domingo, 19 de diciembre de 2021

SAGA DE INVIERNO (vintersaga)

SAGA DE INVIERNO (vintersaga)


Un rompehielos partiendo los témpanos en Kvarken,

entrenamiento en Ullevi en la niebla....

La frontera en Tornio, una señora en patinete,

el faro de Landsort en la tormenta...

Nieve densa en cuestas en suburbios de Estocolmo,

calurosa disco en Harnösand,

un tráiler que se pierde entre Kiruna y lo lejos,

en Visby, fallan luces junto al mar...

..............................................................................

ENTONCES, LA GRAN MORRIÑA VIENE A LLEGAR,

DE LOS MARES SOPLA UN VIENTO QUE ES GRIS, GLACIAL...

..................................................................................

En Malmö, las sirenas de ferris cortan la niebla

y el mundo comienza allende el Estrecho...

Un Volvo lucha contra la tormenta en el puente de Tjörn,

el cine en Pajala estrena un filme nuevo.

La Flecha Lapona ruge cual bestia salvaje,

en las granjas, apagan la luz...

En la tormenta, Marstrand reza un Pater Noster,

y en Estocolmo crece la inquietud...

..............................................................................

ENTONCES, LA GRAN MORRIÑA VIENE A LLEGAR,

DE LOS MARES SOPLA UN VIENTO QUE ES GRIS, GLACIAL...

..................................................................................

Autogrill en Docksta, al lado de la autopista,

sobredosis en el metro de Estocolmo,

granjas nevadas en un lugar de Österlen,

y, en Kiruna, se empina aún más el codo.

Sed helada en la cola al pub local de Luleå,

sueños helados en la monarquía...

Vive el amor entre el turno de noche y los sueños

de vino caliente en tierras frías...

..............................................................................

ENTONCES, LA GRAN MORRIÑA VIENE A LLEGAR,

DE LOS MARES SOPLA UN VIENTO QUE ES GRIS, GLACIAL...

................................................................................

Original sueco: Ted Ström y Monica Törnell

Traducido del sueco por Sandra Dermark

Esperemos que la gran morriña, det stora vemodet en sueco, esté ausente de vuestras vidas en estas fiestas.

GOD JUL!!!! (¡¡¡FELIZ NAVIDAD!!!)

jueves, 9 de diciembre de 2021

WOLFGANG SCHIVELBUSCH ON DRUGLORE

WOLFGANG SCHIVELBUSCH ON DRUGLORE - THE PHYSIOLOGICAL GROUNDS FOR THE MOTIF OF THE POISONED CUP



To visit a pub is to step into another world. For there the abstract law of exchange is suspended, at least in part. It's not that customers don't have to pay for drinks. The barkeeper is in business, after all. But somehow the rules of the outside world don't govern here. 


Mass Observation, a sociological study undertaken in England in the 1930s, documents the drinking behavior of twentieth-century pubs and describes a typical scene. On a Sunday afternoon three men sit at a bar, each nursing a drink that he has paid for himself. A fourth man enters, and after ordering a drink and half-emptying his glass, he calls to the bartender to order drinks for all four. They begin a conversation, and after a while one of the other men orders another round. Two of the men who have not yet paid for a round are unemployed, but one of them orders the third round. When the drinks are placed before the group, the second of the two unemployed men leaves the pub, signaling his intent to return by leaving his glass half-empty. When he returns five minutes later, he finishes his drink and orders another four drinks. Now the round is complete. Later he confesses that he really did not want to be part of the round because he was short of money. He had to go home to get money because he felt he couldn't excuse himself from the round. From personal experience everyone recognizes this unspoken obligation to participate in rounds of drinks regardless of whether he's in the mood or not, and even when he can't really afford it. Not to go along with it would be to lose face. Yet this sort of obligation holds true only in bars, pubs, and such locales, and only in connection with alcoholic drinks. The idea of such a thing happening in a restaurant would be absurd. What is natural in a bar or public house is meaningless on the outside. 


Drinking, then, is apparently a special human activity, or, to quote from the Handwörterbuch des deutschen Aberglaubens [Dictionary of German Superstition], article "Trinken", "the superstitious ideas and customs that center around the activity of drinking are to be understood as remnants of older magical, cultic actions and manifestations of belief." 


But why should it be drinking to which these primordial notions have remained so strongly attached rather than eating solids, which is certainly as essential to life? 


In the first place, archaic magical interpretations saw drinking and eating as equally conflicting processes. On the one hand, a person who consumes and incorporates things becomes their master. But on the other hand, the consumer thereby delivers themself up to them, in a sense succumbs to them. For things have lives of their own. The plants and animals a person eats (aside from cannibalism) continue to have an effect within the consumer, indeed work either with or against them, depending on whether they are well or ill disposed toward the consumer. 


What makes drinking more important than eating solids is the fact that here the individual life or soul of a thing is being directly assimilated. In magical thinking every fluid symbolizes blood, and the blood or sap -vital fluid- of an animal or a plant is its soul. This accounts for the taboo against the presence of blood in food of most cultures, our own included. The Christian Eucharist still contains an echo of this identification of blood with the soul.

Because of this direct connection drinking had something menacing about it for primitive humans. As one drinks, one assimilates the soul of something else and one loses their own soul in proportion to their drinking. Wine is the classical instance of this. The person intoxicated by wine no longer possesses their own soul, but is filled by that of the wine, that is, the wine god.

Like most magical conceptions, this one too has a grain of physiological truth to it. Liquid imbibed enters the bloodstream faster than solid foods. The effect for any given drink is more rapid, more immediately observable. And the custom of adding poison to drink has an actual physiological basis as well as the magical one. The poisoned drink is as old as humankind's drinking culture and drinking magic itself. In magical lore every drink is potentially poisoned or, to put it in more general terms, a threat, in that it might embody a soul hostile to the drinker.

Through history drinking rituals have evolved, aimed at neutralizing this menacing aspect. Drinking rituals are communal so that all will feel safe and be able to keep a watchful eye on one another. The king's taster, whose duty it was to test every drink set before his lord for poison, was a variant on this communal drinking, revealing its purpose explicitly.

The oldest and most important drinking ritual is the toast. In making their toasts the drinkers vow reciprocal friendship, goodwill, and good intentions, using traditional stock formulas. One such eleventh-century drinking oath goes: "Let the cups be brought and let us drink to health, drink after me and drink to me, drink to the full, drink half the cup and I shall drink to you." Another toast from the thirteenth century ran: "I drink to you, now drink as much as I do." In a sense, the drink itself was consecrated by these formulas, thus ceasing to be a threat. On the contrary, it became a guarantee and symbol of communality, friendship, and fraternity for those who were drinking. Toasting in archaic societies assumed proportions scarcely imaginable today. Even in the sixteenth century all drinking binges necessarily ended in the total inebriation of all participants, since it would have been an unheard-of breach of drinking etiquette for any member to quit sooner. In drinking etiquette it is taboo not to accept a proffered drink or, for that matter, not to reciprocate. 

Communal drinking is, as has already been suggested here, characterized by a remarkable ambivalence. On the one hand, it creates fraternity among drinkers, on the other this relationship is marked by mutual caution, obligation, and competitiveness, which make it seem far less than friendly. In an instant the bond can be broken and turned into its opposite, should the basic rule be violated. Anyone who refuses a drink offered him in a workers' bar may well find themself in the middle of a brawl; if one does not in turn offer a round, one makes a fool of oneself. Once one is a participant in a round of drinks, one cannot suddenly of their own accord back out. As the scene cited at the start of this chapter shows, one must observe certain rules, even if one is not in the mood. Behavioural sociologists determined from actual observation how ironclad these rules are, unwritten though they may be: "Once the proclamation is made that rounds have begun, it is incumbent upon the members of a group to participate regardless of individual preferences. One cannot demand that they pay for one's own drink and one's own drink only. If one of the members of the group must leave immediately after their first drink, they will usually state that they will stand the first round, being unavailable to stand any subsequent round. Although paying for more drinks than he will be consuming during the course of his stay may be economically unfair to him, it is required that either the other participants in the group accept his offer or that some other member volunteer to take the first round and allow the soon-to-be-departing member's drink to be defined as a gift drink. For example, if one member requests the first round because he must leave and his offer is declined, it is typically declined by someone saying, 'No, let me get the first round, and I'll treat you to a drink.' Once rounds have begun, each member of the group in turn is obligated to stand at least one round. Thus, if a group is composed of four members, rounds must continue for at least four drinks, after which another set of rounds may begin or the participants may begin purchasing their drinks on an individual basis. When rounds have started, the original
group members typically remain together, at least until they have purchased their round, since each member of the group is obligated to purchase one round. Sometimes a member of the original group who has stood their round will move to some other part of the bar, but members of the original group who are yet to stand a round must still include that member even though he or she is no longer physically part of the group. And the defector, in turn, must at least by gesture acknowledge each subsequent drink received from the group, thus maintaining social contact at least until the termination of the rounds." 

The above-mentioned study Mass Observation notes how far, indeed how deep into realms of the unconscious, the feeling of fraternity within a group of drinkers extends. Members of rounds will empty their glasses almost at the same time, and often the levels of the liquid in the glasses will vary by no more than half an inch. The variations are most marked when the glasses are less than half full. They begin at the same time and finish at the same, or almost the same, time. The study relates an impressive example of this telepathic sense of community by reporting about a group of four men of whom one is blind. All sit at a table and order their beer. As soon as the glasses are served, they all raise them to their lips and drink for about four seconds, each returning his glass to the table at the same time. Each, including the blind man, has emptied exactly a quarter of the glass. The next few times they drink in shorter gulps, sometimes the blind man first, sometimes the other three, without any noticeable pattern. But, at the end, they all finish their drinks with a variation of between a quarter and a half inch of beer remaining. 

 The rules and rituals that accompany drinking in a bar or pub survive in our modern civilization as relics from a long-forgotten age. The public house or bar, in fact, may be termed a sort of preserve, in which archaic behavior patterns that have all but vanished from other spheres of life are kept alive. To fully understand the meaning of drinking rituals, one must recall these age-old modes of conduct, mechanisms, and rituals, and their social function. This archaic practice which is perpetuated in drinking rituals is known in anthropology as a potlatch. The potlatch is a kind of sacrificial offering, not to the divinity, but to other human beings. In the potlatch valuable objects are either destroyed in the presence of members of another tribe (a destruction potlatch) or given to them (a gift potlatch). From a modern, rationalistic point of view this process seems senseless, but for primitive societies it has, as the French anthropologist and sociologist Marcel Mauss discovered, an absolutely central social importance: "The motive for these excessive gifts and this reckless consumption, the senseless loss and destruction of property is in no way unselfishly motivated. Among chieftains, vassals, and followers a hierarchy is established by means of these gifts. Giving is a way of demonstrating one's superiority, of showing that one is greater, that one stands higher . . .; to accept, without reciprocating or giving more in return, means subordinating oneself, becoming a vassal and follower, sinking deeper."

Even today traces survive of this original sense of gift giving. Anyone who gives a gift, treats, or invites another is the superior and more powerful person. The recipient, of course, has the advantage of receiving something of value without paying for it; but on the other hand the recipient does pay for it, precisely by being left the passive receiver. For this reason it is mostly children, especially young children—those who in our society personify powerlessness and passivity—who are given gifts (by adults, often their parents or guardians). The German expression for reciprocating a gift, sich revanchieren, contains a word closely linked to "revenge," a reminder that every gift basically entails an assault on the autonomy of the receiver. This is exactly what Nietzsche, that great unmasker of fair appearances, meant by calling gratitude a form of revenge: expressing thanks when one has received a favor or a present gives an immaterial counterpresent, so to speak, a formula by which the recipient attempts to neutralize or, more accurately, to avenge, the incursion into their existence the gift represents. 

 Yet these are only lingering traces of the older meaning that gift giving, gift receiving, and the exchange of presents once had. With the capitalist principle of exchange, this mechanism has generally lost its power in our daily lives. 

It is only in the context of alcohol drinking that it still survives with any degree of vigour. In a sense, the bar is a thoroughly archaic place, with more than mere vestiges, hints, or sublimations of what once was clinging to it. Here the genuine article lives on: drinkers sharing rounds are participants in a potlatch. With the instinctive sureness of migratory birds they follow the rules and rituals of offering and reciprocating, without an inkling of their ancient origins. Assisting them in this, of course, is the alcohol itself, around which everything revolves. It washes away the newer, "civilized" levels of consciousness, exposing the archaic level where intoxication, fraternity, and competition merge as spontaneously as they might have in a drinking bout five hundred, a thousand, or three thousand years ago. 



(From Chapter 6 of Tastes of ParadiseA Social History of Spices, Stimulants, and Intoxicants)

Eine andere Quelle, dass ich konsultieren will ist:

Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen
Narkotika9.1187-1194Schwibbe, Gudrun

sábado, 6 de noviembre de 2021

ERMENGARDE ST. JOHN in AFTER LÜTZEN

 


Ermengarde St. John by Nathalie Novi, her face the full moon wreathed in flames. This edition from Lacombe's Classiques Illustrés has just released in both France and Spain.
She is one of my favourite characters from public domain youth literature because I could relate to her family issues as a teen (my dad and hers put pressure on us to study harder!). Therefore she frequently appears in my classic literature crossover fics.
Most recently in "After Lützen," my 30YW Les Mis AU-crossover, her surname changed to Johannitz and her hometown from Oxford to Leipzig! She will even get, by following the widowed Queen Eleanor and her freaks into Sweden, to meet a child Queen Christina and befriend her (just like she did with Sara in canon), becoming her handmaid... what better day than today, Gustavus Adolphus Day, to announce the news?

IN MEMORIAM GUSTAVI ADOLPHI MMXXI - GOTHENBURG 4TH CENTENNIAL SPECIAL

 This year marks the fourth centennial of the foundation of Gothenburg by a twentyish Gustavus Adolphus in 1621, and there is commemorative artwork of him all over town so I thought I would share a few I took during my summer holidays:












When he founded Gothenburg and Borâs and Sundsvall and many other localities (in Sweden and elsewhere in the North and Baltic!) in 1621 it was a tranquil peacetime year of newlywed youth, a decade away from the battlefields of the heart of Europe and especially from the fog and the chaos of Lützen...



 













To the memory of Gustavus Adolphus Karlsson of Vasa

*Nyköping, Sweden, 9th of December 1594 
 + Lützen, Saxony, 6th of November 1632

His spouse Mary Eleanor (next to the throne), their daughter Christina Augusta 
(in his arms), his right-hand man Chancellor Axel Oxenstierna (next to the throne),
 his courtiers and his people, his officers and soldiers, will always
 keep his memory alive, as long as Sweden and freedom exist.


Beloved ruler of nations and leader of armies,
consort, father, friend, and lover



Inspired by thirst
for glory, on the field of battle quaffed
instead death's bitter draught.



The last word was missing in his epic song:
the word that crowns every achievement.
The mourners have done their duty, right or wrong:
they wrote it in blood and bereavement.






He left us when we (and he) expected it the least
in the prime of his life and at the climax of his career,
before he could be tarnished by the failing vigour of an older age
or by the corruption brought upon him by success. 
A single bullet, just like any other, 
suddenly struck his back and entered his noble chest, 
to quench a flame that never could or should have burned brighter.



























martes, 19 de octubre de 2021

LA REINA DE LAS NIEVES – 4º EPISODIO (abreviado)

 

LA REINA DE LAS NIEVES – 4º EPISODIO (abreviado)

Versión de Mil Años de Cuentos, tomo 1/Mille ans de contes, tome 1 (editorial Edelvives / éd. Milan en France)

Adaptación de un autor francés desconocido hasta la fecha (texto origen en francés)

Traducción de Gerard Jacas

 

… Bien podría tratarse de …, pero, en todo caso, … ha reemplazado por una princesa.

¿Por una princesa?

¡Pues, sí! … lo explicaré. Tengo una novia … que se mueve libremente por el palacio. Fue ella quien me dijo lo que … voy a contar. Nuestra princesa, que es muy inteligente, decidió casarse con un hombre que supiera conversar con ella. Hizo publicar un edicto y, enseguida, un enjambre de pretendientes llegó al palacio. Todos hablaban muy bien antes de entrar, pero, cuando traspasaban la puerta y veían la guardia uniformada con ribetes de plata, los lacayos con sus trajes bordados en oro y los inmensos salones iluminados, se quedaban perplejos. Permanecían inmóviles ante el trono de la princesa, repitiendo las últimas palabras que ella había pronunciado.

Al tercer día, llegó un pequeño personaje, sin carruaje y sin caballo, que andaba con paso firme. Sus ojos brillaban …, tenía un pelo largo precioso, pero sus ropas parecían las de un pordiosero.

Estaba muy seguro de sí mismo, pero no vino al palacio como pretendiente, sino para comprobar la inteligencia de la princesa, y al verse se gustaron mutuamente.

—… ¿… conducirás a ese palacio?

… A continuación, … condujo al palacio precisamente cuando las luces se iban apagando unas tras otras. Entraron por una puerta trasera y subieron por la escalera. … La novia … los condujo, a través de enormes salas y pasillos, al dormitorio. El techo parecía una gran palmera con ramas de cristal. En medio de la habitación había dos camas que parecían lirios. Una era blanca y en ella estaba acostada la princesa, la otra era roja y era allí donde …. Apartó uno de los rojos pétalos y apareció una nuca morena

El joven que allí dormía volvió entonces la cabeza y… …

… y les contó … historia.

—¡Pobrecita! —exclamaron el príncipe y la princesa.

… acostaron en la cama y, a la mañana siguiente, … invitaron a quedarse en el palacio para que viviera feliz y contenta.

Pero … sólo pidió un carruaje con caballos, un par de botas y un manguito para marchar otra vez a la búsqueda …. … regalaron un bonito vestido, un par de botas y un manguito, e hicieron preparar una carroza de oro con su cochero y algunos criados. Después, el príncipe y la princesa … desearon buena suerte. … un trecho … mientras la carroza, que brillaba con la luz del sol, se perdía a lo lejos…

Corrían por un espeso bosque cuando unos bandidos los abordaron, mientras gritaban:

—¡Oro! ¡Es oro!

Sujetaron los caballos para que no huyeran, mataron al cochero y a los criados y sacaron del carruaje …

Y añadió:

—Quiero subir a la carroza.

Siempre solía hacer su voluntad. Subió … y se adentraron en el bosque hasta llegar a un viejo castillo. Era la guarida de los bandidos. Entraron en una gran sala, ennegrecida por el humo, donde ardía un gran fuego; había un caldero con sopa hirviendo y unos conejos que daban vueltas en la asadera.

 

(En esta versión abreviada, no se explica al final —muy abreviado; de hecho parece que los dos chicos vuelvan derechos a casa desde el palacio de hielo— que uno de los caballos de la carroza está en posesión de la muchacha bandida como su montura, ni que el príncipe y la princesa se han marchado a tierras extrañas de luna de miel.)

sábado, 16 de octubre de 2021

THE DANCING STAR - L'INTÉGRALE

 THE DANCING STAR

Josep Ballester...

Translated from the Catalan by Sandra Dermark.


CHAPTER ONE


No one who does not have chaos within them can give birth to a dancing star.

Friedrich Nietzsche.


Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, as soon as he got up in bed, thought: "Today I'm going to the Main Square to see the brand new fountain they have put smack dab in the middle of the square, walk the streets, walk the promenade, walk the narrow old backstreets, to see what's going on in the village. Perhaps or surely I will become aware of something that happened last night while I slept. It's possible that the shopkeeper has burst into laughter and fallen into the water tank and gotten out with a cart full of goldfish, or a fishbowl full of hay, in her grasp. Who knows? Maybe the husband of the Moon, of the silver white Moon, was going down to the ground floor to find an olive-tree-greenish glove which their daughter had forgotten upon returning from playing and skipping rope to the tune of the song called 'Dance of the buzzer-buzzers at the bottom of the rabbit hole.' Or maybe Harry Frothystride had had a finger stuck to his nose from when he mocked the hairstyling lady-lizards when the latter curled the hair of Granny Chardface on the market place.

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn broke his fast. Roger Rococo lives in a house where everything remains like it was ever before. The rooftop is on top, like ever before, above his bedroom, and his bedroom is beneath the rooftop, like ever before. From his bedroom window the view is always the same; the sun rises at dawn, and its rays eagerly stroke the tree-lined promenade before the school opposite his place. At night, on nights with a moon, the moon beams with a long and lustful kiss upon the crystal waters of Prussian blue of the blue river of Prussian crystal.

Things continue to be like ever before, anyway, and as deep and as soft as the eyes of Othello Meow when he looks at the deep horizon.

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn went out into the garden to see what Othello Meow was doing; he found him behind the rose bush with coral roses, of an intense shade of coral. Othello Meow is his pet cat, with a coat as black as dark midnight dotted with some ashen-grey spots. The cat was scratching at the ground passionately, as if there were something there, digging quicker and quicker just like dogs do when they bury the khaki-coloured and red-polka-dotted bones of their dreams.

"I must help him," quoth Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn. And both cat and owner began to dig in the garden soil. Imagine their surprise when a little head popped up and spoke to them:

"Good morning to you two! I am Adelade the Star!"

"Whaaaa...???"

She was a tiny star, not very large; anyway astronomers who know, or say they know, with their distinguished and illustrious mien, told us that stars were very large, and this one was not oversized, indeed, Adelade was a tiny baby star.

With a smile as wide as an autumn breeze, and eyes as large and rounded and blue as a pair of blue dragonflies. So blue, such a transparent and crystal-clear shade of blue as cuckoo-bell flowers full of blue raindrops dancing upon silver leaves after a summer downpour.

And Adelade the Star asked them once more:

"Who are you two?"

"We... are Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn and Othello Meow," they both said, still surprised. "And what are you doing?"

"We stars are tied to golden strings ever since we are born to light up the whole sky; then, when we are a little bit older, we can let go and travel or fall down to Earth. Therefore, you may have sometimes seen from here a star, and find that it has disappeared the next day; it's because that star has left to explore the wide world."

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn said that Lady Nell Bread-and-Honey, his grandmother, had told him another tale about the stars.

"Lady Nell Bread-and-Honey always told me that the stars are candied hazelnuts, which the witch Clara and the witch Claudia scatter wherever they fly."


 CHAPTER 2 of THE DANCING STAR

They spent a long time in conversation, telling each other tales from here and there, and also telling tales from there and here. Every now and then or every then and now Othello Meow tickled Adelade the Star, and the latter was even more encouraged to tell of adventures.

Adelade the Star suggested to both of them, to Othello Meow and Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, as well as both Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn and Othello Meow, to come with her to the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn, which filled Roger's face with a wide green smile like those of bard frogs when they sing songs to their ladyloves in the lily ponds and their ladyloves reward them with an equally green and wide smile.

His great-great-grandfather had been there and never returned; no one knew either before or afterwards why he had gone forth, but every time his great-great-grandmother was reminded of that land, her gaze was turned towards the ocean and a little teardrop of absence streamed down her left cheek.

Not even the greatest maharajahs, with all their racing elephants and all their lucky crickets, did light-footedly and lunatically undertake a quest like this one. But they all had to wait until from the horizon there rose over the horizon a moon laced with cinnamon lace, and within orange-coloured flesh with bone-colored pips on the orange-coloured flesh. It is then that one can go to the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn. When the orange moon rises, you may expect anything to occur. And when it rose that night, Othello Meow and Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn hopped onto Adelade the Star and began their quest, only leaving on the house door this message.

"We will return soon, or maybe earlier, and when we return we shall return."

So they set course for the orange moon and went right through it, through a long passageway like a colourful tunnel, vermillion and chestnut brown, honey golden and purplish, as long as when you have tunnel vision, tunnel vision in many colours. At the end of the tunnel a beastie was expecting them, a beast none of the three friends had ever seen, and who had never seen any of the three friends either. He was a big one, but either he had got or he hadn't not a face like a good fellow, what they call a nice guy. Suddenly the beast became aware of their presence, and moving his head a little to the right and then moving his head a little to the left, he slowly opened his mouth and said:

"Welcome, I am the camel Kamal; hope you are pleased with your quest through these lands."

"Thank you very much indeed," all three friends responded.

Kamal Hunchcamel had them over for afternoon tea, and, moving his head once more a little to the left and then a little to the right, he told them they could go to the town of Rice-Con-Gee, the largest town in the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn. That evening there would be a redoubtable opera performed by the eight giraffe sisters, the Pokerface sisters; a great show expected and advertised since ages in every community in the environs. He gave them directions towards Rice-Con-Gee: the way was very easy; as soon as they arrived at the icy seas where the whale Emma Corsetdreams slept, they had to continue straight on and they would find the No Cry Shampoo River, that flowed past the town of Rice-Con-Gee.

Othello Meow, Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, and Adelade the Star took their leave satisfied.

"We have our ears full of explanations and we are thankful. When we return we will continue to listen to you and our ears will receive your explanations."

"Goodbye," replied the camel Kamal moving his head now to the right, now to the left.

The town of Rice-Con-Gee rose on a little hill slope, a perfect place for the winds to be able to play in its environs. The winds saunter or run chasing one another, playing hide and seek, red light green light, and especially blind wind's bluff.

When, at the end of the day, the so forgetful and carefree winds have had as much fun as they please, they sing songs in the centre of town; springtimey wind songs in springtime, summery wind songs in summer, wintry wind songs in winter. In autumn they breathe out in little puffs and get lost around the corners of old townhouses.

At the door of most houses there were cloth-wringing contraptions. Long and short contraptions, short and stumpy contraptions, tall and slender contraptions, depending on the physique of the houses' inhabitants, whether short and chubby or tall and thin.

In the town of Rice-Con-Gee, on Main Street every afternoon and evening sat old Laura Chocolate-Wishes with her accordion, an accordion that, whenever it was in a good mood, told little tales instead of making the passers-by dance. The little tales it told were sometimes or every now and then as sad as when children have the sorrowful shadows of the valley in their eyes at night. But occasionally or every then and now, in the same fashion, those little tales were as cheerful as when children have upon their brows the bright light of the rising sun.

Adelade the Star, Othello Meow, and Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn approached her and asked her:

"What is this little box you have in your hands?"

"It is an accordion, it is as old as I am," quoth Laura Chocolate-Wishes, "but we love one another, we keep one another good company."

"What do you mean," asked Adelade the Star, "by keeping good company?"

"That we speak to one another when no one pays attention to us, we speak of the playing winds, or of the rain that refreshes our cheeks, or of some sleepy moon pretending that she is asleep."

And, upon finishing, the accordion because it was in a good mood:

"Once upon a time, and I mean a long long time ago," the accordion began, "long before the crocopuffs lost their wonderful spectacles, which let them see the same things we see but in black and white; long before the day-blue muslings had their velveteen tails honeyed by falling pots of sweet honey; long before the bell-ringers of the jungle whistled their last excruciating cries; long long time before the sorrowful events that occurred long long time before all that; it was then, some years before that, because crabs have not always walked sideways, a night between springtime and winter, here in Rice-Con-Gee, the Shoemaking Moon, as she is known ever since, sent a message to every shoe in town, who spread the word to all the footwear in the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn: 'Tonight all trainers, mary-janes, slippers, flip-flops, sandals, pumps, high heels, clogs, espadrilles, boots, and every other kind of shoe will go out for a stroll on our own, without any kind of feet inside us. Tonight, while those who put us on their feet during the day, on their long and sneaky and greyish or pale or maybe even purplish feet, are fast asleep in their beds, we shall all rise and go forth for a walk.' In the middle of the night, while everyone was asleep, everywhere did all shoes of every kind leave their bedrooms and storage furniture. They walked down the pavement of the streets, up and down staircases, walking up and walking down the promenades. Wellington boots splashed at their hearts' content in the puddles on the pavement. Everywhere, espadrilles and slippers and pumps and sandals nd trainers and flip-flops tiptoed and wore their heels out. Some of them walked with catlike tread, gently sneaking like some people do during the day. Others walked more clumsily, treading loudly with their heels. On that night the Shoemaker Moon came close to the Earth and invited all those shoes to go for a walk with her; therefore, if you ever see a child on a night with a new moon, looking at the new moon through parted fingers, watching that child from over their right shoulder, never over their left as everyone else does, it is because that child is looking at the Shoemaker Moon all full of heaps of espadrilles, sandals, high heels, slippers... all kinds of shoes long story short."

"And if the accordion tells sad stories," asked Othello Meow, "what do you do?"

"If the stories make me really sad," Laura Chocolate-Wishes replied, "I play the sleepy song of the long wind that enters up the slope drowsily. Then the tune carries me away to a place where I have time, lots of time, to dream."

And her eyes, little by little, began to close, until she fell asleep  with her accordion, just like every afternoon on Main Street.

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star sauntered up Main Street until they reached Tickle-Laugh Square, where, at the local theatre, the eight giraffe sisters were about to perform. The four eldest were called Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce; the four younger were Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice. They came from a line of opera singers and actors with longstanding tradition, the Pokerface family. Both the elder giraffe sisters Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce; and the younger giraffe sisters Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice Pokerface, all eight giraffe sisters, were of splodged skin and had splodgy coats.

Yet when our friends reached the theatre by the front entrance, they found it closed and a sign saying: "No opera today, because the eight giraffe sisters of the Pokerface family have quarrelled."

The quarrel was concerning the hats and the jackets that they would have to don for the first time at the evening show. They could not agree on which kind of hat or jacket to wear, or on the way to put them on.

Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce said: "The most convenient thing would be to wear both hat and jacket upright and straight." Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice said: "The most alluring thing would be to wear both hat and jacket askew, cocked to the side." The argument lasted for hours and hours, and no solution was reached. Since nothing would be solved by letting the spat go on and on, someone, no one knows exactly who, had the brilliant idea of seeking out the Director of the Theatre.

The Director of the Theatre sent for the Director of Public Cleaning Services for Streets and Squares. The Director of Public Cleaning Services for Streets and Squares sent for the Head of Department of Regional Services for Vaccination Against the Common Cold of the Healthcare Prefecture. The Head of Department of Regional Services for Vaccination Against the Common Cold of the Healthcare Prefecture sent for the General Coordinator of Lighting Devices and Psychedelic Affinities; then the General Coordinator of Lighting Devices and Psychedelic Affinities phoned the Mayor, who, very seriously and with a quite sensible mien, said, speaking like a politician who has studied and practiced politics: "Seek out the Special Committee for Complicated Cases."

The Committee gathered in extraordinary assembly. They were an illustrious and distinguished committee, and, when they were all sitting down together, their mouths opened underneath their noses (as it happens to everyone in every illustrious committee), and they picked their ears and scratched their chins thoughtfully (as it happens to everyone in every distinguished committee). Any person who saw them would have said:

"This must be a quite illustrious and distinguished committee."

Their assembly continued.

Two of the giraffe sisters from the Pokerface family, Lettuce and Lattice, remained looking one another in the eyes and blinking, blinking and looking one another in the eyes, with their laughing little eyes. Suddenly, both of them raised their voices at unison:

"We shall wear our hats askew and our jackets straight."

And that was the end of the quarrel between the eight giraffe sisters and the much expected opera could begin without too much delay. Since giraffes are mute, the song they sang remains shut inside the head of each of the eight Pokerface sisters. The elder four, Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce; and the four younger sisters, Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice, only by looking very attentively into their little laughing eyes can the audience realise if they are singing out of key or not.

After the opera, all three friends walked towards the town's outskirts, where they found a great network of devices and contraptions, from which every now and then soap bubbles came out; large soap bubbles checkered with large checkers, small bubbles with small lilac stripes, large bubbles with large scarlet stripes.

As all three looked aghast at the contraption, there appeared a fellow with a strange mien, in turquoise uniform with a casque on his head; a police officer.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? Do I know you?"

All three friends were left even more astonished, they did not even know what to reply, nor how to leave this predicament.

"Keep calm! I am a respectful friend to all respectable people. That is why I carry this badge, to seize the people who are not respectable," said the police officer, touching the badge and all the medals he wore on his chest pompously. "But rest reassured, you have the face of respectable people."

"!!!!" (They had not left their surprised state yet.)

"This great contraption you see here," the officer continued, "is a patented soap bubble maker, invented by our most honourable Mayor of Rice-Con-Gee. He has also patented the clothes-wringers that all of our houses boast of. Now he is pondering about something else to take even more profit from the Shampoo River. You may get on the bubble that pleases you the most and hitch a ride on it."

"Are there no objections or problems on the Mayor's side?" asked Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn.

"No, of course not! This will flatter him a lot," said the officer beaming his greatest smile.


CHAPTER 3 of THE DANCING STAR

Without thinking even for an instant, they got on a very large bubble that was coming out of the device. It was one of the large scarlet bubbles checkered with large checkers. Then what had to occur occurred, and they rose up higher and higher. They saw the whole slope of the hill where Rice-Con-Gee was located, also the whale Emma Corsetdreams sunning herself, and a slide-shaped rainbow with quite many curves and loops. Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star told the bubble to leave them at the beginning of the Rainbow Slide, which was tied to a moon, the moon called Specklepick Colourful. The slide was all in intense saturated shades. The yellow was very yellow, the colour of golden hair. The red was a fleshlike shade of ruby. The violet was leaning on purple, and purplish. The blue was the bluish cerulean cyan of the day sky.

All three launched downwards at breakneck speed, and, upon reaching the end of the slide, they proved that it was as easy to roll upwards as downwards. And then they rolled up towards the moon called Specklepick Colourful.

At the cheek of the moon they found two witches. These were not like the wicked witches in the thick books there were at home; they were so-called apprentice witches, but not much else. The great leader of all witches, the Wicked Witch of the North-by-Northwest, had absolutely forbidden them attendance to black masses and other witchy conventions where they talked about what hairstyle was in to wear beneath the pointed hat, or the fastest broomstick up to date..., long story short of their affairs. The two merry little witches were what we call troublemakers of the highest degree. They introduced themselves:

"We are two witches. I'm Claudia Almond-Nougat, and this is Clara Hazelnut-Sugarplum... well, we're not proper witches yet but soon we will be!"

"How can it be?" asked Adelade the Star.

"The Convention of Witches," said Clara Hazelnut-Sugarplum, "always tells us that we are not prepared yet."

The snag was that, on the one hand, the witch Claudia Almond-Nougat did not like at all to fly on the broomstick. Not that she did not like it, but that she was completely unable to keep herself on the broom. And that in spite of the fact that she was taking a crash course to learn to fly, but she always said in the end: 

"I have always liked to keep my feet on the ground; I'm the down-to-earth kind of person."

And, on the other hand, the witch Clara Hazelnut-Sugarplum messed up her own mind with words; it was never clear if she was tricking others or simply unable to keep her head on. She called the broomstick "cheese," she called cheese "home," and her home "towel," and the towel "umbrella..." and furthermore she said that this was the exact meaning of the words and, if it was not, at least she was having a great lark:

"I get on my cheese snacking on a chunk of home and I head for towel."


CHAPTER 4 of THE DANCING STAR

After being with our three friends sliding up and down the Rainbow Slide, they began to chase a cotton candy cloud they had seen passing by, and the trio lost them from sight. The merry apprentice witches were hopeless.

Above Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star there came a thin purple haze that spread as light as a bridal veil, and a thousand lilywhite crystal snowflakes began to fall all over the valley. And the great show of the ice ghosts of the first snows of winter was a prelude to the white sheet that spread towards the Lake of Balloons. The Lake of Balloons was a large lake full of balloons of every size and colour. The popcorn spirits were their gatherers. And those who cared about the balloons to sort them according to size, shape, and colour, but above all, what they liked the most was playing with them. The oldest and wisest spirit, who knew the most about these balloons, was Adolphus Kindred-Spirit. Not only did he partake in the gathering of balloons, he had another task he enjoyed a lot; he gathered in a water tower the sweet rainwater, the treat which popcorn spirits are most fond of. Adolphus Kindred-Spirit, who had quite the sweet tooth, was always kissing the tap of the water tower.

Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star were very fond of asking questions, and they asked solely for asking's sake, and Adolphus Kindred-Spirit replied only for replying's sake:

"Where are all these balloons from? And what are they?" asked the three friends.

"These balloons," responded Adolphus Kindred-Spirit, "are wishes. Mrs. Autumn Fog makes them, as well as some winds that dedicate themselves to these duties. The Sunrise Wind makes the blue balloons, while the Sunset Wind makes the yellow ones. The North-by-Northwest Wind makes the green and red balloons. Though they are also flowers, who grew weary of being rooted and then became balloons. That's why there are poppy balloons, jasmine-scented balloons... Balloons are also foam, and they are formed exactly in the same way that soap bubbles are. Long long time ago, balloons were bubbles that coursed down the waters, the waters of the Shampoo River. But the winds saw the bubbles and told them: 'Now you are a balloon. Come with me to see the wide world.' Balloons are hopes. Hopes which people keep eagerly in their hearts. And they flutter from place to place within the heart, hoping to escape, and when they escape the Lord of Twilight turns them into balloons. That grey balloon over there, with the sad cheekbones and the cherry-red eyes, was once a young gentleman," Adolphus Kindred-Spirit carried on, very excitedly. "In the bleak midwinter he put on a straw boater hat and walked the streets while singing. In summer he had his hair styled like a pompadour and walked the streets while laughing and singing. All of these things he did were outlawed by the laws of his homeland. But this was not the worst thing that occurred to him. He sneezed in a place full of people in front of whom it is advised not to sneeze, and the law sentenced him to death by hanging. And as soon as the executioner tied the noose around his neck, he turned into a balloon and some wind brought him hither."

"And are there always so many balloons?" asked Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn.

"Now there are quite few new ones," replied Adolphus Kindred-Spirit, "it's been ages since the last ones arrived, it seems that as time goes by there are fewer and fewer wishes, and fewer bubbles and flowers and hopes."

"But sometimes," said Adelade the Star, "wishes do come true. And flowers are for real as well. And hope flutters from heart to heart like a butterfly in springtime, like a burst of colour which fills your eyes with dreams."


 CHAPTER 5 of THE DANCING STAR (Ending)

Then all three, Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star, felt something tear at their insides, but at the same time they realised that it was quite pleasant. It was a wish, which is like a little caterpillar crawling all over your heart by night and day, singing the song "Come and fetch me with the dance of the buzzer-buzzers at the bottom of the rabbit hole." As their faces and hands began to fill with tiny wishes and hopes, a fog moistened their cheeks, they began to disappear among their hopes and wishes. Thus they disappeared into such a distant place, such a nearby place, that they shall nevermore return. If you ever let go of a balloon or see it fly, now you know where they go and who is their keeper.

If you want to head for this land, the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn, remember! When you get up in bed someday and see that at your place everything remains like it was ever before. The rooftop is on top, like ever before. And therefore the moon beams with a long and lustful kiss upon the crystal waters of Prussian blue of the blue river of Prussian crystal, just like the eyes of Othello Meow when he looks at the deep soft horizon. And dig hopefully in your garden, with a khaki-coloured and red-polka-dotted dream in your hearts. You should not be surprised if you see a little head, a tiny baby star, pop up and address you:

"Good morning to you! I am Adelade the Star!"

There are nights when the sky seems to drop very close to us on Earth. Sometimes on April or August nights, the stars look like numbers. They look like the Maths chickenscratch of a doll or a young girl who has just begun school and is beginning to learn, and this is because, above everything else, always the highest and utmost of goals were, are, and will be the stars.


*** finis***


From TV Tropes page of Overly Sarcastic Productions

 

Overly Sarcastic Productions uses the following tropes:

  • Awesome, but Impractical: The solid gold carriage the Princess gifts to Gerda in The Snow Queen is so ostentatious that it quickly draws the attention of a gang of bandits, who steal it for themselves and murder the servants assigned to drive it.

jueves, 23 de septiembre de 2021

SARAH VIEHMANN ON THE Prince and Princess in H.C. Andersen’s The Snow Queen

 Says Sarah Viehmann:

Today is for the Ace-spec Prince and Princess in H.C. Andersen’s The Snow Queen

Andersen’s The Snow Queen is split in five parts that sort of tell five short tales. The fourth tale is called “The Prince and the Princess”. In it little Gerda, who is looking for her friend Kai after he was taken by the Snow Queen, learns about a Prince and Princess about which we are told the following by two helpful crows:

  • The Princess is the sole ruler of the kingdom and uncommonly clever, but because of this she was also rather bored.
  • She made up her mind to marry “as soon as she could find a husband who would know how to respond when spoken to”. Any attractive young man willing to try his luck could come to the castle and the Princess resolved to marry the one that “seemed most at home in the castle and spoke the most eloquently”.
  • The newly made Prince is a short young man with bright eyes and old clothes, who did not come to court the Princess, “but to listen to her wise words. He liked what he heard, and she took a shine to him too.”

When Gerda goes to find them, hoping that the young prince is her friend Kai, she finds them asleep in a gorgeous bedroom, sleeping side by side in two separate beds, that have been crafted to look like lilies. A white one for the Princess, a red one for the Prince, both hanging from a golden stalk.

Instead of being angry that Gerda snuck into their room, the Princess comforts her, the Prince gives up his bed for her, and the next day they give her warm clothes and a carriage full of food to continue her journey.

And to top it all off they appoint the two crows to be their official “court crows”.

So basically, Hans Christian Andersen gave us a couple of kind, clever, crow-loving, ace royals and I for one intend to love and support them until the end of time.

martes, 21 de septiembre de 2021

SARAH VIEHMANN ON THE MANDSDRAGT

According to fantasy writer and fellow fairytale nerd Sarah Viehmann, on the little foundling (little mermaid as a human):

Andersen’s Themes

When she finds her prince on land, he treats her as something more like a pet, [...] dressing her in boys’ clothes. The prince is betrothed to a human princess, whom he believes is the one who rescued him, [...]

Pardon me, Miss Viehmann, but I may ask: what has treating a person like a pet have to do with crossdressing? Where does the connection lie?

martes, 31 de agosto de 2021

GENDERFLIPPED OTHELLOS: MY FIC VS. THE OFFICIAL NOVEL




 https://www.google.com/search?q=debra+chapoton+othello+retelling&rlz=1C1ONGR_esES968ES968&oq=debra+chapoton+othello+retelling&aqs=chrome..69i57j33i160l2.11598j0j15&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8


Now on to compare and contrast To Die Upon a Kiss with my own unofficial fanfic/playlist retelling, Daily Beauty...

Overview of my own genderflipped Othello postmodern AU.

AURÈLE (Othello)

Age: 28

Body Type: T (Physically fit, war orphan and child soldier)

Ethnic Group: Yoruba

Star Sign: Scorpio

Tutelar Deity: Ares (Ogun)

Siblings: None

Hair colour: raven, tips dyed crimson

Eye colour: black

Skin colour: latte or milk chocolate



Desmond & Cathy (Ruslana is below)


DESMOND (Desdemona)

Age: 25

Body Type: I 

Ethnic Group: Celtic

Star Sign: Libra

Tutelar Deity: Hephaestus

Siblings: None

Hair colour: ash blond

Eye colour: green

Skin colour: white rosy


Childhood Friends with:

 

CATHERINE "CATHY" (Cassio)

Age: 25

Body Type: 8 (moderately fit nerd/Speculative Fiction Geek)

Ethnic Group: Celtic

Star Sign: Aquarius

Tutelar Deity: Hera

Siblings: None

Hair colour: strawberry/Titian blond

Eye colour: honey

Skin colour: white with freckles




Yara (Iara), Emílio, & Branca - the de Souza siblings (orphans after a tram accident/terrorist attack)


EMÍLIO (Emilia)

Age: 29

Body Type: T 

Ethnic Group: Mixed

Star Sign: Virgo

Tutelar Deity: Demeter (Oshun)

Siblings: Yara and Branca (eldest brother)

Hair colour: raven

Eye colour: black

Skin colour: latte macchiato


YARA/IARA (Iago)

Age: 25

Body Type: I

Ethnic Group: Mixed

Star Sign: Gemini

Tutelar Deity: Apollo (Eshu)

Siblings: Emílio and Branca (middle sister)

Hair colour: raven, tips dyed platinum

Eye colour: black

Skin colour: latte macchiato


BRANCA (Bianca)

Age: 18

Body Type: 8 (naturally attractive, without any bodily enhancements)

Ethnic Group: Mixed

Star Sign: Leo

Tutelar Deity: Zeus (Shango)

Siblings: Emílio and Yara (youngest sister)

Hair colour: raven, tips dyed rainbow

Eye colour: black

Skin colour: latte macchiato



RUSLANA (Roderigo)

Age: 20

Body Type: 0/8 (spoiled/fit)

Ethnic Group: Slavic

Star Sign: Cancer

Tutelar Deity: Hermes 

Siblings: None

Hair colour: wheat blond, tips dyed pink

Eye colour: icy blue

Skin colour: rosy


Sensei and the setting - inspiration from my all-female self-defense classes

The main setting is an all-female self-defense class in a coastal urban area inspired by Valencia, which serves as the home of the whole cast.

The themes of body image and coming out in my retelling - there's nothing wrong with looking or loving this way; in fact these themes outweigh race in my fic.  This is related to "Beauty-and-the-Beast" type of tales (even those where the Beast is female and the Beau is male, or queer retellings), and the issue of outer vs. inner beauty - see below. The relationship can only blossom if both partners put inner before outer beauty and love one another warts and all (after all, we decorate evergreen conifers, not rosebushes, for Christmas!); inner beauty is the "daily beauty" in my title and Cathy & Branca bond over British comedy (Fawlty Towers, Blackadder, Monty Python...); as Desmond & Aurèle do over absent parents...

Outer Beauty vs. Inner Beauty (ie intelligence, wit, wisdom, kindness, sense of humour... inner beauty is the "daily beauty" in my title!). Most versions of Beauty and the Beast have, as counterpoint to the princely Beast, a brother-in-law or a suitor (if she is an only child, like Gaston in the animated musical) who is physically attractive yet dimwitted and shallow and in love with himself. Long story short a narcissist. //// Both Ruslana and Aurèle fear that they fit this character stereotype and are not acknowlegded for their depths (both suffer trauma because Aurèle was a child soldier in a revolution; Ruslana is a mafia clan heiress)...

Ruslana is manipulated by Yara because of Ruslana's insecurities about her own body image and the fact that she sees herself as a whale or hippo and that she feels Desmond will not like her and will prefer a girl who is more fit (even if darker like Aurèle)... in the end it proves her downfall  --- MORE ON RUSLANA AND HER POISONING SHOVED DOWN THE BRIDGE LATER ON!!!!

In the meantime Cathy comes out with Branca and accepts herself as what she is, instead of what her mum and dad want her to be burning calories and striving to become... partly 'cause her new ladylove accepts her warts and all!!! and Cathy is all she has left with Emílio hospitalised in the ER and Yara on the lam... so Daily Beauty was all about Cathy's and Branca's daily beauty and not anyone else's... awwwww awwwww awwwww awwww awwww awwwww awwww caught in a queer romance (anyone else?)...

OBSERVE THE MASTER OF THE STRINGS!!! Yara as Spider in the (WW)Web and the weight of social media is real in making both Aurèle and (nearly) Branca embrace the scandal of Desmond and Cathy being in allegedly a carnal relationship... in our days, the element of the social network, added to the gris-gris (charm which replaces the handkerchief in this version), was something that did not exist in the seventeenth century and that adds more complexity to this Othello retelling.  If everyone in an online peer group is convinced from photos uploaded on social media that Desmond and Cathy are together, what a Pandora's Box is opened for everyone (even the childhood friends and alleged "lovers" question their relationship at one point).... YARA is a master user of social media, with the rest of the cast as "insects" on her WWWeb.