I finally continued reading Les Bienveillantes (I didn't have any time to read in the weeks before Christmas), and I came to a sentence that made me squee so much I almost fainted. Eichmann describes Heydrich as "un homme qui souffrait dans son coeur", literally "a man who suffered in his heart". So, Linny freaks out and wants to cuddle and hug Littel for knowing what he's writing about and not writing some crap about Heydrich being an emotionless machine. I do what I usually do when I have a fit of fangirling, I call assassin-nariel, who read the book in German. Curious, I ask her how they translated this. She looks it up and tells me that the German version says: "ein Mann mit großem Einfühlungsvermögen", which basically means "a man with great empathy" (Einfühlungsvermögen and empathy aren't exactly the same thing, but close enough).


Now, I'm sorry, but the translation doesn't have ANYTHING to do with the original. The original sentence could have been translated literally into German and would have been perfect. Or, if the translator didn't want that, it could have been rephrased in a way that's still close to the original meaning. But what's up with this so-called translation that doesn't even come close to the French version, no matter how you interpret it? I am so angry. We're talking about a professional translator here, shouldn't he, I don't know, at least understand French and not butcher the meaning? I'm tempted to write that guy a letter and ask what the hell he was thinking. Seriously, I could have done a better job than that and I'm NOT a professional who gets paid for it. I can't even imagine any justification for this shit. I just hope the rest of the translation is better.

On a lighter note, this passage kills me. In a good way. It's so simple, and clear, and true, and beautiful:
"En travaillant, je pensais : au fond, le problème collectif des Allemands, c'était le même que le mien ; eux aussi, ils peinaient à s'extraire d'un passé douloureux, à en faire table rase pour pouvoir commencer des choses neuves. C'est ainsi qu'ils en étaient venus à la solution radicale entre toutes, le meurtre, l'horreur pénible du meurtre. Mais le meurtre était-il une solution ? Je pensais aux nombreuses conversations que j'avais eues à ce sujet : en Allemagne, je n'étais pas le seule à douter. Et si le meurtre n'était pas une solution définitive, et si au contraire ce nouveau fait, encore moins réparable que les précédents, ouvrait à son tour de nouveaux abîmes ? Alors, que restait-il comme issue ?"

(Rough translation, it's 5am and I'm too tired to think about details, but it's probably still better than the crap this [insert vulgar insults] wrote: "While I was working I was thinking: deep down, the Germans' collective problem was the same as my own ; they too had trouble finding their way out of a painful past, making a clean sweep to be able to start something new. That's how they had arrived at the most radical solution, murder, the painful horror of murder. But was murder a solution? I thought of all the conversations I had had about this subject : I wasn't the only one to doubt, in Germany. What if murder wasn't a conclusive solution, what if, on the contrary, this new fact, even more irreparable than the previous ones, opened a new abyss? What other way out could there be, then?"
Again, this doesn't do the original any justice; if anyone has the original English translation (which is hopefully good), please tell me. Also, tell me if this doesn't make any sense. I'm too annoyed to concentrate and ponder about tiny little nuances between almost synonymous words. Seriously, translating "pénible" into English is tricky, too tricky to deal with it now.)

Hope you guys all had a nice Christmas or whatever else you're celebrating, undisturbed by stupid translators. :)

"Et c'est ainsi, le cul encore plein de sperme, que je me résolus à entrer au Sicherheitsdienst."
"And thus, with my arse still full of sperm, I decided to join the Sicherheitsdienst."
- Jonathan Littel, Les Bienveillantes


Okay, I admit it, I only read 100 of the 1300 pages so far, and maybe it's going to suck after 300 pages, because there aren't many authors who can write good books of this length. Far too often it gets boring and repetitive after a few hundred pages. But the beginning is amazing. For those of you who've never heard of it, Les Bienveillantes (English title: The Kindly Ones, which sounds stupid), is the memoirs of a fictitious SS-officier named Maximilien Aue, written by an American author who's writing in French. It's weird to read about Nazis speaking French all the time, honestly. oO Still, Aue is as gay as you can possibly get. 100 pages and already two graphic slash scenes, not to mention this amazing sentence I quoted above (the English translation is by me, I was too lazy to look up how it was really translated). Context? Right after he had some random boy fuck him, his future BFF convinces him to join the SD. Not to mention that his name is Max (like Stierlitz!), he smokes all the fucking time (like Stierlitz, and like Hellstrom!), he's gay and such a sub, and he has a best friend on whom he seems to have a total crush. Well, not crush, but he wants to do him. Not to mention the countless mentions of Heydrich and Schellenberg being suspiciously good friends - this book does not help my recent fascination with historical slash. Bad brain, very very bad! And there I thought it couldn't possibly get worse!
What I really want to say, though, is the following: read this book. I shouldn't, because I really don't have the time, but it's just great so far. At least read the first part, Toccata, which is just great, and only fifty pages long. It's worth the time, even if you don't want to read the entire book. Now let's just hope that I won't be disappointed by the rest.

Other news ... I quit my job, because I'm tired of working on every Saturday, and since I don't desperately need the money, why should I keep doing this? It's a pity, it was a nice job, as far as crappy-jobs-for-students-so-I-can-afford-my-decadent-lifestyle go, with nice colleagues and relatively well paid and not far away from where I live, but still. I want a week-end that consists of two days. Even if it means having a bit less money.

Am also neglecting university stuff. Again. This week is going to be stressful. Which also means that I probably won't post a new fic too soon, but I'll do my best. I'm considering to write some Hellstrom/Wicki, set around 1930, which would be very very angsty and tragic and sweet and beautiful and extremely tragic and sad. With obligatory Landa/Hellstrom-references, mind you. ;)

Ooooh, and I bought the most amazing new leather boots! Rawr! Love them! (I should get Hellstrom out of my head when I go shopping ...)

Finally! I finished and posted
chapter eleven of Kindred Spirits. I'm so relieved it's done ... although I guess I won't be truly relieved until I get a few reviews and positive feedback. Still, it's done, so I can stop obsessing about this scene.

I finally started reading again, too. I read the first part of the Rose of the Prophet trilogy by Weis and Hickman in less than two days and I really love it. It is so unbelievably slashy ... You don't even need a slashy fangirl mind to see the slashiness in this book. I really like the setting, too: it's inspired by Arabian culture (desert nomads and all that stuff ;)), but still fantasy - so far there are only humans and no elves or something, but there are so called immortals (djinn, angels etc.) and the gods themselves interfere a whole lot. Did I mention that even the gods are slightly slashy? Honestly, what were the authors thinking? I'll probably rant more when I've read the other two parts, too. ^^ Still, I can already recommend it - interesting characters, a clash of different cultures, a nice fantasy setting, a good plot, slashiness, and unlike some other fantasy authors (*coughcoughSalvatorecough*) Weis and Hickman can actually write and don't make you cringe because of a crappy writing style. Exactly what a good fantasy book needs. ^^
I hope that once I've finished this series I'll finally be able to read other books again, too.

Apart from that, I'm sick. I'm cold, tired, puking my guts out and unable to eat anything at all. I know, too much information, sorry, I just felt the urge to whine a little. Well, nothing I can do about it. It'll go away.
linndechir: (exciting)

What the hell am I doing with a livejournal? Really … I don’t even know what to write here. I only created an account to read someone else’s lj, and then I noticed there were one or two communities I might join. And you know how it is - or maybe you don’t because you’re not as weak-willed as I am - once you’ve got this account, you’re telling yourself, “Well, now that you have it, you might just as well use it …” And that’s where the trouble begins.

So, I could probably rant about my crappy week, but I doubt that anyone cares about that. Oh, or I could tell you about the book I’ve just finished reading. Yepp, I think I’m going to do that.

I’ve finally read “La duchesse de Langeais” by Balzac (a French 19th century writer, in case you were wondering). I was supposed to have read it already a few weeks ago because we’re studying it in my French literature class, but I can be very slow reading books when I don’t like them. And I didn’t like this one, despite the fact that I usually like Balzac. But the ending of this novel is worth mentioning because it is so … strange.

The whole book is nothing but a very dramatic love story between a duchess and a general, who falls madly in love with her. She toys with him, but - as soon as he leaves her - she realises, of course, that she loves him. He wants to return to her, but there are several misunderstandings and coincidences, and at some point the duchess suddenly flees from Paris to a convent somewhere in Spain. Nobody knows where exactly she is, and the general spends several years looking for her. When he finally finds her, she refuses to leave the convent to live with him, although she still loves him. The general decides to abduct her. All of this takes about 220 pages.

The last chapter is pretty short, 10 pages, of which 8 pages are nothing but a very detailed description of the preparations the general and his friends make. And then there are less than two pages (!!!) to tell us that when he finally arrives at the convent, the duchess has just died. The general and his friends take the corpse with them and decide to throw it in the sea (the convent is on an island). One of his friends says to the general something along the lines of “Well, love is stupid anyway. You’d better forget about this.” And the general just replies, “Yes, you’re right. It really doesn’t matter.” End of the novel.

I’m not exaggerating or over-interpreting anything, this is really written in the book (okay, it’s a bit more poetical and everything, but that’s all). I really wonder what Balzac was thinking when he was writing this. ;) Anyway, despite this amusing ending I really didn’t like the novel. Probably because the duchess was an absolutely unbearable, annoying character, and there was no interesting character, nor an exceptional storyline to make up for it. Of course, it was very well written and far from a bad book, but if you want to read Balzac, don’t read this novel. ;)

Mhm, what else ... I’ve recently seen 3:10 to Yuma, which is an absolutely amazing movie. Seen it twice. And - I can already hear people sigh and call me a horrible fangirl - I’ll probably go to the cinema again either this or next week. I’m even thinking about writing a Yuma-fanfic, but I’m not sure about that yet. I’d really like to, but I don’t know if I’ll manage to write anything decent. A western is just completely different from the fantasy fanfics I usually write. Though, of course, if I write anything, it will be as slashy as hell. I mean, that's the point. ;)
Whatever. I won’t say more or I’ll be ranting for pages and pages.

I can’t believe I’ve just written an entry here … Scary. Though I’m really not sure if I’m going to do this regularly or … not at all. ;)



September 2017



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