Crediting Poetry: Seamus Heaney’s Nobel Lecture

Seamus HeaneyFrom NobelPrize.org. See link for full text and Realplayer recording.

Here is a snippet:

*

One of the most harrowing moments in the whole history of the harrowing of the heart in Northern Ireland came when a minibus full of workers being driven home one January evening in 1976 was held up by armed and masked men and the occupants of the van ordered at gunpoint to line up at the side of the road. Then one of the masked executioners said to them, “Any Catholics among you, step out here”. As it happened, this particular group, with one exception, were all Protestants, so the presumption must have been that the masked men were Protestant paramilitaries about to carry out a tit-for-tat sectarian killing of the Catholic as the odd man out, the one who would have been presumed to be in sympathy with the IRA and all its actions. It was a terrible moment for him, caught between dread and witness, but he did make a motion to step forward. Then, the story goes, in that split second of decision, and in the relative cover of the winter evening darkness, he felt the hand of the Protestant worker next to him take his hand and squeeze it in a signal that said no, don’t move, we’ll not betray you, nobody need know what faith or party you belong to. All in vain, however, for the man stepped out of the line; but instead of finding a gun at his temple, he was thrown backward and away as the gunmen opened fire on those remaining in the line, for these were not Protestant terrorists, but members, presumably, of the Provisional IRA.

*

It is difficult at times to repress the thought that history is about as instructive as an abattoir; that Tacitus was right and that peace is merely the desolation left behind after the decisive operations of merciless power. I remember, for example, shocking myself with a thought I had about [a] friend who was imprisoned in the seventies upon suspicion of having been involved with a political murder: I shocked myself by thinking that even if he were guilty, he might still perhaps be helping the future to be born, breaking the repressive forms and liberating new potential in the only way that worked, that is to say the violent way – which therefore became, by extension, the right way. It was like a moment of exposure to interstellar cold, a reminder of the scary element, both inner and outer, in which human beings must envisage and conduct their lives. But it was only a moment. The birth of the future we desire is surely in the contraction which that terrified Catholic felt on the roadside when another hand gripped his hand, not in the gunfire that followed, so absolute and so desolate, if also so much a part of the music of what happens.

Podcast: Radio Nobel Prize Lectures

From NobelPrize.org

Recordings with Literature Laureates

If you follow the links below, you will find the sound recordings in Real Player format. Next to these recordings are the speeches or lectures also found, in their full length, in text format.

Pearl Buck

William Faulkner

Bertrand Russell

Ernest Hemingway

Halldor Laxness

Albert Camus

Salvatore Quasimodo

Saint-John Perse

Ivo Andric

John Steinbeck

Mikhail Sholokhov

Yausnari Kawabata

Alexandr Sohzhenitsyn

Pablo Neruda

Eugenio Montale

Saul Bellow

Isaac Bashevis Singer

Odysseus Elytis

Czeslaw Milosz

Gabriel García Márquez

William Golding

Claude Simon

Wole Soyinka

Joseph Brodsky

Camilo José Cela

Octavio Paz

Derek Walcott

Toni Morrison

Kenzaburo Oe

Seamus Heaney

Dario Fo

José Saramago

it’s a small, nasty world, after all

Forgive me; this is going to be a post with the bare minimum of reflection in it, at least until the comments section, because quite frankly I really don’t want to know what I think or how I feel about this. Right now I have to say I’d prefer neither to think about this, nor to have feelings about it, or even at all

It’s been five years since I felt sorry for Trevor Greene.

Trevor Greene CivilianTrevor Greene is a dynamic, innovative and well-traveled individual with over 15 years of experience in writing and reporting. He is a speaker of three languages, a published author, an entrepreneur, a trained and experienced liaison officer, and has eight years of highly regarded service in the Canadian Armed Forces.

Greene joined the Vancouver bureau of Bloomberg News as a general assignment reporter on business and finance in Canada and Asia. He also began researching and writing about the so-called poorest postal code in Canada; Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside.

He wrote his first nonfiction book in Canada, Bad Date: The Lost Girls of Vancouver’s Low Track, about the women who have gone missing from the Downtown Eastside over the past 15 years. Bad Date was published in November 2001. Some of his present entrepreneurial projects include an eco-tourism venture and a community volunteer consulting company.

Greene is an officer in the Seaforth Highlanders, a Vancouver-based primary reserve infantry unit, where his main duties are domestic emergency and disaster response, and community and civilian agency liaison. At time of writing he was also preparing for a six-month army deployment to Afghanistan in 2006 as part of Operation Archer.

Greene lives on a boat docked at Fisherman’s Wharf on Vancouver’s Granville Island. He speaks English, Japanese and French.

In 1993, while living in Japan, he’d written a critically-lauded book Bridge of Tears on the taboo subject of Japanese homelessness. Socially-conscious from the beginning, his latest project was a venture philanthropy initiative, encouraging fat cats to invest in Afghanistan’s rebuilding.

Bad DateIn 2001 his new book Bad Date:The Lost Girls of Vancouver’s Low Track, the first on the Missing Women case, had just come out to cautiously positive reviews. 

Over two years, Greene spent just about every day in the impoverished neighbourhood, eventually earning the trust of prostitutes, police and the families left behind. He paints a graphic picture of life in the ‘s most drug-addicted neighbourhood.

“What I was shocked at is the violence that is perpetrated on these women by normal, everyday johns every single day,” Greene said in an interview.

Nobody really wanted to be seen crowing about a book that laid out the fact that there was a serial killer on the loose in Vancouver. Unfortunately for Trevor Greene’s book (which I immediately bought because I was working on what I figured would be the SECOND book about the case), a few weeks after it came out Willy Pickton was arrested for those murders, essentially rendering Greene’s book, with its many theories and free-floating, faceless menace, obsolete.

I felt sorry for the lad.

A few months later, my friend Miss V asked me if I knew him; he’d applied for membership in her Social Empire. I said we’d never met, but that I knew his writing from the book as well as his social journalism pieces in the Georgia Straight, and he seemed like an earnest, educated, and interesting guy, not the fashionista A-List type (this was in the days before “metrosexual” was a term, but after it had become a lifestyle). No idea if she let him in or not, but smart money says yes.

Then, not one word from that time to this. Vancouver’s a small town. Six degrees of separation do not apply; six degrees do not exist. In this city, it’s two, at most three. Jounalists grow wary of chatting about stories, not for fear of being overheard and scooped, but because it’s quite likely that the barista, or the blonde at the next table, or someone else within earshot, is sleeping with/related to/BFF with the subject of the article.

Today, at the Shebeen Club, I found out the latest about Trevor Greene.

It happened in Shinkay. The man just can’t pick a good neighborhood.

Canadian Soldier Wounded in Afghan Ambush

The axe assault that badly injured a Canadian soldier was part of a deliberate ambush as troops met with village elders in southern Afghanistan, the military says.

Lieut. Trevor Greene, a journalist and former navy officer from Vancouver, suffered a serious head wound during the meeting near the small Canadian outpost at Gumbad, about 70 kilometres north of Kandahar.

Capt. Kevin Schamuhn, the commander who was leading the expedition, told CBC News that the Canadian troops had already visited several villages during the day to attend shuras, or meetings with village elders.

He said all of them had been peaceful events where they shared lunch or tea and introduced themselves.

The Canadians took off their helmets and put down their guns as they usually do to reassure villagers that they were friendly.

“There was no weird feelings. There was no gut feeling that something was about to go down. Everything was very calm and similar to the previous meetings.”

A minute later, a man who appeared to be less than 20 walked up behind Greene and pulled a half-metre-long axe out from underneath his clothes.

“He pulled an axe out from underneath his clothing and lifted right above his head, standing right behind Trevor,” said Schamuhn, who was sitting only about a metre away.

As he lifted up the axe, the man shouted “Allahu Akbar,” which means “God is great” in Arabic.

Then, said Schamuhn, “he swung the axe into Trevor’s head.”

“He was just really set on helping these people and doing it right. He’s just really well-spoken and mature. …He was just really looking forward to helping these people.”

He was shipped out to a military hospital in Germany immediately, via Black Hawk helicopter. After two months in critical care there, one week ago he was transferred to Vancouver General Hospital.

The emotional father of a Canadian soldier seriously wounded in an axe attack in Afghanistan welcomed his son home Tuesday, saying he’s improving every day.

Richard Greene said his son, Trevor, has been breathing on his own for the past four days and even managed to move his legs while in hospital in Germany.

“That apparently has some significance and we believe it (does.) We’re confident he’ll recover completely,” said Greene. “He’s just received great care.”

Greene had to pause to compose himself.

He said his son has received e-mails of support from around the world. Greene read them to his comatose son in Germany.

Greene described Trevor as “quite a lad.”

Richard Greene said Trevor volunteered to go to Afghanistan and hoped he could later get some experience at the United Nations.

“We’re very proud of him,” said Greene. 

His writing partner has put up a page on their website for the media. I’ll paste it here, with a couple of spam-reducing edits.

A Message to the Media and Concerned Canadians
 

From Shane Gibson co-author and friend of Trevor Greene

Thank-you for all of your prayers and concern for Trevor at this time.  I have passed on your well wishes to his family and those closest to him.  At this time I will not be commenting on interviews in regards to Trevor’s situation until he and his family give me the okay.His family is busy praying and hoping for the best and I will forward any requests to make statements or comments directly to them.  Just drop an e-mail to shane at closingbigger dot com. At this time I have been asked not to disclose their contact details.Trevor is very professional in everything he does.  This includes keeping in the strictest confidence the nature of his military responsibilities and past experiences while serving our country.  Your best source of information is from the Department of National Defense.Here’s what I can be quoted on:
 
“Trevor is a talented author, an amazing Dad and partner, the kind of person you can count on always. He is deeply committed to protecting and preserving the freedoms we enjoy as Canadians.”

Kindest Regards,

Shane Gibson

Trevor Greene

Welcome to the Blogroll: Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a Blog

Very much in the spirit of yesterday’s advice column, we present Geoffrey Chaucer’s Friendster Blog, including the fabulous Aske Chaucere section.

Q: My betrothed, a most wicked man, betrayed me near as bad as Tereus Chaucer Gifdid Procne. His woman of choice commited, though, that villainy which women do best, and tempted him away. Presently it is not legal, where I live, to have either of them killed for this treachery — what shall I do to avenge the wrong they both have done to me, and to my virtue? Their joy at my grief does pain me so.

Cor Fracta Est

 

A: Ma Cher Coeur Brisee

Thoughe y love a goode revenge tragedie as much as the nexte guye, y muste counsel yow to a bettre path. Yow sholde maken pece and kepe faithe, not wyth thyne betrothede nor wyth this womanlie Diomede, but rathir with yowrselfe. For vengence aperteneth and longeth al oonly to juges. Remembre yow that pacience is a greet vertu of perfeccioun, and remembre that ther are tymes ordained unto al thynges by the first moevere — of the ookes, and of the hard stones, and of man and womman seen we also, in youthe as well as age, alle shal be dumped , a kyng as shall a page – som dumped on dates, som dumped by telephone, some dumped in compaignie, som dumped allone – ther helpeth noght, al goth that ilke weye.

And thus, take two pintes of hagen dasz dulce de leche, a ful seson of buffie the vampyre slayre, and calle me in the morninge.

Le Vostre G

 

The Nameless, Named!

effigia okeefeCower in fear, for the end of the world is nigh: the unnameable has been named!

Behold, mortals, the nameless dweller in the accurst city named “The Nameless City.”

Well, actually he’s from New Mexico.

And from Columbia University:

Two Columbia scientists have discovered the fossil of a toothless crocodile relative that looks like a six-foot-long, two-legged dinosaur, but is actually a distant cousin of today’s alligators and crocodiles. Adjunct professor of earth and environmental sciences Mark Norell and his graduate student Sterling Nesbitt, both of whom also work as paleontologists at the American Museum of Natural History, have named the fossil Effigia okeeffeae.

Effigia means “ghost,” referring to the decades that the fossil remained hidden from science [and also the fact that it was found on the Ghost Ranch Dig; like, synchronicity, dude]. The species name, okeeffeae, honors the artist Georgia O’Keeffe, who lived near the site in northern New Mexico where the fossil was found.

According to Wikipedia, the fossil was discovered back in 1947-1948 by Edwin H. Colbert, but was lying unclassified in the basement of the American Museum of Natural History when Norell and Nesbitt were looking for something else and the one of them went, “I say, that’s odd. Never seen anything like it. What do you say, old chap?” or something like that, and the other fellow said,

That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons death may die.

I should have known that the Arabs other department heads had good reason for shunning the nameless city fossil, the city fossil told of in strange tales but seen by no living man, yet I defied them and went into the untrodden desert basement with my camel grad student. I alone have seen it, and that is why no other face bears such hideous lines of fear as mine; why no other man shivers so horribly when the night wind air conditioning rattles the windows specimen cases. When I came upon it in the ghastly stillness of unending sleep it looked at me, chilly from the rays of a cold moon the fluorescents amidst the desert’s New York’s heat. And as I returned its look I forgot my triumph at finding it, and stopped still with my camel grad student to wait for the dawn.

Or words to that effect.

(nb Cthulhu references get the squid tag. Makes total sense, right? Aw, shut up)