Saturday, June 10, 2017

Finds: The Works of Malory (1947-48)



Eugène Vinaver, ed. The Works of Sir Thomas Malory (1947)


Vinaver, Eugène, ed. The Works of Sir Thomas Malory. 1947. 3 vols. Oxford English Texts. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1948.

There can be few things more satisfying than walking into a bookshop and finding a book you've been looking for in vain for half your life. That's what happened to me the other day in Devonport, where I came across a copy of the original 3-volume Oxford English Texts edition of Eugène Vinaver's magisterial edition of the Works of Sir Thomas Malory.

Bronwyn says that I suddenly go quiet at such moments, then, somehow, stiffen, a bit like a gun-dog scenting prey. Until it's safely bought and paid for, I can take nothing for granted. No conversation about it can be permitted until it's packaged up, in my possession, and we're both safely outside the shop.

My copy doesn't look quite like the one pictured above. For a start, the dust-jacket's a bit ripped. For another thing, it's a second impression, not a bona fide first edition. You know what? I don't care. It's covered in mylar, so the tears in the dust-jacket are of no consequence. Also, a number of the (very numerous) errors of the first edition have been corrected in this impression, without any major rethinking of its contents, which didn't happen until the second edition of 1967 (with further addenda in 1973).

There's an interesting discussion of the whole subject in Pamela Yee's 2013 article "Eugène Vinaver's Magnificent Malory," available on the Robbins Library website.



Eugène Vinaver (1899-1979)


Essentially, Eugène Vinaver (born Yevgeniĭ Maksimovich Vinaver in St. Petersburg in 1899) argued that Malory had not written a single book about King Arthur and his Knights, but rather had composed 8 separate 'tales,' which had been combined - probably after his death - by his first editor William Caxton. Caxton's edition of the (so-called) Morte d'Arthur, printed in 1485, had thereafter been the sole witness to Malory's intentions as a writer.



William Caxton, ed. Le Morte d'Arthur (1485)


With the discovery - or, rather, re-identification - of an almost-complete manuscript of Malory's work in 1934 in Winchester College Library, the situation changed completely. Here's what it looks like:



Sir Thomas Malory: The Winchester Ms. (c.1471)


Vinaver saw it as a completely independent witness to Malory's intentions - still at some distance from the author's own manuscript, but a lot closer than Caxton's edition. Subsequent scholarship has now identified some of the ink blotches on this copy with the kinds of ink used in Caxton's workshop, which leaves the interesting possibility that this was the very copy Caxton used (or that he was at the very least aware of its contents), but this was not what Vinaver thought in 1947.

A little thing called the Second World War intervened between the completion of his editing work and the publication of this three-volume edition, but when it did eventually appear it started a landslide of reinterpretation.

Another feature of Vinaver's edition was his immensely learned account of the French sources Malory had used, and his complex justifications for their 'tapestry-like' approach to interweaving all the myriad threads of a story into the monstrous length of the 'Vulgate cycle' series of romances, was also a major contribution to Malory scholarship. Out went the automatic assumption that Malory's more 'modern' approach to storytelling was necessarily superior to that of his sources. In came the argument that he learned his craft as he went along, moving from crude beginnings to the sophisticated heights of his last two tales: 'Lancelot and Guinevere' and 'The Morte d'Arthur.'

I once wrote an essay where I compared this accretive method of storytelling in Malory to some of the narrative conventions in the 1001 Nights. In the process, I compiled an analysis of one of his early stories, 'A Noble Tale of Sir Launcelot du Lake,' which still inspires me with a certain awe at the amount of free time I must have had on my hands (it was in the period just after completing my Doctorate when I would do anything to avoid thinking about any of the issues contained in that).

At the time, I was forced to use a revised later edition of Vinaver's masterwork which seemed to me to lack some of the intensity and crankiness of his original 1947 text. So you can see that it was considerable satisfaction that it is this version, not one of the revised and 'corrected' subsequent reprints that I found in the bookshop. It couldn't really have found a better home, I suspect.

So here are some of the highlights of my Malory collection:

    Sir Thomas Malory (c.1405–1471):


    Vinaver, Eugène: The Works of Malory (1947)


  1. Vinaver, Eugène, ed. The Works of Sir Thomas Malory. 1947. 3 vols. Oxford English Texts. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1948.



  2. Malory: Works (1977)


  3. Malory, Sir Thomas. Works. Ed. Eugène Vinaver. 1954. Second ed. Oxford Standard Authors. London: Oxford University Press, 1977.




  4. Malory, Sir Thomas. Le Morte d’Arthur. Ed. William Caxton. 1485. Introduction by Sir John Rhys. 1906. 2 vols. Everyman’s Library, 45 & 46. London: J. M. Dent & Sons, Ltd. / New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., 1953.




  5. Malory, Sir Thomas. Le Morte d’Arthur. 1485. Ed. Janet Cowan. Introduction by John Lawlor. 1969. 2 vols. Penguin English Library. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1979.



  6. The Romance of Lancelot & Guinevere, Taken from Sir Thomas Malory’s ‘Morte D’Arthur’. Illustrated by Lettice Sandford. London: The Folio Society, 1953.




  7. Malory, Sir Thomas. Le Morte D’Arthur. Illustrated by Aubrey Beardsley. 1894. Ware, Hertfordshire: Omega Books., 1988.



As for the even more vexed question of who exactly Sir Thomas Malory was (various candidates have been proposed - with varying degrees of plausibility), don't even get me started on that ...



Saturday, May 27, 2017

Verano / Summer



I submitted the following five search terms to Google images:
cat

tree

water

rock

balcony
and the above image is what they came up with. And why did I do that?

Because those were the five words I contributed to Charles Olsen's Palabras Prestadas [Given - or loaned - words] project last month. In Spanish, they translate as:
gato

árbol

agua

piedra

balcón
And now the results are in!

Here is the winning entry among the many submitted poems (more of which you can sample at your leisure here):

*

Verano


Acabo de instalar un columpio en el árbol que hay detrás de mi casa. No tiene nombre.
Ni siquiera sé si alguien lo va a usar alguna vez. Tenía los materiales y lo hice. Punto.
Noto, sin embargo, la ilusión de la promesa en las caras de la gente que mira el columpio.

Pongo bajo el agua el bote de cristal para quitar la etiqueta. Ojalá fuera tan fácil.
Yo lo intento bajo la ducha todos los días. Unos segundos bajo el chorro y fuera etiquetas.
Pero no. Nunca es tan fácil. Al revés, me da por pensar en la ducha. Y no me sienta bien.

El gato bebe del bote limpio de etiquetas. Seguro que a él le importa un pito.
Mi padre las coleccionaba. Con mimo y paciencia, ablandaba el papel sin romperlo.
Solo se permitía ser delicado con esa artesanía cotidiana. En lo demás era como debía, supongo.

La piedra está vieja pero hace posible una pequeña llama. Como si fuera a ser la última.
Guardo el mechero cuando noto que la vela prende. La coloco con cuidado en la repisa del balcón.
Me siento en un taburete. La corriente que viene de la ventana apaga la llama. Pronto se hará de noche.



Jöel López Astorkiza
Haro, La Rioja, España
elavionamarillo.wordpress.com

And here it is translated into English by Charles Olsen:


*

Summer


I’ve just put up a swing in the tree out the back. It has no name.
I don’t even know if anyone will ever use it. I had the materials and just did it.
I see, however, the hopeful joy on the faces of passersby who see it over the fence.

I place the jar in water to remove the label. If only it were so easy.
I try it in the shower everyday. A few seconds under the jet of water and away labels.
But no, it’s never that easy. On the contrary, I start thinking in the shower. It doesn’t do me much good.

The cat drinks from the labelless jar. I’m sure he’s not bothered.
My father collected them. With care and patience he'd soften the paper without tearing it.
He only allowed himself to be delicate with this everyday handicraft. For the rest he was as he should be, I suppose.

The flint is old but it gives off a small flame as though it were its last.
I put away the lighter once the candle is lit. I place it carefully on the balcony rail.
I sit on a stool. A draft coming in the window blows out the flame. Soon it will be night.


Jöel López Astorkiza
Haro, La Rioja
elavionamarillo.wordpress.com

*


Charles also added some fascinating notes about the translation process:
I sent it to Jöel to check and he had some suggestions for changes but it was interesting as one change he suggested was the American expression 'Period' (ie. I had the materials and did it. Period.) and so I explained this was an expression I never used and an American translator would probably change other expressions in the poem as well. Also 'rock' or 'stone' has changed in translation to the 'flint' of a lighter.
I guess any regular readers of this blog will understand why I chose those particular words for the poets to work with (especially 'cat'), but I have to say that the variety and accomplishment in the various results came as a complete surprise to me - I was particularly struck by Aurora & Gabriel Merino's beautiful pagework / poem 'Albertina,' but the other poems were great also. I don't envy the task of judging between them!




Don't forget that there'll be a local version of the 'Given Words' competition being held here as part of the Phantom Billstickers National Poetry Day this year. Charles writes of that:
I'm also preparing the National Poetry Day Given Words competition and will send you the details when we launch in mid-June. For the moment I've set up the blog: nzgivenwords.blogspot.co.nz
And what does Zero Tolerance Ross think about the whole thing? Enough said, I think! ...




Sunday, May 21, 2017

Bird Skeleton



Bronwyn Lloyd: Voodoo Bird (23/4/17)


A couple of weeks ago Bronwyn found this little chap nestled on the doorstep of her studio (which used to be my father's surgery), beside the house.




But who left it there? Was it a cat? The lawnmower man? Someone laying a hex?




Certainly it seems to be missing a head. It did remind me a bit of an old poem of mine, from my first book City of Strange Brunettes (1998):




First Love

We built a man of slates, and after years,
revisited, the rock had grown a face.

(... The lake dissects bird-craniums;
tree-roots wrestle midden-stones for space.)

We counted on the winter to preserve us.
Spring runoff leaves no craquelure to trace.



Jack Ross: City of Strange Brunettes (1998)