New pub of an older story

In other news, I've just been invited to include one of my stories in an upcoming anthology of fiction by Harvard and Yale alumni, proceeds to go to "Doctors Without Borders". It's a strange story that still surprises me. It appeared originally in the online journal milk. Here it is in that version: On a Page from Rilke.

Scribd

This is terrific!

Mar de fondo

The sea is rough today, long low waves rolling in rapidly from far to the east. This is what we call here mar de fondo, which I just now learned is the literal meaning of "ground swell" -- "an undulation of the ocean with deep rolling waves, often caused by a distant storm or earthquake" (American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, my 1976 edition). Except that it is the sea, not the ocean, that is making all that noise outside my window and sending up its spume to sparkle in the sun. (The ancients knew that great Oceanus surrounds Terra the Earth, whereas the sea outside my window is the "Mediterranean," that is, surrounded by Terra.)

This morning I watched a sturdy, stubborn little boat force its way, churn by churn, to cut across those waves, the white spume rising like a burnoose over its prow, its hull buffeted left and right, port and starboard. Despite the wind and waves in opposition, it moved steadily and rapidly on its course, an unusually powerful little boat with a tall antenna and, as I saw through binoculars, a large thing on it prow that I took for another antenna, or perhap a gun -- it was too far for me tell its colors, and too obscured by its movement and the spray, to be sure that it was Guardia Civil. But whether it was military or not, and whatever its mission, I took pride in its determination, projecting myself into its tense and muscular movement, becoming that boat. Keeping my course and churning through waves and spray.

Scribd Invites Writers to Upload Work and Name Their Price - NYTimes.com

Is this really "vanity" publishing? "Vanity publishing" seems to mean publishing all by oneself, at one's own effort and expense, without any assurance from anybody else (except maybe your mother and closest friends) that what you have written is worth reading. Not what I want to do. But if this same technology is used by a publisher, that is, some organization that actually selects works it thinks it can sell, then it becomes "real" publishing. I think it's great that publishing technology becomes cheaper and easier, but we'll always feel a need for some critical filter -- editors and publishers in some form -- even if they make mistakes and can't always tell the wheat from the chaff. Because the amount of verbiage available for reading is too daunting. Scribd Invites Writers to Upload Work and Name Their Price - NYTimes.com

God Talk, Part 2 - Stanley Fish Blog - NYTimes.com

This makes a lot of sense to me. I don't use a god myself and don't feel that I need one, but if you do, and if it helps you in some way to get through the dark nights, I'm not going to tell you it doesn't exist. And even if I did, you wouldn't believe me. God Talk, Part 2 - Stanley Fish Blog - NYTimes.com

Chulapos y chulapas

We're in Madrid this week, for the festival of San Isidro Labrador. Isidro was a 12th century farmer ("labrador") who probably never imagined himself as a saint, but he must have had the reputation of being a good man because, decades after his death, when what was supposed to be his corpse was discovered remarkably well-preserved, people began attributing miracles to him. To celebrate his day (15 May) people dress up not as 12th century farmers, but as early 20th century fancypants proletarians, the guys in black-and-white checked vests and caps, the gals in multiflounced red-and-white polkadot dresses, white scarves, and a big red flower in the hair.

And you're supposed to dance the schotis (also spelled chotis or even xotis), a couple dance falsely attributed to the Scots (hence the name, derived from the German Schottisch), probably because it involves a lot of jumping up and down like a jig.

For us, the big events have been all the free street theater, a performance by a whole series of folkloric dance groups in the park of Las Vistillas, a wonderful concert by Joan Manuel Serrat, and an adaptation by our friend Antonio Rodríguez of Eric Rohmer's "Trío en mi bemol" ("Trio en E-flat"). My alter ego Baltasar Lotroyo plans to post a review on his page

Tweets for twits

Don't bother reading this unless your feeling twittery. A Night Out With - Biz Stone and Evan Williams - The Twitter Guys - NYTimes.com

This earlier piece, though, is actually interesting, about the potential of this seemingly silly system: Finding Utility in the Jumble of Tweeted Thoughts - NYTimes.com. I'm still not sure what I'm doing there, though.

In Colorful Bouts, Hint of Deeper Struggles - NYTimes.com

And here we have the dramatization of my book Hispanic Nation! Or at least of a couple of the book's themes, "identity" and "media." In Colorful Bouts, Hint of Deeper Struggles - NYTimes.com

If you click on the link lucha libre or Vampiro you get the flavor and the sound, without the strong smell of sweat. Don't miss!

Agent request

Just got my first request to see the full novel, from agent and novelist Deidre Knight. And I only sent out the query on Saturday! Now I'm going to try to think about something else, like the other book I have to write for Norton, but the excitement makes it tough.

Work Under Way on ‘Virtual Fence’ - NYTimes.com

This note, Work Under Way on ‘Virtual Fence’ - NYTimes.com, reminded me of an essay by Borges, "The Wall and the Books." The essay, first published in 1950, is a reflection on Chinese emperor Shih Huang Ti, who commanded the building of the Great Wall and ordered the destruction by fire of all books prior to his reign.

"Burning books and building fortifications are normal tasks for princes; the only thing unique about Shih Huang Ti was the scale of his work," writes Borges. (Quemar libros y erigir fortificaciones es tarea común de los príncipes; lo único singular en Shih Huang Ti fue la escala en que obró.)

He speculates that perhaps for Shih Huang Ti, building the wall to conquer space and burning the books to destroy past time were magic barriers meant to stop death.

Shih Huang Ti, según los historiadores, prohibió que se mencionara la muerte y buscó el elixir de la inmortalidad y se recluyó en un palacio figurativo, que constaba de tantas habitaciones como hay días en el año; estos datos sugieren que la muralla en el espacio y el incendio en el tiempo fueron barreras mágicas destinadas a detener la muerte.

The "virtual fence" is a magical barrier in both space (the "fence" part) and time (it's "virtual" character is its transmission of signals that someone or some force has transgressed the barrier). Its magic would surely have puzzled Shih Huang Ti, though, because it is not directed against death, but against an even more powerful American obsession: the invasion of aliens. And its magic is as futile as the other. The Chinese emperor could not stop death and could not even stop fretting about it long enough to enjoy life. And the virtual fence is futile, because the aliens are already among us in space and their virtual incursion in time is, virtually, unstoppable.

Here's one place to find Jorge Luis Borges' 1950 essay, La muralla y los libros. And here it is in English, translated by Gaither Stewart: The Wall and the Books.