Do You See?
I normally cross-post my articles that appear elsewhere. Travels took up some time. But posting the June article, a Q&A with Arshia Sattar on Prairie Schooner literary journal from University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Read it HERE.
ND: There’s a strong trend now, especially in Dalit writing, to bring to the fore a re-telling of the mythologies as different from the mainstream, “upper-caste” renditions. Feminists have given us Sita’s Ramayana. What about Ekalavya’s version or Shambuka’s version? And stories that were part of the epics and yet remained untold?
AS: Everyone has the right to tell any story they want in the way that they want. Each decides whether or not that telling appeals to us–on the basis of our own politics and ideology and aesthetics. I don’t think there are stories from the epics that remain untold. The epics are at least 2,000 years old; so, imagine how many people have mined them for inspiration. Because of our own gender and caste identities, we may not have access to some of the stories that have been re-told for centuries, but they are out there and always have been. Sometimes, we choose not to access the stories that others tell. And I don’t think there will ever be a time when we have enough re-tellings. Or a time when we know them all–that would be so boring, not to have a new version around the next corner.
And feel free to comment on this or the whole interview. I’ve had some good feedback elsewhere.
When I don’t have a cool photo to upload — I must, for almost all my posts — I go for a Tintin pic or some such interesting one. I already told you I’m a fan and I subscribe to this Tintin website.
And how does one do without poetry? I have stumbled upon this today (that’s right, I’m posting not at night now). I wonder why the poet lapses into ellipses towards the end of the poem. But interesting, even I think of “room” as a vessel, a carrier for emotions. Of certain moments. Of a certain presence. Some words that constitute the rather grand sounding “the art of memory”.
Christian Mott writes on Poetry Foundation: “This poem is about the folly of intellectualizing passion. It begins as a thoughtful meditation on love and tries to capture love in thoughts, images, and metaphors. The attempt is futile. The thoughts fracture and melt away as the sensuality of the moment becomes overwhelming.”
Please read —
BY LI-YOUNG LEE
People apparently read blogs, I’m told. Just saying.