REVIEWS
Small is beautiful
TO be quite honest, I had not heard of the Hesperus Press until I received these five books for review. And now, I cannot stop talking about this publishing house enough — to all comers, on all occasions.
Why? Basically because of this London-based publisher's raison d'etre, outlined in its end-note: "(It) is committed to bringing near what is far — far both in space and time. Works written by the greatest authors, and unjustly neglected or simply little known in the English-speaking world, are made accessible through new translations and a completely fresh editorial approach." It proved a rewarding route to a first date with Gabriele D'Annunzio, and an opportunity to recast my perceptions of Katherine Mansfield, Arthur Conan Doyle, Ivan Turgenev and Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Turgenev's Faust, like his more popular "Fathers and Sons," cast an immediate spell. It showcases his pan-European vision as his epistolary novella unravels the impact of Goethe's poetry on a sheathed imagination. The Russian novelist, whose intimate circle included Dickens and Flaubert, proves potent, even in this translation. So does "Yakov Pasynkov", a story of unlucky love, thrice explored, with low-key finesse. But the best surprise was British actor Simon Callow's introduction, which positions these stories accurately within Turgenev's oeuvre.
If our mental image of Arthur Conan Doyle is inextricably Sherlock Holmes-oriented, The Tragedy of the Korosko helps to re-align our preconceptions. In this 1898-published story, the noted doctor-writer chronicles the misadventures of a group of British travellers in Egypt against the backdrop of late-Victorian white supremacy and cultural hegemony. Page by page, we realise that the cultural and spiritual debates that seethe under the surface are all too much in tune with today. As TV personality Tony Robinson notes in his foreword, "The writer is too acute to ignore the contradictions thrown up by his narrative. `Why is there a British presence in the Near East?' his characters ask. Wherein lies its moral authority? Why do so many Arabs hate us?" Against the backdrop of 9/11 and breaking news since then, we can only applaud his acumen. Touché!
American writer Nathaniel Hawthorne's Rappacini's Daughter is a far cry from "The House of the Seven Gables" and "The Scarlet Letter." Part fairy tale, part Gothic horror story, the retelling of a young scholar's love for a beauteous maiden in a Padua garden seems a biblical parody of good and evil, creation and control, couched unerringly and irresistibly. Best-selling historian Simon Schama's perceptions light our way. He points out that James Bond-creator Ian Fleming paid an unusual tribute to Hawthorne by creating a reclusive villain in "You Only Live Twice," who pretends to be "a benefactor to the suicidally-inclined and terminally ill, who come to the garden to fade over and out amidst toxic blossoms." Would we have guessed at this unusual literary cross-pollination?
Despite warnings about Italian Gabriele D'Annunzio's pro-Fascist beliefs and personal notoriety, I found The Book of the Virgins tough to put down. Few writers deal with the sensual and sexual world with as much poetic detachment as he does, seducing us verbally. Whether it is the spiritual and sexual rebirth of the dying spinster Giuliana in "The Virgins", or the unsanctioned romance that blooms "In Lanciotto's Absence", the author makes a startling contribution to our verbal and visual awakening through nuanced signals of longing in these four stories. In each, human spirits buzz awake with insect-like vitality.
As writer-translator Tim Parks points out: "The lucid mind is overwhelmed by a compulsion before which every rule and taboo is suddenly obsolete. A river, usually no more than a distant murmur, has broken its banks. The everyday world is submerged in sensuality, utterly sexualised. Sensory perceptions fantastically enhanced, the will drowns in a flood of feeling."
Katherine Mansfield's stories were familiar to me from my teen years. Once more, I felt refreshed by the modernistic approach and piercing gaze of this New Zealand-born pioneer of modern English literature. In these 13 stories titled In a German Pension, first published in 1911, Mansfield revealed the fiercely independent attitude that characterised her own life and those of her women protagonists. We celebrate her eye for conversational nuances, for the odd angle in relationships, for each strategically-placed twist in the tale.
Orange Prize winning novelist Linda Grant's introductory remarks about Mansfield are illuminating: "She breezes over to Europe from her birthplace... and lets fresh air into rooms from which the aroma rises of camphor, tea, sausage, dusty flowers, stale eau de Cologne." I would love to read more Hesperus Press titles. What gems will I find between the covers of unfamiliar titles by other writers — Mark Twain's The Diary of Adam and Eve, Leonardo da Vinci's Prophecies, Alexander Pushkin's Dubrovsky, and Andre Gide's Theseus, among them? I can barely wait to dip into the next one, as much for the aesthetic appeal of the slim volumes as for their enlightened content.
Faust, Ivan Turgenev, Foreword by Simon Callow; Rappacini's Daughter, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Foreword by Simon Schama; The Tragedy Of The Korosko, Arthur Conan Doyle, Foreword by Tony Robinson; In A German Pension, Katherine Mansfield, Foreword by Linda Grant; The Book Of Virgins, Gabriele D'Annunzio, Foreword by Tim Parks; Hesperus Press. 2003, Approx. 100 pages each, £2.95.
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