Classical Arabic or Wadi girl?

I think of buffyspeak, and (I’m,like,) totally not Mohammed.

But one of the distinguishing features is the lack of punctuation, and the fact that you’re expected to hear a voice shifting constantly to represent different speakers. In fact the correct transliteration of (I’m like,) is probably just a pair of opening quote marks.

An entry in Juan Cole’s invaluable blog suggests that classical Arabic is written in unnervingly Buffy style. He is discussing the text of a letter released by the US government to suggest that al-Qaeda is now operating in Iraq.

The problem lies with the translation, which is insufficiently attentive to the rhetorical strategies of the author, and which is trying (admirably) to hew very close to the Arabic text. But Arabic style depends on allusion and implying things much more than Englisn.
Here is my rendering of the passage.

“When the Americans withdraw from these regions, and they have already started doing so, and their place has been taken by these agents [the Shiites], and by those who are fatefully connected to the people of this land, what will our situation be if we fight them [the Shiites] (“and it is necessary to fight them”)? There will only be two possibilities before us.
1. We could fight them. This step is attended with difficulty because of the gap that would open up between us and the people of this land, for [they will say] how could we fight their sons and nephews, and with what justification?– given the [apparent] withdrawal of the Americans, [even though in actuality they are] the ones who [will] guide the reins of affairs via their hidden bases; and [the Shiites will say], “Isn’t it right that that the children of this land are the ones who rule over affairs with experience? This is the advent of democracy!” After this, there will be no excuse [for violence].
2. Or we could pack our things and seek another land, as is the repeated sad story of the arena of jihad . . .”

That is, I believe the author is employing rhetorical devices, such as imagining what the Shiites will say and adopting their “voice” temporarily. Arabic did not classically use punctuation to make these distinctions, depending on style and syntax, and the author does it the old-fashioned way. The phrase “this is democracy, coming,” is not Zarqawi’s sentiment, it is what he imagines the Shiites will be suckered into thinking by those wily Americans, who will still actually be running things. The translation misses these nuances; it is typical of US government translation of Arabic texts in just not being very satisfactory for any but the most basic purposes. Because Doug Feith excluded most real Arabists from the CPA, the few who are there are probably worked to death and under severe pressure.

You have to love the twist at the end, too.

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German Railways

It is humiliating, but not surprising, that the the German Railways site offers a better guide to British trains than the British one does. This morning I discovered another chic trick there. You can get personalised PDF timetables for the routes and days that interest you. Want a list of all the direct trains between Florence and Lucca on Friday 20th? It’s ready in minutes. This is doubly pleasing because most rail timetable sites show you a very limited range of journeys to choose between, which isn’t always informative.

In a wholly unrelated development, Easyjet will start flying from Stansted to Ljubljana on May 1st. So I don’t even need to hire a car. I’m now two buses and a train ride away from one of the most beautiful rivers in Europe, and it shouldn’t cost more than about £50 if I’m careful.

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Language Change (2)

I heard my cousin Jonathan Bartley on the radio this morning, talking to Roger Scruton and Ed Stourton. I would never have recognised him from his voice (we hardly ever meet). i’ was a gruff es’uary grow(l) from which con’sonanns, glo”lls, n terminoo ells had been scraped off like barnacles. He lives in Swindon. His father, my uncle Christopher, really does live in South London, was partly brought up in Enniskillen, but speaks with the most old-fashioned rugger-playing doctor’s drawl. Why not? That’s what he was — a consultant in a London hospital. His voice is about half an octave higher than his son’s; his vowels go on for twice as long; he even has the old Oxford tick of saying “in-vole-vd” for “involved”. Meanwhile, Scruton, who really was brought up in a poor family, sounds just about like I do, which is to say like Christopher but at 45 rpm.

When I was at school, the great upper-middle class shift to Mockney was just beginning. I wouldn’t do it. If people were going to tease me about my voice, they could, so far as I was concerned, fucking well learn to lump it. But I can’t help wondering whether Jonathan’s shift of accent was accelerated by his profession. Like his mother, he is a professional Christian, now running a thinktank named Ekklesia. Did he feel an extra presure to talk unposh because of his parents? Or is it that evangelicals are more determined than most to track the zeitgeist?

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Language change (1)

I know almost nothing about African languages — so little that I don’t know what I don’t know, as Mr Rumsfeld would say. So it was a pleasure to come across Abiola Lapite’s refutation of the idea that we can hope to find the proto-language of mankind, using examples drawn from West Africa, rather than Yurp or North America.

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Reductio ad absurdum

I have always wanted to believe that the people who do Catholic bioethics are not really committed to the things that they purport to believe. It seems to unfair to demand that anyone scientifically literate can really suppose that ‘life begins at conception’; and so much kinder to suppose that they are faking. But it’s difficult to be charitable about Helen Watt, of the Linacre Centre, who told yesterday’s Daily Telegraph that therapeutic cloning was morally worse than reproductive cloning: “Reproductive cloning is bad but it does not have a 100 per cent failure rate whereas in therapeutic cloning all the embryos die”.

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listen to this

says the future Wolf biologist: “Schenkel describes the courtship of the female wolf in detail.

With raised tail, the rutting alpha-bitch moves in a feathery dance step, while whimpering or ‘singing’ ‘tenderly … meanwhile she moves her genitals in slow minute pendulum-like movements in a vertical direction.

“Isn’t it just like Kylie Minogue?”

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A small heartening story

For work-related reasons (I was trying to avoid it) I plugged the name of the drummer with CSNY into Google this morning.

Turns out that Dallas Taylor is still alive, and working as an addiction counsellor in Los Angeles, after life as a junkie cost him all his money and then his liver. He seems to have dedicated the thirteen years since his liver transplant to helping other people. What makes this story really inspiring is that there is another Dallas Taylor, a star of gay video porn. He has the domain name but it is the musician who has the first two slots on Google. And now I have given him two more gratuitous links to increase his lead there.

Given that Google is actually a measure of the preferences of the net, it’s rather encouraging to see this ranking works.

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Lost in the supermarket

I’m suddenly tormented with lust for a digital camera. There is a family expedition to Tuscany next week; I don’t want to schlep a big SLR around and then spend

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Dr Atkins gets to heaven

And the Angel Raphael explains to him the whole puzzling business:

Time may come, when Men
With Angels may participate, and find
No inconvenient diet, nor too light fare;
And from these corporal nutriments perhaps
Your bodies may at last turn all to spirit,
Improved by tract of time, and, winged, ascend
Ethereal, as we; or may, at choice,
Here or in heavenly Paradises dwell;

(_Paradise Lost_, Book V, lines 493.5 – 500)

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what is wrong with this man’s brain?

There is a new bookshelf in my office, placed there in an attempt to stave off melancholy. The top shelf is furnished with books which had fossilised by my bedside — that being a place to which books are often carried and only removed when I can’t see the floor. From Left to right. the top shelf reads:

  • Mary Kenny: Goodbye to Catholic Ireland
  • Kotre: White Gloves (a book on senility and memory)
  • Terence Deacon: The Symbolic Species
  • Naomi Baron: Computer Languages, a guide for the perplexed
  • A Member of the Aristocracy: Manners and Rules of Polite Society (1928: 14th edition)
  • Susan Richards: Epics of everyday life
  • Harry Potter: Hanging in Judgement (the death penalty, by a chaplain at Wormwood Scrubs)
  • Robert Eisenmann: The Dead Sea Scrolls and the First Christians
  • George Steiner: Grammars of Creation
  • John D Macdonald: The Green Ripper
  • Wilmut/Campbell/Tudge: The Second Creation
  • John Gierach: Even Brook Trout get the Blues
  • Garry Trudeau: He’s never heard of you, either (Doonesbury covering the 1980 election)
  • Michael Walsh: John Paul II
  • Neal Ascherson: Stone voices
  • Andrew Brown: In the beginning was the Worm (the beautiful American hardback)
  • Jack Vance: Cugel’s Saga
  • Conor Cruise O’Brien: States of Ireland
  • Putnam: Making Democracy Work
  • Irenaeus Eibl-Eibesfeldt: The biology of Peace and War
  • Alison Jolly: Lucy’s Legacy
  • DBC Pierre: Vernon God LIttle (from the goody bag at a Guardian books party)
  • Frank Sawyer: Keeper of the stream
  • Samuel Johnson: Lives of the Poets, vol 1
  • Yellow Pages Guide: London Street Atlas.

melancholy continues to impend but at least typing this list did not entail thinking about religion.

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