The Iliad by Homer, translated by Emily Wilson review – a bravura feat | Homer | The Guardian

Six years on from her translation of the Odyssey, Wilson revels in the clarity and emotional clout of Homer’s battlefield epic
— Read on www.theguardian.com/books/2023/sep/27/the-iliad-by-homer-translated-by-emily-wilson-review-a-bravura-feat

There are sure to be many in the next days, weeks, so as I come across new reviews I’ll directly post them (if possible) – and comment later if I think necessary . This from Edith Hall, who hardly needs an introduction – but here’s one anyway.

What to read this autumn: 2023’s biggest new books | Books | The Guardian

Sara Pascoe’s new novel, rare Terry Pratchett, memoirs from Barbra Streisand and Britney Spears, plus the essential reading on today’s hot button topics – all the releases to look out for
— Read on www.theguardian.com/books/2023/aug/26/what-to-read-this-autumn-2023s-biggest-new-books

Autumn is it absolutely not in the south of Germany! The warmest of sunshine, leaves barely tinged and little change in sight. But nevertheless it is a good time to start planning for days indoor. For this “The Guardian” has some good suggestions. Not necessarily those mentioned above in their pulled quote, though by Streisand I could be tempted. Of the others, some expected and therefore of no surprise: Zadie Smith, Mary Beard, Emily Wilson. And one who I will be particularly thrilled to read again after all her travails in the last few years: Jesmyn Ward – for this I have been waiting.

‘The Iliad may be ancient – but it’s not far away’: Emily Wilson on Homer’s blood-soaked epic | Classics | The Guardian

Following her acclaimed translation of the Odyssey, Wilson has turned to Homer’s other, darker poem. She explains how she got stuck for six months – and why it speaks to today’s era of conflict
— Read on www.theguardian.com/books/2023/sep/09/the-iliad-may-be-ancient-but-its-not-far-away-emily-wilson-on-homers-blood-soaked-epic

Very British families all…

these Trevelyans & Gladstones

From The Observer (via The Guardian website), a report that members of the Gladstone family – that is, descendants of Sir John Gladstone – will travel in the next days to Guyana to apologize for their historical involvement in slavery in the region and, presumably, offer some reparations. The Guardian wouldn’t of course be The Guardian if it didn’t immediately shift the focus from Sir John to his son, William (UK Prime Minister on no less than four occasions in the last half of the 19th century), and thereby to the UK government – Liberal, Tory what’s the difference? – and the Royal Family but of course! Fair enough, on their (that is, The Guardian’s) part – though so bleedin’ obvious.

In his earlier parliamentary years, the younger Gladstone appears not to have been critical of the plantation and slave system in the Caribbean nor his family’s involvement, and, whilst he accepted the 1833 Abolition of Slavery Act, he did so only on the proviso of a gradual emancipation (in their best interest, of course! – a viewpoint more than just paternalistic, rather coming from a place we would recognize as based on racist assumptions) and the adequate compensation of slave owners (of which his father became a prominent beneficiary). Later, as Prime Minister, his record is more mixed – on one hand he seems to have ’emancipated himself’ from his father by supporting international trade reforms that prioritized anti-slave companies, on the other, during the American Civil War, his support of the Union effort was tepid (he presumably thought the Confederacy would win). When it’s all said and done though, it would be fair to conclude that William Gladstone had more moral character than his father.

That, a digression, off the top of my head and with a quick – very quick – internet search; not terribly satisfactory but to continue I would need to do a more thorough research into the political history of the UK during this period and, more specifically, the anti-slavery movement and its consequences for the greater politic. I will say though that I find it commendable that there is a generation living now, and beyond academia, taking familial baggage upon themselves. Whose to say – and I can not presume to, only to wonder out loud – where self-interest in terms of reputation and the psychological burden of history – the sins of the fathers – ends and genuine moral atonement begins. And it is not just the Gladstones: of course the Windsors and all its preceding and related nomenclatures (the King has stated his support of a review into the Crown’s responsibilities); the Harewood/Lascelles (an unusual making good described here); The Guardian ‘family’; but, also, for instance, the Trevelyan family with whom I have found myself spending time of late.

Earlier this year, members of the Trevelyan family traveled to Grenada to apologize for its historic ownership of slaves and for the compensation it received in the wake of the abolition of slavery. One of those was the former BBC journalist, Laura Trevelyan, and her report on the event can be read here. Presumably their family’s involvement in the dark side of colonialism, is all very new to its members, and only came to light when two of them (John Dower and Humphrey Trevelyan) were trawling a database. What information it was, and from whom, instigated the family’s investigation after all this time is not divulged, but one can presume it was externally motivated. Certainly, it is only relatively recently that academia – and a new generation of academics – have forced the issue in a big way. (And the media has played its part – something like this, for instance, which makes mention of the stately home gifted to the National Trust by C.P Trevelyan.) And, I don’t suppose it matters. But ignorance does matter. Granted, no PM in their tree like in the Gladstone’s, but a Trevelyan did ‘kind of’ invent the modern civil service of the nineteenth century, and they are an extraordinarily storied British family. Seriously, why, given the privileges many of them still have to this day, did so few in the family previously have much of an interest in their forebears? Well, perhaps not, but … In her introduction to a book she wrote about her family in 2006, titled A Very British Family, at least Laura Trevelyan outs herself in genealogical ignorance and moves to rectify this. But, it should be said, she must not have delved too deep. I have only browsed her book (I would warrant, knowing what she knows now, she may like it to disappear), but from what I can see, slavery comes to the fore only in the positive context of abolitionism and the Clapham Sect. And, more broadly, colonialism gets somewhat of a pass. (Diverging, nor does she seem to have come across Gertrude, but then Trevelyan’s focus was on her immediate family.)

Having started with the Gladstones, I will end with them in union with the Trevelyans in the latter half of the 19th century. Sir George Otto Trevelyan (the father of C.P, R.C. & G.M), though a generation or so younger, was in fact a constant in William Gladstone’s government(s) throughout much of his long period(s) in office, but was not born at the time the young parliamentarian Gladstone argued as an apologist for his father and other plantation and slave owners (the Trevelyan family, for instance) and their right to compensation in the wake of abolition. Two men bound politically, but also bound by their respective family interests. It reminds one how very resilient family loyalties are – whether emotional or mercenary or both – and how very often they trump reason and seek to mitigate great injustices. One could say nobody should have to pay for the sins of the fathers, but those very bonds, and the acceptance of them, suggests otherwise – inheritance can not be selective, it’s all or nothing.

A timely coincidence

5th May 1821: On this day, the publication in Manchester of the first edition of The Manchester Guardian and, on Saint Helena, the death of Napoleon Bonaparte.

Today The Guardian celebrates its 200 year anniversary – no mean feat when one considers the fragile nature of media enterprises, not just in our own time, but the struggles for survival of newspapers and periodicals from their very beginnings.

The Manchester Guardian No. 1, May 5, 1821.

The Manchester Guardian (as it was called until 1959) was founded by John Edward Taylor in the aftermath of the closure of the Manchester Observer. This more radical publication had been charged with sedition for their role in agitating for parliamentary reform and promotion of meetings on St. Peter’s Field in Manchester, that culminated in a mass gathering on 16th August 1819 during which the cavalry charged into the crowd of thousands of mostly ordinary folk protesting against economic hardship and demanding the rights of greater suffrage and representation.

A coloured print of the Peterloo Massacre published by Richard Carlile

The massacre would become known as Peterloo, a portmanteau created from the location, St. Peter’s Field, and the Battle of Waterloo that had taken place four years earlier. That battle, which marked the end of the Napoleonic Wars, was also the beginning of trade restrictions and the infamous Corn Laws in Britain that benefitted the gentry and land owners but, by raising the price of food staples, brought hardship to the working classes. Some in attendance in Manchester that day would very well have been there on those Belgian fields and participated in one of Britains greatest military victories. Just is that not.

That on the very same day as the publication of the first edition of The Manchester Guardian, that same French emperor who had been defeated at Waterloo should die (and with his boots on) on a remote island in the middle of the South Atlantic, could hardly have been expected to be reported upon – long as it was before even rudimentary undersea telegraph cable – but the coincidence would surely have later been noticed and remarked upon. [And indeed it was, following a July 14 (just had to be didn’t it!) report from Paris, on July 28, and here it is from the The Guardian archives]

Napoleon on Saint Helena, watercolor by Franz Josef Sandmann, c. 1820

And so it is, two hundred years after his death, Napoleon’s shadow still looms large in the annals of history; he continues to fascinate, for better or worse, and France still struggles to come to terms with a legacy full of contradictions. And The Guardian is still around to tell us about it.

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Some Literary Reminder(s) for the New Year

The Guardian, 2021 in books, 3 January, 2021

I bookmark this page at The Guardian every year, and always find it a worthwhile guide to what is coming up, and when. And not just books, also the dates of literary events and anniversaries. The following is a list of some of the new works that interest me for one reason or another.

  • A Swim in a Pond in the Rain by George Saunders (Bloomsbury)
  • Begin Again: James Baldwin’s America by Eddie S Glaude Jr (Chatto & Windus).
  • The Mysterious Correspondent by Marcel Proust, translated by Charlotte Mandell (Oneworld)
  • Under a White Sky by Elizabeth Kolbert (Bodley Head)
  • Everybody by Olivia Laing (Picador)
  • Letters to Camondo by Edmund de Waal (Chatto & Windus)
  • The Wife of Willesden by Zadie Smith (Hamish Hamilton)
  • Home in the World by Amartya Sen (Allen Lane)
  • The Magician by Colm Tóibín (Viking)
  • Oh, William! by Elizabeth Strout (Viking)
  • Greek Myths by Charlotte Higgins (Jonathan Cape)
  • HG Wells by Claire Tomalin (Viking)
  • Silent Catastrophes: Essays on Literature by WG Sebald (Hamish Hamilton)

There is no need to say that the Books section of The New York Times always has plenty to offer – by week, month and year, and just about everything else – but this international selection (mostly in translation) for the year to come is worth perusing. Here, for various reasons, and by those known and not, the following (just some amongst many) particularly interest me:

  • An Apprenticeship, or The Book of Pleasures by Clarice Lispector, trans. from the Portuguese by Stefan Tobler (New Directions)
  • Aristophanes: Four Plays trans. by Aaron Poochigian (Liveright)
  • The Art of Losing by Alice Zeniter, trans. from the French by Frank Wynne (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
  • Cleopatra by Alberto Angela, trans. from the French by Katherine Gregor (HarperVia)
  • The Copenhagen Trilogy by Tov Ditlevsen, trans. from the Danish by Tiina Nunnally and Michael Favala Goldman
  • First Person Singular by Haruki Murakami, trans. from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel (Knopf)
  • The Impudent Ones by Marguerite Duras, trans. from the French by Kelsey L. Haskett (The New Press)
  • In the Company of Men by Véronique Tadjo (Other Press)
  • Painting Time by Maylis de Kerangal, trans. from the French by Jessica Moore (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)

At year’s end, and in retrospect, I don’t ever seem to get as far as time and circumstance should allow for, but …!

Anyway, while in retrospect mode, here is The New York Times “10 Best of 2020”; of which, I have read only Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell and, still bringing to an end, Barack Obama’s presidential memoir. I appreciate being reminded of, on the fictional front, Homeland Elegies and The Vanishing Half, and non-fiction works pertaining to war, Shakespeare and schizophrenia that I had totally missed. (Though, Margaret MacMillan’s “War” may well be related to her 2018 Reith Lecture series.) One could, of course, go a step further (which I haven’t!) and be tormented further by their “100 Notable of 2020”.

Literary Calendar 2020

The Guardian’s 2020 literary calendar

Always awaited by me with anticipation, The Guardian‘s annual literary calendar; including anniversaries, adaptations, and of course new book releases – from which I have chosen just some that I am particularly looking forward to.

  • Square Haunting by Francesca Wade (Faber) (Jan.)
  • The Water Dancer by Ta-Nehisi Coates (Hamish Hamilton) (Feb.)
  • Amnesty by Aravind Adiga (Picador) (Feb.)
  • Here We Are by Graham Swift (Scribner) (Feb.)
  • The Mirror and the Light by Hilary Mantel (4th Estate) (March)
  • A Thousand Moons by Sebastian Barry (Faber) (March)
  • Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell (Tinder) (March)
  • The Death of Comrade President by Alain Mabanckou (Serpent’s Tail) (March)
  • Summer by Ali Smith (Hamish Hamilton) (July)
  • How to Stay Sane in an Age of Division by Elif Shafak NF (Wellcome) (July)
  • The Mission House by Carys Davies (Granta) (Aug.)
  • The Gun, the Ship and the Pen by Linda Colley, NF history (Profile) (Aug.)
  • Trio by William Boyd (Viking) (Oct.)
  • Snow by John Banville (Faber) (Oct.)
  • Tom Stoppard by Hermione Lee, NF biography (Faber) (Oct.)
  • The Mark of Cain by Margaret MacMillan, NF Reith Lectures (Profile) (Oct.)