Call of the Siren exclusive: Andrew Frisardi's response

It isn't criticism that irritates--we're all adults here, right?--but what does is criticism that misinterprets and, in the process, misleads potential readers. frisardi-dante-coverWhen poet and translator Andrew Frisardi was on the receiving-end of such treatment for his translation of Vita Nova (Northwestern University Press) in the pages of the Times Literary Supplement, he did what anyone would do. He wrote to the editors to set the record straight.

They haven't printed his reply, but he's graciously passed it along to Call of the Siren. Frisardi's reply already appears in the comments thread of the post "Some painful reading," but it also deserves special attention here. Why?  Because I think it's a model example of how to respond if you're ever caught in a similar situation.

Frisardi could very well have let his temper flare, but instead he offers a measured response that's very much in the spirit of other TLS letters (so I can't understand why the editors haven't printed it) and that covers a lot of terrain in a short amount of space:

Sir,

I agree with Adam Elgar’s disagreement with Paul Howard’s review of Anthony Mortimer’s and my editions of Dante’s ‘Vita Nova’. The review was off the mark in a number of ways, not least of which was his characterization of contractions such as ‘don’t’ as ‘modern’. Has Mr Howard read Shakespeare or Donne (who don’t hesitate to use ‘em)? Are the Elizabethans ‘modern’? Has he read Dante? Is he familiar with the very frequent speech-register Florentine diction—including contractions—even in the early poems? As for ‘cool’, the 1828 edition of ‘Webster’s’ says it means ‘manifesting coldness or dislike; chilling; apathetic; as, a cool manner’—a meaning still current, certainly an apt one for the context in the poem he cites, and hardly ‘modern’ or ‘politically correct’. Mr Howard criticizes the choice of adjectives in my translation of ‘Tanto gentile’, too, as being intrusively or self-consciously modern. I have the poem describing Beatrice as ‘open’ and ‘self-possessed’, which actually (as I explain fully in the notes section of the book) are truthful interpretations of the untranslatable words ‘gentile’ and ‘onesta’. Anthony Mortimer gives ‘gentle’ and ‘noble’ for the same words, thus ignoring altogether ‘onesta’, the thirteenth-century meaning of which can be given as ‘dignified’–or ‘self-possessed’. Instead he translates ‘gentile’ twice (and ‘gentle’ is questionable at best as a translation for that word). Neither Mr Mortimer nor Mr Howard ask themselves, apparently, why Dante says in the next lines of ‘Tanto gentile’ that people’s tongues tremble and their eyes don’t dare to look at her as Beatrice approaches. Would that be a normal reaction to someone who is merely ‘gentle and noble’, or was everyone in Florence prone to seizures? Rather, self-possession and openness certainly can be disconcerting, precisely because they are qualities of someone who is totally, vibrantly alive. This fits Dante’s view of Beatrice very well, despite the ‘seven centuries of reverence’ that Mr Elgar rightly points out throws a wet blanket over contemporary readings of the ‘Vita Nova’.

Andrew Frisardi Castiglione in Teverina, Italy

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Some painful reading

Dante Gabriel Rossetti: Beata Beatrix, ca 1864-70.Here is the look of a great lady on the verge of death. Here is also the look of something else: What it feels like to read a bad book review.

I love the grim, gray pages of the Times Literary Supplement -- make that grim, grey pages -- even though the reading can get pretty tough at times, especially when you stumble on a bad review. They're not exactly hatchet jobs, but they seem just as pointless.

I was disappointed -- and a bit dismayed -- by a recent TLS piece on two translations of Dante's Vita Nova by a fellow who hasn't finished his doctorate yet.

It didn't bother me that he didn't care for the version by a guy I've worked with before -- Andrew Frisardi -- but it's all the high-minded nonsense in his criticism that's hard to take. It's the I-know-Dante-better-than-Dante-himself tone that all graduate Lit students suffer from (speaking from experience here).

"One wonders," the review says about a modern euphemism Frisardi uses, "whether the quest for modernity extends to political correctness. How else to explain the female subject of 'acts cool' when the Italian has a genderless (etymologically masculine) 'colui'?"

This graf is so full of posturing that I'm not going to waste space on an explanation.

A few lines later, there's a nice backhanded compliment: "Where Frisardi's edition excels is in its use of current scholarship. With over 200 pages of notes... it is surely intended for students, though echoing their speech in the lyric is a questionable strategy."

"it is surely intended..." Good grief.  That sounds like the assessment of someone who never steps outside or takes a break from the books. Or hasn't read David R. Slavitt. Or Lowell's imitations.

I'm adding this to my folder of bad examples of book reviews -- right alongside a ridiculously negative review (also in the TLS) of Arthur Phillips' novel The Tragedy of Arthur by an Elizabethan scholar who didn't think Phillips' Shakespearean verse was Shakespearean enough.

If you're ever the subject of such a review, my friends, please take heart. Even though the printed page gives validity to these pieces, try to work through your feelings and just remember that your most important critic should be you (etymologically neutral).

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Profile in courage

Dan Brown Inferno coverDante Alighieri is a fascinating figure, and hopefully I'll be able to tell you what really fascinates me about that poor, exiled figure at some point in the near future when my work on a book about him is done. Keep your fingers crossed for me, beloved friends. In the meantime, I feel like I should at least present the cover image of Dan Brown's forthcoming book "Inferno," which is being published by Random House in May, for your viewing pleasure. The publisher sent out images of the cover yesterday. This will be the fourth action novel featuring renowned symbologist Robert Langdon.

I have to admit, it's a little disappointing to see Dante's profile, that familiar, angular chin and nose, clouded over by a bunch of thriller imagery, but thankfully it still shows through -- like a mountain peak through a bank of fog.

That red band running down the cover and merging with the red of Dante's cap and robes -- is that like the Rose Line of "The Da Vinci Code" or is it just a little design element?  Brown's book jackets are always packed with symbolism, so I'd guess that there's more to it. We will see in May.

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The 'D' in 'Dan Brown' stands for 'Dante'

IS THIS WRITTEN IN CODE? Dan Brown's signature. In "The Lost Symbol," the most recent of Dan Brown's thrillers featuring symbologist Robert Langdon, there's a moment when Langdon compares the murky, distant secrets of Europe with those of colonial America.

This nation may not be too old in comparison to the world across the pond, but there's a rich tradition of secrecy in this country that is exciting and intriguing. That's what he thinks. Soon after these musings, Langdon sets off on another chase-and-race-against-the-clock that is rooted firmly in red-white-and-blue soil.

In his forthcoming novel, however, Brown -- and Langdon -- are heading back to Europe. The publisher Doubleday announced today that it will publish a new Dan Brown novel in May. The title, "Inferno," refers to the one and only Dante Alighieri and his epic poem of medieval Italy, The Divine Comedy.

Here's Brown, from the news release, on what drew him to the immortal Tuscan:

"Although I studied Dante's Inferno as a student, it wasn't until recently, while researching in Florence, that I came to appreciate the enduring influence of Dante's work on the modern world," Brown says.

What exactly does "enduring influence" mean?  In Brown's world, it also points to a familiar theme in his past books: conspiracy. "With this new novel," Brown adds, "I am excited to take readers on a journey deep into this mysterious realm.... a landscape of codes, symbols, and more than a few secret passageways."

An exec editor at Doubleday also mentions that "Inferno" includes "a mystery that has global ramifications..." (Hm, I wonder if the Priory of Sion ever traveled to Italy.)

I'm looking forward to May so that I can see what Brown makes of a figure whom I've adored for all of my reading life.

My interest in the book isn't entirely neutral -- I have a story of my own involving the poet in the works -- but regardless of that, any time that is spent with Dante is time well spent. There's nothing better than turning off the television and wandering for a few hours with Virgil in Hell or up the slopes of the mountain in Purgatory.

Ciao!

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