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“The Plague Column: A Very Short Novel”

Posted on October 27, 2024 by admin

This article is based on this Dutch article of Martijn Benders


Two new poems that are synoptically in dialogue with each other. As you can see, I’ve already written and translated 140 pages of poetry since August.

The poems De Pestzuil and Een Heel Korte Roman form a layered duet, a synergistic dialogue that invites the reader to a deeper exploration of language, identity, and the (mis)use of names. The way these two poems are set up synoptically suggests not only an internal reflection, but also symbolizes a literary interplay bordering on postmodern irony and deeply felt melancholy.

Een Heel Korte Roman opens with a sharp observation on the fate of the name “Vsevolod Garshin,” which in Dutch becomes the more common but less authentic “Garsjin.” This distortion acts not only as a semantic shift but symbolizes a cultural amputation — the protagonist, with his “wooden leg,” is like a name that has lost its origin. At first glance, the “wooden leg” appears to be an ironic reference to Dickens’ era, where grotesque physical shortcomings served as literary metaphors. Here it takes on a new meaning: the protagonist is symbolically mutilated by the translation, by the loss of his original name.

The reference to the “gare Djinn” adds an element of mysticism and irony. The Djinn traditionally stands for a being that transforms and deceives, which perfectly fits how names (and thus identities) are distorted here. The translation is a dilapidated version of the original name, a “djinn” that, in this case, ironically weakens the author’s grip on his identity. The true Vsevolod Garshin thus becomes a shadow, a name losing its essence in a world that knows him only through a translated shell.

The image of the plague column in Een Heel Korte Roman is further transformed into the image of the protagonist, who finds himself as a bridesmaid in the dirty war – a metaphor for the perpetual struggle with cultural adaptation and identity erosion. The bridesmaid here may also symbolize the name itself: a pillar that remains standing but is repeatedly distorted and shackled in this context.

While De Pestzuil focuses on the elusiveness of love and human connection, Een Heel Korte Roman reflects on the alienation that arises when language itself becomes an obstacle. The distortion of the name Garshin to Garsjin is not merely a translation error; it is an amputation of identity, evoking an existential crisis.

Distorting Garshin’s name to Garsjin is not a technical detail, but an act of psychological retribution symbolizing an existential question: how does one survive when one’s identity is continually denied?

The translator responds to his own invisibility by visibly mutilating the author, condemning him to a dilapidated version of himself, as he himself is condemned to a shadow role. The true tragedy lies in this mutual distortion: while the translator resists his fate by distorting the name, the author also loses a part of himself in the translation. And so the reader is left reflecting on the hidden revenge of the translator – the dilapidated Djinn that haunts us through the text like a wooden leg, every step an echo of a shackled identity.

Dickens could not have recorded it better.

Yours,

Martinus Benders, 27-10-2024

Post Views: 346
Category: Psychosupersum

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Castles Get Kicked in the Bricks each Summer

Let’s face it: some backpacks just carry your stuff. This one tells your entire life philosophy in one ridiculous, multilingual joke. Imagine strolling into a museum, a bus stop, or your ex's new wedding—with a bag that declares, in ten languages, that castles are always the losers of summer.

Why? Because deep down, you know:

  • Tourists always win.
  • History has a sense of humor.
  • And you, my friend, are not carrying your lunch in just any nylon sack—you’re carrying it in a medieval meltdown on your shoulders.

This backpack says:

  • “I’ve been to four castles, hated three, and got kicked out of one for asking where the dragons were.”
  • “I appreciate heritage sites, but I also think they could use a bit more slapstick.”
  • “I’m cute, I’m moopish, and I will absolutely picnic on your parapet.”

It’s absurd.
It’s philosophical.
It holds snacks.

In short, it’s not just a backpack—it’s a mobile monument to glorious collapse.

And honestly? That’s what summer’s all about.

Philosophy thirts

Feeling surveilled? Alienated by modernity? Accidentally started explaining biopolitics at brunch again? Then it’s time to proudly declare your loyalties (and your exhaustion) with our iconic “I’m with Fuckold” shirt.

This tee is for those who’ve:

  • Said “power is everywhere” in a non-BDSM context.
  • Tried to explain Discipline and Punish to their cat.
  • Secretly suspect the panopticon is just their neighbour with binoculars.

Wearing this shirt is a cry of love, rebellion, and post-structural despair. It says:
“Yes, I’ve read Foucault. No, I will not be okay.”

Stay tuned for more philosophical shirts and backpacks, as we at Benders are working on an entire collection that will make even the ghost of Hegel raise an eyebrow.

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