Updates, Live

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The Saxons from Transylvania

(http://members.chello.at/freshminds/sbneu/)
no copyright infringement intended

(click here for the Romanian version)


I have always been interested in the history of ethnic minorities from Romania. One of the most important among them is the German minority (or rather it was: after 1989 the major part of them moved to Germany, after several centuries of existence on the Romanian lands) .

There have been several distinct German ethnic groups in Romania. The Saxons (die Sachsen, Saşii) came to Transylvania and settled in its Southern and North-Eastern parts, the Swabians (die Schwaben, Şvabii) came to Banat, the Bohemians (Pemii, with a totally different origin than the  Swabians) also settled in Banat, let's add to them the German communities from Bukovina, Dobruja, and the South of Bessarabia.

About the Bessarabian Germans and their villages I've already written on this blog, the Dobrujan Germans have had a similar history, the Bukovina Germans  settled there after the Habsburgs annexed that region. The Banat Bohemians  came from Sudetenland or Styria, as far as I know, and their dialect sounds more or less like the German spoken in Vienna. Speaking about Banat Bohemians, we should note that there is also a Czech community in Banat, beside the German Bohemians - both are known as Bohemians (Pemi - by the way, Man sagt, die schönsten Deutsch ist in Prag gesprochen, und die schönsten Tchechish in Wien - They say the nicest German is spoken in Prague, and the nicest Czech in Vienna - t'could be true).

It is interesting that the Banat Swabians didn't take the name from their land of origin. They came from various regions of Germany, very few from Swabia. What happened was that they gathered in the Swabian city of Ulm, where they were registered and embarked on the Danube for Banat, since their name. Some of them had come even from Alsace/Lorraine, and that explains the existence of a few Swabian villages in Banat with inhabitants speaking German while having French names.

As for the Transylvanian Saxons, they are not Saxons, either. They actually came from the Western part of Germany (Franconia, Rhine valley, even Alsace/Lorraine, even Luxembourg), and seemingly their dialect is close to the language spoken in Luxembourg, to the extent that a Saxon from Romania and a Luxembourger can understand each other. Anyway it is not close at all to the Saxon dialect (I mean the Saxon dialect from Germany). There are several hypothesizes about them being named Saxons without being Saxons. One hypothesis is that in the 12th-13th centuries the documents delivered by the Hungarian royal chancellery were naming all Germans altogether Saxons. There are also other hypothesizes.

There are important distinctions between Transylvanian Saxons and Banat Swabians. The Saxons came in the 11th-12th centuries, while the Swabians came much later, in the 18th century. The Saxons came here as Roman-Catholics, meanwhile they passed to Lutheranism, while the Swabians came and remained Roman-Catholics. Also their dialects are clearly different.

These Saxons (or rather so-called Saxons) built from the very beginning a number of fortified burgs in Transylvania. Which of them were the very first burgs it's again a matter of discussion: the common knowledge says there were seven such burgs in all. Then their number got bigger (beside the fact that each Saxon settlement, smaller or bigger, had at least the church fortified - I will come later to this). Anyway, the German name for Transylvania is Siebenbürgen: Seven Burgs. From German, the name passed then to Polish, Siedmiogród, and further to Ucrainaian, Семигород.

Saxon peasants from around Hermannstadt
(Sächsische Bauern aus der Umgebung von Hermannstadt)
cca. 1900
(http://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fi%C8%99ier:S%C3%A4chsische_Bauern_aus_der_Umgebung_von_Hermannstadt.jpg)
no copyright infringement intended


Let's see now the names of these first burgs. The Saxons settled firstly in the Southern part of Transylvania and founded there the burgs of Mediasch (Mediaş, 1142 - with the surrounding region of Weinland, Ţara Târnavelor), Mühlbach (Sebeş, 1150 - surrounded by the region of Unterwald, Sub Pădure) , Hermannstadt (Sibiu, 1160 - surrounded by Altland, Ţara Oltului, neighboring Waldland, Podişul Hârtibaciului), Schäßburg (Sighişoara, 1178 - also in the region of Weinland), Klausenburg (Cluj-Napoca, 1178), Reußmarkt (Miercurea Sibiului, 1198 - in the region of Zekeschgebiet, Ţara Secaşelor), and Broos (Orăştie, 1200).

Then the Saxons settled also in the North-Eastern part of Transylvania where they founded Bistritz (Bistriţa) în 1206 - in the region of Nösnerland (Ţara Năsăudului), and Sächsisch Regen (Reghin - in the Reener Ländchen, Ţinutul Reghinului), firstly mentioned in 1228. Kronstadt (Braşov) followed, again in the South (in the region of Burzenland, Ţara Bârsei), în 1208.

Saxon woman from Honigberg (Hărman), near Kronstadt
(Sächsische Bäuerin aus Honigberg)
beginning of 20th century
(http://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fi%C8%99ier:SasoaicaHarman.jpg)
no copyright infringement intended


As I indicated for each of these burgs the German and the Romanian names, it would be fair to give here also the names in the patois spoken by Transylvanian Saxons.

Mediash is in Saxon dialect Medwesch, Mühlbach is Melnbach, Schäßburg is Schäsbrich, Klausenburg is Kleusenburch, Reußmarkt is Reismuert, Broos is Bros, Bistritz is Nîsner-Bistritz, Sächsisch Regen is Reen, Kronstadt is Krűnen, and the village of Honigberg is Huntschprich. And there are other two hundred or so Saxon small towns and villages, all with their fortified churches, sometimes with superb wooden organs inside these churches - each one with a German and a Romanian name, along with the name in Saxon parlance. As for Hermannstadt, it has the same name in Saxon, it seems.

Okay, that's all for the time being. I'll come back later to this topic.


(German and Nordic Literature)

Labels:

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Siebenbürgen

(http://members.chello.at/freshminds/sbneu/)
no copyright infringement intended

(click here for the English version)

Întotdeauna m-a interesat istoria tuturor grupurilor etnice care au vieţuit sau vieţuiesc prin România.

Etnicii germani au o istorie interesantă, şi se împart şi ei în mai multe grupuri. Saşii au populat Ardealul (prin sud şi nord-est), şvabii au venit în Banat, pemii (net diferiţi ca origine de şvabi) au venit tot în Banat, cam prin zona Reşiţei, am avut trăitori germani şi în Bucovina, şi în Dobrogea, ca sa nu mai vorbesc de sudul Basarabiei (cunoscut şi sub numele de Bugeac).

Despre germanii din Bugeac am scris mai de mult pe blog, germanii din Dobrogea au o istorie similară, germanii din Bucovina au venit acolo după ce imperiul habsburgic a anexat regiunea aceea. Pemii din zona Reşiţei au venit din regiunea sudetă din câte ştiu (in orice caz cam din sud-estul german, din Cehia, din Austria), iar graiul lor seamănă aproximativ cu germana vorbită la Viena (à propos, Man sagt die schönsten Deutsch ist in Prag gesprochen, und die schönste Tchechish in Wien). Şvabii se numesc aşa pentru că locul unde au fost adunaţi pentru a fi trimişi apoi spre ţinuturile de colonizare era în Suabia, şi anume orasul Ulm - dar ei nu sunt originari din Suabia, ci de prin regiunea Mosellei, din Alsacia/Lorena, de pe valea Rinului, cam aşa ceva - ceea ce explică existenţa unor sate şvăbesti cu nemţi având nume frantuzeşti. Doar numele mai aducând aminte de originea franceză, ei fiind germanizaţi de mult.

Însă nu de ei vreau sa vorbesc acum, ci de saşi. Nici saşii nu sunt saxoni, cum ne-am aştepta - numele de saşi li se trage dela maghiari, care prin secolele XII - XIII foloseau in actele de cancelarie denumirea de saxoni  pentru populaţia germana din Ardeal.

Însă saşii au venit de fapt dinspre nord-vestul ţărilor germane, chiar din Luxemburg, şi nu e de mirare că un sas şi un luxemburghez se înţeleg astăzi destul de bine, unul vorbind săseşte şi celălalt în limba luxemburgheză. Şi din Valonia, şi din Flandra, din Renania, dar şi din Bavaria! Adică din tot vestul nemţesc şi de mai departe.

Până la urmă şi saşii, şi şvabii au venit cam tot din zona de vest - nord-vest a Germaniei, însă au venit în momente foarte diferite de timp. Şvabii prin sec. XVIII, saşii prin sec. XII-XIII, oricum dialectele lor sunt net diferite.

Saşii au infiintat dela începutul începutului niste cetăţi, se zice că şapte la numar (deşi sunt vreo nouă dela cap la coadă) şi de aceea Transilvania a rămas în limba germană cunoscută ca Siebenbürgen: Şapte Burguri. Iar din germană a trecut în poloneză, Siedmiogród şi apoi în ucraineană, Семигород.

Care sunt aceste şapte cetăţi, şi dece sunt de fapt nouă, e  aici o mică discuţie. Saşii au venit mai întâi in regiunea Sibiului, şi aici au luat fiinţă pe rând Mediasch (Mediaş, 1142), apoi Mühlbach (Sebeş, 1150), apoi Hermannstadt (Sibiu, 1160), apoi Schäßburg (Sighişoara, 1178), apoi Reußmarkt (Miercurea Sibiului, 1198), apoi Broos (Orăştie, 1200). Pâna aici sunt şase, dar hai sa adăugăm şi Klausenburg (Cluj-Napoca, care nu este in aceeasi zonă, dar unde saşii au construit o fortareaţă tot pe atunci, s-ar părea că în 1178, deci atunci când s-a intemeiat şi Schäßburg).

În fine, destul de repede după aceea au venit saşi mai la nord, şi au infiinţat Bistritz (Bistriţa) în 1206. Kronstadt (Braşov) a urmat la sud, în 1208.

Cam atât deocamdată.

Labels:

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

New York in the Times of LaGuardia



Fiorello LaGuardia was one of the most influential mayors in New York City history. Along with Robert Moses he revitalized the city with the help of federal funds from FDR's New Deal (wiki). And actually the relationship between New Deal and the urban projects in New York worked both ways: the projects were possible because of federal funding, while they became a pilot for New Deal policies. It was an epoch of radical changes in NY infrastructure, the epoch when public transport was sacrificed for public highways, for better or worse.

This movie deals with this epoch. It is part of an eight episode documentary, dedicated to New York, produced by Thirteen NY and WGBH Boston, and it was aired firstly on PBS.






(New York, New York)

(Filmofilia)

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Jean Béraud: Le Pont Neuf

(posted on Facebook by Belle Époque Europe)
no copyright infringement intended




(Jean Béraud)

Labels:

Monday, October 21, 2013

Bella Ciao played by Goran Bregović

(http://www.antiwarsongs.org/canzone.php?id=722&lang=it)
no copyright infringement intended


Una mattina mi son svegliato
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Una mattina mi son svegliato
Eo ho trovato l'invasor

O partigiano porta mi via
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
O partigiano porta mi via
Che mi sento di morir

E se io muoio da partigiano
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
E se io muoio da partigiano
Tu mi devi seppellir

Mi seppellire lassù in montagna
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
Mi seppellire lassù in montagna
Sotto l'ombra di un bel fiore

E le genti che passeranno
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
E le genti che passeranno
Mi diranno: Che bel fior

È questo il fiore del partigiano
O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao
È questo il fiore del partigiano
Morto per la libertà






(Zoon Politikon)

Friday, October 18, 2013

Un Personaj de Poveste

(published on Facebook by Aura Dobre)
no copyright infringement intended




(Blogosphere)

Thursday, October 17, 2013

The Clintons in 1972

(posted on Facebook by Mahmut Arıkan Dinç)
no copyright infringement intended



(Zoon Politikon)

Jean Béraud: Le Vent

Jean Béraud: Le Vent
collection privée
(published on Facebook par Le peintre Jean Béraud)
no copyright infringement intended


Jean Béraud a souvent cherché à saisir les effets du temps, surtout du vent et de la pluie, sur les personnages de ses tableaux, et plus particulièrement sur ses élégantes Parisiennes. Ici, il s'intéresse aux effets du vent qui cingle les quais de la Seine et sur les réactions différentes des trois personnages représentés : le principal personnage de cette composition est indéniablement la femme élégante, bien que celle-ci soit sur le côté du tableau et paraît proche de sortir du cadre. Elle lutte visiblement contre le vent, relevant sa robe d'une main et tenant fermement son parapluie. A sa gauche, un homme la regarde mais continue son chemin, abrité sous un parapluie et tenant une toile et une petite mallette, qui contient probablement son matériel de peinture. On peut en déduire qu'il est l'un des nombreux peintres qui travaillent sur les bords de la Seine, et qu'il a dû interrompre sa peinture en raison du mauvais temps. Enfin, en arrière-plan, un homme sans parapluie tente de se protéger tant bien que mal du vent et de la pluie en tenant fermement son chapeau. Outre ces personnages principaux, on entraperçoit un personnage qui remonte les escaliers menant aux quais de la Seine, où il avait dû faire une promenade interrompue par la pluie. La couleur grise du ciel et de la Seine, ainsi que les arbres dénudés, permettent de deviner que la scène se situe à l'entrée de l'hiver. Le tableau n'est malheureusement pas daté.


[Jean Béraud has often sought to capture the effects of the weather , especially wind and rain, on the characters of his paintings, and more particularly on his elegant Parisian ladies. Here he focuses on the effects of wind lashed on the banks of the Seine and the various reactions of the three characters represented: the main character of this composition is undeniably the elegant lady, although she is on the side of the canvas, almost out the frame. She is visibly fighting against the wind, lifting her dress with one hand and clutching her umbrella . To his left, a gentleman is looking at her, but he continues his path, sheltered under an umbrella and holding a canvas and a small suitcase , which probably contains his painting equipment . We can deduce that he is one of many artists who work on the banks of the Seine, and he had to stop painting because of bad weather. Finally, in the background , a man without an umbrella trying to somehow protect himself from the wind and the rain clutching his hat. In addition to these main characters, we glimpse a character mounting the stairs from the banks of the Seine, where he took a walk interrupted by rain. The gray color of the sky and the Seine, and the bare trees allow to guess the scene is at the beginning of winter . The picture is unfortunately not dated.]

Let me add to this description the kiosk, the carriages, the tree, the bridge and the ships: Paris is gorgeous under the rain, and the grey color of Parisian sky has enchanted the artists.

(Jean Béraud)

Labels:

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Ţigancă cu Salbă de Aur

Zogu Zamfirescu, Ţigancă cu Salbă de Aur
(Anticariatul Tău, Mai avem nevoie şi de artă)
no copyright infringement intended




(The Moderns)

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Moşule, ce tânăr eşti

(imagine din Evenimentul Regional al Moldovei)
no copyright infringement intended



Veste bombă pentru fetele André: casa de discuri a demonstrat cu acte că Moşule, ce tânăr eşti nu este un plagiat, aşa cum s-a crezut atât de mult timp. Drepturile de autor sunt nu mai puţin de două milioane de euro (Evenimentul Regional al Moldovei). Mă bucur mult, pentru că atunci când am plecat în America, asta era piesa în vogă in România, şi amintirea ei am purtat-o cu mine toţi anii cât am stat acolo.






Când eram mai mică m-am îndrăgostit
De un om pe care-n vis l-am întâlnit
E cel care ne-aduce iarna cadouri multe
Se apropie de brad şi-apoi el fuge iute
Trebuia ca eu să fiu mereu cuminte
Pentru că moşul să nu mă uite
Dar într-o zi în prag a apărut un tinerel
Plin de mister, în ureche cu-n cercel

Am aflat atunci că toată lumea m-a minţit
Moş Crăciun era un tânăr reuşit
Era haios, avea ochii albaştri
Părul lung, blonduţ, era aşa drăguţ
A fost de-ajuns doar o simplă privire
Inima mea l-a chemat la întâlnire
I-am spus c-am renunţat la biluţe şi fundiţe
Am mai crescut, nu mai suntem tot fetiţe

Moşule, ce tânăr eşti
E prima iarna când vii la mine
Nu te mai las să pleci
Noapte de vis alături de tine
Moşule, ce tânăr eşti
E prima iarna când vii la mine
Nu te mai las să pleci
Noapte de vis alături de tine

Moşule la noapte hai în club să dansăm
Viaţa e frumoasă dacă ştim să ne distrăm
Ia blugii pe tine, ochelarii şi o şapcă
N-o să ştim când timpul o să treacă
Fetele te vor sorbi dintr-o privire
Că-ntr-o poveste de iubire
Dintre o mie de prieteni eu sunt aleasa ta
Sunt fericită, iarna asta
N-am s-o pot uita

Moşule, ce tânăr eşti
E prima iarna când vii la mine
Nu te mai las să pleci
Noapte de vis alături de tine
Moşule, ce tânăr eşti
E prima iarna când vii la mine
Nu te mai las să pleci
Noapte de vis alături de tine

Moş Crăciun e-un tinerel
Are în ureche un cercel
Drăguţ, hazliu, bogat
Repede m-a fermecat
Moşule, te-am aşteptat
În sfârşit te-ai arătat
Cât de mult tu mă vrăjeşti
Mai ceva ca in povesti

Moşule, ce tânăr eşti
E prima iarna când vii la mine
Nu te mai las să pleci
Noapte de vis alături de tine
Moşule, ce tânăr eşti
E prima iarna când vii la mine
Nu te mai las să pleci
Noapte de vis alături de tine

Moşule, ce tânăr eşti
E prima iarna când vii la mine
Nu te mai las să pleci
Noapte de vis alături de tìne



(Blogosphere)

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Alice Munro

Alice Munro
(Ian Willms for The New York Times)
no copyright infringement intended



They've being married for almost fifty years - time to share joys and sorrows. He's been in the academia, together with her, and now they're enjoying their retirement, living in a big cottage surrounded by woods, skiing together during the long winters - actually they are together all the time. Her name is Fiona. Born far away, in Iceland, where snows are as immaculate and endless as here in the Northern part of Ontario. Evenings, her head on his knees, a book of Icelandic stories between them.

Unfortunately she has an incipient Alzheimer. Not big deal yet. Now and then she doesn't remember a word, he's there to help, discreet presence, now and then she puts the pan in the fridge instead of closet, he's taking care after she leaves the kitchen. Only these things don't remain in the early stages forever. One day she goes out for a walk and suddenly finds herself far away on the turnpike, totally confused. Now a hospice is necessary.

It's a hospice for people with means, clean, elegant, high quality personnel. There is also an upper floor, for those in an advanced stage of illness: it won't be the case with Fiona. All in all, everything sounds fine, but one rule of the place: visits are not allowed in the first month - time for patients to integrate in the new environment.

The husband comes to visit after this first month and has a surprise: Fiona forgot about their marriage and doesn't understand who he is any more. She did fall in love for a patient there. A guy who's much more degraded by illness: he cannot talk any more and stays only in a wheelchair. A relationship of great tenderness. She is caressing him, helps him eating, and he is drawing her face on endless papers: his eyes are telling his love, total love.

And the husband comes back daily, trying, each time unsuccessfully, to sparkle an inch of remembrance - actually he's not totally unknown for Fiona, only she cannot realize where she met him. And like always in this illness, she's trying to hide the truth, her intelligence and high distinction remained intact, it's the memory that she completely lost.

There is also the wife of the other one. She realized the lack of any way out. He will go on, however. Day by day, getting older slowly, with moments of almost giving up, coming back then, trying again and again to resuscitate her memory.

The other one is taken away from the hospice - maybe moved some other part, maybe taken home. And without him Fiona will fall very quickly and will be moved to the upper floor, the space for incurable cases. It is then when her husband realizes that there's only one thing to do: to find the other and bring him back. And he does it! And the miracle happens: Fiona's smiling and embracing her husband.

This is The Bear came Over the Mountain: one of the short-stories written by Alice Munro, who won the Nobel for Literature this year. There is a Nobel Reading List in USA Today: the Essential Alice Munro Books (http://www.usatoday.com/story/life/books/2013/10/10/alice-munro-reading-list/2959047/ ). I've never been happier at the news of a new Nobel recipient.





(A Life in Books)

Labels:

Friday, October 11, 2013

Ben Jonson: My Picture Left in Scotland



As we're going further through this month of October, days are shorter and evenings darker and colder. Loneliness can be depressing, and it is advisable to have company. A jug filled with good whisky is a fine companion that kills the boredom. And a book, of stories, or of poetry. Well, whisky or whiskey? This needs some explanation, but I'd leave it to a web site (here) that's very informative. There is a rule of thumb: if the beverage comes from a country having E in its name (like England or UnitEd StatEs), it's whiskey. If not, it's whisky. Dewar's brand comes from Scotland, thus it's whisky.

This jug above has an effigy on it, like any other Kingsware coming from the manufactures of Royal Doulton in Lambeth, south of London. It's the effigy of Ben Jonson, and a poem by him is appropriate in this circumstance. It's named My Picture Left in Scotland. Curious title for a poem, isn't it? Well, by those times the craft of making photos was not known, thus gentlemen were giving paintings of themselves to their sweethearts. And the sweetie of the poet (or rather a would-be sweetie) forgot the painting someplace in Scotland, so far away - an indication of her lack of interest. Jonson plays here with the ancient adagio, love is blind: it'd have been better, as the guy was clearly not very attractive being old enough. No, love was rather deaf, thus insensible to his masterly crafted words of erotic persuasion.


I now think Love is rather deaf than blind,
For else it could not be
That she,
Whom I adore so much, should so slight me
And cast my love behind.
I'm sure my language to her was as sweet,
And every close did meet
In sentence of as subtle feet,
As hath the youngest He
That sits in shadow of Apollo's tree.

O, but my conscious fears,
That fly my thoughts between,
Tell me that she hath seen
My hundred of gray hairs,
Told seven and forty years
Read so much waste, as she cannot embrace
My mountain belly and my rocky face;
And all these through her eyes have stopp'd her ears.


(Ben Jonson)

Labels:

Tuesday, October 08, 2013

Ben Jonson: Song to Celia



Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I’ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope, that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent’st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.






(Ben Jonson)

(Bouguereau)

Labels: ,

William-Adolphe Bouguereau

William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905)
Portrait of the Artist (1879)
private collection
source: Art Renewal Center
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:William-Adolphe_Bouguereau_%281825-1905%29_-_Artist_Portrait_%281879%29.jpg)
no copyright infringement intended


Academic and traditionalist, used mythological themes, giving them a modern interpretation; emphasis on female body.



(The Moderns)

Labels:

Monday, October 07, 2013

Ben Jonson


The portrait above, on view at London National Portrait Gallery, is a copy with unknown author and unknown date, after an original seemingly lost. All we know is that the original was painted by Flemish master Abraham van Blyenberch (or Blijenberch), by 1617.

A towering literary figure during his lifetime, and throughout most of 17th century, Ben Jonson had a diminished status during the following two hundred years, being unfairly compared and contrasted to Shakespeare. The appreciation of Ben Jonson rose again in the 20th century, and today he enjoys his well deserved place in the gallery of the greatest English authors.

His best known portrait kept only in copy, his posthumous status diminished for a long period of time, it's right to say that fate was unfair with this important dramatist and poet. And this is not all. Here is the story, as told by Helene Hanff in her Q's Legacy: when Ben Jonson died he had a fine funeral and the mourners went home and left Ben to be buried in a crypt under Westminster Abbey floor; but the grave-diggers knew Ben hadn't paid for it, and they weren't going to waste valuable grave space on a deadbeat; so they opened the crypt and slid Ben in, upright, and propped him in a corner, and so he remained in the grave, upright; even the memorial plaque, put later, misspelled Ben's name (plus that O RARE meaning probably ORARE - between O and R a space in the wrong place):

(http://www.poetsgraves.co.uk/jonson.htm)
no copyright infringement intended





(A Life in Books)

Labels: ,

Poliţie Gramaticală

În România, în 2011, s-a acordat o singură amendă de circulaţie completată fără greşeli gramaticale
(Observator BN)
no copyright infringement intended


Cred că esenţa acestei dezbateri se poate rezuma într-o intrebare: e justificat moral sa excludem oamenii din dezbaterea publică din lipsa înţelegerii regulilor gramaticale? Cred că nu. Elitismul gramatical nu ajută pe nimeni. Să mă explic: *cu cât observ mai mult acest fenomen de a corecta fiecare forum, fiecare postare, fiecare conversaţie de metrou, cu atât sunt mai deranjat de el la nivel moral. În esenţa sa, poliţia gramaticală, nu e altceva decât elitism de modă veche. * guvernul sud-african, sub apartheid, nu a avut niciun fel de remuşcare în a promova un sistem de educaţie diferenţiat. Mult mai bun pentru albi decât pentru minorităţi. Educaţia era segregată prin Legea Bantu (1953), lege ce a creat un sistem educaţional separat pentru studenţii africani menit să-i pregătească pe aceştia din urmă pentru a deveni clasa muncitoare - un sistem ce a existat până în 1994. * în timp ce exemplul sud-african este unul explicit, acesta exista în diferite forme, mai mult sau mai puţin vizibile, în fiecare ţară. Inclusiv în România există în diferenţa de educaţie între mediul urban şi cel rural, între români şi ţigani, între cei de la periferia unui oraş si copiii din centru. Am crescut în acest mediu de segregare urbană (şcoala nr.1, mai aproape de centrul oraşului, era considerată superioară şcolii mele, nr.4 de la o periferie a oraşului cu prezenţă minoritară crescută). Ca să nu mai vorbim de excluderea minorităţii maghiare din dezbaterile publice bazată pe această formă de critică elitistă. * critica gramaticală nu este întru totul o chestie rea. Ea trebuie folosită în spaţiul academic, juridic, în comunicatele oficiale, etc., unde folosirea limbii este un imperativ necesar. Însă aceste reguli nu ar trebui sa conteze pe stradă, în spaţiul public, unde atât de mulţi oameni au dreptul şi mai ales nevoia de a fi ascultaţi. * criticaţi oamenii pentru inadvertenţe factuale, pentru argumente greşite sau generalizări grosolane dar nu pentru modul cum pronunţă numele oraşului New York sau numele unui magazin francez. Criticaţi substanţa celor spuse nu forma în care sunt exprimate. Gramatica a fost mereu fluidă, liberă de functia sa. A promova aceasta dezbatere despre gramatică nu face altceva decât sa excludă oamenii din limba lor şi mai ales din societate.


Sunt de acord numai parţial cu această opinie. Cred că necesitatea unei poliţii gramaticale trebuie extinsă dincolo de spaţiul academic, juridic, şi al comunicatelor oficiale. Cred că este obligatoriu ca toţi oamenii politici să respecte gramatica, şi nu numai în redactarea comunicatelor oficiale. Şi cred că este obligatoriu ca toţi cei ce lucrează în presă sau la televiziune să respecte gramatica. Pentru că toţi acestia, politicieni şi oameni de presă, sunt modele pentru noi ceilalţi. De ei depinde felul cum evoluează limba română. Iar rabaturile dela gramatică ale acestor persoane sunt dureros de frecvente. Ca şi stâlcirea limbii printr-o preţiozitate ridicolă, prin folosirea excesivă de neologisme, prin construcţii sintactice stupide care evită cacofonii acolo unde ele nu există (de genul ca şi elev, ca şi director, etc.).

Însă sunt cu totul de acord că toţi ceilalti vorbitori de romană trebuie să fie lăsaţi să se exprime liber, pentru că societatea are o nevoie vitală de a-i integra in discursul public.


(Dan Caragea)

Labels:

Sunday, October 06, 2013

I Can't Help But Think versus I Can't Help Thinking

(Life Hacks)
no copyright infringement intended

I found in Q's Legacy a funny and witty discussion on the rights and wrongs of I can't help by think. It goes like this: the author (Helene Hanff), by then a teenager, was a student at a business school (where girls were taught office skills, preparing them for secretarial jobs). She corrected once the teacher who had dictated a sentence starting with I cannot help but think. Helene observed that this was a wrong construction, as it was using a double negation. One could say correctly I cannot but think, or I cannot help thinking, definitely not I cannot help but think.

Well, grammatically Helene was hundred percent correct. But, if we consider the way the language evolves, it's a bit more complicated, as the rule of grammar is not the only argument that counts. I can't help but think might prove grammatically erroneous (double negation), while it has been imposed by language usage and so it has now its valid place among correct English expressions.

I found on a web site devoted to English Language Usage (a question and answer site for linguists, etymologists, and serious English language enthusiasts - hopefully I can be considered serious, as well as enthusiast, so this site is also for me) that it is kind of silly to take something that people say all the time and declare that it's ungrammatical. And it goes on: I don't know of anyone who would hear the sentence I can't help but think that he's a criminal, and then wonder whether I think he's a criminal just because of the double negative between cannot and but.

By the way, I found such an argument also on a discussion forum devoted to the Romanian language, opposing partisans of correct grammar and partisans of language liberty. I will come to that later.

Kind of silly? Absolutely not, I'd say, persons trying to keep to correct grammar are not silly at all, though usual language sometimes contradicts them. I had the privilege to know a person who was speaking a superb English and did not hesitate to correct people (always doing it tactfully and with grace).

 As for I cannot but think, it is perfectly correct, while definitely old-fashioned.

I can't help thinking is by all means correct, and it can be used interchangeably with I can't help but think. If you want to find subtle differences of meaning between these two constructions, here is what the same web site says:

  • I cannot help but think is primarily used to mean I am forced to that conclusion though I'd rather not believe it (or I am forced to that experience though I'd rather not have it)
  • I cannot help thinking can mean also I'm always thinking at that, though I'd rather not do it.
And of course, except when we try to be formal, use of can't instead of cannot is natural.

(Helene Hanff)

Labels:

Friday, October 04, 2013

John Donne: A Lecture Upon The Shadow




Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, love, in love's philosophy.
These three hours that we have spent,
Walking here, two shadows went
Along with us, which we ourselves produc'd.
But, now the sun is just above our head,
We do those shadows tread,
And to brave clearness all things are reduc'd.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,
Disguises did, and shadows, flow
From us, and our cares; but now 'tis not so.
That love has not attain'd the high'st degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see.

Except our loves at this noon stay,
We shall new shadows make the other way.
As the first were made to blind
Others, these which come behind
Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes.
If our loves faint, and westwardly decline,
To me thou, falsely, thine,
And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.
The morning shadows wear away,
But these grow longer all the day;
But oh, love's day is short, if love decay.
Love is a growing, or full constant light,
And his first minute, after noon, is night.







Love followed by its shadows, new and fresh in the morning, growing as day is advancing, changing positions as afternoon comes, fading with the evening, dying when night comes; for today's taste, Donne's way of talking about love seems cynical maybe; but he was a philosopher (among others), with the taste for what's relative.


(John Donne)

Labels:

Thursday, October 03, 2013

2013: 45 de ani dela absolvirea facultăţii



Au trecut 45 de ani de când am absolvit facultatea. Şi ne-am întâlnit vineri dimineaţă, toţi colegii. Erau cu noi şi câţiva dintre profesorii pe care i-am avut. Am făcut fotografii în faţa Facultaţii de Automatică şi într-unul dintre amfiteatre. S-a plecat apoi la Bran pentru trei zile. Din păcate eu nu am putut să mă duc la Bran. Am primit câteva imagini dela unul din colegii mei, Bogdan Giurgea, şi vreau să vi le arăt şi vouă.

Iată momentul sosirii colegilor la Bran. Au fost intâmpinaţi aşa cum se cuvine, cu ţuică şi o mică gustare.



Hotelul La Dolce Vita
(video by Bogdan Giurgea)



Şi iată momentul final: Tortul şi Mulţi Ani Trăiască. Ne vom vedea din nou peste cinci ani.



Masa Festivă
(video by Bogdan Giurgea)


Wednesday, October 02, 2013

Michael Cheval: Lullabie for a Butterfly King



Once that I was six years old, I saw  a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature (Lorsque j’avais six ans j’ai vu, une fois, une magnifique image, dans une livre sur la Forêt Vierge qui s’appelait Histoires Vécus): the Butterfly King is maybe the Little Prince, enchanted by Tamino's magic flute. Or maybe it's A Midsummer Night's Dream, and the lullaby is played by an elf.


(Michael Cheval)

Labels:

Michael Cheval: She-Angel



A she-angel by the sea, enjoying her morning drink, thinking at her writing, dreaming at journeys far away, a vessel in distance, a typewriter on hold, the clouds carrying stories of their own. Or maybe the sea waves are sheets already filled by the girl, her story about ships, distant lands and a bottle of whiskey. Or about the images carried by clouds. Or maybe the wings are blank sheets, not yet filled, or they are clouds, linking the girl to heaven.



(Michael Cheval)

Labels:

Michael Cheval


Born in Russia in 1966, moved to Germany in 1980, then in 1986 to Turkmenistan, graduated from Ashgabad School of Fine Arts in 1992 while absorbing Eastern philosophy and Central Asia character, that kind of stuff, moved to Moscow in 1993, working there as an independent artist; finally US in 1993, since 2009 collaborating with Boris Glikman, who has written short stories, fables and poems to accompany Cheval's paintings (wiki).



(Contemporary Art)

Labels:

Tuesday, October 01, 2013

Eminescu




(A Life in Books)

Labels: