na-kazora

One of my favourite books, The Tales of Ise, blends history, poetry and timeless gossip, some of my favourite things, stretching perceptions and experience.

Growing up as I did from country to country, floating from Dutch to Italian, French, English, Indonesian, German (and my own hybrid, incomprehensible jumble of them all), I’ve always loved finding new expressions and new ways of thinking – unique, without equivalents in other languages.

The Tales of Ise has lots of that, and more – inexpressible, seldom-thought-about topics, described in words that don’t exist in other languages, whose meaning is hard to pin down.

Writing the inexpressible in non-existent words is as good a definition of poetry as any you’ll hear.

Long ago, I wrote about this in a haiku, an almost untranslateable form in itself:

between any two

untranslateabilities

we find more meaning.

In episode 21 of the Tales, two lovers exchange poems, seven in all.

The final one has the image of:

… a cloud in mid-air

that vanishes in the sky

leaving not a trace.

The translator, Peter Macmillan, comments: “The word ‘mid-air’ (na-kazora), referring to the space between the sky and the earth, is a metaphor for being in a state that is neither one thing nor another.”

Elsewhere, I’ve seen “nakazora”  described as “a Buddhist word” meaning “empty air” or “a state where the feet do not touch the ground”.

Elsewhere still, the etymology of なかぞら is explained as being made up of “naka” (middle, or centre) and “zora” (sky, or empty space).

The range of meanings has made the word understandably popular in Classical Japanese literature and, obviously, to me.

I’m not sure whether the romanisation of the word, hyphenated as “na-kazora”, is strictly correct, but I prefer it to “nakazora”. The word’s dismemberment furthers the ethereal, ungraspable aspect of its meaning.

My tanka poem:

na-kazora

blue sky, wide and still

—all in solitude, so rare,

floats a single cloud,

seen by all, na-kazora,

so untouchable.

*

Untouchable – something (or someone) everyone can see, but out of reach, like a star (either in space or a famous person).

Ethereal, in suspension, between states, shape-shifting, untranslateable.

Like lovers estrangeing, as in the Tales’ episode (or are they really finding true love)?

Or readers reading something new and strange?

In this game, only the reader can tell.

 

 

James Patterson Swallowed My Goldfish… And the Bowl With It!

a goldfish
james patterson

Rumours about James Patterson and his voracious appetites take on increasingly bizarre forms.

Patterson shifts more books than anyone on the planet (14 million copies in 2009, says the NYT).

His books straddle the thriller, YA and romance markets.

With his co-authors, he publishes 9 or more new titles a year.

If he didn’t invent this “studio” approach (it’s reminiscent of Rembrandt, Van Dyck, et al) he certainly practices it more successfully than anybody else..

But he always wants more:

When sales figures showed that he and John Grisham were running nearly neck and neck on the East Coast but that Grisham had a big lead out West, Patterson set his second thriller series, “The Women’s Murder Club,” about a group of women who solve murder mysteries, in San Francisco. (quoted from NYT article)

 When he heard that he was a key player on five of Hachette’s six imprints, he asked which one he was missing. Told it was the religious imprint, he said, “I can do that.”

Patterson’s aggressive branding and marketing supports books which millions happily devour. And he gives back, too, with his ReadKiddoRead platform to encourage literacy among the young.

Combining his unquenchable hunger for success with his intolerance of others’, however, it can surely only be a question of time before the headline James Patterson Swallowed My Goldfish – And the Bowl With It! appears.

Because Patterson doesn’t want to be the biggest fish in the bowl. He wants to ingest the whole bowl – gravel and plastic props included – into his insatiable maw!