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George Szirtes
George Szirtes's many books of poetry have won various prizes including the T. S. Eliot Prize (2004), for which he is again shortlisted for Bad Machine (2013). His translation of László Krasznahorkai's Satantango (2013) was awarded the Best Translated Book Award in the US. The act of translation is, he thinks, bound to involve fidelity, ambiguity, confusion and betrayal.

Articles Available Online


Foreword: A Pound of Flesh

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Issue No. 12

George Szirtes

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Issue No. 12

1.   ANALOGIES FOR TRANSLATION ARE MANY, most of them assuming a definable something on one side of the equation – a fixed original...

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January 2014

Afterword: The Death of the Translator

George Szirtes

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January 2014

1. The translator meets himself emerging from his lover’s bedroom. So much for fidelity, he thinks. 2. Je est...

Although I had landed two hours before, I was drinking wine and not coffee as I waited for a friend, a newly credentialed lawyer, to explain his concerns about civil liberties in his country At my back, shrieks rose My mistake had been remembering the yearly transformation of the Bassin de La Villette as festive This visit to a café on the canal’s bank had been my suggestion Floating dive bars lift anchor, replaced by kayaks and bulky platforms within which it’s possible to pilot a child’s plastic boat or, last year’s innovation, to swim A whine reached us from a zipline A boat whose deep pink sail bore a logo for the 2024 Olympics rotated slowly, moored unstably to two buoys The city’s bid was in Meanwhile, temporary metal fences cordoned off the canal, and last August, to walk alongside it, one had to submit to a guard rifling through one’s bag To another American, I pointed out Doric columns, the Villette Rotunda, built in the eighteenth century as a tollbooth in the city’s wall Like a tree, Paris has grown in concentric rings; this wall, where taxes used to be exacted, was succeeded by a looping railway, by the Périphérique highway, and, most recently, by a scheme called Grand Paris, which will incorporate some of the suburbs into an extended Métro web and administrative system So unpopular were the taxes – and, by extension, the Rotunda – that its architect, Claude-Nicolas Ledoux, was imprisoned by revolutionaries in 1793 The American had heard of Ledoux’s dream, a city of three thousand inhabitants laid out radially around a salt works that the architect had built He sketched buildings whose geometries cross Neoclassical and ziggurat – Space-Age avant la lettre A vast orb sunk among mausoleums would serve as a cemetery As with the factory, which centred a director’s house the architect called a ‘temple of surveillance’, the design emphasised sightlines The panopticon was not, for Ledoux, incompatible with utopia On the contrary, in Chaux city, the architecture would refine the thinking of the citizenry[1] They would have nothing to hide Michel

Contributor

August 2014

George Szirtes

Contributor

August 2014

George Szirtes’s many books of poetry have won various prizes including the T. S. Eliot Prize (2004), for which...

Shine On You Crazy Diamond

poetry

November 2013

George Szirtes

poetry

November 2013

And so they shone, every one of them, each crazy, everyone a diamond shining the way things shine, each becoming a gleam in his...
Rescue Me

poetry

November 2013

George Szirtes

poetry

November 2013

Pain comes like this: packaged in a moment of hubris with a backing band too big for its own good. It isn’t the same...

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June 2014

Writing What You Know

Simon Hammond

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June 2014

In the summer of 1959, a headstrong but lovesick English graduate took a trip to the hometown of his...

Interview

January 2016

Interview with Fiston Mwanza Mujila

Roland Glasser

Interview

January 2016

Roof terrace of the Shangri-La hotel, Santa Monica, Los Angeles, USA; late afternoon, 8 October 2015. We ensconce ourselves in...

fiction

July 2013

univers, univers

Régis Jauffret

TR. Jeffrey Zuckerman

fiction

July 2013

I. You remember your childhood. Your tow-headed, reddish-tinged mother, who yelled after you all day like a Paraguayan peasant...

 

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