Iberian Evening in Café Lento

Sally Bavage writes:

The fourth partnership event with this lively and popular local café was, once again, a storming success.  It was packed out, with latecomers having to press their noses against the glass from the outside, watching proprietor Richard Lindley as he compered a delightful mix of tapas, wine, poetry and music. Portuguese songstress Mila Dores was incomparable!

Eyes closed,  you were in a Spanish bar, with the perfume of warm chorizo in your nostrils and the plaintive tones of Mila in your ears.  She was accompanied by talented musicians Neil Innes on guitar and Richard Ormerod (playing for the LitFest again on Saturday evening, 17 March, at Scriptophilia in the Heart centre) on percussion and flute.  We were treated to a selection of songs in English, Spanish and Portuguese that covered the usual themes of love, loss and death. The Girl from Ipanema was written first in Portuguese in 1962, and Mila’s cover version was a knockout.  One number, sung in the ‘fado’ style of unaccompanied voice, left us emotionally wrenched as it lamented the fishermen and explorers who left Portugal, never to return.

Poetry by Federico García Lorca, perhaps the greatest Spanish poet of the twentieth century, who was murdered by General Franco's fascists at the start of the Civil War in 1936, was presented in Spanish by José González and in English by Richard Wilcocks.  His portrait was in a frame on the counter. There was blood and tears, loyalty and love, loss and death, and also passion and meaning whichever the language, the words flowing round us in a narrative stream. The first poem was Romance sonámbulo (Dreamwalker Ballad) from Romancero gitano, which begins 'Verde que te quiero verde.' ('Green how I want you green.') 


Richard Lindley also read us a trio of shorter poems: The Guitar (La guitarra) plays well to the audience, The Shout (El grito) is short and loud and Seville (Sevilla) takes us to the heart of the hot south of Spain.

It is fascinating to hear the same poem read to a  hushed audience, first in the gentle sweeps of English rhythm and then in José’s more staccato Andalucian tones.  One poem, two languages, two rhythms, one idea.

At times the audience was swaying, not with the effects of the wicked sangría mixed by our resident expert but in time to the mellifluous voice and music washing over us. Fingers and toes tapped compulsively to some of the faster beats.  Not Tourettes but just darn good music! 

Altogether, an extraordinary evening. Just how do you spell ‘whoop’ and ‘holler’ in Portuguese?

Lebanese Evening in Mint Café

Richard Wilcocks writes:

According to the cybernetics experts who collect data on poets, hopefully not because they suspect that they have the potential to become the acknowledged legislators of the world, Khalil Gibran is in the top three of the ranks, regularly read, recited and sung by millions, mainly in the original Arabic. Shakespeare and Lao Tzu stand on the podium with him. Marcos, the owner of Mint Café on North Lane, decided with myself that his poetry should be included in a Lebanese Evening, because the mystic and philosopher Gibran, like Marcos, was born in Lebanon – in the late nineteenth century in Bsharri, a predominantly Maronite Catholic area in the north. In 1895 he went to live in New York. Marcos delivered a summary of his life at the beginning of the evening.

While we were preparing, we both noticed that current translations into English which are available (identical on most websites) are in need of improvement. Some of them are wince-inducing, from an English native-speaker’s angle, and Marcos, the real linguistic expert, pointed out what he saw as mistranslations and infidelities. We sat down and wrestled with the relatively short A Tear and a Smile to produce our own version, which Marcos read during the evening in Arabic and I read in English. It was clear that some things could probably never be conveyed except in the original – no surprise there.

Audience-members packed into Mint, which has two upstairs rooms the size of the sitting rooms in an average flat and a downstairs trove of retro clothes on hangers, were obviously enjoying themselves, judging from their responses. They loved the authentically Lebanese food, all made on the premises, returning over and over again to the front counter to pick up more stuffed vine leaves or to spoon hummus on to flatbreads.

They loved the belly dancer as well, the lithe genuine article Natalie, clapping rhythmically as she performed to Lebanese dance music, beginning in the doorway between the two rooms, then shimmying from one to the other. Her explanation of her moves and on how she got into belly dancing was well received.

After a number by one of Lebanon’s most popular singers, Najwa Karam, Marcos spoke about another immensely popular recent poet who wrote in Arabic – Mahmoud Darwish, who died in 2008 and who is known as Palestine’s National Poet. His deeply emotional poem My Mother (Ummi) was read in Arabic and English, and also heard in a song version.

Short poems by Gibran followed, and the evening finished. “All poetry readings should be like this – on a programme along with music and dancing,” someone commented as we left.

“There’s more in the future. You wait and see,” replied Marcos.

Below, Marcos clapping, Natalie dancing, me reading - 

Rosalind Harvey in Headingley Library

Translating Culture – Pigs’ Head Stew, La Chingada and Mexican Chavs Abroad

Sally Bavage writes:

 

The subtitle to this excellent discussion enjoyed by an audience of thirty in a welcoming corner of Headingley Library was 'the importance of culture in literary translation'. Too true!  What would we call someone who drives behind ambulances so they can speed, wears a polyester blouse with a Lacoste logo, claps when a ‘plane lands, uses a clothes hanger for a TV aerial or steals souvenirs from hotels? – it’s ‘naco’ in Mexico, and ‘chav’ in her English translation. Every nationality has a cultural context which influences content and description in creative writing, allowing the intelligent reader to draw their own images from the words.

She considered carefully which words would not need translation, leaving many items of food in the original Spanish, reasoning that enough readers would not need an alternative to taco or enchilada.  Posoli, on the other hand – the pig’s head stew of our discussion title – does appear in the glossary she included. Her description of a whole pig’s head cooked with maize, chilli and floating lettuce left the young boy who is the narrator of her book as disgusted as we were. It also served as a metaphor for the trend in Mexico of body parts turning up in unlikely places - 'a good head' IN a barrel of beer was one recent example.

And now we come to the matter of  ‘la chingada’.  It’s rude.  Very rude.  But it is in ubiquitous use and culturally far less offensive to Mexican ears than an effing prostitute is to more sensitive English ones. How to translate the culturally offensive without compromising the meaning within the story is a balancing act without a safety net, it seems. 

Rosalind Harvey has worked with Anne McLean, the doyenne of Spanish to English translations and has now branched out on her own.  Rosalind’s first solo work, translating the work of author Juan Pablo Villalobos is titled Down the Rabbit Hole and was published in September 2011 by And Other Stories, a new small publishing house. Choosing a title to convey the slightly surreal meaning of the Mexican hideout which features in the story, with its hint for readers of ‘Alice in Wonderland’ is, again, a translator’s high wire act.

We are indebted to Mike of the Grove Bookshop in Ilkley, who kindly supported the event with books for sale.

Two of many positive audience comments sum up the evening very well: “Very interesting and enlightening explanation of translating literature from one language to another and the cultural and contemporary choices that have to be made.” 

And, very succinctly, “Muy bien!”

Mik Artistik in Salvo's Salumeria

Benjamin Thomas writes:

This event, hosted by Salvo's Salumeria as part of Headingley LitFest with entertainment  provided by Mik Artistik's Ego Trip, was somewhat like a particularly oddball episode of 'Come Dine With Me' that Channel 4 never dared to air.

As the audience digested four fine courses of authentic Italian dining, Mik and his two sidekicks (Johnny Flockton on guitar and Benson Walker on bass) served up their secret recipe of performance poetry, stand-up humour and musicianship on stage.

Few others could theft the beat from LCD Soundsystem's 'Losing My Edge', the melody from Aled  Jones' 'Walking In The Air', or snippets from hits by the somewhat more renowned Yorkshireman Robert Palmer, then segue such elements into songs about parenthood ('Dad Muscles', 'Turning Into Dad') and budget timepieces ('Cheap Watch From The Market'). Mik even paid tribute to his hometown's best known eccentric with 'Jimmy Saville Had My Album'.

And the fifty-something attracted a crowd which, much like his sources of inspiration, spanned the generations. He mesmerised the young, the old, and everybody in between for the entire duration of his meandering but never tiresome performance lasting almost two hours.

Throughout the show, as Mik flitted between serenading and berating those brave enough to sit in the front rows, he summoned the spirit of two infamously misanthropic wordsmiths from the other side of the Pennines - John Cooper Clarke and The Fall's Mark E. Smith.

But in truth, he's beyond compare, and only those lucky enough to be crammed into the room could have fully appreciated this artist's unique talents.

Below Mik Artistik and his Combo (Jonny Flockton and Benson Walker), and two happy customers - Will Bartlett and Emma Jones - 

New translation for Lebanese Evening

In preparation for the Lebanese Evening in Mint Café on North Lane, Khalil Gibran's famous poem A Tear and a Smile was retranslated from the original Arabic. Read it here.

Can you raise a laugh?

June Diamond writes:

The Litfest got off to a flying start with a comedy workshop led by Mike Nelson.  They say stand-up is the latest performance art, and  a full house of participants aged between 16 and 60+ attested to its popularity.

As you might expect, Mike facilitated the workshop with humour, and also warmth, expertise  and support. Ice-breakers were followed by presentations on the structure of jokes, using the microphone, and other information essential to budding comedians. The session ended with a brief set from each participant. Keep going,  if you can,  for three minutes, was the advice. “That’s what my girlfriend tells me," said one comedian.

I was amused, inspired and touched by the sheer creativity shown by everybody involved. It’s interesting how immersion in such an experience changes the world around one. I walked out of the workshop to go to the toilet and walked into a broom cupboard by mistake.