HMS ROLOFF'S OPEN LETTER
to
amongst which results is the impossibility - in 1953 Handke
was an eleven year old regression-prone student at the priest trainer
Tanzenberg - who had just written his first story entitled “My Fountain Pen”.
I.e. there is something amiss at the New Yorker archiving function, when it
claims that he wrote and published in 1953 a story
OCTOBER
17, 1953 ISSUE
Sylvander and Clorinda
BY PETER HANDKE
to
THE NEW YORKER,
IN MATTER’S
HANDKE
part I
part I
Three
& a half months ago I submitted a copy of my and Scott Abbott’s translation
of your once author Peter Handke’s play
THE
BEAUTIFUL DAYS OF ARANJUEZ
WIM
WENDER'S
HAS
COMPLETED FILMING ITS VERSION OF THE PLAY
But to this
day we have no acknowledgment even of your receipt, nor to a reminder sent
about ten days ago. After all, there was a time that the New Yorker ran
Handke’s novella LEFT HANDED WOMAN in its entirety, as well as a specially
designed excerpt from his novel THE REPETITION, as well as some translations of
mine from his INNERWORLD OF THE OUTERWORLD OF THE INNERWORLD; and the opening
section of the novel part of the tri-partite American A SLOW HOME-COMING albeit
in its notoriously miserable Mannheim
translation that entirely misses its pathos and long breath. Those are the long
ago days they are of you then poetry editor Howard Moss https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Howard_Moss
and whoever
was chiefly responsible for the fiction.
Here is what “Search” brings up in the New
Yorker’s pages:
amongst which results is the impossibility - in 1953 Handke
was an eleven year old regression-prone student at the priest trainer
Tanzenberg - who had just written his first story entitled “My Fountain Pen”.
I.e. there is something amiss at the New Yorker archiving function, when it
claims that he wrote and published in 1953 a story
OCTOBER
17, 1953 ISSUE
Sylvander and Clorinda
BY PETER HANDKE
nor am I aware of a story of that title in his
name.
The New Yorker also has a couple of fine reviews of his work,
two, especially of the film LEFT HANDED WOMAN & a brief but fine take on
his 2007 DON JUAN. I thought that John Updike’s unusually stupid piece on
MOMENT OF TRUE FEELING where he berates Handke for being too influenced by the
Grilled-Robbe was to be found here, but apparently not. In other words, none of
the New Yorker’s fine fiction reviewers have had it in them to have a go at
Handke’s MY YEAR IN THE NO-MAN’S BAY or CROSSING THE SIERRA. Nor any of its
fine drama critics have had a gander at Handke’s KASPAR or RIDE ACROSS LAKE
CONSTANCE or THEY ARE DYING OUT when these works premiered in my translation at
B.A.M & Lincoln Center, or the Yale Drama School; or at Handke’s
extraordinary HOUR WHEN WE KNEW NOTHING OF EACH OTHER, the only later play that
the gutless faithless American theater folk have managed to premiere since 1979
– ARANJUEZ owes its premiere to the fine work of its Serbian-trained director Zejlko
Dukich working out of Chicago. John Lahr and I talked about Handke during his
London days and I have sent suggestions to him from these far away parts to
follow up.
Currently –
in “the days of Muldoon” –the New Yorker found itself unable to excerpt from
Scott’s translation of Handke’s book-length poem TO DURATION, a book of the
year in the TLS.
I am praying
that what with Seagull Books doing most of Handke’s work Farrar, Straus will
have the good sense to offer the New Yorker an excerpt of one or the other
great sections in MORAVIAN NIGHT, now that this 2007 title is finally
translated.
At
any event, there has been nothing of Handke’s in the New Yorker’s pages FOR
THIRTY LONG YEARS a period during which he wrote most of his mature work. I can
only hope that this is not the case, as in so many others, that Handke took his
own so much more intimately informed take on matters disintegration Yugoslavia
than those American Balkan experts, Salmon Rushdie, Susan Sontag, and the sorriest
of them all, a certain Delaruntay, or because a character in Handke’s great
VOYAGE BY DUGOUT: THE PLAY ABOUT THE FILM ABOUT THE WAR
makes a derisive mishmash quote that includes
texts from the once New Yorker writer “Lauren Wexler”. Anyhoo, I hope. And could go on at book length on that
controversy See: handke.yugo blog
Sincerly,
Michael
Roloff
My quarrel with the New
Yorker in this regard is not on the scale as it is with Farrar, Straus
http://artscritic.blogspot.com/2015/04/summa-farrar-straus-roloff.html
or with the New York Times
or
with American theater.
See the various entries @:
http://handke-drama.blogspot.com
part ii
* I submitted a copy of my and Scott Abbott’s translation of your once
author Peter Handke’s play*
*THE BEAUTIFUL DAYS OF ARANJUEZ*
*http://handke-magazin.
<http://handke-magazin.
*In the mean & the while Handke might have won the Nobel Prize for
Literature*
*as his work most deservedly does*
*http://www.handke-nobel.
<http://www.handke-nobel.
*He was third or fourth at Ladebrokes in the betting!*
*And in the meanwhile*
*the New Yorker*
*has published its usual daily dozen plus chiefly** drivel commentaries on
the daily miseries*
*or the occasionally truly awful*
*such as *
*http://www.newyorker.com/
<http://www.newyorker.com/
*by dana spiotta*
*the first story in a long time that I actually managed to want to read to
the end if only to comment here:*
*where everyone is jerked off,*
*the narrator, the fish she hooked, and the reader*
*though, initially, the writing of a story *
*-that might have been termed*
*GOOD PHONE *
*30 years ago -*
*is promising*
*on that level of everyday authentic realism.*
*But it is a cop-out all the way,*
*the writer does not venture to imagine what might transpire if and once
jack and jills mutual fantasies are disabused if they actually meet,*
*withal the narrator's ears as eyes' knowingness *
*of what Jack is up to she toys with porn but won't let us know her
pornographic imagination when she masturbates. it's prudish. *
*anyhoo,*
*from "miss lonelyhearts"*
*to this. *
*Leaves a bad taste here.*
*In the case where you declined my translation of Josef Winkler's
BUTTERCUPS*
*you at least had the courtesy to let me know.*
*I withdraw the Handke, also my story "Acute Otis Medi"a that you have had
nearly as long.*
*Michael Roloff*
part ii
* I submitted a copy of my and Scott Abbott’s translation of your once
author Peter Handke’s play*
*THE BEAUTIFUL DAYS OF ARANJUEZ*
*http://handke-magazin.
<http://handke-magazin.
*In the mean & the while Handke might have won the Nobel Prize for
Literature*
*as his work most deservedly does*
*http://www.handke-nobel.
<http://www.handke-nobel.
*He was third or fourth at Ladebrokes in the betting!*
*And in the meanwhile*
*the New Yorker*
*has published its usual daily dozen plus chiefly** drivel commentaries on
the daily miseries*
*or the occasionally truly awful*
*such as *
*http://www.newyorker.com/
<http://www.newyorker.com/
*by dana spiotta*
*the first story in a long time that I actually managed to want to read to
the end if only to comment here:*
*where everyone is jerked off,*
*the narrator, the fish she hooked, and the reader*
*though, initially, the writing of a story *
*-that might have been termed*
*GOOD PHONE *
*30 years ago -*
*is promising*
*on that level of everyday authentic realism.*
*But it is a cop-out all the way,*
*the writer does not venture to imagine what might transpire if and once
jack and jills mutual fantasies are disabused if they actually meet,*
*withal the narrator's ears as eyes' knowingness *
*of what Jack is up to she toys with porn but won't let us know her
pornographic imagination when she masturbates. it's prudish. *
*anyhoo,*
*from "miss lonelyhearts"*
*to this. *
*Leaves a bad taste here.*
*In the case where you declined my translation of Josef Winkler's
BUTTERCUPS*
*you at least had the courtesy to let me know.*
*I withdraw the Handke, also my story "Acute Otis Medi"a that you have had
nearly as long.*
*Michael Roloff*
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