Considering the overlap between Jelinek's personal history and that of her protagonist here, the urge to approach it as an autobiography is strong indeed. If it is an autobiography, however, it is one of such brutal and explicit character that it is neither a wonder that it was censored as pornographic at the time of its publication, nor that Jelinek is on record discouraging such a reading. It would, in fact, be the fulfillment of Muriel Rukeyser's prediction that if a woman told the truth about her life, the world would split open. The book is so unforgivingly graphic that the word "obscene" seems to fall short.
Perhaps it is possible to read the book as autobiography without sacrificing the assumption of fictionality that alone preserves the world from splitting open, however. Erika's story can be Elfriede's story, even if Erika and Elfriede are not the same person. The book blends metaphor and narrative in a way that encourages such an approach, abruptly departing from the plot on flights of poetic fancy and returning as if nothing had happened. Where Elfriede's life ends and Erika's begins is no clearer than the distinction between what is said, what is merely thought, and what is simply the author's opinion of the goings-on in the book.
What is real, what survives the ultimately irrelevant question of fictionality, is Jelinek's gruesome portrait of human desire: so incisive that it would be impossible for her to have entirely invented it. And it is not only this desire that the author and protagonist presumably have in common; it is also the desire to capture and express it satisfactorily. "When a student asks her what her goal is, she says, 'Humanity'," could easily be applied to either party (13). But where Erika fails, Elfriede succeeds. She gives form to "the wish to penetrate thoroughly and be penetrated thoroughly" that I know, she knows, and presumably all humanity knows at the core of our id (169). Often for Jelinek, that form is a mouth that desires not to consume, but only to bite. She saturates the book with the image, in literal actions, in figurative speech, and, as is her habit, often not bothering to indicate which is intended.
And the book itself holds true to the image. It bites, tears, and chews the reader, but never swallows. It is a work of desire, after all; not of satiety. And if, when Erika/Jelinek end the narrative with a startling but meaningless gesture, the reader is left blueballed, begging for something more final, decisive, consuming. No such release is forthcoming, and the reader must look elsewhere for satisfaction. "He pleads with [Elfriede], but she refuses. He touches himself in order to complete [Elfriede's] handiwork . . . now he will never experience what he could carry out with her, what judgement, what sentence, if she allowed it" (181-2).
Monday, July 30, 2018
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
An American in Paris
In 2015, when I saw the Broadway show based on this movie, I came away thinking it was tedious, convoluted, and a little rapey. In 1952, I suppose it was common, though still unacceptable, for an adult man to chase a 19 year old girl around like a fawn, corner her, and badger her until she agreed to a date. Perhaps then it didn't set off any alarm bells, and maybe was even perceived as romantic. Perhaps it was normal for a wealthy woman to do the same to that man, using financial instead of social pressure. Serious scrutiny in power imbalances in relationships is rather a modern development, after all. The composer and his muse, the savior and his ward, the artist and his prey, the patron and her protege, every relationship in the musical was a study in harassment and coercion. Gross.
As tedious and convoluted as the musical was, at least the movie was not those things. But it was still a study in the relationships of horrible people. A suitable alternate title might be "A Fuckboi Gets a Taste of His Own Medicine". It was art, no doubt. The score, cinematography, performances (although Leslie Caron visibly struggles to hold her own in the longer sequences), choreography, all top notch. And in a movie from 1952, it's natural to see the unpleasant social practices of that decade reflected under the glamour. But of all the changes that were made for the musical, why preserve the one element that aged poorly, and falls on modern tastes like spoiled milk?
As tedious and convoluted as the musical was, at least the movie was not those things. But it was still a study in the relationships of horrible people. A suitable alternate title might be "A Fuckboi Gets a Taste of His Own Medicine". It was art, no doubt. The score, cinematography, performances (although Leslie Caron visibly struggles to hold her own in the longer sequences), choreography, all top notch. And in a movie from 1952, it's natural to see the unpleasant social practices of that decade reflected under the glamour. But of all the changes that were made for the musical, why preserve the one element that aged poorly, and falls on modern tastes like spoiled milk?
Monday, July 09, 2018
허영만: 식객 2
요즘은 Samin Nostrat의 Salt Fat Acid Heat이란 조리법 책이 주목 많이 받고 있다. 그 책은 모든 식사에 네 가지 맛이 있어야 균형이 있다고 한다. 문학도 그렇지 안흘까? Shakespeare가 얼마나 비극적인 작품이라도 광대를 포함시키는 것을 보니 그렇다는 생각이 떠오른다. 사실, Shakespeare의 직품 중 낭만, 희극, 역사, 비극 모두다 드러가는 Henry V가 가장 완벽하다고 생각 한다. 그러나 낭만이 없어도 작품이 완벽할 수가 있죠. 완벽한, 균형이 잘 된 작품에 꼭 드러가는 요소는 뭣일까?
식객 1과 마찬가지로, 이 권에서 보이는 네 가지 요소가 결합해서 완벽하다고 할 수가 있다. 물론 장르에 적당한 솜씨가 있어야 하지만그것 밖에 없으면 작품을 보고 "촣네요"라고 하다가 작품을 바로 잊는다. 만화, 소설, 영화, 도화 모두 다 그렇다. 식객은 잘 만들기와 그 외에 감정, 휴머, 철학 다 들어가며 이 네 가지 "맛"에 절묘한 규형을 유지되어있어 원벽하다고 하며 내가 이 책을 잘 먹었다.
식객 1과 마찬가지로, 이 권에서 보이는 네 가지 요소가 결합해서 완벽하다고 할 수가 있다. 물론 장르에 적당한 솜씨가 있어야 하지만그것 밖에 없으면 작품을 보고 "촣네요"라고 하다가 작품을 바로 잊는다. 만화, 소설, 영화, 도화 모두 다 그렇다. 식객은 잘 만들기와 그 외에 감정, 휴머, 철학 다 들어가며 이 네 가지 "맛"에 절묘한 규형을 유지되어있어 원벽하다고 하며 내가 이 책을 잘 먹었다.
Tuesday, July 03, 2018
Nigel Hardwood (ed.): English Language Teaching Materials: Theory and Practice
This sort of themed collection invariably leaves me with the same impression as professional development conferences. Namely: 40% people who had something to say, but didn't know how to say it; 40% the opposite; and 20% people who both had something to offer and knew how to present it. Given the theme of the collection, one can't help but wonder if the chapters included here couldn't have benefited from a bit of the critical analysis of "materials" in general that it purported to offer.
But just as I often do at PD conferences, I walked away from this book with a few useful things for immediate application (some applications for corpus-based materials, open-ended narratives, and authentic source material), several potentially fruitful lines of future inquiry (meta-cognition in listening materials, use of "moves" in rhetorical analysis), and some grounding in current pedagogical viewpoints and terminology that can be used to shore up and refine my existing approaches (distinctions between "task" and "activity", and "principles of language acquisition" and "principles of language teaching"). So even though I had to suffer through a few "sessions" that left me resentful for my wasted time and engagement, it was still worth going to this little conference.
But just as I often do at PD conferences, I walked away from this book with a few useful things for immediate application (some applications for corpus-based materials, open-ended narratives, and authentic source material), several potentially fruitful lines of future inquiry (meta-cognition in listening materials, use of "moves" in rhetorical analysis), and some grounding in current pedagogical viewpoints and terminology that can be used to shore up and refine my existing approaches (distinctions between "task" and "activity", and "principles of language acquisition" and "principles of language teaching"). So even though I had to suffer through a few "sessions" that left me resentful for my wasted time and engagement, it was still worth going to this little conference.
Monday, July 02, 2018
Al-Baqarah 2
I'm beginning to get a feel for the shape of this book, and I definitely am going to need to reread the entire thing consecutively after picking apart the verses.
88: An absolutely fascinating choice of words here. Hulusi's choice to render غُلفٌ as "cocooned" is certainly defensible, but no more so that "wrapped" or "uncircumcised" in the other translations I'm consulting. Perhaps this last is the most evocative, considering the topic at hand, but it casts interesting light on the semiotics of circumcision as a cultural practice.
89: Hulusi assumes that the "Book from Allah" mentioned here is the word of Muhammad, but this is rather convoluted semantically. It seems premature to state that the book itself has been rejected, when ostensibly only the first two books had been written.
90: Hulusi's additions here are of the less excusable sort. He removes the reference to the Jews' jealousy, and replaces it with a completely unjustified reference to his own, Sufi, assumptions. He definitely crosses a line here from interpretation to commentary.
91: Muhammad is no doubt unaware of the parallels between his own reasoning and Paul's. There are only so many things one can say to a group of people who are bound and determined to be "right", and insofar as Paul and Muhammad are really talking to the same group here, it's no wonder that their logic is similar.
92-93: Hulusi's observation--that the Jews' rejection of Moses' words and embrace of the idol is a metaphor for those who choose to believe their senses rather than their Rabb--is marvelous, and one that I am surprised I had not thought of before. It seems obvious and unassailable, in retrospect.
94: This is honestly a little inscrutable to me. Hulusi leaves it implicit that the command to "say", here and in 93, is to the writer of the book, although other translations see fit to clarify. If this interpretation is accurate, then this further complicates the above mentioned pronoun difficulties. We have multiple parties to this command: the speaker, previously assumed to Muhammad, is now understood to be merely the mediary.
95-96: The idea that those who wish most for life are those who know they must pay dearly for their sins begs to become an aphorism.
97: A merciful explication here, that reveals Gabriel as the first mediary of the message, and Muhammad as the second, which leaves the Jews of Medina as the audience, and the Jews of Israel as merely the topic.
98: It would be interesting to know of other references to the names transliterated as "Gabriel" and "Michael". The latter, at least, is certainly not a major character in the Hebrew scriptures. Would Muhammad have had access to the writings of Paul and John, where he takes a larger role?
99: The referent patterns are becoming clearer. This verse is addressed to Muhammad, and only tangentially to his readers.
100-101: The phrase "what was with them" here is so perfectly aligned with Hulusi's overall interpretation, I assumed it was another of his liberties. But no so: لِما مَعَهُم is translated the same in both of the other translations I'm referencing. All three sources agree that the commands given through the Rasuls are merely confirmations of what the hearer already knows and possesses within.
102: So much in this verse to wonder about, including why it was not divided into smaller passages. Who are Harut and MArut, and how much of their story is hearsay? What is that which, when learned, caused a split between man and wife? Why does the original text seem to double back on itself in the last sentences, declaring "surely they knew" and "if they only knew" with the same breath? And why does Hulusi here choose to obscure that seeming inconsistency with his rendering?
103: "If only they knew" seems rather an empty wish, when the whole invective is predicated upon their having known.
104: A fascinating linguistic note that raises the question of how far into the prophet's career this book was written, such that his audience would have already developed a pattern of thus mocking him.
105: The polytheistic background of the Meccan audience here gives a special flavor to الكِتابِ here, which is literally "those who associate partners with Allah", and is variously rendered "idolators", "polytheists", and "dualists" in the versions I'm referencing. Hulusi's conflation of their polytheism with a mistaken belief in separation from the divine resonates especially clearly with my personal theology.
106: A slightly opaque verse, which opacity may eventually be cleared up once I determine with certainty whether the prophet is here granting himself the plural, or still relaying the words of Gabriel.
107-108: Taken with the context of 104, the prophet is here refuting accusations that have already been likely levelled against him for years before the revelation of Al-Baqarah.
109: Given the inconsistency in rendering of قَديرٌ in the other two translations I'm referencing (powerful and competent, respectively), Hulusi's choice to leave it untranslated is probably for the best.
110: There is a certain appealing simplicity in the return here to الصَّلاةَ and الزَّكاةَ as the primary concerns of believers, and something could be made out of the contrast between the similar edicts of Christ (love God and your neighbor) and Paul (refrain some things sacrificed to idols and from fornication). Hulusi's explication is also welcome here, and especially so in that it is not done under the guise of textuality, as elsewhere.
111: The People of the Book, so often referenced here, do not subscribe to any doctrine I'm familiar with. The Prophet must have been dealing with a very particular variety of them before writing this.
112: I am not sorry that I have subconsciously adopted Hulusi's approach to رَبِّهِ . When the other translations offer "Lord", I now automatically subsitute "one's essential reality" mentally.
113: This is much more in line with the People of the Book that I know. In all three translations, the interpretation is consistent: Those who split hairs over denomination may as well be polytheists. Worry about الصَّلاةَ and الزَّكاةَ and let Allah worry about the rest.
114: In contrast with this verse, where all three translations are wildly different. Hulusi seems to have inserted "Dhikr" in place of اسمُهُ, and without justification or notation.
115: More a warning than an ovation, especially when taken with the foregoing passages.
116: Another nice refutation of the separateness/plurality of the Divine. Just as there is neither East nor West in 115, and neither Jew nor Christian in 113, so is there no "son" of God. All creation is one Divine origin, and identity.
117: Again impressed with Hulusi's restraint in leaving بَديعُ transliterated as Badee, and leaving the idea that this means "Originator" rather than simply "Wonderful" parenthetical. If the other translations I'm referencing are any indicator, such is not typical.
118: Taken in context, the idea that Allah should be revealed in a sign is manifestly ludicrous, and betrays a stubborn adherence to the idea of the particular, individual, and specific nature of that which is in all ways general, universal, and indivisible.
119: A curious turn of phrase, but at least it reveals that Gabriel is still the speaker here, and not the Prophet.
120: Which makes this exhortation one to the Prophet himself, rather than one to his audience.
121: And just when Hulusi was adhering to admirable standards of scholarship, he inexplicably inserts himself into the text. "It" in this verse is very clearly referring to the revealed word, but Hulusi extrapolates unforgivably to refer it to "Hu" which appears nowhere in the text.
Hu is a potent and sobering concept, one that can be seen everywhere in this book, and as such does not need to forced into view this way.
122: The idea that the Divine somehow preferred the Hebrew nation above all other is a grating one, but the power of Abrahamic and Mosaic legend is undeniable.
123: A bold and definitive, though unsupported, refutation of that most insidious of Christian dogmas: the ransom.
124: If Rabb is taken, as I and Hulusi like to do, to be one's own divine nature, then the story of Abraham's trials becomes even more fascinatingly complex. And it's a nice touch that the Abrahamic covenant is here taken to have a few provisi.
125: It's tempting to take "The station of Abraham", as Hulusi does, metaphorically. But it's equally tempting to take it as a literal holy location. If Abraham was a literal man, and there is no reason to believe otherwise, then there must be a literal place where he prevailed against his Rabb.
126: One wonders what secular support there is for the city of Mecca being the actual location of Abraham's covenant.
127: If this literal house existed, and furthermore if its location is as advertised, how very convenient for Jews and Christians to not talk about it. Where would this have taken place in the Pentateuch? What parallel account does it embellish? It would have to be after Genesis 22, when Ishmael was sent away. But this is the last we hear of him in the Pentateuch. Which line of inquiry further begs the question, what was the test mentioned in 124? The sacrifice of Issac would have happened well after Ishmael's exile.
128: At least one of the other translations I'm referencing inserts "Muslim" into the verse, entirely without warrant. The question remains, though: if Abraham is with Ishamel, not Isaac, when this is taking place, then with what nation is the covenant?
129: At least the Prophet does not feel the need to identify himself in this verse. It remains open to interpretation who this messenger would be.
130: There is, as observed here, a primal divinity in Abraham, utterly free from dogma and ceremony. It is this experience of the Divine, more so even than that of Moses, that is at the heart of true religious experience.
131: Because Abraham's Rabb, and ours, is one and the same.
132: Hulusi's explication that "Muslim" means one who has submitted to the nature of reality brings the word rather closer to the meaning of "Enlightened" in the Buddhist sense.
133: In what sense was Ishmael Jacob's "father"?
134: Presumably "you" here is the Prophet's audience, not the prophet himself. I believe I'm getting a little better at tracking all the pronouns here.
135: Hulusi seems to think حَنيفًا loses something in the translation here, and leaves it as "Hanif", as does another translation I'm referencing. It may well lose something in English, but it occurs to me that 正 might do it justice. At any rate, the distinction between monotheism and the more accurate antipolytheism here is well taken. The idea of a "deity-god" is guilty of the same innacuracy as that of multiple gods.
136. The subtlety of النَّبِيّونَ that required it to be rendered "Nabi" instead of "prophets" here escapes me.
137. Presumably, Hulusi's rendering of شِقاقٍ as "fragmented" here, as opposed to "defiant" or "dissenting" elsewhere has some linguistic basis, and is not merely intended to shore up his focus on unity. In this case, at least, the more accurate translation happens to also be the one that .supports Hulusi's thesis.
138: What a lovely way of expressing the divine light. The "Hue" of the divine is, as above, more accurate linguistically and metaphysically. One begins to trust Hulusi a little more.
139: This might be my new favorite verse. If only more people followed it.
140: Equally relevant. You cannot escape your Rabb, nor can I escape mine, for they are the same. What use it it to anyone to police the divine?
141: A nearly exact repetition of 134, and almost my exact sentiment about all religions.
142: It's almost ecumenical. What direction do you face while praying? The East and the West are equally divine?
143: In light of which, the Prophet seems to be going back upon himself. If the East and the West are both divine, why with the same breath command one over the other? If all are accountable to their own Rabb, what need is there to draw distinction between them?
144: Which, in turn, makes Hulusi's assumption the only rational one: that one must turn neither East nor West, but inward.
145: The only possible intepretation of this in that light is that everyone should mind her or his own تَبِعوا. There is no turning another in your direction were they not already leaning in it.
146: I wonder if there is a holy book without this particular admonition. It seems contrary to the commands above (and below) to mind your own worship, and be concerned about the sincerity of others'. Perhaps the best interpretation is "be careful whom you listen to".
147: Some disagreement among translations about whether the Truth mentioned here is self-referential, or external to the book in which it is mentioned. Hulusi's interpretation that it is an internal Truth is, as ever, compelling.,
148: Another very ecumenical verse. All have their own facing direction, which cannot exclude them from pursuit of the Divine good.
149: The context certainly suggests a metaphorical interpretation here. After repeatedly drawing attention to the fact that there is neither East nor West for Allah, and that each person is responsible for her or his own path, it would be inconsistent to follow it up with a command to face in a particular direction. The Sufi interpretation becomes more appealing with every verse.
150: The verbatim repetition here would tend to argue against that though.
151: The most obvious interpretation here is that the "You" here is the incipient Muslim community, and the Prophet from among them is Muhammad. I am aching to know, however, if the interpretation that "You" is Muhammad and the messenger is his own Rabb is possible in the Arabic.
152-153: We seem to beginning a series of generic pious admonitions here, indistinguishable from those in other religious texts.
154: A potential first mention of the immortality of the soul! Far more explicit than anything in the Hebrew Scriptures, though it is supposed that the idea was well established among Jews by the time of Muhammad.
155-157: I have a problem with this notion in all religious texts where it is found: that the difficulties we endure are not simply part and parcel of this nasty, brutal, short existence, but rather a purposeful test from above. Surely life is difficult enough, and there are plentiful opportunities to exercise patience without adding to them.
158: Another tantalizing addition to the legend of Ishmael here. What remains unexplained is when Abraham returned to these hills to raise the Kaaba.
159-160: The first real serious "thou shalt not" that I have noticed. There are other guidelines, but this one comes with a specific curse attached.
161: A Sufi reading of this verse would argue that separation and belief in duality is its own punishment. A more literal reading would assume that there is an additional curse on top of that. But one wonders what "curse of the whole of humanity" could exist above and beyond the curse of our own existence?
162: The afterlife is predicated here, for those who have died in a state of duality in 161 are here condemned to continue in that state after death.
163: All three translations make the mistake of distinguishing the God that exists from the gods that do not, either by overexplication (Hulusi) or by mere capitalization. There does not seem to be any justification for these additions in the original text however. It's altogether reminiscent of the ways in which Christianists overexplicate John 1:1 in their texts to fit their theology. A more consistent reading would identify this God, not as "one" descriptively, but as Oneness.
164: There is an implicit grammatical and discursive connection between this verse and the preceding, but it is not made clear. The evidence referred to here is implied to evidence of that preceding truths, as though such were self-evident. But the connection between the two has missed a step.
165: Here is an attempt at the connection that was missing in 164. All creation bears testament to the divine unity. And the evidence for that unity is in the results when one fails to recognize it.
166: A reference to something that eludes me here. In what sense are these followers cut off? It seems to specific to be a general principle.
167: To follow at all is the mistake here, because following predicates a belief in duality and a possible existent other. The mistake is, when the severance from that which we followed is revealed, to look for another connection, rather than to perceive the impossibility of such a relationship in the first place. Indeed, all creation, if looked at perceptively, would reveal the lesson that could prevent the pain of perceived severance.
168: "What is clean" has not yet been specified yet, but what is most interesting is that "Satan" tempts us by his example--partaking of anything at all that pleases him in the moment.
169: Hulusi's insertions here are unforgivable. بِالسّوءِ is very clearly simply "evil" here, and Hulusi's extrapolation that this means "things that will strengthen your ego" should have remained parenthetical.
170: A verse that seems ignored by modern Muslims. The fact that our predecessors believed something is meaningless at best, and likely counterindicative.
171: And this truth is, at least in a Sufi reading, that which is revealed by the nature of existence--not from our ego, or our programming.
172: Again, insufficiently specific. Perhaps later the Prophet will identify for us what exactly is "clean".
173: Bingo. But the most fascinating thing here is that these dietary restrictions are framed as guidelines, and that no sin accrues to him who is forced to ignore them--in direct contrast to Sharia readings.
174: I'm clearly missing something of the discursive powers of إِنَّ here. I have been assuming that it predicates a logical relation to the aforementioned, but this is not the first time it has been used used to bring in an entirely unrelated topic.
175: Not unlike Sartre's "bad faith", these are aware of the unity of existence, but invest instead in duality because it is easier/more pleasant/less fearsome.
176: The Book here could not mean the (at this point yet uncompleted) Quran. It seems more consistent to read it as the book followed by the frequently mentioned "People of the Book", namely the accumulated revelations of all holy traditions. But a divergent reading is also made possible by the context: the Book as all of reality.
177: Hulusi seems to be taking a liberty when he forcefully inserts reference to his obsession with the letter بِا, but there is definite textual support. The reference to Allah here is manifestly different than in above verses, and one wonders about the powers of this phoneme--even if merely syntactically.
178: I'm beginning to get used to this Semitic discourse pattern. A sudden shift from the duties of the believers to a delineation of punishments for murder seems abrupt. But I'm confident that the topic will recurve on itself, and make the connection clear in the following verse.
179: This feels like it needs explication. The connection between the system of retribution mentioned in 178 and "life' is not explained.
180-182: A very clearcut process, and correspondingly immune to interpretation. Unless . . . this is related to the process mentioned above, of retribution: of the repayment for death bringing benefit. but that seems a a bit of a stretch.
183, 184: Another procedural directive, and one that on the surface seems straightforward. But the "if only you knew" at the end makes Hulusi's parenthetical interpretation that such fasting is to be done, not as a social or religious duty, but "to reduce corporeality" into a ritual with real spiritual value to toe practitioner.
185: Hulusi returns to his substitution of "HU" for اللَّهُ here, an obsession which continues to detract from the credibility of his translation.
186: The experience of the Divine is here phrased as a dialogue, with Allah answering the call, but the servant also responding to the answer.
187: This is a lovely metaphor for intercourse, and indeed intimacy of all sorts. The one is not a garment for the other; rather, they are garments for each other: each party at once adorned and adornment.
188: A sensible and loving directive, even out of context.
189: The connection between the phases of the moon, and the metaphor of using the front door here is unclear. One interpretation is that "there are no shortcuts in keeping to prescribed times."
190-194: Everything in this verse hinges upon the translation. There is only a hairsbreadth here between "Mind your own religion, unless someone tries to stop you," and "Kill all unbelievers." It is easy to see how modern Islam has chosen the less subtle of the two.
88: An absolutely fascinating choice of words here. Hulusi's choice to render غُلفٌ as "cocooned" is certainly defensible, but no more so that "wrapped" or "uncircumcised" in the other translations I'm consulting. Perhaps this last is the most evocative, considering the topic at hand, but it casts interesting light on the semiotics of circumcision as a cultural practice.
89: Hulusi assumes that the "Book from Allah" mentioned here is the word of Muhammad, but this is rather convoluted semantically. It seems premature to state that the book itself has been rejected, when ostensibly only the first two books had been written.
90: Hulusi's additions here are of the less excusable sort. He removes the reference to the Jews' jealousy, and replaces it with a completely unjustified reference to his own, Sufi, assumptions. He definitely crosses a line here from interpretation to commentary.
91: Muhammad is no doubt unaware of the parallels between his own reasoning and Paul's. There are only so many things one can say to a group of people who are bound and determined to be "right", and insofar as Paul and Muhammad are really talking to the same group here, it's no wonder that their logic is similar.
92-93: Hulusi's observation--that the Jews' rejection of Moses' words and embrace of the idol is a metaphor for those who choose to believe their senses rather than their Rabb--is marvelous, and one that I am surprised I had not thought of before. It seems obvious and unassailable, in retrospect.
94: This is honestly a little inscrutable to me. Hulusi leaves it implicit that the command to "say", here and in 93, is to the writer of the book, although other translations see fit to clarify. If this interpretation is accurate, then this further complicates the above mentioned pronoun difficulties. We have multiple parties to this command: the speaker, previously assumed to Muhammad, is now understood to be merely the mediary.
95-96: The idea that those who wish most for life are those who know they must pay dearly for their sins begs to become an aphorism.
97: A merciful explication here, that reveals Gabriel as the first mediary of the message, and Muhammad as the second, which leaves the Jews of Medina as the audience, and the Jews of Israel as merely the topic.
98: It would be interesting to know of other references to the names transliterated as "Gabriel" and "Michael". The latter, at least, is certainly not a major character in the Hebrew scriptures. Would Muhammad have had access to the writings of Paul and John, where he takes a larger role?
99: The referent patterns are becoming clearer. This verse is addressed to Muhammad, and only tangentially to his readers.
100-101: The phrase "what was with them" here is so perfectly aligned with Hulusi's overall interpretation, I assumed it was another of his liberties. But no so: لِما مَعَهُم is translated the same in both of the other translations I'm referencing. All three sources agree that the commands given through the Rasuls are merely confirmations of what the hearer already knows and possesses within.
102: So much in this verse to wonder about, including why it was not divided into smaller passages. Who are Harut and MArut, and how much of their story is hearsay? What is that which, when learned, caused a split between man and wife? Why does the original text seem to double back on itself in the last sentences, declaring "surely they knew" and "if they only knew" with the same breath? And why does Hulusi here choose to obscure that seeming inconsistency with his rendering?
103: "If only they knew" seems rather an empty wish, when the whole invective is predicated upon their having known.
104: A fascinating linguistic note that raises the question of how far into the prophet's career this book was written, such that his audience would have already developed a pattern of thus mocking him.
105: The polytheistic background of the Meccan audience here gives a special flavor to الكِتابِ here, which is literally "those who associate partners with Allah", and is variously rendered "idolators", "polytheists", and "dualists" in the versions I'm referencing. Hulusi's conflation of their polytheism with a mistaken belief in separation from the divine resonates especially clearly with my personal theology.
106: A slightly opaque verse, which opacity may eventually be cleared up once I determine with certainty whether the prophet is here granting himself the plural, or still relaying the words of Gabriel.
107-108: Taken with the context of 104, the prophet is here refuting accusations that have already been likely levelled against him for years before the revelation of Al-Baqarah.
109: Given the inconsistency in rendering of قَديرٌ in the other two translations I'm referencing (powerful and competent, respectively), Hulusi's choice to leave it untranslated is probably for the best.
110: There is a certain appealing simplicity in the return here to الصَّلاةَ and الزَّكاةَ as the primary concerns of believers, and something could be made out of the contrast between the similar edicts of Christ (love God and your neighbor) and Paul (refrain some things sacrificed to idols and from fornication). Hulusi's explication is also welcome here, and especially so in that it is not done under the guise of textuality, as elsewhere.
111: The People of the Book, so often referenced here, do not subscribe to any doctrine I'm familiar with. The Prophet must have been dealing with a very particular variety of them before writing this.
112: I am not sorry that I have subconsciously adopted Hulusi's approach to رَبِّهِ . When the other translations offer "Lord", I now automatically subsitute "one's essential reality" mentally.
113: This is much more in line with the People of the Book that I know. In all three translations, the interpretation is consistent: Those who split hairs over denomination may as well be polytheists. Worry about الصَّلاةَ and الزَّكاةَ and let Allah worry about the rest.
114: In contrast with this verse, where all three translations are wildly different. Hulusi seems to have inserted "Dhikr" in place of اسمُهُ, and without justification or notation.
115: More a warning than an ovation, especially when taken with the foregoing passages.
116: Another nice refutation of the separateness/plurality of the Divine. Just as there is neither East nor West in 115, and neither Jew nor Christian in 113, so is there no "son" of God. All creation is one Divine origin, and identity.
117: Again impressed with Hulusi's restraint in leaving بَديعُ transliterated as Badee, and leaving the idea that this means "Originator" rather than simply "Wonderful" parenthetical. If the other translations I'm referencing are any indicator, such is not typical.
118: Taken in context, the idea that Allah should be revealed in a sign is manifestly ludicrous, and betrays a stubborn adherence to the idea of the particular, individual, and specific nature of that which is in all ways general, universal, and indivisible.
119: A curious turn of phrase, but at least it reveals that Gabriel is still the speaker here, and not the Prophet.
120: Which makes this exhortation one to the Prophet himself, rather than one to his audience.
121: And just when Hulusi was adhering to admirable standards of scholarship, he inexplicably inserts himself into the text. "It" in this verse is very clearly referring to the revealed word, but Hulusi extrapolates unforgivably to refer it to "Hu" which appears nowhere in the text.
Hu is a potent and sobering concept, one that can be seen everywhere in this book, and as such does not need to forced into view this way.
122: The idea that the Divine somehow preferred the Hebrew nation above all other is a grating one, but the power of Abrahamic and Mosaic legend is undeniable.
123: A bold and definitive, though unsupported, refutation of that most insidious of Christian dogmas: the ransom.
124: If Rabb is taken, as I and Hulusi like to do, to be one's own divine nature, then the story of Abraham's trials becomes even more fascinatingly complex. And it's a nice touch that the Abrahamic covenant is here taken to have a few provisi.
125: It's tempting to take "The station of Abraham", as Hulusi does, metaphorically. But it's equally tempting to take it as a literal holy location. If Abraham was a literal man, and there is no reason to believe otherwise, then there must be a literal place where he prevailed against his Rabb.
126: One wonders what secular support there is for the city of Mecca being the actual location of Abraham's covenant.
127: If this literal house existed, and furthermore if its location is as advertised, how very convenient for Jews and Christians to not talk about it. Where would this have taken place in the Pentateuch? What parallel account does it embellish? It would have to be after Genesis 22, when Ishmael was sent away. But this is the last we hear of him in the Pentateuch. Which line of inquiry further begs the question, what was the test mentioned in 124? The sacrifice of Issac would have happened well after Ishmael's exile.
128: At least one of the other translations I'm referencing inserts "Muslim" into the verse, entirely without warrant. The question remains, though: if Abraham is with Ishamel, not Isaac, when this is taking place, then with what nation is the covenant?
129: At least the Prophet does not feel the need to identify himself in this verse. It remains open to interpretation who this messenger would be.
130: There is, as observed here, a primal divinity in Abraham, utterly free from dogma and ceremony. It is this experience of the Divine, more so even than that of Moses, that is at the heart of true religious experience.
131: Because Abraham's Rabb, and ours, is one and the same.
132: Hulusi's explication that "Muslim" means one who has submitted to the nature of reality brings the word rather closer to the meaning of "Enlightened" in the Buddhist sense.
133: In what sense was Ishmael Jacob's "father"?
134: Presumably "you" here is the Prophet's audience, not the prophet himself. I believe I'm getting a little better at tracking all the pronouns here.
135: Hulusi seems to think حَنيفًا loses something in the translation here, and leaves it as "Hanif", as does another translation I'm referencing. It may well lose something in English, but it occurs to me that 正 might do it justice. At any rate, the distinction between monotheism and the more accurate antipolytheism here is well taken. The idea of a "deity-god" is guilty of the same innacuracy as that of multiple gods.
136. The subtlety of النَّبِيّونَ that required it to be rendered "Nabi" instead of "prophets" here escapes me.
137. Presumably, Hulusi's rendering of شِقاقٍ as "fragmented" here, as opposed to "defiant" or "dissenting" elsewhere has some linguistic basis, and is not merely intended to shore up his focus on unity. In this case, at least, the more accurate translation happens to also be the one that .supports Hulusi's thesis.
138: What a lovely way of expressing the divine light. The "Hue" of the divine is, as above, more accurate linguistically and metaphysically. One begins to trust Hulusi a little more.
139: This might be my new favorite verse. If only more people followed it.
140: Equally relevant. You cannot escape your Rabb, nor can I escape mine, for they are the same. What use it it to anyone to police the divine?
141: A nearly exact repetition of 134, and almost my exact sentiment about all religions.
142: It's almost ecumenical. What direction do you face while praying? The East and the West are equally divine?
143: In light of which, the Prophet seems to be going back upon himself. If the East and the West are both divine, why with the same breath command one over the other? If all are accountable to their own Rabb, what need is there to draw distinction between them?
144: Which, in turn, makes Hulusi's assumption the only rational one: that one must turn neither East nor West, but inward.
145: The only possible intepretation of this in that light is that everyone should mind her or his own تَبِعوا. There is no turning another in your direction were they not already leaning in it.
146: I wonder if there is a holy book without this particular admonition. It seems contrary to the commands above (and below) to mind your own worship, and be concerned about the sincerity of others'. Perhaps the best interpretation is "be careful whom you listen to".
147: Some disagreement among translations about whether the Truth mentioned here is self-referential, or external to the book in which it is mentioned. Hulusi's interpretation that it is an internal Truth is, as ever, compelling.,
148: Another very ecumenical verse. All have their own facing direction, which cannot exclude them from pursuit of the Divine good.
149: The context certainly suggests a metaphorical interpretation here. After repeatedly drawing attention to the fact that there is neither East nor West for Allah, and that each person is responsible for her or his own path, it would be inconsistent to follow it up with a command to face in a particular direction. The Sufi interpretation becomes more appealing with every verse.
150: The verbatim repetition here would tend to argue against that though.
151: The most obvious interpretation here is that the "You" here is the incipient Muslim community, and the Prophet from among them is Muhammad. I am aching to know, however, if the interpretation that "You" is Muhammad and the messenger is his own Rabb is possible in the Arabic.
152-153: We seem to beginning a series of generic pious admonitions here, indistinguishable from those in other religious texts.
154: A potential first mention of the immortality of the soul! Far more explicit than anything in the Hebrew Scriptures, though it is supposed that the idea was well established among Jews by the time of Muhammad.
155-157: I have a problem with this notion in all religious texts where it is found: that the difficulties we endure are not simply part and parcel of this nasty, brutal, short existence, but rather a purposeful test from above. Surely life is difficult enough, and there are plentiful opportunities to exercise patience without adding to them.
158: Another tantalizing addition to the legend of Ishmael here. What remains unexplained is when Abraham returned to these hills to raise the Kaaba.
159-160: The first real serious "thou shalt not" that I have noticed. There are other guidelines, but this one comes with a specific curse attached.
161: A Sufi reading of this verse would argue that separation and belief in duality is its own punishment. A more literal reading would assume that there is an additional curse on top of that. But one wonders what "curse of the whole of humanity" could exist above and beyond the curse of our own existence?
162: The afterlife is predicated here, for those who have died in a state of duality in 161 are here condemned to continue in that state after death.
163: All three translations make the mistake of distinguishing the God that exists from the gods that do not, either by overexplication (Hulusi) or by mere capitalization. There does not seem to be any justification for these additions in the original text however. It's altogether reminiscent of the ways in which Christianists overexplicate John 1:1 in their texts to fit their theology. A more consistent reading would identify this God, not as "one" descriptively, but as Oneness.
164: There is an implicit grammatical and discursive connection between this verse and the preceding, but it is not made clear. The evidence referred to here is implied to evidence of that preceding truths, as though such were self-evident. But the connection between the two has missed a step.
165: Here is an attempt at the connection that was missing in 164. All creation bears testament to the divine unity. And the evidence for that unity is in the results when one fails to recognize it.
166: A reference to something that eludes me here. In what sense are these followers cut off? It seems to specific to be a general principle.
167: To follow at all is the mistake here, because following predicates a belief in duality and a possible existent other. The mistake is, when the severance from that which we followed is revealed, to look for another connection, rather than to perceive the impossibility of such a relationship in the first place. Indeed, all creation, if looked at perceptively, would reveal the lesson that could prevent the pain of perceived severance.
168: "What is clean" has not yet been specified yet, but what is most interesting is that "Satan" tempts us by his example--partaking of anything at all that pleases him in the moment.
169: Hulusi's insertions here are unforgivable. بِالسّوءِ is very clearly simply "evil" here, and Hulusi's extrapolation that this means "things that will strengthen your ego" should have remained parenthetical.
170: A verse that seems ignored by modern Muslims. The fact that our predecessors believed something is meaningless at best, and likely counterindicative.
171: And this truth is, at least in a Sufi reading, that which is revealed by the nature of existence--not from our ego, or our programming.
172: Again, insufficiently specific. Perhaps later the Prophet will identify for us what exactly is "clean".
173: Bingo. But the most fascinating thing here is that these dietary restrictions are framed as guidelines, and that no sin accrues to him who is forced to ignore them--in direct contrast to Sharia readings.
174: I'm clearly missing something of the discursive powers of إِنَّ here. I have been assuming that it predicates a logical relation to the aforementioned, but this is not the first time it has been used used to bring in an entirely unrelated topic.
175: Not unlike Sartre's "bad faith", these are aware of the unity of existence, but invest instead in duality because it is easier/more pleasant/less fearsome.
176: The Book here could not mean the (at this point yet uncompleted) Quran. It seems more consistent to read it as the book followed by the frequently mentioned "People of the Book", namely the accumulated revelations of all holy traditions. But a divergent reading is also made possible by the context: the Book as all of reality.
177: Hulusi seems to be taking a liberty when he forcefully inserts reference to his obsession with the letter بِا, but there is definite textual support. The reference to Allah here is manifestly different than in above verses, and one wonders about the powers of this phoneme--even if merely syntactically.
178: I'm beginning to get used to this Semitic discourse pattern. A sudden shift from the duties of the believers to a delineation of punishments for murder seems abrupt. But I'm confident that the topic will recurve on itself, and make the connection clear in the following verse.
179: This feels like it needs explication. The connection between the system of retribution mentioned in 178 and "life' is not explained.
180-182: A very clearcut process, and correspondingly immune to interpretation. Unless . . . this is related to the process mentioned above, of retribution: of the repayment for death bringing benefit. but that seems a a bit of a stretch.
183, 184: Another procedural directive, and one that on the surface seems straightforward. But the "if only you knew" at the end makes Hulusi's parenthetical interpretation that such fasting is to be done, not as a social or religious duty, but "to reduce corporeality" into a ritual with real spiritual value to toe practitioner.
185: Hulusi returns to his substitution of "HU" for اللَّهُ here, an obsession which continues to detract from the credibility of his translation.
186: The experience of the Divine is here phrased as a dialogue, with Allah answering the call, but the servant also responding to the answer.
187: This is a lovely metaphor for intercourse, and indeed intimacy of all sorts. The one is not a garment for the other; rather, they are garments for each other: each party at once adorned and adornment.
188: A sensible and loving directive, even out of context.
189: The connection between the phases of the moon, and the metaphor of using the front door here is unclear. One interpretation is that "there are no shortcuts in keeping to prescribed times."
190-194: Everything in this verse hinges upon the translation. There is only a hairsbreadth here between "Mind your own religion, unless someone tries to stop you," and "Kill all unbelievers." It is easy to see how modern Islam has chosen the less subtle of the two.
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