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208 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1989
…everything he’d written until then was intimately and irredeemably condemned. His literature had no future; it had been anachronistic already at the moment of its birth. He was about to turn sixty-five.
And so, by the will and grace of a novelist, Dante C. de la Estrella, Esq., found himself one rainy afternoon in Tepoztlán, sitting in the middle of a comfortable black leather sofa…
So he’d spent his time casting pearls before swine? The denizens of that pigsty only became excited when someone descended to their level, immune to any emotion that held the slightest spark of wit. He’d tried to elevate them to another world, and he was witnessing his failure.
‘—behind her perfect makeup, I imagined a huge and dissolute cat, ready to run away with the Gypsies of the orchestra, with the smugglers of the most dangerous of ports, with a gang of thugs from the worst neighbourhoods of Palermo—She seemed to read my thoughts. Her gaze, already cruel—displayed a fierce feline gleam. ‘The simulacra of life,’ she said, when at last she deigned to address me, ‘come at a very high price. Know it, Ciriaco, know it well. Cultivating forces hostile to life usually produces very bitter fruits.’’’
'As is often the case, the difficulty in translating Domar a la divina garza lies in maintaining the allusion to a popular idiom: creerse la divina garza (to believe oneself the divine heron). Of uncertain origin, it’s roughly equivalent to “believing oneself the queen bee” or, more crudely, “hot shit,” which might have been appropriate considering the scatological thread that runs through the novel.’
‘And I hope that, perhaps, after you’ve finished, you’ll make the idiom your own. English will only be richer for it. After all, isn’t that the aim of translation?’ — from ‘Translator’s Notes’ (Henson)