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Saragasso manuscript
Saragasso manuscript













Have I been misleading you with non sequiturs and red herrings? Ha! No, but wait! Come back here! That film is instead Rekopis znaleziony w Saragossie - the Saragossa Manuscript is the name of its subtitled English-language release. In any case, that film is not The Saragossa Manuscript. (Screw meaning!) What would it have meant to you if he'd said "written by Tadeusz Kwiatkowski and designed by Tadeusz Myszorek?" 2 Nothing more than the frequency of the name "Tadeusz" among Poles, I'd be guessing. The names are all wrong, but he breaks with the truth in order to give you a better sense, a better feel, than meaning. I will go on to tell you what else he says if you give me half a chance (yes I will.) "In 18th century Spain, a Spanish officer wanders into a 4-D Decameron written by Borges, designed by Gilliam and cast by Russ Meyer." Despite my natural tendency to perversity, I cannot find much wrong with such a summation. " Now this is a movie" claims one Erik Gregersen. 118 years later, they decided to commit it, or at the least some portion thereof, to the silver screen.

saragasso manuscript

Poland had no need for all this language-crunching - they had all they needed.

saragasso manuscript saragasso manuscript

Go back and forget the last two paragraphs. As the text covers the events of 66 distinct days and nights over the course of a door-stopping six hundred and thirty one pages, one can safely say that it defies both time and space. I can share with you only the impersonal and abstract observations of a distant surveyor, flavoured with what scant interpretation as may be procured at this hour. But yet, having already pleaded illiteracy in this case, what nature of exposition would you expect me to share with you? Falsehoods and embellishments? Surely with a work boasting such a provenance as this, the truth cannot help but be stranger than any fiction I could trouble myself to fabricate. Having taken you this far, I'll warrant that you expect me to tell you a thing or two about this edition. From this French translation-translation ( Munuscrit Trouvé a Saragosse) was subsequently spawned an English-language version, only recently available. Senses are dropped and meaning is lost - but as much meaning, albeit whimsical, is "found" again as would be any decent Manuscript. Surely I do not need to tell you what happens when text is translated from one language to another and back again: it adds 150% delight value by weight. So it was that a French translation of the Polish translation of the French text by the Pole was commissioned. This is more acceptable than one might at first believe, as its circumstances are perhaps interesting ( - to me they are, and if I cannot effectively convey interest through words of what use are they at all?) It is the later of these two versions of the Manuscript which survived the excisions of time, and after some years there was again demand for a French-language version of the text - a demand which could not be met. Not having actually read the Manuscript, you may note that I am consigned to talking around it rather than about it. A brief sensation among his Enlightened peers, the Manuscript eventually found itself brought to the land and language of Potocki's native Poland, translated into that strange Polack tongue by one Jan Chojecki some 36 years after its original publication. That sole adherence to reality formed the foundation and framework upon which he hung and carefully cultivated intertwined falsehoods and embellishments - and we thank him for it.

saragasso manuscript

It is however, we must finally concede, indeed a manuscript. The Manuscript Found in Saragossa was not found but rather written by its "finder" - and even if it were so, we have no reason to believe its author, Count Jan Potocki 1, was ever any nearer to Saragossa (a Spanish village) than the adjacent France where, as an Enlightenment philosophe, he spent much of his time. (That actually happened.)Īs far as we can tell, he was lying. The raindrop hits a duck's back and rolls, slithering down to an indistinct fate in the murky pond. These words are talking, certainly, but saying little. Rumbling and jumbling uneasily in its temporary resting place, it later served to inform and/or inspire what was to follow - like the speck of dust around which each perfect raindrop forms. Not in the manner of which it was written, of course, and not necessarily even how it was observed, but assuredly some part of something - some nugget of esoteric lore ( folk or otherwise) got stuck in somewhere. The essential part is this: that something actually happened.















Saragasso manuscript