» Les llibretes xineses de Joan Ferraté
Joan Ferraté almost always expressed himself through what others had written before him. Ambushed behind distant masks (Greek, Chinese or Babylonian) or following aliminal, derivative, refracted and indirect paths, he always tended to make the rare literary movement of moving away in order to become closer. As a reader, critic or rewriter, he always sought maximum fidelity to the foreign text as a way to express himself in the most exact way possible. This is what he did when he read deeply, and in a verbose and almost obsessive way, The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot (to end up revealing his way of living desire on the back of his book), or when he versioned four passages from Laozi, or translated fifty Chinese poems by Du Fu, as we will see below, also in a frenzied and meticulous way.
If we were to be harsh, we could say that Joan Ferraté is rightly classified as a postmodernist: he literally writes on top of what has already been written, and he becomes a scoundrel in the interstices. But in reality it would be much more fair and accurate to say that he belongs to the paradigm of the classics (or the baroques), who happily shot everything they could find. Between the more or less indirect or philological translation, the critical autopsy that, verse by verse, manages to revive and make the poetic body that lies upright on the table beat, between the muted parody and the ascetic palimpsest, Joan Ferraté constructs a short poetic work, of a marginal aspect (insofar as it is written in the margins of other books that have preceded it) but with an expressive force and a high-voltage formal rigor. In fact, where Joan Ferraté found his greatest projection was as an essayist, as a polemicist, critic and theorist of literature. On the contrary, the less recognized platform is that of his action as a poet and as a poet-translator. Perhaps the years will eventually put this in place: it is never too late to approach his magnificent General Catalogue (1952-1981). Now he is considered, at most, and from time to time, the author of a few minor and circumstantial verses. We cannot exclude that this classification was a great compliment for him. And we cannot exclude that in Joan Ferraté’s effort to grow the essayistic dimension, as a critic and theorist, of his brother Gabriel (dedicating time and effort to collect and posthumously publish in book form his scattered papers on linguistics, painting and literature) there was also a buried attempt to make him a little similar to himself in this respect: a short poet, and a verbose and scattered essayist. From homage to challenge in singular combat.
To say that Joan Ferraté is one of the greatest plagiarists of contemporary Catalan poetry is no exaggeration. If he can be judged summarily, and labeled a stinking scoundrel and a pedophile for having had a consensual and reciprocal relationship with a sixteen-year-old boy (Daniel) in the early 1970s, that is no longer the case. Out in the open, without hiding from it, in a systematic, programmatic and reasoned way, Joan Ferraté made the appropriative transmutation of other people’s works the touchstone of his poetic writing. As Víctor Obiols highlighted in his study of Joan Ferraté’s poetic work,1 intertextuality is its dominant feature. Even in the most confessional and explicitly biographical poems, such as those in the Book of Daniel, references and contributions from W.H. Auden, Jaufré Rudel and Cavafy are all over the place.
The “vampire operations” of Joan Ferraté (this is how he defined his poetic translations in an interview) appear published with his signature, not that of the translated poet. And even when Ausiàs March has edited it —coma amunt, comma avall— the name of the author of the book is that of Joan Ferraté. For him, in any form of appropriation, what counts is the trace of his rewriting. Speaking of translation, in the preface to Du Fu’s Fifty Poems he crudely exposes the paradox through which his literary gesture moves: “it is in the form of rewriting that is translation that the finished work completely outside of any possible intervention or collaboration of oneself can become, to a certain extent, one’s own work.”2
In fact, in the case of Joan Ferraté it does not make much sense to separate the poetic, critical, theoretical, philological or translational action. Between one mode of writing and another there is in his case something more than communicating vessels. They are one and the same thing, which always revolves around the reading of poetry, the appropriation and rewriting of poetry.
Thus, his theoretical efforts around the operation of reading were aimed at describing the way in which the imaginative materials and verbal games of the poem are objectified in consciousness as we read it and make it our own, as we appropriate it. Unlike so many other literary theorists, Joan Ferraté was always able to apply his theoretical reflections to the analytical process of reading specific poems in depth, and of speaking and writing about them with a solar clarity. Joan Ferraté considered that there is no better reading method (including close reading) than that of classical philologists, faced with a passage from Horace or Virgil. Also when he read and translated Du Fu he did so like the classical philologist who tries to revive a dead language, with the help of a dictionary and critical and conscious conversation with other versions and interpretations. We will see this below.
With Joan Ferraté we find the almost unique case of a critic who has not been moved by the desire to cherry-pick, but by a persistent and profound reading passion, by an eagerness to understand and help understand those writers who have left their mark on him (Ausiàs March, T.S. Eliot, Josep Carner, Carles Riba…). It is also the almost unique case of a critic who, instead of confusing the field with the usual propagation of schemes, jargon, autophagic rhizomatic excrescences, stereotypes, and ideological or personal servitudes, has contributed decisively to the irreducible and accurate appreciation of some of the best authors who have written in Catalan.
According to an inventory made by Albert Manent, during the 1950s Josep Carner had a maximum of four readers (Albert Manent himself, Joan Fuster and the brothers Gabriel and Joan Ferraté) who were added to the remnant of veteran readers who were his contemporaries and who had a fixed image of him since the time of the Commonwealth. All four have been decisive in the fact that Josep Carner’s work now has a few more readers, but it has surely been Joan Ferraté who has contributed the most to dismantling the prejudices that clouded its understanding. We will see how Carner’s affection for Chinese poetry has a lot to do with Joan Ferraté’s late dedication to the work of Du Fu. In the same way that Carles Riba’s affection for Cavafy partly explains why Joan Ferraté also took up the subject. From homage to challenge in single combat, knowing that he was a loser from the start. In the article “Eight Chinese Verses”, which he published in 1989 and incorporated in 1991 into the volume Apunts en net, Joan Ferraté compares the versions of the same poem by Du Fu by Marià Manent (twice in very different ways) and Josep Carner. It is a poem that Joan Ferraté also later translated, poem 33 of his Du Fu: “The Good Rain of a Spring Night” (Ferraté, 1992, 82). This short essay, which recalls Eliot Weinberger’s famous essay Nineteen Views on a Poem by Wang Wei, published in 1987, ends with a conclusive maxim: “And it is well known that Carner always wins.”3
Joan Ferraté considered in the prologue to Du Fu’s Fifty Poems that his versions of Cavafy, the archaic Greek poets and Du Fu formed “a triad”. In these three translations, the “appropriative mania” that has always marked his treatment of the poetry of others reaches its maximum. All three have in common that they were written in languages that, for different reasons, were impossible for him to fully control, which he could only literally make his own through a careful process of meticulous translation. On the other hand, when faced with poets who interest him and who write in languages that are accessible to him (such as Catalan, English, Spanish), the way to appropriate them was through critical analysis: “in the mode of a wise and reflective discourse, perhaps intended, above all, to corroborate the validity of my in-depth reading.” This is how he made Carner, Riba, March, and Eliot his own.
Així, els seus esforços teòrics al voltant de Així, els seus esforços teòrics al voltant de l’operació de llegir es van adreçar a descriure la manera en què s’objectiven en la consciència els materials imaginatius i els jocs verbals del poema a mesura que el llegim i ens el fem nostre, a mesura que ens l’apropiem. A diferència de tants altres teòrics de la literatura, Joan Ferraté va ser sempre capaç d’aplicar les seves reflexions teòriques al procés analític de llegir a fons poemes concrets, i de parlar-ne i escriure’n amb una claredat solar. Joan Ferraté considerava que no hi ha cap mètode de lectura millor (inclòs el close reading) que el dels filòlegs clàssics, enfrontats a un passatge d’Horaci o de Virgili. També quan va llegir i va traduir Du Fu ho va fer com el filòleg clàssic que mira de reviure una llengua morta, a cop de diccionari i de conversa crítica i conscient amb altres versions i interpretacions. Ho veurem més avall.
Amb Joan Ferraté trobem el cas gairebé únic d’un crític que no s’ha mogut per les ganes de remenar les cireres, sinó per una passió lectora persistent i aprofundida, per un afany d’entendre i ajudar a entendre aquells escriptors que l’han marcat (Ausiàs March, T.S. Eliot, Josep Carner, Carles Riba…). Es tracta també del cas gairebé únic del crític que en comptes d’embolicar la troca amb l’habitual propagació d’esquemes, jargons, excrescències rizomàtiques autofàgiques, estereotips, i servituds ideològiques o personals, ha contribuït decisivament a l’apreciació irreductible i ajustada d’alguns dels millors autors que han escrit en català.
Segons un inventari que va fer Albert Manent, durant la dècada dels anys cinquanta Josep Carner va arribar a tenir un màxim de quatre lectors (el mateix Albert Manent, Joan Fuster i els germans Gabriel i Joan Ferraté) que s’afegien al romanent de lectors veterans que li eren coetanis i que en tenien una imatge fixada des de l’època de la Mancomunitat. Tots quatre han estat decisius en el fet que l’obra de Josep Carner tingui ara mateix uns quants lectors més, però segurament ha estat Joan Ferraté qui més ha contribuït a desmuntar els prejudicis que n’emboiraven la comprensió. Veurem com l’afecció carneriana per la poesia xinesa té molt a veure amb la dedicació tardana de Joan Ferraté a l’obra de Du Fu. De la mateixa manera que l’afecció de Carles Riba per Cavafis explica en part que també Joan Ferraté s’hi posés. De l’homenatge al desafiament en combat singular, sabent-se d’entrada perdedor. En l’article “Vuit versos xinesos”, que va publicar l’any 1989 i que va incorporar el 1991 al volum Apunts en net, Joan Ferraté compara les versions d’un mateix poema de Du Fu que van fer Marià Manent (dos cops de manera molt diferent) i Josep Carner. Es tracta d’un poema que també més endavant va traduir Joan Ferraté, el poema 33 del seu Du Fu: “La bona pluja d’una nit de primavera” (Ferraté, 1992, 82). Aquest breu assaig, que recorda el famós assaig d’Eliot Weinberger Dinou mirades sobre un poema de Wang Wei, publicat l’any 1987, acaba amb una màxima concloent: “I és que ja se sap, Carner sempre guanya.”3
Joan Ferraté considerava en el pròleg de les Cinquanta poesies de Du Fu que les seves versions de Cavafis, dels poetes grecs arcaics i de Du Fu feien “una tríada”. En aquestes tres traduccions arriba fins al grau màxim la “dèria apropiadora” que ha marcat sempre el seu tracte amb la poesia dels altres. Totes tres tenen en comú que estaven escrites en llengües que, per raons diferents, li era impossible de controlar del tot, que només a través d’un procés atent de traducció minuciosa podia arribar a fer literalment seves. Per contra, davant dels poetes que li interessen i que escriuen en llengües que li són accessibles (com ara el català, l’anglès el castellà), la manera d’apropiar-se’ls era a través de l’anàlisi crítica: “en el mode d’un discurs savi i reflexiu, potser destinat, abans que res, a corroborar-me la validesa de la meva lectura a fons.” Així es va fer seus Carner, Riba, March o Eliot
l’operació de llegir es van adreçar a descriure la manera en què s’objectiven en la consciència els materials imaginatius i els jocs verbals del poema a mesura que el llegim i ens el fem nostre, a mesura que ens l’apropiem. A diferència de tants altres teòrics de la literatura, Joan Ferraté va ser sempre capaç d’aplicar les seves reflexions teòriques al procés analític de llegir a fons poemes concrets, i de parlar-ne i escriure’n amb una claredat solar. Joan Ferraté considerava que no hi ha cap mètode de lectura millor (inclòs el close reading) que el dels filòlegs clàssics, enfrontats a un passatge d’Horaci o de Virgili. També quan va llegir i va traduir Du Fu ho va fer com el filòleg clàssic que mira de reviure una llengua morta, a cop de diccionari i de conversa crítica i conscient amb altres versions i interpretacions. Ho veurem més avall.
Amb Joan Ferraté trobem el cas gairebé únic d’un crític que no s’ha mogut per les ganes de remenar les cireres, sinó per una passió lectora persistent i aprofundida, per un afany d’entendre i ajudar a entendre aquells escriptors que l’han marcat (Ausiàs March, T.S. Eliot, Josep Carner, Carles Riba…). Es tracta també del cas gairebé únic del crític que en comptes d’embolicar la troca amb l’habitual propagació d’esquemes, jargons, excrescències rizomàtiques autofàgiques, estereotips, i servituds ideològiques o personals, ha contribuït decisivament a l’apreciació irreductible i ajustada d’alguns dels millors autors que han escrit en català.
Segons un inventari que va fer Albert Manent, durant la dècada dels anys cinquanta Josep Carner va arribar a tenir un màxim de quatre lectors (el mateix Albert Manent, Joan Fuster i els germans Gabriel i Joan Ferraté) que s’afegien al romanent de lectors veterans que li eren coetanis i que en tenien una imatge fixada des de l’època de la Mancomunitat. Tots quatre han estat decisius en el fet que l’obra de Josep Carner tingui ara mateix uns quants lectors més, però segurament ha estat Joan Ferraté qui més ha contribuït a desmuntar els prejudicis que n’emboiraven la comprensió. Veurem com l’afecció carneriana per la poesia xinesa té molt a veure amb la dedicació tardana de Joan Ferraté a l’obra de Du Fu. De la mateixa manera que l’afecció de Carles Riba per Cavafis explica en part que també Joan Ferraté s’hi posés. De l’homenatge al desafiament en combat singular, sabent-se d’entrada perdedor. En l’article “Vuit versos xinesos”, que va publicar l’any 1989 i que va incorporar el 1991 al volum Apunts en net, Joan Ferraté compara les versions d’un mateix poema de Du Fu que van fer Marià Manent (dos cops de manera molt diferent) i Josep Carner. Es tracta d’un poema que també més endavant va traduir Joan Ferraté, el poema 33 del seu Du Fu: “La bona pluja d’una nit de primavera” (Ferraté, 1992, 82). Aquest breu assaig, que recorda el famós assaig d’Eliot Weinberger Dinou mirades sobre un poema de Wang Wei, publicat l’any 1987, acaba amb una màxima concloent: “I és que ja se sap, Carner sempre guanya.”3
Joan Ferraté considerava en el pròleg de les Cinquanta poesies de Du Fu que les seves versions de Cavafis, dels poetes grecs arcaics i de Du Fu feien “una tríada”. En aquestes tres Thus, his theoretical efforts around the operation of reading were aimed at describing the way in which the imaginative materials and verbal games of the poem are objectified in consciousness as we read it and make it our own, as we appropriate it. Unlike so many other literary theorists, Joan Ferraté was always able to apply his theoretical reflections to the analytical process of reading specific poems in depth, and of speaking and writing about them with a solar clarity. Joan Ferraté considered that there is no better reading method (including close reading) than that of classical philologists, faced with a passage from Horace or Virgil. Also when he read and translated Du Fu he did so like the classical philologist who tries to revive a dead language, with the help of a dictionary and critical and conscious conversation with other versions and interpretations. We will see this below.
With Joan Ferraté we find the almost unique case of a critic who has not been moved by the desire to cherry-pick, but by a persistent and profound reading passion, by an eagerness to understand and help understand those writers who have left their mark on him (Ausiàs March, T.S. Eliot, Josep Carner, Carles Riba…). It is also the almost unique case of a critic who, instead of confusing the field with the usual propagation of schemes, jargon, autophagic rhizomatic excrescences, stereotypes, and ideological or personal servitudes, has contributed decisively to the irreducible and accurate appreciation of some of the best authors who have written in Catalan.
According to an inventory made by Albert Manent, during the 1950s Josep Carner had a maximum of four readers (Albert Manent himself, Joan Fuster and the brothers Gabriel and Joan Ferraté) who were added to the remnant of veteran readers who were his contemporaries and who had a fixed image of him since the time of the Commonwealth. All four have been decisive in the fact that Josep Carner’s work now has a few more readers, but it has surely been Joan Ferraté who has contributed the most to dismantling the prejudices that clouded its understanding. We will see how Carner’s affection for Chinese poetry has a lot to do with Joan Ferraté’s late dedication to the work of Du Fu. In the same way that Carles Riba’s affection for Cavafy partly explains why Joan Ferraté also took up the subject. From homage to challenge in single combat, knowing that he was a loser from the start. In the article “Eight Chinese Verses”, which he published in 1989 and incorporated in 1991 into the volume Apunts en net, Joan Ferraté compares the versions of the same poem by Du Fu by Marià Manent (twice in very different ways) and Josep Carner. It is a poem that Joan Ferraté also later translated, poem 33 of his Du Fu: “The Good Rain of a Spring Night” (Ferraté, 1992, 82). This short essay, which recalls Eliot Weinberger’s famous essay Nineteen Views on a Poem by Wang Wei, published in 1987, ends with a conclusive maxim: “And it is well known that Carner always wins.”3
Joan Ferraté considered in the prologue to Du Fu’s Fifty Poems that his versions of Cavafy, the archaic Greek poets and Du Fu formed “a triad”. In these three translations, the “appropriative mania” that has always marked his treatment of the poetry of others reaches its maximum. All three have in common that they were written in languages that, for different reasons, were impossible for him to fully control, which he could only literally make his own through a careful process of meticulous translation. On the other hand, when faced with poets who interest him and who write in languages that are accessible to him (such as Catalan, English, Spanish), the way to appropriate them was through critical analysis: “in the mode of a wise and reflective discourse, perhaps intended, above all, to corroborate the validity of my in-depth reading.” This is how he made Carner, Riba, March, and Eliot his own.
