Saturday, January 25, 2014

Greguerรญas: III

It's been forever since I continued this project--four years at least--but I find myself having to cover a friends Spanish classes while whe's out of town next week.  What better way to brush up a little?  I've decided to start posting the original Spanish with my translations, as much of a pain as it is to add all those fucking accents . . .


Las รบnicas que saben de arquitectura comparada son los golondrinas

The only ones who understand comparative architecture are the swallows.

 

El bรบjo es un espantapรกjaros que se come los pรกjaros.

The owl is a scarecrow that eats the birds.

 

EL reloj que atrasa es un reloj ahorrativo

A slow watch is a thrifty watch.

 

Poner notas a los libros es un atrevimiento, como la serรญa el retocar los cuadros de una exposiciรณn

To put notes in a book is insolent, like touching up the paintings in a gallery.

 

Lo mejor del cielo es que no puede inundarse de hormigas.

The best thing about heaven is that it can’t be flooded with ants.

 

El arroyo trae al valle llas murmuraciones de las montaรฑas.

The stream bring the gossip of the mountains to the valley.

 

Lo irracional es asรญ:el animal que se mira en un espejo cree que es un amigo o una amiga, nunca รฉl mismo.

It’s as irrational as this:  the animal who looks in a mirror and sees a friend, never itself.

 

La mano del ladrรณn es un manojo de ganzรบas con uรฑas.

The hand of a thief is a bundle of lockpicks with fingernails.

 

El campesino que lleva un conejo colgando de la mano lo lleva la elegancia con que un inglรฉs lleva un piaaguas.

The peasant who carries a rabbit dangling from his hand does so with the elegance of an Englishman carrying an umbrella.

 

Era unos de esos dรญas en que el viento quiere hablar.

It was one of those days when the winds wants to speak.

 

Los bancos pรบblicos son los pentagramas de las iniciales del amor.

Lovers carve their initials into the bank of the river as if it was a musical staff

Literally: Public banks are the musical staffs of the initials of love.

 

 

Lo peor de la ambiciรณn es que no sabe bien lo que quiere.

The worst thing about ambition is not knowing well what you want.

 

El camello tiene la nuez en la joroba

The camel has the nut in his back.

 

El lรฉon en su jaula parece vivir de renta

The lion in his cage seems to pay rent

 

Habรญa tanta gente esperando el tranvรญa, que parecรญa la inauguraciรณn del primer tren.

There were so many people waiting for the trolley, it seemed like the opening ceremony.

 

Cuando el cocinero hace mucha espuma al batir, le crece el gorro

When the cook has a lot of foam to beat, he cocks his hat.
 
Not sure about my translation of this one.  I will need to consult a native speaker to see if "cock (one's) hat" is acceptable.

 

El ballenero lanza la aguja enhebrada del arpรณn y cose la ballena al barco.

The whaler hurls the threaded needle of his harpoon and sews the whale to his boat.

 

La ardilla limpia con el plumero de su cola el sitio en que se sienta.

The squirrel uses his tail to dust off his seat.



La golondrina llega de tan lejos porque es fleche y arco al mismo tiempo.



The swallow can fly so far because it is at once bow and arrow.


 


El sueรฑo es un pequeรฑo adelanto que nos hace la muerte para que nos sea mรกs fรกcil pasar la vida.


Dreams are little steps toward death that make life easier to live.


 


El crรกneo es la bรณveda alta del corazรณn


The cranium is the vaulted ceiling of the heart.


 


El cacahuete tiene algo atravesado en la garganta


The peanut has something blocking its throat.


 


Aparece lo prรกctico en la civilizaciรณn cuando se inventa la herradura


Practicality only appeared in civilization when the horseshoe was invented.


 


En el otro mundo se debe de respirar mejor.  Respiraremos sin pulmones a pleno aire.


They breathe better in the other world.  Without lungs, we would breathe purer air.





El micrรณfono es ya don Micrรณfono, un personaje de americana y cuya aureola son las ondas reveladoras del ser milagroso.


The microphone has already become Sir Microphone, an American character whose aura is the waves that reveal he is a miracle.


 

Los sillones de mimbre son los esqueletos de los sillones tapizados

Wicker chairs are the skeletons of upholstered chairs

 

La รณpera es la verdad de la mentira, y la cine es la mentira de la verdad.

Opera captures the truth in lies, and cinema the lies in truth.

 

En el lavabo del vagรณn nos lavamos del negro crimen del viaje

We wash our hands of the black crimes of our journey in the sinks of the passenger train.

 

Las gallinas blancas estรกn en paรฑos menores

The white hens go around in their underwear

 

Los murciรฉlagos nos pasan de parte a parte como balas perdidas

The bats pass us from place to place like stray bullets

 

Los que se desperezan son como salvajes que disparan su flecha al aire

Stretching is like shooting your arrows into the air

 

Cuando mรกs admire la paternidad es cuando veo salir al niรฑo con las mismas largas narices del padre

One admires paternity the most is when seeing the children come out with the same long noses as their father.

(One wonders if to have a long nose has some sort of cultural significance)

 

Hay un momento en que el astrรณnomo debajo del gran teloscopio se convierte en microbio del microscopio de la luna, que se asoma a observarle.

There’s a moment when the astronomer under his great telescope turns himself into a microbe under the microscope of the moon, who pokes her face out to observe him.


Es que lleva el paraguas abierto cuando ya no llueve parece un paracaidista caรญdo del nido

When you carry an open umbrella you look like a parachutist fallen to Earth.

 

La S es el anzuelo del abecedario.

The S is the fishhook of the alphabet

 

Lo รบnico que comen las puertas son esas nueces que les damos a partir

The only thing that doors eat is the walneuts they came from.

 

Cuando el cisne submerge en el agua cabeza y cuello, es como la mano be un brazo femenino que busca en el fondo del baรฑo una sortija.

When the swans ducks head and neck underwater, it’s lika a feminine hand searching for her ring in the bottom of the tub.

 

Bajo la sombra de ese รกrbol que hay medio de la llanura estรกn en cuclillas y de tertulia todas las ideas del paisaje.

Under this solitary tree in the middle of the plain, all the ideas of the landscape are squatting in a group.

 

Es dificil imaginar que una monda calavera sea una calavera de mujer.

It is difficult to imagine that a woman’s skull could be plain.

 

Las cenizas de cigarro que quedan entre las pรกginas de los libros viejos son la major imagen de lo que quedรณ en ellos de la vida del que los leyรณ.

The cigar ashes between the pages of old books are the best symbol of the ashes of the lives of those who read them.

 

Aquella noche era la luna como la coronilla del obispo de la noche.

That night the moon was like the mitre of the bishop of night.

 

El ruido de los pies descalzos de una mujer sobre los baldosines da una fiebre sensual y cruel.

The sound of a woman’s bare feet on the tiles imparts a cruel and sensual fever.

 

La golondrina es una fleche mรญstica en busca de un corazon

The swallow is a magic arrow in search of a heart.

 

El cepillo es un milpiรฉs que se escapa simepre del sitio en que debรญa estar

The comb is but a millipede escaped from its proper place.

 

Cรณmo dicen ¡adios! y cรณmo estรกn hechas para decir ¡adios! las mangas largas de los pierrots.

How they say goodbye! and how they are made to do it, those long sleeves of the pierrots!

 

El saltamontes es una espiga escapada que ha comenzando a dar brincos descomedidos

The grasshopper is an escaped ear of grain which has begin to jump wildly.

 

El whiskey es el รกrnica del estรณmago

Whiskey is a tonic for the stomach.

 

Hay pensamientos pacificadores, como รฉste: “El sexo darรญa interรฉs a un peรฑasco.”

Pacifists sometimes think “Sex would make even a boulder interesting.”

 

Cuando en la mesa solemne nos encontramos en el plato la tarjeta con nuestro nombre, pensamos que ya podรญan habernos hecho un siento.

When we finally find the plate with our namecard by it at fancy dinners, we think “they could have made us a chair by this time.”


Los papeles que se tiran arrugados en el fondo del cesto se desarrugan como con vida propia y submarina

The crumpled papers in the bottom of the basket uncrumple themselves as if with a submarine life of their own

 

El gesto de sacarse el paรฑuelo del faldรณn del frac es un gesto indecente e ignominioso

The gesture of clearing the tails of one’s coat is both ignominious and indecent.

 

Mete tanto ruido una cucharilla al caer porque es el niรฑo de los cubiertos el que ha caรญdo

The falling teaspoon makes so much noise because it is the child of the cutlery on which it falls.

 

Hay cielos sucios en que parecen haberse limpiado los pinceles de todos los acuarelistas del mundo

The are dirty skies in which all the painters of the world seems to have washed their brushes.

 

El mono parece proceder del coco peludo como si hubiese salido de su huevo

The monkey seems to have come from a hairy coconut as if from an egg.

 

La jirafa es un caballo alargado por la curiosidad

The giraffe is a horse lengthened by curiosity

 

El mรกs pequeรฑo ferrocarril del mundo es la oruga

The caterpillar is the world’s smallest train.

 

 

Cuando baja una mujer por una escalera de caracol parece haber sido despedida del Paraรญso

When a woman descends a spiral staircase, she seems to have been thrown out of heaven..

 

¡Como rompe los calcetines lo que tenemos de monos irremisibles!

No idea.

 

La niรฑa con el aro en la mano va al jardรญn como al colegio, a jugar con la circunferencia y la tangente.

The girl with a ring in hand goes to the garden as if to school, to play with the circumference and the tangent.

 

Tengo suprimido el parenthesis de (q.e.p.d.) porque no hay nada que ponga mรกs nerviosos a los muertos.

We have to put parenthesis around the letters (R.I.P.) because nothing makes the dead more nervous.

 

Los tornillos son los gusanos de hierro.

Screws are but iron worms

 

No me gustan esas sillas de tubo metรกlico que parecen arrodilladas.

I don’t like these chairs made of metal tubing that look like they’re groveling

 
At this point I'm really feeling how inadequate my Spanish level is to this task.  I think I'll put it on the back burner for a while.  My apologies to anyone who saw this and mistakenly thought of it as the authoratative work of an expert, rather than the doodlings of an amateur.

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Jeff Talarigo: The Pearl Diver

As effective as this item was on a basic level--namely a fairly straightforward personal narrative, with some interesting structural elements--I found myself relating to it on a much deeper level.  I doubt very much that the author intended for it to function as a metaphor for the isolation that is fundamental to all human life, but such was its effect on me.  How Is my experience any different from Miss Fuji's?  Trying my best to make human connections and be useful in what is basically an internment camp.  The eponymous character wasn't imprisoned exactly.  She had every opportunity to leave the island and join the rest of society, but she didn't.  When she tried, she found that her ersatz prison was in fact more comfortable, and returned to it. 

And so do I.  I just returned to America for a brief trip, and was nothing but eager to leave that place.  I don't belong there any more.  For better or worse, I have become a part of my prison, of my own making though it is. 

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Midnight Cowboy

Wow, it sure took me long enough to finish this film.  At least five times I started it and had to turn it off because it was simply too upsetting.  Brilliant, but terrible, in exactly the same way Requiem for a Dream is.  I can't be the only one to draw that parallel.  Both movies use the medium of film in exactly the way it was meant to be used, playing with time and consciousness in ways that perfectly evoke the intended sensations without being obscure or obvious.  Nonetheless, I hated it, and I doubt you could pay me to watch it again.

Anthony Trollope: The Warden

It's been a while since I read something for pure pleasure--or more specifically to distract me from other, less pleasant things.  For that purpose, I could not have done much better than this book. Posessed of all the charm of Dickens, but with significantly more insight into his characters, Trollope takes aim not at social evils, but at personal ones.  Trollope even goes so far as to make light of his generally more regarded contemporary, terming him "Mr. Popular Sentiment", an author guilty oversimplifying the rather complex issues of their day to ones of simple villainy. 

Trollope goes to great lengths to avoid this, and makes a point of humanizing all of the characters--even the least sympathetic--in remarkably believable ways.  Whereas Dickens' creations behave like caricatures, and are correspondingly amusing, but free of substance, Trollope's are at every moment believable, human, and more to the point, a mixture of vice and virtue.  "In this world," as he observes, "no good is analloyed, and that there is but little evil that has not in it the seed of what is goodly" (194).

Which made the book somewhat more troubling to read than a similar one of Dickens' might have.  The fact that the most noble of characters--John Bold, here-- brings about disaster through his good intentions, and the most sniveling of men--the eponymous Mr. Harding--is fundamentally noble accurately portrays the state of the world.  To take a proud stand against a social evil is rather pigheaded and misguided, as it turns out.  The greatest battles of all, and the only ones wirth winning, are those within ourselves, those we fight against our own mixed nature. 

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Paul Nation: Learning Vocabulary in Another Language

Having heard Mr. Nation speak at a conference of English teachers some years ago, and having been impressed with his approach, I suspected this to be the definitive work on the subject.  Accordingly, I checked it out from the library to read over the summer, but life happened and I didn't finish it before it was due to be returned.  As fate would have it, it then appeared again on the reading list for one of my classes this semester, and I was called upon to not only write a paper on it, but also to give a thirty minute presentation in Korean. 

I won't bore the reader with reproducing here my paper or my presentation, but I will say that it was at once the most stimulating and the most frustrating treatment of the subject.  Stimulating because it adresses the topic from multiple nooks and crannies, and gives each topic a thorough and grounded treatment.  Frustrating because in the course of finishing it, I discovered that the very experiment I wanted to conduct for my thesis next year had already been done, and referred to offhandedly by Nation here.  If only I had finished the book over the summer, my disappointment would not have been reduced, but the time lost would most certainly have been.  It's difficult not to think of all the research I did before Mr. Nation unknowingly popped my bubble as being in vain, but of course, no knowledge is in vain.  I have to start over on a new topic, it is true, but I do so with a fortified understanding that it juuuuuuust barely beginning to make sense of the strange and seemingly inexplicable process of second language acquisition.

Hebrews

Possibly the most interesting thing about this book, before even getting into its famously elegant theology, is its authorship.  For some reason I have a hard time accepting its anonymity, even though there is no way of knowing exactly who wrote this masterpiece.  In fact it really bothers me, more than it should.  I find that I've gotten into the habit of reading these books through the eyes of their authors, and the inability to do that here leaves me feeling a bit adrift.  How often are we able--even forced--to take a text purely on its content? 

1:1-4 The tone of this section is one of review, the statement of generally accepted facts.  If, as by most accounts, it was written around 63 C.E., that speaks to the pretty rapid establishment of such doctrines as the ransom and Christ's relative divinity.  It is worth noting here that that divinity is still only relative, Christ being the exact imprint of God's very being, but not God himself.

1:10 And here it is also seen that the idea of Christ's prehuman existence is generally accepted by the church even at this early date.

2:1 At first I had trouble following this logic, but the author seems to be saying that if people suffered for disregarding the messages of angels, how much more so if they disregard the message of one whom God has placed above angels.

2:6 "someone has testified somewhere" is a rather unconvincing form of citation, but no doubt the audience would have been intimate with the source material in Psalms.

2:9 A parallel between the sufferings of Christ and those of the readers.  Just as Christ had to be lower than angels before his ascension, so to are the readers merely preparing for their ultimate glory.

2:14 This is an interesting bit of theology.  The devil here seems to receive a promotion, from a mere tempter to one with actual power over death.

2:18 In what sense was Christ's suffering necessary to his position as high priest for the descendants of Abraham?  Was it a matter of credibility?  Or training?  Or something more metaphysical?  The implication here is that he needed to understand the human experience fully in order to minister to humans, which is consistent with the theology in this book so far, but not with absolute divinity.  And no mention is made of a ransom in this passage.

3:2 The transition between Christ and Moses is a little shaky here, and feels like a rhetorical necessity to introduce the ideas in v.7.  In general the transitions seem more thematic that logical, not building a logical structure, but telling a fluid story.  This in and of itself is enough to suggest that Paul was not the author.

4:1 Again a thematic, rather than a logical, transition to the new idea.

4:4-9 But a very solid bit of reasoning here, that results in some intriguing theology.  By this logic, we are still in the sevnth day of Genesis, and the days mentioned therein could not possibly be literal 24 hour periods.

4:12 I'm always intrigued by mention of "the word" in the Bible.  Most take it, and especially so here, to mean the Bible itself.  But in this context, an interpretation of the word to mean Christ himself is rather easy to support.  It is even possible, given the context, that the word mentioned here is the same  word spoken in Genesis 2:3, the blessing of the seventh day, or the word of power that swept over the waters of the Earth before giving them shape.  All interpretations are tempting, and a theology that combines the three seems best suited to answer the question.

4:14 The lack of a transition here would imply that it is Christ who has been referred to in the previous verses.

4:16  This is the second mention of boldness and confidence as being virtues for the reader, an idea that doesn't really crop up in other letters.  In fact, in the vast majority of the Greek scriptures, humility is to be preferred.

5:2 Could it really be said that Christ was subject to weakness?  If so, that draws a nice distinction between weakness and sin.

5:11 I laughed inwardly at this.  I wonder aobut the "solid food", the more complex truths that are being withheld here from the dullards in the audience.

6:2 I want to know about their basic teachings!  Don't skip over them!  I am especially interested to know what their version of eternal judgement was, since it was evidently so basic.

6:18  What are the two unchangeable things?  I only count one here: God himself.

7:3 In this way, the author of this book is a bit like Melchizedek as well:  "without father, without mother, without genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life . . ." Yes, I'm still obsessed with the authroship of this book.

7:4 This begins a very different line of reasoning here, altogether more well constructed and persuasive than the first half.  Even the vocabulary is different.

8:9 There's the slightest of chinks in the logic of Hebrews here (it seems appropriate to refer to the book as its own author).  It goes to some lengths (the entirety of chapter 7) to set Melchizedek up as evidence of the flaws in the Levitic code.  In this verse, however, it acknowledges that the fault was not with the code itself, but with the Israelites failure to follow it.

8:11 Now this is a fascinating verse.  "They will not teach one another, or say to each other 'Know the Lord'."  At any rate, this would prevent what went wrong with the first covenant from repeating itself.  But what would that look like?  Watever it is, as Hebrews observes in 5:11 it is still a ways off from the early Christians.

9:14 The logic is pretty compelling here.  If I accepted all of the premises upon which it was based, I might even be convinced of ransom theology, which I am generally inclined to view as silly.

9:17 Stretching the metaphor just a wee bit here

10:1 I can't help but be reminded of the Perfection of Wisdom here.  I wonder if Hebrews is conscious of the fact that even these doctrines are shadows of a celestial reality.

10:26 These verses are a bit troubling taken out of context, but they make perfect sense here.  The problem with the first covenant was that the sins were not erased from the hearts of the Israelites, they were merely covered over.  And like any paint job, it needed regular touch ups.  The sacrifice of the second covenant doesn't cover over those sins, it erases them.  And it replaces them in the hearts of believers with the law itself.  If even after that, they willfully persist in sin, there truly does remain no sacrifice.

10:37 The very little while here certainly has taken rather a long time, however.  And here is the weakness of the exhortations here.  Hebrews' call to confidence, endurance and faith is very effective . . . in the short term.

11:1 People often take this verse as a distinction between faith and hope.  "Faith," such an one might say, "is based on fact--even though the facts have not been witnessed."  But I, for one, fail to see the distinction.  That sounds an awful lot like hope, or worse yet credulity.

11:7 See, what Noah did was not faith.  He had assurances, a concrete warning.  The faith mentioned in 11:1 doesn't fit this definition.

11:8 Which makes it no wonder that Kierkegaard chose Abraham as his model for the real mystery of faith, not Noah.  He acted in faith, and somehow, a terrible bloody intention was purified.  That scene, unsurprisingly, is not mentioned here.

11:13 And just as Abel, Noah and Abraham all died without receiving their promises, so did all those who first read this letter, and all who have since.

11:19 Ahhh, here it is.  The kicker. 

11:23 Here's an interesting riddle.  Hebrews here speaks of Moses; parents displaying faith.  Plural.  What mention is there ever of Moses' father in Genesis though?  An interesting line of inquiry.

11:26 Now surely Hebrews is taking a liberty here.  Moses could not by any stretch of the imagination be said to have had an idea of the Christ.

11:30 And it also seems like a stretch to say that the wals of Jericho were felled by faith.  It was pretty clearly God who did that, not man.

11:35 Those who were tortured here had no idea of a resurrection, though.  They suffered not for hope of something better, for the fulfillment of a promise, but for virtue.  Because it was impossible for them to do otherwise and live.

11:40 I find this verse entirely opaque.  Are they to be joined with the readers then?  Syntactically very unclear.

12:1 The train begun in ch.7 continues to pick of speed here.  Notwithstanding the petty chinks noted above, this is a pretty forceful piece of writing.  I'm almost convinced.  Poetic.  Soaring, even.


12:14 and Hebrews takes a breath here.  Havnig made its point rather unassailably, it relies on that strength to make its final plea.

12:18 Here's an interesting moment.  Hebrews reminds the reader that the reality of God is something at once rather terrifying and wonderful.  Best for the reader to focus on the wonderful, it seems to say.

12:25 And I can't help but feel here that Hebrews finally gets to the things that it referred to in 5:11, the solid food, so to speak.  The Buddha would no doubt approve of this passage, insofar as all creation is shakable and, therefore, not exactly real.

13:1 The denouement.  Be loving.  Be true.  Live simply.  Be steadfast.  Be humble. 

13:18 Who is "I"?!?!?!? Somebody who was on trial, and who knew Timothy, and was in Rome.  Certainly sounds like Paul to me, but the tone and focus are so different.  Nonetheless, the book also closes in the manner Paul was accustomed to.  If not Paul, certainly someone who knew him.  For my part, I choose to believe that Hebrews was written by Melchizidek, who is somewhere still alive, and still writing such beautiful things.

Red Pine (translation and comentary): The Diamond Sutra

Before getting into the linguistic puzzle that is The Diamond Sutra, I feel obliged to mention that the level of scholarship displayed by Red Pine in this edition is without peer.  Not only has he translated the text in a way that seems to capture the essence of the Buddha's message, and supplemented that translation with extensive and credible notation, not only has he added his own insightful and transparent commentary, but he ahs gone to the additional step of selecting and compiling the commentary of the very best Buddhist thinkers of history.  This last step is one of both scholarship and humility, and the edition as a whole seems to be enough to have taken any man a lifetime to put together.  I am agape at the amount of work and sagacity that this volume represents.

Nonetheless, the editor, outstanding as he is, is not the real star of this text.  Out of nearly five hundred pages, only the first 27 are the sutra itself.  It is that dense, that rich, it took that much explication to make it even remotely accessible.  The text centers upon a central puzzle, which I perceived to be slightly semantic in nature.  The Buddha repeatedly tells Subhuti X is not X. Thus is it called X.  For example, in chapter 9 he says "Those who return no more do not think, 'I have attained the goal of returning no more.'  And why not? Bhagavan, they do not find any such dharma as 'returning no more.'  Thus are they said to 'return no more'." Again in 10 he says "The transformation of a world, Subhuti, the 'transformation of a world' is said by the Tathagata to be no transformation.  Thus is it called 'the transformation of a world." 

The first part of this argument presents no problem.  The Buddha is merely saying that what we thought is real, turns out to not exist at all.   That which we thought was a return turns out to be no return, and that which we thought of as a transformation turns out to be no transformation at all.  But the second part of the argument, "thus is it called X" is a bit of a problem.  If it does not exist, why is attention drawn again to the term itself?  Furthermore, why is the conjunctive "thus" used to indicate that the terminology is not just a semantic trick, but an entailment of its nonexistence?  The Buddha goes on to use this same structure in some form for nearly every concept that he mentions.  He must be doing more than merely drawing our attention to the fundamental nothingness of certain dharmas--indeed, this makes sense, as Subhuti already was viewed as an expert on nothingness at the beginning of this sutra.  The Buddha must be taking Subhuti (and us as his proxies) past the idea of nothingness into something more.

And this is where I am grateful to the attentions of the editor.  He doesn't seem to struggle with the seemingly incomprehensibility of these statements as I did, but the combination of his own commentary with the included commentary of centuries of other Buddhist thinkers unlocked it for me a bit around chapter 19.  In speaking of a body of merit, Buddha again employs the familiar structure: ". . .'a body of merit' is spoken of by the Tathagata as no body.  Thus is it called a 'body of merit'."  But while he usually stops at theat, here he adds the additional information "Subhuti, if there were a body of merit, the Tathagata would not have spoken of a body of merit as a 'body of merit'."  Aha!  The puzzle untangles a little.  Bodies of merit, returning no more, transformation of a world, do not exist.  But here tThe Buddha reveals that the "Thus is X called X" structure is added to that fact to  reveal how we know that it is true.  We know that X is not X because X is called X.  If X existed, there would be no way to speak of it. 

Which raises the question of why mention it all?  If the very speaking of something is evidence of its nonexistence, what is the point of any sutra, let alone this one?  Red Pine's commentary put a pin in the crux of the question:  "Not only can a thought of enlightenment not be found, neither does a body of merit exist.  And yet the Buddha speaks of a body of merit . . . Rather he insists on it, and he insists on it precisely because it does not exist" (322).  The perception of emptiness is not the ultimate enlightenment.  If it were, Subhuti would have finished his path before this conversation.  Rather, the key is to perceive both emptiness and non emptiness.  "The dharma eye sees beyond emptiness to what advances liberation," as Pine puts it. 

The truly enlightened one perceives both the emptiness and the non emptiness of reality.  What is real?  Is a shadow real?  It has no substance.  It is merely a trick of the light, a perception of something that doesn't exist.  And yet it exists.  We can says that a shadow exists.  It is neither real nor not real.  And as any seemingly solid object is merely an illusion caused by the way atoms and light meet, as the things we think we see or touch--but do not really--are merely convenient mental constructs, so too is any dharma that can be spoken: neither true nor not true.  Pine quotes Chi-Fo as saying "neither atoms of dust nor worlds are real.  If atoms of dust wree real, they couldn't be combined to form a world.  If worlds were real, they couldn't be separated into atoms of dust" (414).  Both the things we perceive, and the atoms that seem to constitute them, on closer examination "turn out to be rather arbtrary views of reality founded on nothing more than linguistic conventions,  which are themselves the detritus of previously established arbitrary views" (420).  So is it true of any dharma the Buddha has spoken, and by extension any philosophy, creed, or religion that has ever existed. 

But the key is not to abandon those dharmas!  The Subhhutis of the world discover that everything is pretty much an illusion, especially things associated with the dharma teachings of organized religion.  And so they become free thinkers, scoffing at the idea that there is any meaning to life at all, and contenting themselves to live in a manner that they deem virtuous.  There is nothing wrong with this way of living, but it is a mistake to think that it represents enlightenment.  True enlightenment comes from the knowledge that all dharmas are not only empty, they are also not empty.  The fact that we cannot express the something which exists in an above us does not mean that it does not exist.  Enlightenment comes from making peace with the fact that everything we think we know about reality is neither true nor not true. God, Subhuti, "God" is spoken of by the Buddha as no God.  Thus is it called "God".  Subhuti, if there were a God, the Buddha would not have spoken of God as "God".

Sunday, November 17, 2013

์กฐํ˜„์šฉ: ํ•œ๊ตญ์–ด ์–ดํœ˜๊ต์œก ์—ฐ๊ตฌ


์‚ผ ๋…„๋งŒ ์ „์— ๋ฏธ์šด ์•„๊ธฐ์˜ค๋ฆฌ๋ž€ ์•„๋™ ์ฑ…์„ ์ฝ์–ด๋ดค๋‹ค.  ๊ทธ๋•Œ ์•„์ฃผ ๋‚ฎ์€ ํ•œ๊ตญ์–ด ์‹ค๋ ฅ์˜ ํƒ“์— ์‚ฌ์ „์ด ์žˆ์—ˆ์–ด๋„ ์ดํ•ด๊ฐ€ ์•ˆ ๋œ๋‹ค.  ์˜ฌํ•ด๋Š” ํ•œ๊ตญ์–ด ๋Œ€ํ•™์› ๊ฐ•์˜๋ฅผ ๋“ค์„ ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์— ์ž๋ž‘ํ•˜๊ฒ ๋‹ค.  3๋…„ ์•ˆ์— ์ด ๋“ฑ๊ธ‰์„ ์ทจ๋“ํ•œ ๊ฒƒ์€ ์‹ ๊ธฐํ•˜๋‹ค๊ณ  ์ƒ๊ฐํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ์ง€๋งŒ, ์•„์ง๋„ ๊ต์žฌ๋ฅผ ์ฝ๊ธฐ, ๊ฐ•์˜๋ฅผ ๋“ฃ๊ธฐ, ๋ณด๊ณ ์„œ๋ฅผ ์“ฐ๊ธฐ ๋“ฑ์— ์ˆ™๋‹ฌ์— ๋ถ€์กฑ์ด ํฌ๋‹ค.  ํŠนํžˆ ์ด ์ฑ…์„ ์ฝ๋Š” ๋™์•ˆ ์ฃฝ์„ ๋ป”ํ–ˆ๋‹ค.  ์ œ์ถœํ•œ ๊ธ€์ด ๋‹ค์Œ๊ณผ ๊ฐ™๋‹ค:

 

2.2 ์ด ์ ˆ์—์„œ๋Š” ํ˜„์žฌ ์ œ2 ์–ธ์–ด๊ต์œก์ž๋“ค์ด ๊ฒช๊ณ  ์žˆ๋Š” ๋ฌธ์ œ๋ฅผ ์ •ํ™•ํžˆ ์ฐพ์•„๋‚ด๊ณ  ์žˆ๋‹ค๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค. ๋˜ํ•œ ์ €์ž๋Š” ์ด๋Ÿฌํ•œ ๋ฌธ์ œ์— ์ ์ ˆํ•œ ๊ท ํ˜• ์žˆ๋Š” ์ ‘๊ทผ์„ ์ œ์‹œํ•œ๋‹ค. ํ˜„์žฌ ์ œ2 ์–ธ์–ด๊ต์œก์ž๋“ค์ด ๋ฌธ์ž์˜ ์˜๋ฏธ์™€ ์ •ํ™•์„ฑ, ์ฆ‰ ์˜์‚ฌ์†Œํ†ต๊ณผ ์ž์—ฐ์Šค๋Ÿฌ์›€์˜ ๊ท ํ˜•์„ ๋งž์ถœ ๋ฐฉ์•ˆ์„ ๋ชจ์ƒ‰ํ•˜๊ณ  ์žˆ๋‹ค๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ํŠนํžˆ ์„ฑ์ธ ์™ธ๊ตญ์–ด ๊ต์œก์˜ ์ธก๋ฉด์—์„œ ์—ฐ๊ตฌ๊ฐ€ ๋”์šฑ ํ™œ๋ฐœํžˆ ์ง„ํ–‰๋˜๊ณ  ์žˆ๋‹ค. ์„ฑ์ธ ํ•œ๊ตญ์–ด ํ•™์Šต์ž๋“ค์˜ ๋ฐœํ™”์˜ ๋ชฉ์ ์€ ์˜๋ฏธ ์ „๋‹ฌ์— ์žˆ์„ ๋ฟ๋งŒ ์•„๋‹ˆ๋ผ, ์„ฑ์ธ์œผ๋กœ์„œ์˜ ๊ธฐ๋ณธ์ ์ธ ์†Œ์–‘์„ ๊ฐ–์ถ”๊ณ  ์žˆ์Œ์„ ๋‚˜ํƒ€๋‚ด๊ณ ์ž ํ•˜๋Š” ๋ฐ์— ์žˆ๋‹ค๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ์„ฑ์ธ์ด ์ œ2 ์–ธ์–ด์˜ ์‚ฌ์šฉ์ด๋‚˜ ๋ฌธ๋ฒ•์ด ์ ์ ˆํ•˜์ง€ ์•Š์„ ๊ฒฝ์šฐ์—๋Š” ๋ฐœํ™”์˜ ์˜๋ฏธ๊ฐ€ ๋ฌด์‹œ ๋‹นํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ์„ฑ์ธ์— ๋น„ํ•ด ์•„๋™ ํ•™์Šต์ž๋“ค์€ ์˜ค๋ฅ˜๋ฅผ ๋ฒ”ํ•˜์—ฌ๋„ ์ฒญ์ž๋Š” ํฌ๊ฒŒ ์‹ ๊ฒฝ์„ ์“ฐ์ง€ ์•Š๋Š” ํŽธ์ด๋‹ค. ํŠนํžˆ๋‚˜ ์ œ2 ์–ธ์–ด๋ฅผ ์‚ฌ์šฉํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒฝ์šฐ์— ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌํ•˜๋‹ค. ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌ๋ฏ€๋กœ ์„ฑ์ธ ํ•™์Šต์ž๋“ค์€, ์•„๋™๊ณผ ๋‹ฌ๋ฆฌ, ๋‹ค์†Œ ๋ฌธ๋ฒ•์ด ์™„๋ฒฝํ•ด์•ผ ํ•œ๋‹ค๊ณ  ๋А๋‚€๋‹ค. 

 

์ œ1 ์–ธ์–ด ์‚ฌ์šฉ์ž๋กœ์„œ ๋ฌธ๋ฒ•์ด๋‚˜ ํ˜•ํƒœ์— ๋Œ€ํ•œ ๊ต์œก์„ ์œ ์ฐฝ์„ฑ์ด ๋ฐœ์ „ํ•˜๊ธฐ์ „์—๋Š” ๋ฐ›์ง€ ์•Š๋Š”๋‹ค. ๊ทธ๋ ‡๋‹ค ๋ณด๋‹ˆ ๊ต์œก ๋ช‡๋ช‡ ์—ฐ๊ตฌ์ž๋“ค์€ ํ•™์Šต๋ณด๋‹ค ์Šต๋“์ด ๋” ์ž์—ฐ์Šค๋Ÿฌ์šฐ๋ฉฐ ํšจ๊ณผ์ ์ด๋ผ๊ณ  ํ•œ๋‹ค (์˜ˆ๋ฅผ ๋“ค์–ด Krashen์˜ ์ž…๋ จ ๊ฐ€์„ค). ์œ„์—์„œ ์–ธ๊ธ‰ํ•œ ๋ฐ”์™€ ๊ฐ™์ด ๋งŽ์€ ์ œ2 ํ•™์Šต์ž๋“ค์€ ๊ทธ๋ ‡๊ฒŒ ํ•  ์—ฌ์œ ๊ฐ€ ์—†๋‹ค๊ณ  ์ƒ๊ฐํ•œ๋‹ค.  ์ด๋Ÿฌํ•œ ์˜๋ฏธ์™€ ์ •ํ™•์„ฑ์˜ ์‚ฌ์ด์— ์žˆ๋Š” ๊ธด์žฅ์„ ์™„ํ™”ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋Š” ๊ท ํ˜•์„ ํ†ตํ•ฉ๊ต์ˆ˜๋ฒ•์ด ์ œ์‹œํ•œ๋‹ค๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ์ €์ž๊ฐ€ ์–ธ๊ธ‰ํ•œ ๋ฐ”์™€ ๊ฐ™์ด ํŠนํžˆ๋‚˜ ํ•œ๊ตญ์–ด์˜ ๋ณต์žกํ•œ ํ˜•ํƒœ๋ก ์ ์ธ ๊ณผ์ •์„ ๊ณ ๋ คํ•˜๋ฉด ์ด๋Ÿฌํ•œ ๊ท ํ˜•์ด ํ•„์š”ํ•˜๋‹ค.

 

3.3 Richard๊ฐ€ ์ œ์‹œํ•˜๋Š” ์ผ๋ จ์˜ ๊ธฐ์ค€์ด ๊ฑฐ์˜ ํฌ๊ด„์ ์ธ ๊ฒƒ ๊ฐ™๋‹ค.  ์ด ์™ธ์—๋„ ๊ธฐ๋ณธ์–ดํœ˜๋ฅผ ์„ ์ •ํ•˜๋Š” ๋ฐ์— ๋‹ค๋ฅธ ์˜์—ญ์— ๋„์›€์„ ์ค„ ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋Š” ์–ดํœ˜๊ฐ€ ์ถ”๊ฐ€๋  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ์˜ˆ๋ฅผ ๋“ค์–ด ์ดˆ๊ธ‰ ์˜์–ด ๊ต์žฌ์— ์‚ฌ์šฉ ๋นˆ๋„๊ฐ€ ๋‚ฎ์€ “fuse”์ด๋‚˜ “pole”๊ณผ ๊ฐ™์€ ํŠน์ •ํ•œ ๋ฐœ์Œ ํ˜„์ƒ์„ ๋‚˜ํƒ€๋‚ผ ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋Š” ์–ดํœ˜๊ฐ€ ๋‹ค์†Œ ํฌํ•จ๋œ๋‹ค.  ์ž๋ชจ ์ˆ˜์ค€์—์„œ์˜ ํ•œ๊ตญ์–ด๊ต์œก์—์„œ๋Š” ์Œ์šด ๊ต์œก์ด ์ค‘์š”ํ•˜๋ฏ€๋กœ ์Œ์šด ๊ต์œก์— ๋„์›€์ด ๋˜๋Š”๊ฐ€์— ๊ด€ํ•œ ๊ธฐ์ค€์„ ์ ์šฉ์ด ์ข‹์ง€ ์•Š์„๊นŒ ํ•˜๋Š” ์ƒ๊ฐ์ด ๋“ ๋‹ค.

 

3.3.1 ์ด ์™€ ๊ฐ™์ด ์–ดํœ˜ ๋ชฉ๋ก์„ ๋งŒ๋“œ๋Š” ๋ฐ ๊ตฌ์–ด์™€ ๋ฌธ์–ด์˜ ์ฐจ์ด๋ฅผ ๊ณ ๋ คํ•ด์•ผ ํ•œ๋‹ค.  ํ•œ๊ตญ์–ด์— ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌํ•œ ์ฐจ์ด๊ฐ€ ์ƒ๋‹นํ•˜๋ฏ€๋กœ ์ด์— ์ฃผ๋ชฉํ•ด์•ผ ํ•œ๋‹ค.  ์˜์–ด์™€ ๊ฐ™์€ ์„œ๊ตฌ ๋ง๋ญ‰์น˜์—์„œ๋Š” ๊ตฌ์–ด์™€ ๋ฌธ์–ด์˜ ์ฐจ์ด ์•„๋‹ˆ๋ผ, ์ผ์ƒ์ ์ธ ์–ธ์–ด์™€ ๊ฒฉ์‹์ ์ธ ์–ธ์–ด์˜ ์ฐจ์ด๋ผ๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค.  ํ•œ๊ตญ์–ด์— ๋น„ํ•ด ์˜์–ด์—๋Š” ๋ฌธ์–ด์™€ ๊ตฌ์–ด์˜ ์ฐจ์ด๊ฐ€ ๋ณ„๋กœ ์—†๋‹ค๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌ๋ฏ€๋กœ ํ•œ๊ตญ์–ด ๋ง๋ญ‰์น˜์— ์„œํ•œ์ด๋‚˜ ํšŒํ™” ๋“ฑ์„ ๊ตฌ๋ถ„ํ•˜๋Š” ์ž๋ฃŒ๊ฐ€ ๋“ค์–ด๊ฐ€๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์ด ์ค‘์š”ํ•˜๋‹ค.

 

4.1.2.1 ์–ดํœ˜๊ต์œก์˜ ํ•œ ๋ถ€๋ถ„์œผ๋กœ์„œ ๊ด€์šฉํ‘œํ˜„์„ ๋…ผ์˜ํ•˜๋ฉด์„œ ์ œ๊ธฐ๋˜๋Š” ์งˆ๋ฌธ์€ ์–ด๋–ค ๊ฒƒ์„ ๊ด€์šฉ์ ์ด๋ผ๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋Š”๊ฐ€ ํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค. ๋ถ„๋ช…ํžˆ ๋‹จ์ผ์–ด์™€ ๊ต์ˆ˜๋ฒ•์ด ๋น„์Šทํ•˜๋ฏ€๋กœ ๊ณ ์ • ์—ฐ์–ด๊ฐ€ ๊ด€์šฉ์ ์ธ ๋ฒ”์ฃผ์— ํฌํ•จ๋˜์–ด์•ผ ํ•˜๋‚˜, ๊ด€์šฉ์–ด๊ตฌ, ์†๋‹ด, ์‚ฌ์ž์„ฑ์–ด์˜ ๊ฒฝ์šฐ์—๋Š” ๋” ๋ถˆ๋ถ„๋ช…ํ•˜๋‹ค.  ํ•œ ์ธก๋ฉด์—์„œ๋Š” ์ด์™€ ๊ฐ™์€ ์–ธ์–ด์  ์š”์†Œ๋“ค์ด ํ•œ ๋‹จ์œ„๋กœ ์—ฌ๊ฒจ์•ผ ํ•œ๋‹ค๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค.  ์ด๋Ÿฌํ•œ ์–ธ์–ด ๋‹จ์œ„๋ฅผ ๋ถ„ํ•ดํ•˜๋ฉด ์˜์‚ฌ์†Œํ†ต์ด ์–ด์ƒ‰ํ•ด์ง€๊ฑฐ๋‚˜ ์ €ํ•ด๋  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ํŠนํžˆ ํ‘œํ˜„์— ๊ณ ์–ด๊ฐ€ ํฌํ•จ๋˜๋Š” ๊ฒฝ์šฐ, ์–ดํœ˜๋ฅผ ๋”ฐ๋กœ ๊ฐ€๋ฅด์น˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์„ ์‹œ๊ฐ„ ๋‚ญ๋น„๋ผ๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ์‹ฌ์ง€์–ด ์‚ฌ์ž์„ฑ์–ด์˜ ๊ฒฝ์šฐ ๊ฐœ๋ณ„ ์š”์†Œ๋“ค์€ ๊ฑฐ์˜ ๋ฌด์˜๋ฏธํ•˜๋‹ค๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ์ด๋Ÿฌํ•œ ๊ด€์ ์—์„œ ๋ณด๋ฉด ์•„๋ฌด๋ฆฌ ๊ธธ์–ด๋„ ๊ด€์šฉํ‘œํ˜„์„ ํ•œ ๋‹จ์–ด์ฒ˜๋Ÿผ ๊ฐ€๋ฅด์น˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ ์ข‹์€ ๋“ฏํ•˜๋‹ค.

 

๋ฐ˜๋ฉด์—๋Š” ํ‘œํ˜„์— ์žˆ๋Š” ๋‹จ์–ด๋ฅผ ๋”ฐ๋กœ ๊ฐ€๋ฅด์น˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์€ ์ดํ•ด์™€ ๊ธฐ์–ต์— ๋„์›€์ด ๋˜๋ฉฐ ์ฃผ์š”ํ•œ ๋ฌธํ™”์ ์ธ ์ •๋ณด๋ฅผ ์ „๋‹ฌํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค๋Š” ์ ์„ ๋ฌด์‹œํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์—†๋‹ค.  ๋”ฐ๋ผ์„œ ๋‹ค๋ฅธ ๊ต์œก์˜์—ญ๊ณผ ๊ฐ™์ด ํ•™์Šต์ž์˜ ์ˆ˜์ค€ ๋ฐ ์ˆ˜์—… ๊ธฐ๊ฐ„์„ ๊ณ ๋ คํ•˜๋Š” ๊ท ํ˜•์  ์ ‘๊ทผ๋ฒ•์ด ์ ์ ˆํ•  ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค. 

 

4.1.2.2 ์ œ2 ์–ธ์–ด ํ•™์Šต์ž๋กœ์„œ ๋™์Œ์ด์˜์–ด๋ฅผ ๊ตฌ๋ณ„ํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์€ ๊ฐ€์žฅ ๋นˆ๋ฒˆํžˆ ๊ฒช๋Š” ์–ด๋ ค์›€ ์ค‘ ํ•˜๋‚˜์ด๋‹ค.  ๋ถˆ๊ทœ์น™์šฉ์–ธ, ๋ง์Œ์˜ ์ค‘ํ™”, ํ•œ๊ธ€ ๋งž์ถค๋ฒ• ๊ทœ์ •์— ์˜ํ•œ ๋™์Œ์ด์˜์–ด ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์— ํ•™์Šต์ž๋“ค์ด ๊ณค๋ž€์„ ๊ฒช์œผ๋‚˜ ์ด๋Š” ์ฃผ๋กœ ๊ตฌ์–ด์— ๊ตญํ•œ๋œ ์–ด๋ ค์›€์ด๋ผ๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ํšŒํ™”์—์„œ ๊ณง, ๊ณถ, ๊ณณ์„ ๊ตฌ๋ณ„ํ•˜๊ธฐ๋Š” ์–ด๋ ค์šฐ๋‚˜, ์“ฐ์—ฌ์žˆ์„ ๊ฒฝ์šฐ์—๋Š” ๋ช…ํ™•ํ•œ ๊ฒƒ์ด ๊ทธ ์˜ˆ์ด๋‹ค.

 

์ด๋Ÿฌํ•œ ๋™์Œ์ด์˜์–ด์™€ ๋‹ฌ๋ฆฌ, ํ•œ์ž์— ์˜ํ•˜์—ฌ ํ•„๊ธฐ๊นŒ์ง€ ๊ฐ™์€ ๋™์Œ์ด์˜์–ด๊ฐ€ ๊ตฌ๋ถ„ํ•˜๊ธฐ ํ›จ์”ฌ ๋” ์–ด๋ ต๋‹ค๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค.  ๋Œ€๋ถ€๋ถ„์˜ ์›์–ด๋ฏผ๋“ค์ด ์žฅ๋‹จ์Œ์˜ ๊ตฌ๋ถ„์„ ์ค€์ˆ˜ํ•˜์ง€ ์•Š๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์ธ ๊ฒƒ ์ด๋‹ค. ์ด ์ฑ…์—์„œ๋„ ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌํ•œ ์˜ˆ๊ฐ€ ๋ฐœ๊ฒฌ๋œ๋‹ค.  ์—ฐ์–ด์— ์ต์ˆ™ํ•œ ์›์–ด๋ฏผ์—๊ฒŒ๋Š” ์ด ๊ณผ์ •์„ ํ†ตํ•ด์„œ ํ•™์ƒ๋“ค์€ ๋™์ผ ์˜๋ฏธ์žฅ์— ์†ํ•˜๋Š” ์–ดํœ˜ ๋ฌถ์Œ์„ ๋Š˜๋ฆด ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๊ฒŒ ๋˜๋ฉฐ . . .”์— ์žˆ๋Š” ๊ณผ์ •์˜ ์˜๋ฏธ๊ฐ€ ๋ช…๋ฐฑํ•œ ๊ฒƒ ๊ฐ™์œผ๋‚˜ ์™ธ๊ตญ์ธ ํ•™์Šต์ž์—๊ฒŒ๋Š” “process”์ด๋‚˜ “course”๋ž€ ๋ฒˆ์—ญ์ด ๋‘˜ ๋‹ค ๊ฐ€๋Šฅํ•ด ๋ณด์ผ ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค.  ์ด๋Ÿฌํ•œ ๊ฒฝ์šฐ์—๋Š” ๋งฅ๋ฝ๋ณด๋‹ค ์—ฐ์–ด ์ง€์‹์ด ํฐ ๋„์›€์ด ๋  ๊ฒƒ์œผ๋กœ ๋ณด์ธ๋‹ค.

 

 

 

6.1.1 ์ดˆ๊ธ‰ ํ•™์Šต์ž๋“ค์€ ๋ฐฐ๊ฒฝ ์ง€์‹์ด๋‚˜ ์–ดํœ˜๋ ฅ์ด ๋‚ฎ๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์— ์—ฌ๋Ÿฌ ๊ฐ€์ง€ ํ•™์Šต ์ฑ…๋žต๋“ค์ด ๋œ ์œ ํšจ์ ์ด๋ฏ€๋กœ ๊ฐ„๋‹จํ•œ ํ•ต์‹ฌ์–ด ๊ธฐ๋ฒ•์„ ์ž์ฃผ ์‚ฌ์šฉํ•˜๋Š” ํŽธ์ด๋‹ค.  ํ•™์Šต์ž๋“ค์ด ๊ณ ๊ธ‰์œผ๋กœ ์˜ฌ๋ผ๊ฐˆ์ˆ˜๋ก ๋ณด๋‹ค ๋งฅ๋ฝ์˜ ํ•ด์„๊ณผ ๊ฐ™์€ ์„ ์ง„ ์ฑ…๋žต์„ ์ ์šฉํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๊ฒŒ ๋  ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค.  ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌ๋‚˜ ํ•ต์‹ฌ ๊ธฐ๋ฒ•์ด ๋‹จ์–ด์˜ ์˜๋ฏธ๋ฅผ ์•Œ์•„๋‚ด๋Š” ์  ๊ทธ ์™ธ์— ๊ธฐ์–ต ํ”์ ์„ ๊ฐ•ํ™”ํ•˜๋Š” ์žฅ์ ์ด ๊ณ ๊ธ‰ ํ•™์Šต์ž์—๊ฒŒ๋„ ๋„์›€์ด ๋  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ์„ ๊ฒƒ์œผ๋กœ ๋ณด์ธ๋‹ค. 

 

๊ณ ๊ธ‰ํ•™์ž๋ผ๋„ ๊ฐ€๋” ์ƒˆ๋กœ์šด ์–ดํœ˜๋ฅผ ๋งž๋‹ฅ๋œจ๋ฆด ๋•Œ์— ์‚ฌ์ „์ด๋‚˜ ๋งฅ๋ฝ์œผ๋กœ ์˜๋ฏธ๋ฅผ ๋ฐœ๊ฒฌํ•˜๋‹ค๊ฐ€ ๊ทธ ๋‹ค์Œ ์ชฝ์—์„œ ๋˜‘๊ฐ™์€ ์–ดํœ˜๋ฅผ ์ฝ์œผ๋ฉด ๊ธฐ์–ต ํ”์ ์ด ์—†๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์— ๋ฒŒ์จ ์˜๋ฏธ๋ฅผ ์žŠ๋Š” ๊ฒฝ์šฐ๋„ ์žˆ์„ ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. ์ด๋Ÿฌํ•œ ์ƒํ™ฉ์—์„œ๋Š” ์˜๋ฏธ๋ฅผ ํ•ด๋…ํ–ˆ์œผ๋‚˜ ์Šต๋“์ด ์•ˆ ๋œ๋‹ค๊ณ  ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค.  ์ด์™€ ๊ฐ™์€ ์„ ์ง„ ์ฑ…๋žต์ด ๋น„ํšจ๊ณผ์ ์ธ ๊ฒฝ์šฐ์—๋Š” ๊ธฐ์–ต ํ”์ ์„ ์œ„ํ•˜์—ฌ ๊ฐ„๋‹จํ•œ ํ•ต์‹ฌ์–ด ๊ธฐ๋ฒ•์ด ์ ์ ˆํ•  ๊ฒƒ์œผ๋กœ ํŒ๋‹จํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋‹ค. 

 

์ €๋Š” ์ด๋Ÿฌํ•œ ๊ฐœ๋…์„ ํ™•์ธํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋„๋ก ์Šค์Šค๋กœ ์ ์šฉํ•ด๋ณด๊ธฐ๋กœ ํ–ˆ๋‹ค.  ๋ณธ ์—ฐ๊ตฌ์—์„œ๋Š” ์ œ๊ฐ€ ๋ชฐ๋ž๋˜ ์œ ๋„๋ผ๋Š” ์–ดํœ˜๊ฐ€ ์ž์ฃผ ์‚ฌ์šฉ๋œ ๊ฒƒ์ด๋‹ค.  ์‚ฌ์ „์ด๋‚˜ ๋งฅ๋ฝ์œผ๋กœ ์˜๋ฏธ๋ฅผ ์ฐพ์•„๋ƒˆ์œผ๋‚˜ ๊ธฐ์–ต์— ํ”์ ์ด ์—†๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์— ๋‹ค์Œ ๋ฒˆ ๋‚˜ํƒ€๋‚ฌ์„ ๋•Œ ๋˜ ๊ฒ€์ƒ‰ํ•ด์•ผ ํ–ˆ๋‹ค.  ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌ๋ฏ€๋กœ 6์žฅ์— ์žˆ๋Š” ํ•ต์‹ฌ์–ด ๊ธฐ๋ฒ•์˜ ์›๋ฆฌ๋ฅผ ์ ์šฉํ•ด ๋ณด์•˜๋‹ค.  ์œ ๋„์˜ ๋„์ž๋ฅผ ์ค‘์‹ฌ์œผ๋กœ ๋งˆ์ฐจ ๊ธฐ์‚ฌ๊ฐ€ ๋„๋„›์œผ๋กœ ๋ง์„ ์œ ๋„ํ•˜๋Š” ์‹œ๊ฐ์ƒ์„ ๋งŒ๋“ค์–ด๋†“์•˜๋‹ค.  ๊ทธ ํ›„์—๋Š” ๋‹ค์‹œ ์‚ฌ์ „์— ๊ฒ€์ƒ‰ํ•  ํ•„์š”๊ฐ€ ์—†์—ˆ๋‹ค.

 

ํ•ต์‹ฌ์–ด ๊ธฐ๋ฒ•์ด ํšจ๊ณผ์ ์ด๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์— ๋‹ค๋ฅธ ๊ธฐ์–ต์ด ์•ˆ ๋˜๋Š” ์–ดํœ˜์— ์ ์šฉํ•ด ๋ณด์•˜๋‹ค.  ๋ณธ ์—ฐ๊ตฌ์—์„œ ๋งŽ์ด ๋‚˜ํƒ€๋‚˜๋Š” ์œ ์‚ฌ๋ž€ ๋‹จ์–ด๋ฅผ ์ค‘์‹ฌ์œผ๋กœ “I wonder if you saw the similarities”์ด๋ž€ ๋ฌธ์žฅ์„ ๋งŒ๋“ค์–ด๋†“์•˜๋‹ค.  ์ด ๋ฒˆ์€ ์‹œ๊ฐ์ƒ์ด ์—†์–ด๋„ ๋‹ค์‹œ ์œ ์‚ฌ๋ฅผ ๊ฒ€์ƒ‰ํ•  ํ•„์š”๊ฐ€ ์—†์—ˆ๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์— ์‹œ๊ฐ์ƒ์ด ํ•„์š” ์š”์†Œ๊ฐ€ ์•„๋‹Œ ๊ฒƒ์œผ๋กœ ๋ณด์ธ๋‹ค.  ์•„๋งˆ๋„ ์—ฌ๋Ÿฌ ๊ฐ€์ง€ ํ•™์Šต ์–‘์‹์„ ๊ฐ–๋Š” ํ•™์Šต์ž์—๊ฒŒ ๋‹ค์–‘ํ•œ ํ•ต์‹ฌ์–ด ๊ธฐ๋ฒ•์˜ ์ ์šฉ์ด ํšจ๊ณผ์ ์ผ ์ˆ˜๋„ ์žˆ์„๊นŒ ํ•˜๋Š” ์ƒ๊ฐ์ด ๋“ ๋‹ค.  ์ฆ‰, ์‹œ๊ฐ์ ์ธ ํ•™์Šต์ž์—๊ฒŒ ์‹œ๊ฐ์ƒ์„ ์ค‘์‹ฌ์œผ๋กœ, ์ฒญ๊ฐ์ ์ธ ํ•™์Šต์ž์—๊ฒŒ ๋ฌธ์žฅ์„ ์ค‘์‹ฌ์œผ๋กœ ์‹ค์‹œํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์€ ํšจ๋ ฅ์ ์ธ ๊ฒƒ์œผ๋กœ ๋ณด์ธ๋‹ค.  ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌ๋‚˜ ๋‹ค๋ฅธ ํ•™์Šต ์ฑ…๋žต์€ ํšจ๊ณผ๊ฐ€ ์—†๋‹ค๋ฉด ๊ณ ๊ธ‰ ํ•™์Šต์ž์—๊ฒŒ๋„ ํ•ต์‹ฌ์–ด ๊ธฐ๋ฒ•์„ ์ ์šฉํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์ด ์ ์ ˆํ•  ์„ ํƒ์ธ ๊ฒƒ์œผ๋กœ ๋ณด์ธ๋‹ค.  6์žฅ์— ์–ธ๊ธ‰ํ•œ ๋ฐ”์™€ ๊ฐ™์ด ์ฃผ์˜ํ•ด์•ผ ํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์€ ํ•ต์‹ฌ์–ด๊ฐ€ ๋„ˆ๋ฌด ๋งŽ์œผ๋ฉด ํ•ต์‹ฌ์–ด์˜ ๋‚ด์šฉ์„ ์•”๊ธฐํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์ด ์–ดํœ˜ ์ •์˜๋ฅผ ์•”๊ธฐํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ๋ณด๋‹ค ๋ถ€๋‹ด์Šค๋Ÿฌ์›Œ์งˆ ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์— ์ ๋‹นํžˆ ์ ์šฉํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์ด ์ค‘์š”ํ•˜๋‹ค. 

 

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Annie Hall

Why do books still exist?  For that matter, why do stages?  One would think that the inventions of film and television would have made them both obsolete.  There must necessarily be something that a book can do that a movie cannot, or the natural selection of memes (not the internet medium, but the original sense of a social concept that behaves like a gene) would have made them extinct fifty years ago.  And such a position is not difficult at all to support.  Can you imagine a movie version of My Name is Red?  Impossible.  Or Tropic of Cancer

And by the same token, the very appearance of Film in the natural order of things means that it must occupy some niche, that there is something a film can do that a book or a play simply cannot.  Of course there is the matter of visual spectacle, that's obvious enough.  I can't  imagine Independence Day or Pacific Rim doing very well as a musical. But there is something else to film.  An overlapping of thought and reality is possible in that medium that is extremely difficult to make clear in a book, and nearly impossible on the stage.  On the page, the reader must either be led through the process, or deliberately misled if the effect is to succeed.  On the stage, scene changes, or at least lighting cues are necessary whenever there's a movement between past and present.  If one's goal is to meld the two, to show how the "real" world takes place at the same time as the world in our minds,  there can't be such lines drawn.  To that end, Annie Hall does exactly what film was meant to do, and in a way that I don't know has been successfully duplicated since.

Which is not to say that I liked it.  Just that it was brilliant.

Friday, October 11, 2013

E.M. Forster: Howard's End

There are evidently some out there who view this book as Forster's best work.  As for me, I wouldn't even put it in the top five . . . it lacks the tidiness and unity of Passage to India, the thematic clarity of A Room With a View, and the personal connection of Maurice.  Even The Razor's Edge had more of what I have come to appreciate from Forster, everything just works so nicely as a unit, in a word: craftsmanship.  Forster is a master craftsman, as demonstrated in nearly all of his other work.  Why has he sacrificed that endearing quality here?  Rather than being disappointed, one has to marvel upon realizing that behind  this very sloppiness lies the whole meaning of the book.

Forster throws a winking hint to the reader about a third of the way through, possibly just when one is wondering where this is all going:

"Margaret realized the chaotic nature of our daily life, and its difference from the orderly sequence that has been fabricated by historians.  Actual life is full of false clues and sign-posts that lead nowhere.  With infinite effort, we nerve ourselves for a crisis that never comes" (103).

Throughout the book, the reader, especially if conditioned by other literature, is wondering who will end up with whom.  For whom does Forster intend Charles?  And for whom Paul?  In any other book, or indeed in any modern movie, such a character would be happily coupled with one of the females by the end of the book.  Forster, pointedly rebelling against such silliness, does no such thing.  The book is not a commentary on relationships at all, but rather on our irresistible human tendency to make narratives out of everything. 

Even in our daily lives, if something happens that seems foruitious or significant, our instinct is to wonder "What does it mean?" and work it into our personal narrative somehow.  If the event is startling enough, it may even prompt us to rewrite the narrative to accomdate it.  For Forster, this is not the way life works.  There is no narrative, no underlying structure to the things that happen in our lives.  The simply happen, and they may or may not end up having significance on the last page.  Life is filled with "red herrings", as he puts it, and this book properly reflects his view.  While not a delight to read, it is perhaps more brilliant for that than if it had all worked out in a way that left us feeling like the last piece of a puzzle had been properly fit into its niche.

"

Friedrich Durrrenmatt: The Visit

 I found this piece to be hilariously entertaining.  The comic possibilities were leaping off the page, and I found it very eaasy to visualize a directorial approach that would have the audience rolling in the aisles.  Unlike The Physicists, the comedy was mostly situational, and wouldn't depend entirely on the comedic chops of the leads.  Sadly, Durrenmatt was not content to write something at once astute and hilarious.  He had to tack on an ending that felt disjointed and didactic.  How much better this play would have been if that last scene followed the tone of the rest of the piece, instead of lapsing into Greek rhetoric of the most obvious and tedious sort.  I would have much preferred it if Ill, the protagonist (?) was spared at the last minute, and then unceremoniously dispatched by the panther that had been prowling around ominously for the bulk of the play. What a great piece it would have been then!  In fact, maybe I'll do a quicky rewrite if I'm ever called upon to direct it . . .

Saturday, September 14, 2013

๋ฐฐ์ฐฝํ™˜ ์—ฎ์Œ: ์‹œ ์ฝ๊ธฐ 1

Normally a book that I've read in Korean would merit an entry written in Korean, but I find that the language I want to use to describe, not only these poems, but the process of reading them is far beyond my current capacity.  Besides which, I find that a lot of what I have to say isn't about the poems themselves, but about the process of reading poetry in a foreign language.  I have often in this blog railed against the evils of translation in general, and translation of poetry in particular.  Such generally respected authors as Juan Ruiz and Jean de le Fontaine left me completely cold, and I can only attribute that to having read them in verse translations.  On the verso is a wonderful book that I've been picking at for some time: The Poem Itself, edited by Stanley Burnshaw. Burnshaw seems to agree with me that translation in general is generally useless, translation of poetry is insulting, and translation of poetry into verse sacriligeous.

Nonetheless, we simply can't help ourselves, can we?  Upon finding a beautiful gem of a poem, what is one's first thought? Naturally to share it with like-minded readers.  When that poem is in a language not widely understood, the choice between keeping it to oneself and risking its mutilation by translation is a difficult one.  Expressive by nature, I choose to err on the side of communication.

Like Burnshaw, though, I feel strongly that translations cannot stand on their own.  There is simply too much in the original that can't be captured.  Take, for example, the brief but beloved Korean poem "๋„ˆ์—๊ฒŒ ๋ฌป๋Š”๋‹ค" (I ask you), literally /it is asked of you[familiar]/:

์—ฐํƒ„์žฌ ํ•จ๋ถ€๋กœ ์ฐจ์ง€๋งˆ๋ผ.
๋„ˆ๋Š”
๋ˆ„๊ตฌ์—๊ฒŒ ํ•œ๋ฒˆ์ด๋ผ๋„ ๋œจ๊ฑฐ์šด ์‚ฌ๋žŒ์ด์—ˆ๋А๋ƒ.
~์•ˆ๋„ํ˜„

Such a brief poem, and so dense with imagery and layers of meaning.  Take, for example the word "์—ฐํƒ„์žฌ". I suppose I could translate it simply as "spent charcoal", but that takes away so much.  ์—ฐํƒ„์žฌ are a special type of pressed heating fuel that become very brittle when used up, and Koreans stack the spent cylinders outside their houses after use.  They make such a satisfying crumble when kicked, that kids sometimes go around kicking the neighbor's stacks.  Is there a comparable habit in America?  The feeling is like that you got as a kid (if you were naughty like my friends and I were) of throwing spent flourescent tubes on the ground to hear the pop, or tipping over the neighbors' garden gnomes.  How can one capture that in a word? 

And then there is the final line. "์—๊ฒŒ" is something of a multipurpose prepositional ending, and can be translated as "for" or "to" when attached to the pronoun "๋ˆ„๊ตฌ" (somebody).  So in the final line, is it "You were once warm to somebody" as in "you had warm feelings for them", or "You were once warm for somebody" as in "they once had warm feelings for you"?  The first line tends to support the former reading, but it is my belief that a good writer (and ์•ˆ๋„ํ˜„ certainly falls into this category--see the earlier entry on his novella ์—ฐ์–ด) always embraces multiple meanings, especially in poetry.  Mercifully, the multiple possible meanings of "๋œจ๊ฑฐ์šด" are captured in the English word "warm", so that doesn't present a problem. 

A three line poem.  A paragraph of explication for each word.  This is why translation into verse is nearly always sacrilegous.  But in the immortal words of Jim White, "We're okay with a little sacrilege here".  Accordingly, here is my best effort at capturing the feeling of the above poem in English:

I Ask You

Don't just go around kicking at spent briquettes.
You too,
Though it may have only been one time,
Were once warm to somebody, weren't you?

~Dohyeon An

What do you think?  Should I have tried to keep it in three lines?  Preserve the brevity of the original?  Did putting a line break at the end of the prosodic phrase (linguistic term that doesn't apply to English; don't get me started)  add or subtract from the texture? 

Perhaps I should try one in Burnshaw's style.  Here's ๋„์ •ํ™˜'s ์นธ๋‚˜๊ฝƒ๋ฐญ (Field of Canna Lilies).  Even the title is problematic, because there is no English expression that captures "๊ฝƒ๋ฐญ". "Flower bed"?  Not a good translation.  "Flower field"? Sounds stupid.  Anyway.

๊ฐ€์žฅ ํ™”๋ คํ•œ ๊ฝƒ์ด
๊ฐ€์žฅ ์ฒ˜์ฐธํ•˜๊ฒŒ ์ง„๋‹ค

๋„ค ์‚ฌ๋ž‘์€ ๋ณด์•„๋ผ
๋„ค ์‚ฌ๋ž‘์˜ ๋ฐ€๋ฌผ์ง„ ๊ฝƒ๋ฐญ์—
์„œ์„œ ๋ณด์•„๋ผ

์ ˆ์ •์— ์ด๋ฅด๋ €๋˜ ๋‚ ์˜ ์ถ”์–ต์ด
๋„ˆ๋ฅผ ๋” ์•„ํ”„๊ฒŒ ํ•˜๋ฆฌ๋ผ ์นธ๋‚˜๊ฝƒ๋ฐญ

(1-2) The most glorious(spectacular) flower / the most grisly(gruesomely) loses(becomes). Do here selects some richly layered adjectives to describe the nature of the canna lily, which at its peak is indeed the most showy and colorful of flowers, but thereupon quickly becomes brown and crusty-looking.  ์ฒ˜์ฐธ also carries the meaning of decapitation, and the final verb ์ง€๋‹ค can mean to end up a certain way, to be defeated, to fall, or to get stained, all of which are appropriate readings here. 

(3-5) Look at your love / At the flower field flooded with your love / Stand so as to look. Do's choice of the imperative case here imparts an urgency to the stanza, even as he uses the most familiar of posessive pronouns to imply his own involvement in the scenario.  He again uses the verb ์ง€๋‹ค to describe the condition of the field, at once fallen, defeated, stained, and finished.

(6-7) The memory of the day that reached the climax / may well make you hurt more field of canna flowers.  Do here chooses the more personal noun for memory (as opposed to ๊ธฐ์–ต) to deepen the connection to the scene, and waxes a bit rhetorical with the choice of ๋ฆฌ๋ผ, a choice that combined with the imperative case in the previous stanza give the poem a rather detached, advisory tone.  The structure of the final line is grammatically unconventional, and conflates the addresee of the poem with the flowers themselves, which was pointedly not the case in the previous stanza.

While this style of explication certainly is more thorough, I can't help but feel like it takes away the magic of the texture in the original.  What is a poet/scholar/translator to do?  Is there some middle road?  Or should one take the path that is most often trod, namely abandoning the idea that the texture of the original can be captured at all, and skipping straight to the chase.  Shall we see how a Korean poem would appear in the Norton Anthology of World Literature?

Mountain

In the mountain,
There is something that can't be known.

The trees unknowingly
Are growing,

And the soil unknowingly
Is breathing.

What is more, the mountain
Unknowingly,
Is incubating us.

~Dongju Seo

I hate this translation!  Incubate is such an ugly word; I hate the texture of it.  I hate the texture of this whole thing!  It's garbage.  But what is one to do?  Leave an entire body of Korean poetry untranslated?

Monday, July 01, 2013

Friedrich Dรผrrenmatt: The Physicists

Well the main thing that I can think of to say about this play is that the enjoyability of any performance would have to hinge on the actors involved.  The text simply doesn't offer a lot.  The idea is intriguiging, and the situation is positively hilarious, but not a lot of it comes across on the page.  It's the sort of humor that would have to be delivered in complete earnest, not witty but sly.  Of the kind that one must think about.  As a result, I can't say that I enjoyed reading it much, but that I imagine I would enjoy seeing it on the stage quite a bit.

Sunday, June 30, 2013

David Hirsh (ed): Current Perspectives in Second Language Vocabulary Research

I'm not sure how I feel about including this much academic literature in a blog that has heretofore been a bit recreational, but I am a completist by nature.  I have written without fail about every book I have read for nigh on eight years now, and can't think of a good reason to exclude this volume, even though it will be of little interest to most people.  If, by the way, you have an interest in linguistics and literature, leave a comment and we can become pen pals :D

Which is not to say that I have a lot to offer about this book.  I had high hopes for it, simply based on the title, but the connection to my desired topic was rather tangential.  This is a good thing, though!  In developing my thesis, I have become a bit paranoid that my (in my opinion) rather insightful and potentially significant findings have already been documented elsewhere, and are therefore old hat.  What a relief that this book came nowhere near my topic, instead focusing on such things as whether frequency or manner of instruction has a bigger influence on retention, or the distinctions between productive and receptive vocabulary acquisition.  Both significant, to be sure, and I don't consider the reading a waste of time, but I have found that much more helpful material comes from the psycholinguistic perspective, rather than such a pragmatic viewpoint as this volume represents.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Philemon

I confess to a bit of prejudice before starting this book, because I kinda know how the story ends.  It's like someone spoiled the ending of The Sixth Sense for me . . .

1:4 Knowing what Paul is about to ask of Philemon, this certainly smells like buttering up.

1:8,9 A nice touch, and seemingly sincere

1:10 Wow, I didn't expect to find this so touching.

1:20 Hmm I wonder what other requests could reasonably be made under this logic.

So here's the mystery of this disappointingly brief book: who was Onesimus?  What connection did Paul feel with him, or was this a matter of principle, Paul making a point about the relationship between slaves and their masters?  Paul's sincerity pours off the page here, in a way that one seldom sees elsewhere in his writings, so I choose to believe the former: that Onesimus was indeed a remarkable fellow, and special to Paul in some way.  Is he the same Onesimus that later became bishop of Ephesus?  That seems highly dubious, but a fascinating line of inquiry.  In the dogma of the early church, would the power of love and equality as expressed by Christ and, to a lesser extent, by Paul, be strong enough to overcome social prejudices and human pride?

The Godfather Part II

I'm not quite sure what the draw of this movie is.  I know plenty of people who love it better than the first one, but as far as I can tell the only difference is that there's a lot more Italian.  What made the first movie so powerful in my mind was the beautiful study of Michael's evolution into the eponymous character.  Pacino's performance, Coppola's pacing and cinematography--a liquid, nearly musical piece of art. 

Part II? Not so much.  The people who love this movie seem to be drawn by the why and how of the family's development, and the contribution to the mythology of the Corleones, but the difference between I and II in my mind is the difference between showing and telling a story.  Sure telling us why Michael et al are the way they are is effective, but showing us the process (as in I) is affective, and, in my mind, art.

์–‘์ธ์ž: ๋Šฆ๊ฒŒ ํ”ผ๋Š” ๊ฝƒ

์ด ์ฑ…์€  ๋‚ด๊ฐ€ ์ฝ์€ ์…‹์งธ์˜ ํ•œ๊ตญ ์•„๋™ ์ฑ…์ธ๋ฐ  ๊ณตํ†ต์ ์ด ์žˆ๋‹ค.  ์„ธ ๊ถŒ ๋ชจ๋‘ ๋ถ€๋ชจ๊ฐ€ ์—†์–ด์„œ ๊ณ ๋ฏผ์„ ๊ฒช๋Š” ์•„๋™์— ๋Œ€ํ•œ ๋‚ด์šฉ์ด๋‹ค.  ํ•œ, ๋‘๋ฒˆ์ด๋ผ๋ฉด ์šฐ์—ฐ์ด๋ผ๊ณ  ์ƒ๊ฐํ•  ์žˆ์ง€๋งŒ ์„ธ๋ฒˆ์ด๋ผ๋ฉด ์šฐ์—ฐ์˜ ์ผ์น˜ ์•„๋‹ˆ๋‹ค.  ๊ทธ ์•„๋™ ์ฑ…์™ธ์—, ๋‚ด๊ฐ€ ์ฝ์€ ์—ฐ์–ด๋ž€ ์ฑ…๋„ ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌํ•œ ๋‚ด์šฉ์ด ๋“ค์–ด๊ฐ„๋‹ค.  ํ•œ๊ตญ ๋ฌธํ•™์˜ ํŠน์ง•์ธ์ง€ ๋ชจ๋ฅด์ง€๋งŒ, ์ƒ๊ฐํ•ด๋ณด๋‹ˆ ํ•œ๊ตญ ์˜ํ™”์—๋„ ๋งŽ์ด ๋‚˜์˜ค๋Š” ๋‚ด์šฉ๊ฐ™๋‹ค.  ์™œ ๊ทธ๋žฌ์„๊นŒ?  ๋‚œ ๋ถ€๋ชจ๊ฐ€ ์—†๋Š” ํ•œ๊ตญ์ธ์„ ๋ณ„๋กœ ์•ˆ ๋งŒ๋‚ฌ๋‹ค.  ๋งŒ์•ฝ์— ํ•œ๊ตญ ๋…์ž์™€ ์‹œ์ฒญ์ž๋“ค์€ ๊ทธ๋Ÿฌํ•œ ๊ทน์ ์ธ ์ฃผ์ œ๋ฅผ ์ข‹์•„ํ•˜๊ธฐ ๋•Œ๋ฌธ์ผ๊นŒ?  ์•„๋‹ˆ๋ฉด ํ•œ๊ตญ ์ƒํ™œ์— ์™ธ๋–จ์–ด์ง„ ๋งˆ์Œ์ด ํ”ํ•ด์„œ ๋น„์œ ๋กœ ํ‘œ์‹œํ•˜๋Š” ๊ฒŒ ์•„๋‹๊นŒ?  ์ถ”์‹ ์—๋Š” ์ž‘๊ฐ€๊ฐ€ ๊ทธ ํ›„์ž๋ฅผ ๋‚˜ํƒ€๋‚ธ๋‹ค.  ์ž๊ธฐ ์„ฑ์žฅ์— ๋Œ€ํ•ด์„œ ์งง๊ฒŒ ์ด์•ผ๊ธฐํ•œ๋‹ค.  "'๋นจ๋ฆฌ ๋นจ๋ฆฌ'๋ฅผ ๊ฐ•์š”ํ•˜๋‹ˆ ์–ผ๋งˆ๋‚˜ ํž˜๋“ค์—ˆ๊ฒ ์–ด์š” . . . ์–ธ์  ๊ฐ€๋Š” ์ž๊ธฐ๋งŒ์˜ ๊ฝƒ์„ ํ”ผ์šด๋‹ค๋Š” ๊ฑฐ, ์žŠ์ง€ ๋ง์ž"๊ณ  ๋“ค๋ ค์ค€๋‹ค. 

๋‚˜์˜ ํ•œ๊ตญ ์นœ๊ตฌ๋ฅผ ์ƒ๊ฐํ•ด๋ณด๋‹ˆ, "๋งž์•„, ์ƒํ™œ์ด ์–ผ๋งˆ๋‚˜ ํž˜๋“ค๊ฒ ๋‹ค"๋Š” ์ƒ๊ฐ์ด ๋“ ๋‹ค.  ์—ฌ๋Ÿฌ๋ถ„ ์‚ฌ๋ฐฉ์—์„œ ๊ฐ•์š”๋ฅผ ๋ฐ›๊ณ  ์ž๊ธฐ ์ง€์œ„๋ฅผ ๋†’์ด๋„๋ก ๋ฌด๋ฆฌํ•ด์•ผ ํ•˜๊ณ , ๋ฌธ์ œ๊ฐ€ ์ƒ๊ธฐ๋ฉด ํ˜ผ์ž์„œ ํ’€๊ณ  . . . ๊ณ ๋ฆฝ๊ฐ์ด ์–ผ๋งˆ๋‚˜ ์‹ฌํ•  ๊ฒƒ ๊ฐ™๋‹ค.

Friday, June 07, 2013

Stephen Krashen: The Input Hypothesis: Issues and Implications

I feel like a dinosaur sometimes.  Other linguists and teachers talk about the "interactive hypothesis" and "communicative competence" and other relatively modern ideas about language acquisiton, and I think to myself, "humbug".  For all the backlash, and certain undeniable limitations, I feel like Krashen was right 30 years ago in asserting there really is only one cause for authentic language acquisiton: comprehensible input.

Now it's not that simple, of course.  There are matters of monitoring, and affective filters and the like, but there really is nothing that can compare to input when it comes to explaining successful language acquisition, both from a pedagogical and a cognitive standpoint.  This is not to say that one can just throw books at a student and step back, or that as a learner I can just read and read and hope to get better.  Too often, I will read something, encounter a new word, look it up in the dictionary and promptly forget it.  That input didn't get put in for some reason--to use more standard jargon, it didn't become intake.  The question that a believer in Krashen, such as I am, must ask is: what's the hangup?

Krashen often (here and elsewhere) identifies the necessary second element as a lowering of the affective filter, an openness to new information.  Others point to the necessity of attention, that one cannot simply receive input, one must also attend to it.  Neither of these explanations satisfy me.  In the specific case of seeing a new word, looking it up in the dictionary, and even then writing it down in an original sentence, the affective filter seems to be lowered, and attention is certainly being given. 

One might say then that the word is decontextualized, and therefore doesn't find a home in the cognitive matrix.  This is also unsatisfying.  I am surely not alone in learning a word or phrase for a specific, sometimes very necessary purpose, using it correctly in context, achieving my intended linguistic goal, and then promptly forgetting it.  For example, take the word ์ด๋ฐœ (haircut).  In preparing to go to the barber, I looked the word up, remembered it, used it correctly, got my haircut, and then a month later had to repeat the same process again. And the following month.  And the following month. That linguistic item was highly contextualized, but somehow it did not beome intake.  It found no home in the syntactic matrix. 

Further complicating matters is the not infrequent occurrence of encountering a word once, and immediately acquiring it--even if it was completely decontextualized and unattended, and my affective filter was sealed tight.  For example, the word ํ˜ธ์ถœ (pickup service).  I heard a taxi driver use it once passively, and have not forgotten it since--and this word is neither common nor particularly useful.  Or even more curiously, the word ๋ฐ”์ž‘ (a particular container used by farmers for collecting grass).  I read it in a poem once, looked it up, and have never forgotten it.  This word is so useless that native Korean speakers don't even know it exists.  If I try to use it, they tell me I'm mistaken, until they look it up in their Korean dictionary.  What elements are present in this type of experience that are absent when I purposefully try to learn a word, even making flash cards and trying to cram it awkwardly into conversation? 

As much as I agree with Krashen on every point, he comes up short in this department.  He is not wrong, for he doesn't really adresss it.  It's not a disagreement, just a deficiency in the Input Hypothesis, about which you can bet your lace panties I will continue to have something to say.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

H. Douglas Brown: Principles of Language Learning and Teaching

I usually don't write about textbooks here, and not only because it's rare that I read them cover to cover.  In general this blog is intended to examine the way we look at literature and media in all forms, and I just don't know that textbooks often qualify as such.  Furthermore, by the time I "finish" with a textbook, I feel like I've already been called to write about in the most sterile ways possible, and wouldn't have a lot left to say that would feel at home in this context.

But this book is an exception, and not only because I did read it cover to cover.  When I say that this blog is about "media", and even go so far as to express that in the title, I mean that it is about the way in which words and images are used to convey a message, about the signs of which the things that we watch, read, and listen to are signifiers, as Saussure would put it.  In that sense, isn't language the ultimate medium?  The signifier that begets and predicates all others?

If that's the case, how does it work?  Before asking what High Noon means or conveys, suppose we asked how in the hell humans have come to agree what "High" or "Noon" are in the first place.  It's amazing, really, that humans even try to communicate, let alone that we've tried to establish some procedure for doing so.  The fact that it seems to work, that we are on occassion able to send some thought into the mind of another, is veritable science fiction.  In this textbook, which is admittedly a mere scraping of the question's surface, Brown makes the well-advised choice of simply presenting some ideas, not all of which are supportable, and encouraging the reader/student to come up with some sort of framework that works for her or him.  In this arena, after all, a framework is all that can be really hoped for. 

As for me, the idea of how we acquire language has gone through some evolutions.  Chomsky works from the theory that in our brain is a sophisticated circuit devoted for the acquisition and employment of lanugage, but it sure doesn't seem that way sometimes.  It feels more like there's a pachinko machine in our brains that we shoot words into, and sometimes one of them goes into the right hole and becomes "acquired".  I've also at times thought of it as a Klondike game, although they call them different things elsewhere.  You know, the game that you can see at arcades or county fairs that has a stack of quarters or tokens  constantly getting pushed forward by some bulldozer-like blade, into which you shoot still more tokens or quarters, hoping to push some off the ledge and reap your reward?  You just keep putting words into the top until you get lucky and something comes out of the bottom.  Woohoo!

Lately though, language seems more like one of those giant funnels you can see at malls or science museums that purports to reproduce the behavior of bodies in orbit.  You slip a coin into the rim of the funnel and watch it gradually make its way to the center.  Depending on the angle at which it enters the vortex, it could take a long time, or plop right into the middle.  That's what language feels like to me lately.  A vortex, a whirpool that pulls things into its center.  There are principles at work, to be sure, gravity, centrifugal force, the weight of the coin, the slope of the funnel, and lots and lots of mathy things.  But just because there are principles at work does not mean that you can plop something at the proper angle and watch it drop straight into the middle.  It does that sometimes! And it's weird! But good luck doing it twice in a row.  Like why did the relatively useless and obscure word ๊ฐœ๊ฐ• go right into my sweet spot and become acquired after only one exposure?  While the far more useful and lexically simple word ์ด๋ฐœ took me forever? Why did I still have to look it up in the dictionary even the fourth and fifth time I tried to use it to tell somebody I wanted a haircut? 

The fact that it's a mystery does not mean that it's random, as Brown clearly, and occassionally wittily presents in this textbook.  I can't say that I recommend it for pleasure, but if you are curious about how those quarters get in your slot, it's a good start.