[!@#$%!]

Originally Posted by truncated

I searched high and low, and in the interest of expediency, I bought the only edition I found, which was the B&N. Is it even worth reading, or should I order the Guerney translation?

fuck yes. GET GUERNEY.

an artist in his own right.

the fucker has an ear for music! do not pollute yourself with lesser creations.

---

unless you like... mediocrity?

[Пятхъдесят Шест]

Ok, so I pretty much laughed through all of Chapter 2.

When Manilov's kid bit the other kids ear. AHAH.

[!@#$%!]

Themistoclius. Priceless.

[acousticrock87]

Haha. The image I have in my head of Manilov is inexplicable. I imagined that whole scene in really quirky close-up fish-eye views, with a ridiculous tone similar to scenes in Moulin Rouge.

 

[Пятхъдесят Шест]

Yeah. That and when Manilov called for the Steward, and then agreed with everything he said, as though the himself knew it all along.

Chichikov: How many peasents have died since the last census?
Manilov: Yes, how many?
Steward: Who knows? Quite a lot.
Manilov: Yes, I confess, I thought so myself! Quite a lot, yes. Exactly, quite a lot.
Chichikov: How many for instance?
Steward: Who knows how many? Its not known what number have died. No one counted.
Manilov: Yes, precisely. I thought so too, a high morality; its quite unknowm how many have died.

What a great fucking character.

[Ich bin gael]

Wait... what book are we reading? I'm lost... last I checked, we were waiting to conduct a PM vote...

[!@#$%!]

on the subject of translations: i would love to post a favorite passage here from the guerney version. then ask others to post OTHER translations so we can compare the merits of each one.

let me start w/ the fly episode-- of course!!!!

--
oh fuck! i didnt bring the book! what a fucker.

i hereby reserve the space for doing this later. i got the guerney 1965 print btw. so post your own.

[Пятхъдесят Шест]

Originally Posted by Ich bin gael

Wait... what book are we reading? I'm lost... last I checked, we were waiting to conduct a PM vote...

Dead Souls - Nikolai Gogol

[noumenal]

Ich bin gael: Just go to my profile and search my posts if you want to get caught up. Everything's been out in the open.

Next meeting is June 11 at 3PM CST (-6GMT). We're discussing the 1st 6 chapters then. The best translation is by Guerney.

[acousticrock87]

Originally Posted by !@#$%!

on the subject of translations: i would love to post a favorite passage here from the guerney version. then ask others to post OTHER translations so we can compare the merits of each one.

let me start w/ the fly episode-- of course!!!!

--
oh fuck! i didnt bring the book! what a fucker.

i hereby reserve the space for doing this later. i got the guerney 1965 print btw. so post your own.

---
Robert A. Macguire (Penguin Classics) translation:

On entering the hall, Chichikov had to squint for a moment, because the glare from the candles, the lamps, and the ladies' gowns was fearsome. Everything was flooded with light. Black tailcoats flitted and scurried about, singly and in clusters, here and there, just as flies scurry about on a gleaming white sugarloaf on a hot summer day in July, while an aged housekeeper breaks and divides it into glittering lumps before an open window, and the children, all gathered round, look on, their curious eyes following the movements of her coarsened hands raising the mallet, and aerial squadrons of flies sent aloft by a gentle breeze boldly wing their way in, like rightful owners, and, taking advantage of the old woman's poor sight and the sun that is bothering her eyes, swarm over the tasty pieces, here singly, there in thick clusters. Sated by the riches of summer, which in any event sets out tasty dishes at every turn, they have decidedly not flown here for the purpose of eating, but merely to display themselves, to strut back and forth over the heap of sugar, to rub their back or front legs against each other, or to use them to scratch under their wings or, extending both front legs, to rub them together above their heads, then turn about and again fly off, and again fly back in fresh, importunate squadrons.

---

Sorry if there are excerpts from Eric's Trip in there somewhere. I'm not a very focused person.

[!@#$%!]

please post your version for reference. so people can compare.

& ha hah @ erics trip

[acousticrock87]

Sorry, added the translator/publisher and fixed a couple of mistaken particles.

[!@#$%!]

dude noumenal as admin you could perhaps save the chat next time? i wonder how that can be done... you know the whole bit... then repost here.. that would be cool.

[noumenal]

I can easily save the whole chat. I'll do it next time.

BTW, I can post the Guerney version if you want.

[!@#$%!]

Originally Posted by noumenal

I can easily save the whole chat. I'll do it next time.

BTW, I can post the Guerney version if you want.

cool then please do so we don't have to wait.

[truncated]

Originally Posted by acousticrock87

---
Robert A. Macguire (Penguin Classics) translation:

On entering the hall, Chichikov had to squint for a moment, because the glare from the candles, the lamps, and the ladies' gowns was fearsome. Everything was flooded with light. Black tailcoats flitted and scurried about, singly and in clusters, here and there, just as flies scurry about on a gleaming white sugarloaf on a hot summer day in July, while an aged housekeeper breaks and divides it into glittering lumps before an open window, and the children, all gathered round, look on, their curious eyes following the movements of her coarsened hands raising the mallet, and aerial squadrons of flies sent aloft by a gentle breeze boldly wing their way in, like rightful owners, and, taking advantage of the old woman's poor sight and the sun that is bothering her eyes, swarm over the tasty pieces, here singly, there in thick clusters. Sated by the riches of summer, which in any event sets out tasty dishes at every turn, they have decidedly not flown here for the purpose of eating, but merely to display themselves, to strut back and forth over the heap of sugar, to rub their back or front legs against each other, or to use them to scratch under their wings or, extending both front legs, to rub them together above their heads, then turn about and again fly off, and again fly back in fresh, importunate squadrons.

---

Sorry if there are excerpts from Eric's Trip in there somewhere. I'm not a very focused person.

I haven't begun reading yet, as I may hold out for another translation. Approximately where is this in the book so that I can compare?

[acousticrock87]

Originally Posted by truncated

I haven't begun reading yet, as I may hold out for another translation. Approximately where is this in the book so that I can compare?

In mine it's about 7 pages into the first chapter.

[noumenal]

B.G. Guerney (1942):

Upon entering the main hall Chichikov was compelled to narrow his eyes for a minute or so, since the brilliance of the candles and lamps and the ladies' gowns was terrific. Everything was flooded with light. Everywhere one looked black frock-coats flitted and darted by, singly and in clusters, as flies dart over a white, gleaming loaf of refined sugar in the summer season, on a sultry July day, as an aged housekeeper standing at an open window cleaves and divides the loaf into glittering, irregular lumps: all the children, having flocked together, are looking on, curiously watching the movements of her roughened hands as they lift up the maul, while the aerial squadrons of flies, held up by the buoyant air, dart in boldy, as if they owned the whole place and, taking advantage of the crone's purblindness and of the sun that bothers her eyes, bestrew the dainty morsels, in some places singly, in others in thick clusters. Sated with the riches of summer, which spreads delectable repasts at every step even without such windfalls as this, they have flown in not at all in order to eat but merely to show themselves, to promenade to and fro over the mound of sugar, to rub either their hind- or their forelegs against each other, or scratch with them under their gossamer wings or, having stretched out their forelegs, to rub them over their heads, and then once more to turn around and fly away, and once more come flying back with new harassing squadrons.

[Glice]

I found two translations today. One by Guerney, one a mysterious 'classics of Russian literature' edition from a second hand book shop, with the translator being a mysterious 'TIM', from 1948. It has illustrations in as well.

[noumenal]

I also have access to the original Russian, if you guys want me to post that here.