implies something like Jara’s “return to whence he came,” e.g. his burial in Chilean soil.] Those transnational corporations that today benefit from Victor Jara’s singing, filtering out its combative aspects and presenting it as incomplete, seem to ignore the deep paths that people use to preserve the integrity of the voice of their singers. This album is our answer.”

The LP is clearly a work of love (and economy), the sleeve purposely left unglued so that it can be opened like a gatefold, revealing testimonies by his peers. There’s scarcely an inch that isn’t crammed with text—even the flaps that cradle the inner sleeve itself hide lyrics to two of the album’s key songs:

The sleeve unfolded.

“I don’t sing for the sake of singing, or for having a good voice, I sing because the guitar has sense and reason, it has a heart of earth and wings of a dove, it is like holy water that blesses my sorrows. This is where my song fits, as Violeta said, a hard-working guitar that smells of spring. It is not a rich man’s guitar or anything like that, my song is the scaffolding to reach the stars. The song has meaning when it beats in the veins of the one who will die singing truths, not fleeting flattery or foreign fame, but the song of a lark to the bottom of the earth. There, where everything arrives and where everything begins, a song that has been brave will always be a nueva cancion [New Song].”

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Jara’s artistry (which, besides spearheading the nueva cancion movement, also included poetry and theatrical direction) was inseparable from his politics, and the music of Manifiesto is a stirring testament to his talents and the historical moment he occupied, when Chile like Cuba before it seemed on the verge of breaking free from centuries of resource extraction-driven imperialism and making its own way. These songs cannot help but feel elegiac given the circumstances of their release, and indeed they do frequently mourn the historical oppression of the common worker. Jara’s was a lark’s voice, not that of a conventional rabble rouser, and most of these songs seem best suited for night-time gatherings of comrades and lovers or, in the case of the dazzling instrumental “Caicai Vilu” (referencing a Mapuche creation myth), perhaps a rural cotillion. But these songs were recorded during the years of Salvador Allende’s triumph, a movement that Jara had personally helped galvanize, and there is the sense that these are songs about moving in a changed world that still feels almost surreal. Only at the very end, with the rock-inflected call to arms “Canto libre,” does Jara’s Revolutionary sentiment take on a more martial beat, finally unfurling a flag of victory.

That victory would be short-lived of course, as U.S. imperialists would soon back Pinochet’s reign of terror and grind the Chilean people under the heel of fascism for another generation. It’s hard to make an argument that Jara and Allende’s side “won” in any meaningful sense (without an appeal to some abstracted moral arbiter anyway). It may be blinkered to even try, knowing that Pinochet died obscenely wealth in his nineties and that there were never meaningful consequences for his even wealthier American backers, while a despairing Allende perished at his own hand and Jara with his fingers broken and his body riddled with bullets. Yet I do believe that a song can transcend the accounting of atrocities and persist on its own terms. Music like Jara’s will endure as long as there are human beings who seek a recognition of their own worthiest qualities in art. As one of the Mexican edition’s compilers says:

“…his voice will not have coffins or crematoriums, nor dark prisons nor barbed wire, comrades! His voice and his guitar continue the fight, they remain alive seeking victory. And they will also return as flags when the Homeland regains its joy.”

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#victor jara #chilean music #salvador allende #protest music #latin american music #chile #latin america #andean folk #revolutionary music #socialism #operation condor #augusto pinochet #'70s music #leftism #music review #vinyl record

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justforbooks · 11 days

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Peter Eötvös

Hungarian conductor of modernist music who went on to compose operas with texts ranging from Three Sisters to Angels in America

The Hungarian composer and conductor Peter Eötvös, who has died aged 80, is now best known for the 12 operas that he wrote during the last 25 years of his life. Before that, he played a leading role as a conductor specialising in the promotion of European musical modernism.

Premiered in Lyon in 1998, the work that launched Eötvös’s career as a successful opera composer was Three Sisters. The libretto, written with Claus H Henneberg, reworks Anton Chekhov’s play into a series of three “sequences”, each offering a version of events from the point of view of a single character; no fewer than four roles are taken by countertenors.

From then onwards, he frequently added new stage works to an already growing number of concert works in an extensive output notable for its radiant lyricism and brilliant orchestration. By extending the modernist origins of an approach rooted in the music and ideas of Pierre Boulez and Karlheinz Stockhausen with the aid of deeply considered investigations of other music of cultures beyond Europe, Eötvös gradually found his own voice.

Stockhausen had already drawn on Japanese musical and theatrical traditions, and Eötvös’s earliest opera, Harakiri – based on the ritual suicide of Yukio Mishima – was composed as far back as 1973, while both composers were working together in Osaka. Subsequently, however, Eötvös’s style – variously influenced by Chinese as well as Japanese traditions, by Indian, African and Basque musics, by jazz and, not least, by Béla Bartók and the folk repertoires of his native Transylvania – developed much of its individuality from interrogations of those cultures that went far beyond any mere cultural tourism.

His instrumental compositions, as well as his operas, often spring from such sources: the large-scale orchestral work Atlantis (1995), for example, draws on Transylvanian dances that act as a symbol of a lost culture associated, for the composer, with renewed hope. In later years he received many commissions from the world’s leading orchestras: in 2016, for instance, for Oratorium Balbulum, to a text by Péter Esterházy, for the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, premiered at the Salzburg festival. Ruminating on a variety of topical political issues, from the 9/11 terrorist attacks to relationships between countries, this work is typical of Eötvös’s social and political concerns.

But his operas already seem likely to represent the most enduring and surprisingly varied dimension of his output. Adapting novels and plays by writers both classic and modern – including Jon Fosse, Jean Genet, Tony Kushner and Gabriel García Márquez – these works demonstrate both Eötvös’s wide literary ambitions and his willingness to explore a variety of different dramatic approaches, comic as well as tragic. He was assisted in devising some of these opera libretti by Maria Eötvösne Mezei, his third wife.

Le Balcon – its libretto, by Françoise Morvan, André Markovitz and the composer, derived from Genet’s now classic tale of power struggles within a revolutionary setting – was first seen at Aix-en-Provence in 2002. Mezei’s libretto for Angels in America (2004) boils down to less than three hours the original seven hours of Kushner’s play about HIV/Aids.

Several of his operas have been seen in the UK. When his Márquez-based Love and Other Demons was produced at Glyndebourne in 2008, Eötvös became the first non-British composer to have a stage work premiered there. Described by the composer as “a bel canto opera”, it explored illicit love, superstition, race and demonic power, with a libretto by Kornél Hamvai. The music underpins the drama with an innate understanding of how orchestral forces can enhance the overall effect; though indulging in some gorgeous sounds, the composer displays the rare knack of knowing when less can sometimes be more powerful than more.

Eötvös’s final opera, Valuska – also his first with a libretto in Hungarian, by Mezei and Kinga Keszthelyi – was drawn from the novel The Melancholy of Resistance, by László Krasznahorkai: a tragi-comic, surreal story centring on a newspaper delivery man and the arrival in his small town of a circus with, as its star attraction, the world’s largest taxidermied whale. Valuska was premiered in Budapest last December.

Eötvös was, like his older compatriots György Ligeti and György Kurtág, a native of multi-ethnic Transylvania – then in Hungary but subsequently transferred to Romania; his birthplace was Székelyudvarhely. The turbulent final months of the second world war caused his family, including his mother, Ilona Szucs, to flee westwards. She was a pianist, and his father, Laszlo Eötvös, was a lawyer. Peter’s early childhood was spent in Miskolc, a northern Hungarian town where he first met Ligeti. The latter was already becoming established as a composer and teacher by the late 1940s, and the two remained in contact.

Eötvös studied piano and composition at the Franz Liszt Academy in Budapest from 1958 onwards; after advice from Zoltán Kodály, János Viski became his composition teacher. He soon gaining a reputation for improvising to accompany silent films and composing scores for both cinema and theatre.

In 1966, at the age of 22, he moved to Cologne on a scholarship to work with Stockhausen. He also studied composition with Bernd Alois Zimmermann and began to conduct. When I first went to the Darmstadt Summer School, in 1974, I recall Eötvös not only as one of Stockhausen’s closest acolytes but also as a member of a recently formed group of young Cologne-based musicians calling themselves the Oeldorf Group and specialising in live performance involving electronics.

From 1978, after Boulez asked him to conduct the opening concert of IRCAM, his Institut de Recherche et Coordination Acoustique/Musique, in Paris, Eötvös found fame as a conductor specialising in all the latest compositional trends that helped to drive the global modernist agenda of the time. He quickly assumed the position of musical director of Ensemble Intercontemporain, IRCAM’s flagship chamber orchestra.

He conducted the world premieres of Stockhausen’s operas Donnerstag aus Licht (1981) and Montag aus Licht (1988). In the UK, he conducted the Covent Garden performances of Donnerstag in 1985 and was principal guest conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra from that year until 1988. He worked with the London Sinfonietta and also conducted Leos Janáček’s The Makropulos Case at Glyndebourne in 2001.

It was only after relinquishing his duties with the Ensemble Intercontemporain, in 1991, that Eötvös really came to the fore as a composer. With his new status on the European scene, and the political events of 1989 onwards, came new responsibilities.

He taught conducting and contemporary chamber music in both Karlsruhe and Cologne in Germany. Having already founded the International Eötvös Institute for young conductors and composers in Budapest in 1991, he went on to establish the Peter Eötvös Contemporary Music Foundation in 2004. It was at this moment, when Hungary joined the European Union, that Eötvös and his wife Maria – who had both previously lived in Cologne, Paris and then Hilversum in the Netherlands – finally moved back to Budapest.

A son from Eötvös’s first marriage, to the actor Piroska Molnár in 1968, predeceased him. In 1976 he married the Taiwanese-German pianist Pi-hsien Chen, with whom he had a daughter, Ann-yi. They divorced and he subsequently married Maria Mezei in 1995. He is survived by her, Ann-yi and by two stepsons from that marriage, Peter and Daniel.

🔔 Peter Eötvös, composer and conductor, born 2 January 1944; died 24 March 2024

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#just for books #Peter Eötvös #in memoriam

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