{"id":15322,"date":"2011-05-05T08:00:19","date_gmt":"2011-05-05T12:00:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=15322"},"modified":"2013-01-09T11:50:44","modified_gmt":"2013-01-09T16:50:44","slug":"a-week-in-culture-amelie-nothomb-writer-part-ii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2011\/05\/05\/a-week-in-culture-amelie-nothomb-writer-part-ii\/","title":{"rendered":"A Week in Culture: Am\u00e9lie Nothomb, Writer, Part 2"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>This is the second installment of Nothomb\u2019s culture diary. Click <a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=15256\">here<\/a> to read part 1. <\/em><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_15310\" style=\"width: 584px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-15310\" class=\"size-full wp-image-15310\" title=\"Photograph by Catherine Cabrol.\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/05\/NOTHOMB-Amelie-\u00a9-Catherine-Cabrol-BLOG.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"574\" height=\"378\" \/><p id=\"caption-attachment-15310\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Photograph by Catherine Cabrol.<\/p><\/div>\n<h3>DAY FOUR<\/h3>\n<p>In the evening we are invited to a huge turn-of-the-century building, with something of the <em>Phalanst\u00e8re<\/em> to it, entirely inhabited by artists. This is the Westbeth Center for the Arts, the largest artist\u2019s community in the world, and it is where tonight\u2019s \u201cLiterary Safari\u201d is supposed to take place. The name of the event disturbs me: are they going to hunt writers with guns? The organizers reassure me: writers will be chosen by artist-inhabitants of the <em>Phalanst\u00e8re<\/em> and invited into their apartments to read from one of their books. My host is Dorothy, former actress of avant-garde theater, eighty-six years old, a tiny, skinny woman of exceptional vivacity and intelligence. The audience and I are invited into her strange apartment with a sinusoidal ceiling, a moving museum of the past. They suggest that I read for fifteen minutes from my most recent novel to appear in English, <em>Hygiene and the Assasin<\/em>. There is nowhere to hide: American audiences love hearing an author read her work.\u00a0 So I throw myself into it, reading first in French, without sparkle, and then in English. This last exercise proves to be a considerable challenge. The mixture of emotion and effort is so intense that, literally, I liquefy: I perspire so much that I see enormous drops of sweat falling on my text. It\u2019s very annoying. After fifteen minutes have passed, I am nothing but a puddle. The audience, very friendly, asks me questions. With reluctance, I leave Dorothy, who lays all the flowers in her apartment in my arms: I have the impression of being a diva.<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<h3>DAY FIVE<\/h3>\n<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/05\/EXTRA-EUROPA_Zu-Gast-im-Stifterhaus_BUKET-UZUNER_2_c_alfakitap-150x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" title=\"\" width=\"150\" height=\"150\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-15369\" \/>At La Maison Fran\u00e7aise, I meet the Turkish writer, Buket Uzuner, a very famous writer in her country. Before an enthusiastic audience, she reads the beginning of a translation of her novel, <em>Istanbullu<\/em>, where she takes on the voice of the city itself. After her reading, she speaks of the difficulty of being a woman in a country where every day there are five honor killings.<\/p>\n<p>That night, in a poetry club disguised as a New York bar, the famous Translation Slam<em> <\/em>takes place. At this event two translators read their versions of a text translated into English and discuss the choices they have made. From the stage, I read a piece that I wrote for the singer RoBert in 1998, \u201cThe Call of the Succubus.\u201d Before the reading, they show a video of RoBert singing the piece. A pretty young woman comes on stage to present her capable and faithful translation of my incantation. Next it\u2019s the turn of an older translator who has had the wonderful idea of translating my piece into the style of New Orleans jazz. I would never have imagined my piece could blend so well with this universe of voodoo possession. I am in heaven. Next, the same process is enacted on the work of a Pakistani poetess who came to present her piece (magnificent), \u201cTongue Kiss.\u201d A ravishing young Pakistani woman, who hasn\u2019t spoken Urdu since the age of five, has come to offer her translation (very successful). She is followed by a learned, older Pakistani man, whose translation (erudite) is rich and fertile. We are all under the spell of this sumptuous text when the poet begins to attack the young woman for her translation, which evidently didn\u2019t please her at all. The whole room thus has the privilege of not only listening to a treatise on Urdu semiology but also witnessing the humiliation (interminable) of the poor young woman. We are frozen in our shock. It is a moment that proves that the quality of a writer has little or no relation to his or her worth as a human being.<\/p>\n<h3>DAY SIX<\/h3>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/05\/brooklyn-bridge-1-150x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" title=\"\" width=\"150\" height=\"150\" class=\"alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-15371\" \/>The PEN World Voices Festival has been an exciting, fascinating, and edifying experience. Now, as far as my direct involvement goes, it is finished. Today, I have only a single obligation: to be in good shape at 10:00 <small>P.M.<\/small> for the World Voices Festival\u2019s closing party.<\/p>\n<p>When I\u2019ve completed my daily four hours of morning writing, I join my editor and friend, Michael Reynolds, in Brooklyn. We eat lunch together and stroll around DUMBO. The weather is superb. Our meandering steps lead us through this indistinct but poetic landscape that, on the shores of the East River, separates the Manhattan Bridge from the Brooklyn Bridge. I love this part of the city. From here the view of Manhattan is so striking. But I what I love most is the view of those two huge bridges: the Brooklyn Bridge is beautiful like a gothic dinosaur, and its beauty is punctuated with regular cries coming from the Manhattan Bridge each time a train passes over it.<\/p>\n<p>I explain to Michael that I must take a siesta to be ready for tonight\u2019s soir\u00e9e and I lay myself down in the sun on a flat rock, protected by my hat. I doze, savoring the roars of the Manhattan Bridge. Michael and I make a plan to meet at the closing party tonight and I go off for a walk around the East Village. When I return to the hotel at 7:00 <small>P.M.<\/small>, I decide to sleep for a while, once again thinking that I have to be in good shape for the ten o\u2019clock soir\u00e9e. I sink into a deep sleep. When I wake up, it\u2019s Sunday, May 1, at 4:00 <small>A.M.<\/small> I have missed the closing night\u2019s festivities.<\/p>\n<h3>DAY SEVEN<\/h3>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/05\/tumblr_krqf6dRpMv1qzwof2o1_500-150x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" title=\"\" width=\"150\" height=\"150\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-15373\" \/><strong><\/strong>Awake at 4:00 <small>A.M.<\/small>, I immediately sit down for my daily fours hours of writing. Beneath it all, in the depths of my day\u2019s production, is my bad conscience, mixed with a shameful kind of joy (typical of sea snails) at having missed last night\u2019s soir\u00e9e. I comfort myself with the knowledge that surely no one will have noticed my absence.<\/p>\n<p>But I have not counted on my friend and editor\u2019s vigilance. I get a call in my room from Michael Reynolds, who inquires as to the reasons for my defection the night before. I explain my misadventure to him. He tells me it\u2019s nothing to worry about, but does let me know that he\u2019s missing two days\u2019 worth of entries for my Culture Diary on the PEN Festival: yesterday evening\u2019s and today\u2019s.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI have nothing more to write, since I missed the soir\u00e9e,\u201d I respond.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo problem. I suggest you recount how you managed <em>not <\/em>to attend the closing night.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And that\u2019s how I find myself now, sitting at the bar of the Standard Hotel, composing my delinquent chronicler\u2019s act of contrition. At the very least, I think, hasn\u2019t my poor conduct proved just what a good night\u2019s sleep one can have in this excellent new hotel on the banks of the Hudson River?<\/p>\n<p><em>Am\u00e9lie Nothcomb is a novelist living in France. Her novel, <\/em><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Hygiene-Assassin-Amelie-Nothomb\/dp\/193337277X\">Hygiene and the Assassin<\/a><em>, was published by Europa Editions in 2010.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Translated from French by Cecily Swanson.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This is the second installment of Nothomb\u2019s culture diary. Click here to read part 1. DAY FOUR In the evening we are invited to a huge turn-of-the-century building, with something of the Phalanst\u00e8re to it, entirely inhabited by artists. This is the Westbeth Center for the Arts, the largest artist\u2019s community in the world, and [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":168,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[23],"tags":[2234,2251,2250,2248,125,2236,2247,530,2249],"class_list":["post-15322","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-culture-diaries","tag-amelie-nothomb","tag-brooklyn-bridge","tag-buket-uzuner","tag-jet-lag","tag-new-york-city","tag-pen-world-voices-festival","tag-standard-hotel","tag-translation","tag-westbeth-center-for-the-arts"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>A Week in Culture: Am\u00e9lie Nothomb, Writer, Part 2 by Am\u00e9lie Nothomb<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"May 5, 2011 \u2013 This is the second installment of Nothomb\u2019s culture diary. 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