Traveling Softly One Winter's Night - Italo Calvino / Epiphanie Bloom
October 31st 2006 01:48
Original text from 'If On a Winter's Night A Traveler':
[1]
You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler. Relax. concentrate. Dispel every other thought. Let the world around you fade. Best to close the door; the TV is always on in the next room. Tell the others right away, "No, I don't want to watch TV!" Raise your voice-- they won't hear you otherwise-- "I'm reading! I don't want to be disturbed!" Maybe they haven't heard you, with all that racket; speak louder, yell: "I'm beginning to read Italo Calvino's new novel!" Or if you prefer, don't say anything; just hope that they leave you alone.
Find the most comfortable position: seated, stretched out, curled up, or lying flat. Flat on your back, on your side, on your stomach. In an easy chair, on the sofa, in the rocker, the deck chair, on the hassock. In the hammock, if you have hammock. On top of your bed, of course, or in the bed. You can even stand on your hands, head down, in the yoga position. With the book upside down, naturally.
Of course, the ideal position for reading is something you can never find. In the old days they used to read standing up, at a lectern. People were accustomed to standing on their feet, without moving. They rested like that when they were tired of horseback riding. Nobody ever thought of reading on horseback; and yet no, the idea of sitting in the saddle, the book propped against the horse;s mane, or maybe tied to the horse's ear with a special harness, seems attractive to you. With your feet in the stirrups, you should feel quite comfortable for reading; having your feet up is the first condition for enjoying a read.
Epiphanie's version:
[a]
You're about to begin reading Epiphanie Bloom's postmodern translation of 'If on a winter's night a traveler', 'Traveling Softly One Winter's Night'. Relax. Concentrate. Dispel every other thought. Let the world around you fade, and slowly tune into the sounds around you. You'll probably want to tell the people in the next room to be more considerate and lower the volume of the blaring TV. "No, I don't want to watch TV," you yell, distinctly enunciating every word. Can they be counted on to respond? "I'm reading so I don't want to be disturbed, okay?" You wish to be more specific at your reception-impaired audience: "I'm beginning to read Italo Calvino's new novel!" Maybe if you pretend they're not there, they'll go away.
Now the search begins, as it does each time- which position are you most comfortable in? Do you prefer to be seated, stretched out, curled up, or lying flat? Flat on your back, your side, or your stomach? Abandoning your last position, you stride over to an easy chair, move over to the sofa, contemplatively attempt the rocking chair, seek refuge in the deck chair, start to fiddle with the hassock... Having failed all that, you come to the bed, lying on top or crawling underneath the covers. If you're so inclined you might even stand on your head in the yoga position, reading the book upside down. It's up to you, really- you know best. You might not even have a hassock at your disposal, or a rocking chair, so the last few pieces of furniture I evoked may have only been tangible to you in an imaginary realm- but isn't that all that's accessible to begin with? You imagined cavorting around them with your new best friend in tow, humouring me, didn't you?
If you're still feeling restless after your meta/physical adventures, remember that there's no such thing as an ideal position from which to consume text- it's all a state of mind.
In the old days they used to read standing up, by a lectern, and people were accustomed to standing upright for very long hours, a welcome break from horseback riding. People wouldn't have read on horseback, in those days, although in your semi-settled position right now you start to wonder what that would be like... You can just see it now, and it's becoming more appealing the more detail you imagine it in- the book would be propped against the horse's mane or perhaps tied to a ear with a special harness, and you'd place your feet in the stirrups where they would relax into the epitome of comfort. (Is having your feet up your new prerequisite for carefree reading, now? If so, you must readjust.)
If only I could respond to each of you, you readers- but alas, my time does not permit me to take such liberties with my text, so I must address all of you under this one participle... I hope you're not too miffed. Pray continue to read, for you may deconstruct the author's reliance on this generalisation if you explore far enough. And, of course, at the end of the book (or the beginning, or the middle), you can always address me- that is me, Epiphanie Bloom, as poor Mr. Calvino has passed away and cannot participate in our adventure any more than he has in If On A Winter's Night... Let me elaborate on this point- you can, at any time, mae your own unique contribution to this story. Familiarity with IOAWNAT is preferable but not necessary. We can create a multi-authored tale, a multi-faceted adventure, perhaps even a choose-your-own-adventure.
Should I get too esoteric, exoteric, redirect my whimsical tangents with your own; send me your unique, inimitable message, and astound me with your ability to put together words and marvel at their ability to represent your hidden depths. I merely ask you for what I ask myself- an exhaustive journey through your imagination.
[1]
You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel, If on a winter's night a traveler. Relax. concentrate. Dispel every other thought. Let the world around you fade. Best to close the door; the TV is always on in the next room. Tell the others right away, "No, I don't want to watch TV!" Raise your voice-- they won't hear you otherwise-- "I'm reading! I don't want to be disturbed!" Maybe they haven't heard you, with all that racket; speak louder, yell: "I'm beginning to read Italo Calvino's new novel!" Or if you prefer, don't say anything; just hope that they leave you alone.
Of course, the ideal position for reading is something you can never find. In the old days they used to read standing up, at a lectern. People were accustomed to standing on their feet, without moving. They rested like that when they were tired of horseback riding. Nobody ever thought of reading on horseback; and yet no, the idea of sitting in the saddle, the book propped against the horse;s mane, or maybe tied to the horse's ear with a special harness, seems attractive to you. With your feet in the stirrups, you should feel quite comfortable for reading; having your feet up is the first condition for enjoying a read.
Epiphanie's version:
[a]
You're about to begin reading Epiphanie Bloom's postmodern translation of 'If on a winter's night a traveler', 'Traveling Softly One Winter's Night'. Relax. Concentrate. Dispel every other thought. Let the world around you fade, and slowly tune into the sounds around you. You'll probably want to tell the people in the next room to be more considerate and lower the volume of the blaring TV. "No, I don't want to watch TV," you yell, distinctly enunciating every word. Can they be counted on to respond? "I'm reading so I don't want to be disturbed, okay?" You wish to be more specific at your reception-impaired audience: "I'm beginning to read Italo Calvino's new novel!" Maybe if you pretend they're not there, they'll go away.
If you're still feeling restless after your meta/physical adventures, remember that there's no such thing as an ideal position from which to consume text- it's all a state of mind.
In the old days they used to read standing up, by a lectern, and people were accustomed to standing upright for very long hours, a welcome break from horseback riding. People wouldn't have read on horseback, in those days, although in your semi-settled position right now you start to wonder what that would be like... You can just see it now, and it's becoming more appealing the more detail you imagine it in- the book would be propped against the horse's mane or perhaps tied to a ear with a special harness, and you'd place your feet in the stirrups where they would relax into the epitome of comfort. (Is having your feet up your new prerequisite for carefree reading, now? If so, you must readjust.)
If only I could respond to each of you, you readers- but alas, my time does not permit me to take such liberties with my text, so I must address all of you under this one participle... I hope you're not too miffed. Pray continue to read, for you may deconstruct the author's reliance on this generalisation if you explore far enough. And, of course, at the end of the book (or the beginning, or the middle), you can always address me- that is me, Epiphanie Bloom, as poor Mr. Calvino has passed away and cannot participate in our adventure any more than he has in If On A Winter's Night... Let me elaborate on this point- you can, at any time, mae your own unique contribution to this story. Familiarity with IOAWNAT is preferable but not necessary. We can create a multi-authored tale, a multi-faceted adventure, perhaps even a choose-your-own-adventure.
Should I get too esoteric, exoteric, redirect my whimsical tangents with your own; send me your unique, inimitable message, and astound me with your ability to put together words and marvel at their ability to represent your hidden depths. I merely ask you for what I ask myself- an exhaustive journey through your imagination.
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