anythingarian bubbles and troubles from the land of the fretting nun
/ kalebeul / category / of philosophers / marcelino menendez pelayo /
A little more reading (Encyclopedia of Arabic Literature, Hispano-Arabic Literature and the Early Provençal Lyrics) suggests (possibly unjustly) that Wallada was famous not so much for her poetry as for being the caliph’s daughter and having poetry written about her by Ibn Zaydun. It’s a shame that in our enthusiasm to find ancient heroines inoffensive […]
Where arse turns up regularly in jokes, proverbs and stories, bollocks–cojones–in CORDE’s version of sixteenth century Spain seem to be confined to medical treatises and to a verse novel of quite extraordinary and possibly unsurpassed filth. The anonymous Carajicomedia (1519) consists of the adventures of the noble Diego Fajardo’s one-eyed trouser snake, which is said […]
Wondering on a London bus this morning about suicide bombers (why don’t we just get rid of shoelaces–damn fiddly, prone to blow up in one’s face–and acquire slip-ons?), I chanced on the following passage in Menéndez Pelayo’s Historia de los heterodoxos/History of the heterodox (1880; previous post):
During the tyranny of the Spanish king in Barcelona, […]
In between pints of Summer Lightning I’ve been reading bits of Marcelino Menéndez Pelayo’s account of heresy in Spain, Historia de los heterodoxos españoles. Menéndez Pelayo does not allow himself the populist virulence of George Borrow’s anti-Papism, but one does have a delicious sense of scores being settled when he writes re Borrow’s dissemination of […]
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Something puzzling me on V-E Day on May 8 last week: no one seems to have noticed that Ben Shahn’s Liberation is a French maypole scene. Here it is:
I believe I remember from MOMA@NY that it draws on a Cartier-Bresson image, but I can’t remember whether this was intended to represent the liberation of France from June to August 1944 or the events further east in May 1945. The French do (did) have maypoles (in September), of course, because they are actually Germans, curse their dark and devious souls.
This excellent piece by Mr Butler provides background to Deutsche’s warning on Spanish mid-table banks and illustrates the eternal perils of investing in real estate in Andalusia–unless you happen to have Manuel Chaves’ mobile number. It will be ghoulishly interesting to observe whether interventionist regions fcuk up better or worse than the ones that still haven’t worked out what’s happening.
Edward Fennell writes: “Looking ahead to the height of summer, I must commend to sunseekers a place at the specialist course that the City Law School is to run in Barcelona… Those who successfully complete the programme will be awarded a certificate of achievement. Those who fail to complete will earn a suntan (cum laude) instead.” Let there be no misunderstanding: the Il·lustre Col·legi d’Advocats de Barcelona is an extremely serious organisation and as such puts on fine choral concerts in St Whatsisname on Rambla de Catalunya. (Merci MM)
Didn’t expect this one: “Not inviting Catalan authors writing in Spanish was, in my opinion, a big error. They should have positioned the Catalan culture as an open culture with excellent contributions in our mother tongue and also in other languages like Spanish. They could have even tried to find Catalans who write in other languages like English, French, German or Swedish (actually, there is afew of us) and give us a booth too. What about me?, I write in English, am I not considered Catalan culture?, apparently not, at list, for Carod-Rovira.” All I need now is for Joan Laporta to resign, and life could be a dream.
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