Nox is a collaborative piece of poetry intertwining multiple texts by Catallus and multiple antiquity accounts, or at least in reference to them by Anne Carson. The piece follows the thoughts and recollections of both her brother after his death and the aftermath of his death and its effect on her and his widow. As an entity, the entire piece is understandably a difficult beast to digest as far as literary and expressive acumen goes, but ultimately a poignant endeavor that contains many interesting facets to how it works.
Primarily, the use of the greek definitions on initial glance don't seem very illuminating if not scrutinized carefully, but then when one notices how the definitions feel less and less akin to the actual structure of a translating dictionary reference, they become highly revelatory. Each excerpt correlates to the tone or overarching impact of the letter or poem sharing the page with it. For example, in the translation of "Sunt" are the variations of phrases containing that word, going along the traditional mode of concentrating on particular phrases using the word, of which include "hoc est, id est, nox est that is; (with numerals) to be equal to; make up" and the general translation of "among the living; (of things) to be in existence" ( Carson 137). On the opposite page, where lies the poem, is a small anecdote retracing the author's brother back to his childhood when "he mistook the rules [and] came home with a bloody nose" and the particular episode where he is alienated and intentionally left behind by the "older boys gazing down" on him (Carson 138). Momentary definitions such as this give impact to the anecdote given because they give a sense of clarity to the retrospective event in construing events that have led up to the current moment.
However, it becomes necessary to identify the reasoning behind the use of the Greek definitions in the first place rather than outright describing in laymen terms the emotional tension in each of these pieces offered. Carson actually outright explained through her poetry the emotional and literary reasoning for the scraps of language translation, which may or may not be contrived rather than genuine, when she claims how she "studies his sentences the ones [she] remembers as if [she'd] been asked to translate them" because how few they were( Carson 127). This effect is to literally to show this effort by ensconcing the meaning of their relationship and his actions in another language, and the reason Greek is chosen perhaps correlates with the excerpts of the historian Herodutus and how he proclaims that history's invective is so that "deeds done by men not go extinct nor great astonishing works produced by Greeks and barbarians vanish [...] of what cause they went to war with one another" (Carson 35). Carson wants to read her brother's life like one would a greek historical antique or document, using different languages to translate the actions and causes so that the reader can process better what they mean and how they impact their subjects.
Nox is a book that does many things correct, and there are slight nuances, acts of writing and cohesion that are very demure in revealing their meaning without asking the reader to first understand the purpose of all these larger components that define the aesthetic of the text. The language aspect acts not only as our guide, but as hers as well to communicate with someone she lost contact with long ago, lost to the world in antiquity, and has left so little behind, like a civilization.
I like how you discuss Carson's use of the language and definitions here. I had been exploring that aspect of Nox myself, thinking about what Catullus' poem and Carson's translation of it did to her and does to us as readers. I think it allows her to dissect this—while deeply personal—rather formal response to the death of a brother in Catullus' eulogy. In her attempt to translate the poem, and in her resulting definitions, Carson finds links between this perceived grief and her own. You bring up how she attempted to "translate" her brother's sentences. This moment in Nox struck me. Her study of them revealed an anxiety fueled by regret that Carson felt about her estrangement from her brother—clinging to these few sentences in the face of a lack of anything else.
ReplyDeleteAs I read through Nox, I couldn't help but be reminded of a moment in Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, when she writes,
“Read, learn, work it up, go to the literature.
Information is control.”
Didion was writing about the death of her husband, and this quote summarizes an aspect of her particular method of grief, which involved turning to facts, studies and literature in order to answer the answerable questions, rather than attempting to answer the unanswerable, particularly why our loved ones are taken away. I think that this is precisely what Carson is doing with her dissection of Catullus’ poem: searching for concrete answers to life’s most sublimely abstract questions.