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Julia on BBC Radio Manchester

Like I said previously, on Thursday I was interviewed by Richard Fair on BBC Radio Manchester. You can now go to BBC Radio Manchester Blog and read the report, just follow this link. Furthermore, you can listen to an extract from my interview – exactly on the point of why I started blogging. And no, it’s not me on that photo.

Yeah, we discussed briefly the reason why bloggers are so *arrogant* in that they expect other people to read what they write. True to my trade, I referred to George Orwell. I only quoted a tiny bit on the radio, but this is the extract from his essay ‘Why I Write’, which I had in mind. Orwell spoke about four motives for writing, and the first one was


Sheer egoism. Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on grown-ups who snubbed you in childhood, etc. etc. It is humbug to pretend that this is not a motive, and a strong one. Writers share this characteristic with scientists, artists, politicians, lawyers, soldiers, successful businessmen – in short, with the whole top crust of humanity. The great mass of human beings are not acutely selfish. After the age of about thirty they abandon individual ambition – in many cases, indeed, they almost abandon the sense of being individuals at all – and live chiefly for others, or are simply smothered under drudgery. But there is also the minority of gifted, wilful people who are determined to live their own lives to the end, and writers belong in this class. Serious writers, I should say, are on the whole more vain and self-centred than journalists, though less interested in money.

The other three motives for writing, according to Orwell, were aesthetic enthusiasm, historical impulse, and political purpose. The latter I highlighted previously on this blog, in October, in the post ‘What Do You Think an Artist Is?’ As you may note, things have changed since 1946 (as a matter of fact, there’s no Wikipedia entry on Orwell’s essay, so I should probably write that, too), in particular, the interest in money has probably increased among both writers and journalists (at least because we all pay taxes).

The rest of the passage is still true and relevant, although I would rather say that one should distinguish between educated arrogance, informed with your knowledge, experience and self-awareness, and arrogance in the proper sense of the word. I can confidently say that those who know me would never call me ‘arrogant’. They would probably call me ‘self-sufficient’, which some people are willing to pass on as arrogance, but which is not the same thing. In fact, I’d even correct Orwell on this. Writers, who are guided by a political purpose, aesthetic enthusiasm and historical impulse, cannot be arrogant. They are simply dedicated, gifted people, who do sometimes give an impression of not being interested in money and ‘all that jazz’. But they are always interested in other people. Which is why a good writer is always a good historian, and a good historian is always a good writer. In any language, I should note.

We are vain, it’s true, but not because we are hungry for fame. Simply when you are dedicated to something you do, you put enormous efforts into it, and you need to recompense your losses. Which is why the link to my interview is now in ‘Author’s Links’ in the navigation bar.

No matter how vain we are, though, we do not fail to recognise our gratitude to our readers, especially if/when they send comments. And so I am grateful to all my readers, who’s been reading and searching my blog globally, to everyone who’s left comments, and to Robin and Richard at the BBC.

Oh, and I can’t fail to mention this. As you read in my profile, Julie Delvaux is my literary pen name. There is my real name, under which I am fairly well known. Now, there’s a third version – Julia Delvaux. I think, my next step should be realising one of my non-literary dreams and trying myself at music (singing) and cinema. On the one hand, I don’t want my mezzo-soprano to be lost. On the other, with all versions of my name I’m almost ready for an IMDb.com entry.

Isn’t that vanity? ;-))

December

Of course, we’re in Manchester, and the weather has been nice, though chilly, in the past few days, with quite a few rays of sunshine caressing our forlorn November faces. In this weather I narrowly missed the fact that it’s the first day of winter today. So, congratulations. At Piccadilly Gardens you can do your bit of ice skating. My history of ice skating was short and painful, so it’s unlikely that you see me there. I do like skiing, though, and I heard in Sheffield there’s a sport centre where I could once again experience the joy of gliding on the white snowy surface. As I probably won’t go to Moscow until February or even March, I think I’ll go to Sheffield in January. If you’ve been there and have any pleasant/unpleasant memories or tips, please tell me.

And to take you through the start of winter season and many long dark nights, here is a lovely poem by a Tudor author A.W. (fl. 1585), Upon Visiting His Lady by Moonlight.

The night, say all, was made for rest;
And so say I, but not for all:
To them the darkest nights are best,
Which give them leave asleep to fall;
But I that seek my rest by light
Hate sleep, and praise the clearest night.

Bright was the Moon, as bright as day,
And Venus glistered in the west,
Whose light did lead the ready way,
That brought me to my wishèd rest:
Then each of them increased their light
While I enjoyed her heavenly sight.

Say, gentle Dames, what moved your mind
To shine so bright above your wont?
Would Phœbe fair Endymion find?
Would Venus see Adonis hunt?
No, no, you fearèd by her sight
To lose the praise of beauty bright.

At last, for shame you shrunk away,
And thought to ‘reave the world of light;
Then shone my Dame with brighter ray,
Than that which comes from Phœbus’ sight:
None other light but hers I praise
Whose nights are clearer than the days.

Q & A

In addition to being a name geek, I’ve also been collecting children’s and teachers’ pearls of wisdom. I started when I was in penultimate year at school (which was 1995/6) because I suddenly realised how genuine some answers were and that I just couldn’t let those be lost for posterity. For instance, my biology teacher once said:

– Now, we’re talking about mutation, and you all know the best example of mutation, it’s white cabbage. So, we’ll put a description of it in your exercise-books, which you no doubt know, but we’ll do it anyway, so you would remember. Now, folks, what is a white cabbage? White cabbage is a cabbage that has got a white stem…

I’ve recently found some additions to my repertory of pearls, which I hope will cheer you up this afternoon.

Q: What happens to a boy when he reaches puberty?
A: He says goodbye to his boyhood and looks forward to his adultery.

Q: Name a major disease associated with cigarettes.
A: Premature death.

Q: How can you delay milk turning sour?
A: Keep it in the cow.

What can you say? It all makes sense, doesn’t it? And it’s a really wonderful addition to my collection.

Update. Just read this story about the movie called ‘The Nativity Story’ on MSN Entertainment. Loved this phrase:

…….The film follows the journey of Mary and Joseph (Isaac) to give birth to Jesus…….

I don’t know why, but the immortal ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’ came to mind after this…

Tudors, Me, and an Elusive Ghost

To begin with, a piece of news: I am the first person to feature on the Blog Spot this Thursday on Richard Fair’s programme on BBC Radio Manchester. You can read more about the feature, about Richard (who is also a blogger), and, of course, about our beloved BBC Radio Manchester that has recently won the Station of the Year award. As Richard says in his post, you can listen to the programme online at 2pm, with a chance to listen again after the programme.

Not content apparently with making me his first game, Richard is talking to me at Ordsall Hall – Manchester’s very own haunted Tudor mansion. Strictly speaking, when I say ‘Tudor’ I rather mean its exterior. The Hall itself dates back to as early as the 12th c., and its first long-term owners, the Radclyffe family, had occupied the building and the land approx. between 1335 and 1662. The best-known owners of the Hall of that time include Sir John Radclyffe, the hero of the Hundred Years’ War, whose motto – ‘Caen, Crecy, Calais’ – denoted his taking part in several pivotal battles at the beginning of war, which the English had won. Sir Alexander Radclyffe was the High Sheriff of Lancashire on four occasions. Margaret Radclyffe (d. 1599) was Queen Elizabeth’s favourite Maid of Honour.

The Hall, however, is better known for two other things. In 1861 it was commemorated by the novelist William Harrison Ainsworth. The novel called Guy Fawkes, or The Gunpowder Treason used Ordsall Hall as the set, where political intrigue and romance entwined. In particular, it introduced the character of Viviana Radclyffe, daughter of Sir William Radclyffe. According to the plot, John Catesby and Guy Fawkes came to Ordsall Hall to hide from King James’s pursuivants. There, while Fawkes was detailing out his plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, John Catesby was wooing Viviana. To perfect the novel and to complete the legend, Ainsworth conjured the love triangle. He made the renowned Protestant scholar Humphrey Cheetham (whose statue you can see in the Manchester Cathedral) Viviana’s secret admirer. However, she was a Catholic, thus they could not marry. When the Hall was raided by the pursuivants, Cheetham had rescued Viviana, Catesby and Fawkes via an underpassage. He spent the rest of his life in solitude, ‘tinged by the blighting of his early affection’.

Secondly, the Hall is haunted. It is not exactly clear whose ghosts meet you at Ordsall, and what time these ghosts used to live when they were connected to their bodies. But the ghostcam has been working at the Hall for years, and, reportedly, the best time to try and see a ghost was on Saturday night. I must admit, I never tried to *catch* one. However, the photo below shows quite clearly that the Great Hall is indeed being well looked after (see a blueish shadow between the fireplace and a little table?)


[Courtesy of Ordsall Hall).

I shall try and take some pictures on Thursday when I go to Ordsall Hall. This will not be my first ever visit there. The first time I’ve been to the Hall was in July 2002, and, believe it or not, Ordsall Hall was my first ever Tudor mansion. Prior to that, I’ve only seen Tudor buildings in the books and on the photos on the web. My impression is that I was somewhat disturbed to go from a huge spacious Great Hall into a dim claustrophobic bedroom, whose ceiling was painted in dark-blue colour and decorated with gilded stars. The feeling of the sky coming down on you was almost palpable. As if that was not enough, the room was called ‘the Star Chamber’, because of the ceiling. Every Tudor historian would instantly remember that this was also the name of the Royal court that had existed between 1487 and 1641. Its meetings were held in secret, with no indictments, no right of appeal, no juries, and no witnesses.

I chose to specialise in Tudor history because I loved England, the English language and culture, and because I adored Medieval and Early Modern History, but wanted to be closer to the modern times, thus I opted to research into the 16th c. It was an absolutely amazing period of time, as far as I’m concerned. The geographical and scientific discoveries, Renaissance and Baroque, the beginnings of cartography and research into the Solar system, on the one hand, – and Reformation, the Wars of Religion, the Inquisition, and slavery, on the other. The co-existence of the opposites has made the 16th c. irresistibly attractive. I don’t think I would want to study any other time, had I been given the choice once again.

And now to something spooky

As I wrote before, I initially wanted to upload two photographs of the ghost. But when I was uploading the photo below, it only opened halfway, so the blueish figure in the dress with the train wasn’t seen. Now you can see it well, which either means that the ghost decided to show herself to my readers, or that some forces from the bigger world have intervened.

Whatever is the reason for such metamorphosis, it still proves, in the words of Krzysztof Kieslowski, the Polish cinema genius, that ‘something exists beyond this saucer’. Indeed, it does.

80 Years of Quiet Flows the Don Autograph

As you know, Quiet Flows the Don was written by Mikhail Sholokhov between 1926 and 1940 (vols. 1-3 were written between 1926 and 1928, and the 4th volume was published in 1940). However, throughout his life Sholokhov was plagued by the accusations of plagiarism, mainly because he was very young at the time of composition, and because the narrative had suggested an in-depth awareness of the events and the life experience, which seemed impossible for a 21-year-old.

The first tide of rumours came in 1929, which led Stalin to order a special investigation. The investigation completed, Sholokhov’s authorship was proved and upheld. Since the 1960s, however, there had been many attempts to disprove his authorship, most of them dissatisfactory, since they mostly included the analysis of the printed texts.

Both critique and the defense of Sholokhov’s authorship were jeopardised by the disappearing of the author’s manuscript. His archive was destroyed in a bomb raid during the war, and only the 4th volume has survived. The authographs of the first two volumes, however, were entrusted by Sholokhov to his friend, Vassily Kudashov, who was killed in the war. Since his death, the autograph had been looked after by Kudashov’s widow, who for some reason never disclosed the fact of owning it.

The manuscript was only rescued in 1999, with the help of the Russian Government. The subsequent analysis of the novel has unambiguously proved Sholokhov’s authorship. The manuscript consists of 885 A-4 pages, the writing paper dates back to the 1920s. 605 pages are in the writer’s own hand, and 285 are transcribed by his wife, Maria, and his sisters. The main body of the manuscript is the draft text, which gives a unique opportunity to follow the author’s work on the novel.

What prompted me to write this post, however, is not only the chance to introduce the PDF. copies of the manuscript of this genuine novel. You can browse them here. There is something more symbolic. The date on the top of the first page reads ’15 November 1926′, which makes it (almost) exactly 80 years since Sholokhov had begun to work on Quiet Flows the Don. And whether or not you understand enough Russian to read the text, you can still observe the author’s ‘workshop’ below.

[This post uses the text of the address of Felix Kuznetsov at the 10th Congress of Russian Writers, 1999 (in Russian)].

[Courtesy of the Fundamental Electronic Library].

Je Suis Une Polnareffienne, and I Am Proud!

This seems to be a very recent addition [and addiCtion] to the world of those who adore Michel Polnareff – a video montage of his photographs. His song ‘Voyages’ is used as a soundtrack. There is also this website about Michel – http://polnarevolution.skyblog.com. It is in French, but has got a page or two in English, particularly the biography page.

As for me, one of my poems is called ‘Listening to Kama Sutra’ (Слушая Kama Sutra/Ecoutant Kama Sutra), and it was inspired by Polnareff’s song under the same name. But I will not post the translation in this post because this post is for the Amiral only!

Many thanks to the YouTube user bbabybat.

To * * * (E. A. Poe)

As many readers have unanimously declared, this is everyone’s favourite poem by E. A. Poe – after The Raven, of course! However, the Russian translations of which I was aware did not convey the poem’s original rhythm and meter, so this became my challenge. After several different attempts I hope I have succeeded. And it is a good addition to the Literature label.

I heed not that my eathly lot
Hath little of Earth in it;
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute.
I mourn not that the desolate
Are happier, sweet than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate,
Who am a passer-by.

Пусть слишком тяжек для Земли
Вес моего удела;
Отвергнуты года любви
В одну минуту гнева;
Пускай отчаянные все
Счастливее меня;
Жалеешь странника во мне, –
Об этом плачу я.

Julia Shuvalova © 2006

Robert Altman

Several directors with whom I’ve spoken cited Robert Altman as their inspiration and teacher. Marc Rothemund, the director of the Oscar-nominated Sophie Scholl – Die letzten Tage, did not hesitate for a second, when I asked him about his favourite film directors. Robert Altman was a huge figure for him.

Robert Altman was one of the cinema giants, influencing generations of filmmakers and film aficionados. In March 2006, he’d received an Honorary Oscar from the Academy. Looking at his jovial face during the ceremony and hearing the jokes about his young heart, one would think that this recognition of his role in modern cinema was a little belated. Now, it seems to be have been just in time.

His latest Oscar-nominated drama Gosford Park was a brilliant ‘whodunit’ movie, but for me as a person who has always been particularly attentive to an actor’s play, this film provides one of the best examples of extracting the top level performances from every single actor. The chance to forget that you are watching famous faces and to get immersed in the story of their characters is occasionally something to wish for, and Altman hardly ever failed to capture the viewer’s focus.

It is a great shock to all cinema fans to know that this brilliant director has now left us. Our condolences certainly go to his family. It is probably trivial to mention that his legacy lives on and will continue to inspire actors and filmmakers. There is a strange feeling of void that comes onto you with this piece of news, and all of a sudden you feel like you have lost something yourself. In fact, you just once again realise that time never stops, but sometimes it introduces the most unexpected pause.

Exercises in Loneliness – III

Generally, I love sleepless nights. I love the time when I can read or write, without being disturbed. There is only one exception – I prefer when I am actually enjoying either writing or reading. At the moment, I’m about to embark on a very lengthy text on the topic of martyrdom in Sikhism. And although I already know and understand how the text should be written, I find it daunting to write because – God knows! – I’d prefer to write about something else. More inspiring. More creative.

To stay up in the night has never been difficult for me. I don’t even know how I came to develop such ability. When I was a student, however, my mates at the Uni used to ask me (quite seriously!), what to do in order to stay awake. The question would normally rise during the exam session. I could never give any sound advice, and from what I know, they never actually stayed up.

Writing daunting texts is also nothing new. Back in 2000, I was in my third year and had been writing an essay on Soviet literature between 1925 and 1935. Or, I’d better say, I’d been trying to write such essay. I knew the topic very well, but, strangely, the knowledge had put me off writing the text. The final day of submission was 15 May. 14 May was my mother’s birthday, and we had guests. They left at about 9pm, and I went to the computer. Ten hours later I had written 30 pages – exactly what was required. I took it to the tutor. A week later she told me that she absolutely loved my work and couldn’t find words to express her regret that we hadn’t discuss my essay in our seminar. Well… Perhaps, I’ll rework it for an article one day. :))

The text I need to write now is exactly a half of those 30 pages. The topic – martyrdom – borders on history, philosophy and religion, and I’m looking at the whole of the 17th c. Of course, Asia is not Europe, but the 17th c. is not something totally inconceivable. I think it’s because of him. He is Pascal Quignard. Ever since I read ‘Terrace a Rome’ I wanted to find and read as many of his works, as possible. I couldn’t start reading, but I actually found the Russian translation of ‘Tous les Matins du Monde’ (All the World’s Mornings/Все утра мира) and a couple of extracts from his essay ‘Le Sexe et L’Effroi’ (Sex and Terror/ Секс и страх). And it’s because I’d rather read these works that I find it difficult to write about those Sikh martyrs.

In my life as a reader I went through a series of very intense ‘love affairs’ with different authors. Those whose works I most hungrily devoured were Gorky, Chekhov, Bulgakov, de Sade, Henry Miller, Maugham, Sueskind, Marquez, Llosa, and Vonnegut. Oh, yes, also Wilde, Prevert, and most Russian poets. I’ve got to stop here, otherwise martyrdom will be completely forgotten.

Anyway, I know what I’m going to add to my birthday/Christmas/New Year list. It’s the works of Pascal Quignard. In English, French or Russian, it doesn’t matter.

And an extract from one of his interviews. You can read the article in full here.

Wandering Shadows or the insecurity of thinking
I certainly was not planning to embark on anything so long, I wanted to write books that did not exceed the capacity of my head, if I can put it that way, that I could skim through panoptically. But something like a wave began to get bigger and bigger and to engulf me, as though it was saying to me “Don’t be so cautious with your own life.”
Les Ombres Errantes is the book that has the greatest biographical content. It is important to me that a thought is totally involved in the life you are leading. In this book, I make clear my determination to create a hermitage within the modern world where I praise insecurity of thinking, while the societies in which we live advocate the opposite. The same thing happened at the end of the Roman Empire: in order to counter the return of religious monotheism and imperial pacification, many hermitages were created. The values that are now coming back are all the ones I detest. The return of faith terrifies me and I am filled with despair to see my own friends becoming believers and doctrinarians. We are living in 1571. This St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre atmosphere had to be described. The Wars of Religion are beginning again. Woman is being deified. Death adored. Democracy more violent and inegalitarian than in Pericles’ day. Technology, the object of all worship, and the all-pervasive cult of youth is worse than primitive – it is untamed, psychotic.
Interview conducted by Catherine Argand

A Very Depressing Short Film

Apparently – to judge by some comments on YouTube – this video has affected some people profoundly. So much so that some vowed to never carve a pumpkin again. Of course, it’s very likely they forget their promise by the next Halloween, but in the meantime certain individuals are experiencing frustration and remorse.

The video has won the Best Short Film and Best Concept at the Chicago Horror Film Festival in October 2006, which you can check out here. The credits for the movie are:

Directed by Aaron Yonda
Voice of Pumpkin…Matt Sloan
Demon 1…Ouisia Whitaker-Devault
Demon 2…Maya Whitaker-Long
Demon 3…Carmen Prater-Bellver
Demon 4…Sara Prater-Bellver
Kidnapper 1…Nick Drake
Kidnapper 2…Aaron Yonda
Disemboweler 1…Matt Sloan
Disembowler 2…Aaron Yonda
Produced by…Erik Gunneson, Aaron Yonda
Cinematographer…Erik Gunneson
Assistant Cinematographer…Doug Chapin
Written by…Aaron Yonda, Benson Gardner
Sound Recordist…Erik Gunneson
Music By…Alpha Consumer-JT Bates, Michael Lewis, Jeremy Ylvisaker
Sound and Video Editor…Aaron Yonda
Set Design and Props…Tona Williams
Grips…Stew Fyfe, Meg Hamel, Nate Matteson, Justin Sprecher
Special Thanks…Julie Whitaker, Hermanson Pumpkin Patch, University of Wisconsin-Madison Department of Communication Arts
2006

To find out more about those responsible for making people pumpkin-friendly, visit http://www.splu.net.

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