Para los lectores de español:
Si desea leer el texto original "Horacio Kalibang o los autómatas" por Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg en español, puede descargar el archivo PDF, haga clic en "ciencia ficción" en la página principal.
III.
For the readers to appreciate the conduct of my cousin, Hipknock, it is necessary that they permit me to paint his moral portrait in two brushstrokes.
The burgomeister is one of those men who follows with all of his soul the progress of materialism in Germany. He does not believe in God, nor in the devil, he has been excommunicated until the fifth generation, and ensures nothing is lost or gained by his descendents from this gift. He is a heretic, damned, a scoundrel, stupid, ignorant, and all that irrational indignation that it is possible to suggest to his enemies, that such blasphemies send him from the shadows of incognito.
But all of us who are closer with the burgomeister know that he has an incomparable character...I insist, he has a character that is the same in the presence of the Emperor and the presence of his friends.
Incapable of any indignity, he does good in all forms, and ensures, I don't know for what reason, that his greatest achievement is to have so many enemies, indeed, that he doesn’t even know them by sight. But instead, his friends are numerous, and the most sincere, as they do not need anything from him, nor he from them. If he attacks, he does it an uncovered face, because he is not a coward, and if ever he praises, he never does it with gainful intent. What he has said once, he has said because such was his opinion, and if he modifies it, it is for the force of reason, not for a whim.
He does not aspire to high posts, because he doesn't know what he would do in them; he understands that in the struggle for life every voluntary sacrifice demands a double reward, and since he is happy and content with what he has, his limit is in this. He would never say to the people gathered what was not his opinion, and would have a true disgust in having to say of the people what he hadn't said to the people. In none of the ceremonies in which he has taken the floor, he has never turned away from the center that revolves around his desire for humanity. "Work without rest," he says "is the scourge of tyrants. Work, and then you will be free and happy". And when a friend has asked his opinion about the government, he has not hesitated to answer: "People shape their government. There is no more divine right than the people; the people have, then, a government that they want or they deserve. Since Providence is a myth, it is not concerned about any people. All forms of government are good, when the rulers are not fools, but there are congregations that prefer such rulers for screens for their machinations."
He does not love demolition when he doesn't know what to build on the formed ruins, or when it will not improve the situation.
Therefore, he has not wanted to take part, ever, in propagating any religious matter. He is a materialist, by the fate of the reasons, but he does not believe there exist any atheist people, nor that it should or may exist. "The scientific societies" he says "have the right to be the reason." The people should only be the sentiment. For the sentiment, there is God, for the sentiment, there is the immortal soul.
Hipknock appears in many of the lists of members of illustrious corporations in Europe and America, this proves that his enemies are wrong. The sages who from time to time pass through the town visit him with pleasure, because he is illustrious, and what is more, he is relentless to resolve a doubt. He attacks it in a thousand ways, compresses it, he studies it, he squeezes it, and in this combat, that on many occasions has been a sad waste of time to others, the burgomeister always comes out victorious. He will never square the circle, not because it or isn’t squarable, but because he is persuaded that it would waste his time, which he could better dedicate to his official obligations, to his family, whom he loves, or his scientific tasks.
In his language, in the bosom of privacy, he usually bites, but never wounds, because he cares, and when he cares, he is frank. "Frankness," he said one day to his friend, the old marshall, "is the canyon of the soul." It is possible to be a charlatan, without being frank, the same way it is possible that one can be silent and indiscreet, or a charlaton and discreet. To speak a lot is not necessarily to say anything.
This, in a few words, my cousin, the burgomeister. The reader can follow, logically, the whole development of those fundamental ideas, intimately linked to form his character.
Now the reader will also understand why my cousin left the dining room in such a brusque manner. He was going to resolve a question. He was going.
Note to readers: to continue with the story, go here.
A blog of art, science, and literature that explores the question: What is a 'scientific american'?
Sunday, January 8, 2012
(ENG) Chapter 2: Horacio Kalibang
Para los lectores de español:
Si desea leer el texto original "Horacio Kalibang o los autómatas" por Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg en español, puede descargar el archivo PDF, haga clic en "ciencia ficción" en la página principal.
II.
Although there are ill-willed people who claim that my cousin and relative, the burgomeister Hipknock, carries this name due to the circumstances of one of his ancesters choking on a bone, in the time of Carlos V, I argue that it is false, although I am not interested in demonstrating the opposite.
Luisa, the daughter of my cousin, is 15 years old today. She is a beautiful creature, “just like the most beautiful dolls made in Nuremburg”, my birth city. With this I have said everything. Her eyes of blue have the candor of unlimited innocence, her hair falls in golden curls to the side of her cheeks, pink with dawn, and fresh as a head of lettuce, and her lips, like cherries from the Black Forest, I do not know what memories they waken in the palate, to the extent that dampness shudders and slips down the angle to the right of the mouth.
Fifteen years! The most delicious age for a woman,
despite already having ripened this unconscious seed that we call the human heart, the head enjoys the most ethereal and divine emptiness.
Fifteen years! The age in which one thinks of nothing, failing to think of something else. And nevertheless, there is nothing to worry about after 20. Why? Unfathomable mysteries of the unconscious, that hardening of the bones.
Despite everything, the daughter of my cousin is not a mushroom. Her hands of cotton know how to make muffins with syrup on the outside, and apple on the inside, so rich and so inviting, they honor the bone that was not swallowed by her father's ancester.
To celebrate his birthday, the burgomeister has gathered a crowd with a good appetite. He believes, like me, that the modern table has many tricks and little juice; that there is no wine like Rhine, and the ham is excellent when it is not bad quality. So, upon entering the dining room, I paused for a moment on the threshold, to observe the tableaux that the family and friends presented.
At the head of the table was seated my cousin, at his right, Luisa, dressed in white, with blue ties. In the front of her, her cousin Hermann, who looked at her with all the ferocity of a lieutenant in love, with the consent of Marshall Vogelplatz, who was sitting next to Luisa, and wishing to commune with the lieutenant.
The marshal is a tremendous personage: His nose is the color and temperature of the setting sun, and in the belly, all the dimensions of a well educated elephant. He swallows like a palmiped and drinks like a whirlwind. Captain Hartz, the village pastor, Kasper (secretary of the burgomeister) and his wife, the schoolmaster, and the director of the nearby military encampment, with his wife, and in front of the owner of the house, his mistress...here is the brilliant whole, gathered at the house of the burgomeister.
My seat has not been occupied, and I manage to not have anyone move from their seats, by quickly taking mine.
"Come on, Fritz" my cousin says to me, smiling with a mocking air. "Finally, eh? I believed you would keep scratching miserably at the infamous cello, that gives you every appearance of a sentimental toad, when you sit at my side"
"It's understood, cousin, that you insist on hating music.”
"Stop the music, Fritz, the music does not mean anything. Look, this is the positive, the solid, that which can be well digested! And this! Pass me your cup, this is Liebfrauenmilch, the best Rhine label, the glory of Germany, glorifying our palates like the ones of the gods.
"Very good, indeed, but I see that I have interrupted an interesting conversation, perhaps, and I wouldn’t like to do that."
"Not so; it is one of the many preoccupations of my nephew."
"How so?"
"Just imagine, he is trying to convince me that a man can lose his center of gravity. Ha, Ha, Ha!"
"And why not? if he is placed, for example, at a location that neutralizes the attractions of the earth and the moon."
"Nor had I thought such a thing" interrupted the lieutenant Blagerdorff. "Do you know about Horacio Kalibang?"
"A character named very much like a figure from The Tempest by Shakespeare"
"This is going off on a tangent" observed the marshal, swallowing with ease an enormous bite. "Do you know about Horacio Kalibang, the man who has lost his center of gravity? Yes or no?"
"No, Señor Marshall, and neither do I expect to meet him."
"He is a prodigy of the fantasy of Hermann. Let's go! Cauliflower and meat! You are an idiot, nephew! Serve the marshall some wine. Luisa, my daughter, serve Mr. Marshall. Captain! Would you like to pass me this chicken,which despite the action of the fire, jumps in the dish, as if it had also lost gravity? Fritz, drink, son, drink!"
"Thanks, cousin, I would not like to be like Horacio.."
`
"The Señor Kalibang!" interrupted one of the maids, entering into the room, frightened.
"Adelante! Adelante!" Come in, come in! exclaimed the burgomeister, getting to his feet, as we all were, and then dropping to a chair, as if a bullet had struck his lungs.
But that hadn't happened.
The personage who was presented in the scene was possibly 5 feet in height, or that is to say 1 meter 443 millimeters, and formed proportionally. His face was completely devoid of expression, and to see him one would say that he had just emerged from a mold at a mask factory. Not a single movement of the eyelids revealed the sensations that determined the change of light, or the variation of the images. His pupils didn’t move, they were like those portraits that are fixed to the front, causing dread in children who for the first time, see them.
They were the expression of the flat plane in relief.
"A very good evening, ladies and gentlemen" he said, looking simultaneously at everyone.
"Have a very excellent evening, Señor Kalibang" babbled my cousin, the burgomeister, seeing the lips of the newcomer move in an identical manner to pronounce each one of the syllabus of those words; "Take your seat."
"Thank you; as I have no weight, any position is the same to me."
In that moment, there were only two faces that did not register the most profound terror; the lieutenant Blagerdorff, and that of Horacio Kalibang. The first shone with the light of victory; the second had been stamped by the eternal shadow of indifference. I do not count myself. Kalibang made a movement with the right arm, and instantly his body inclined in such a manner that the line of gravity fell half a meter away from his feet.
"Impossible!" exclaimed the burgomeister. "This is entirely outside the laws of physics!"
"Unless..." insinuated Kasper.
"What..what...unless you are such a fool as my nephew."
"Uncle!"
"Silence, Hermann" said Luisa, making a gesture that dominated the lieutenent.
"Unless.." repeated Kasper, "Señor Kalibang is hollow, or has feet of platinum."
"What?"
"I think so, because having platinum at the specific weight of 21 can serve as a resistance to the body's gravity, in an inclination of this grade, causing the legs to have enough energy not to give."
"Do not say such a thing, Kasper..Señor Kalibang has declared, when we offered a seat, that because he lacks weight, any position is equal.”
"Ladies and Gentlemen, many good nights; you see I am not a myth"
And turning on one of his heels, Señor Kalibang retired, inclining in the same impossible manner.
The marshal had lost his appetite despite being his turn with the desserts, and the other guests as well, and except for Hermann and I, kept the most strange silence and stupid dread.
"Do you know what that is?" asked the lieutenant.
"Do I know it? Of course! It is the most stupendous that can be seen; the most wondrous of all the phenomena: To lose gravity!"
I smiled.
"And what indifference to all opinions" said the burgomeister between his teeth.
"And what a look..!" added Luisa.
"It looked like an owl" said one.
"Two owls" insinuated another.
This prelude was not displeasing to me. Like the birds who wake up each other, hidden by the leaves whispering at dawn, the owners of the house and their guests seemed to mutually encourage each other, after an instant of terror that had made a minute last as long as a century.
"I shall know who Horacio Kalibang is; meanwhile, Marshall, let’s finish what is almost over. Wine! Wine! Coffee! Hey, boys, do not sleep!"
May the transparent wine sparkle in the cup
May it spread the joy in torrents!
"Do you see, cousin, that there is no happiness without music? You yourself give the example"
"They are emotions, Fritz, emotions of another kind, that result in discordant notes. I do not know if you understand me, but you know that an excess of impressions must be transformed in some way. I sing, some laugh, others cry.."
"I tremble"
"I eat"
"I drink Rhine wine and love the music just because..goodness for its own sake ..the music for its own sake..What does the music mean? I don't know, it is not important for me to know. Wine here...one sings and rejoices.”
"I look at Luisa.."
"But the lieutenant does not escape my glance." added the marshall, his face flashing a burning twilight.
The greater punishments,
the deep groans,
the grieving breasts,
cured, fall silent, erased in wine.
"Hoorah!"
"Another!"
"Encore!"
"Horacio Kalibang! Another! Encore! The man who has lost his gravity..Hey! You are all fools!"
And taking the hat and the stick, the burgomeister left abruptly from the dining room.
One moment later, I left also, thinking that it is not necessary to be called Horacio Kalibang to lose gravity.
Note to readers: to continue with the story, go here.
Si desea leer el texto original "Horacio Kalibang o los autómatas" por Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg en español, puede descargar el archivo PDF, haga clic en "ciencia ficción" en la página principal.
II.
Although there are ill-willed people who claim that my cousin and relative, the burgomeister Hipknock, carries this name due to the circumstances of one of his ancesters choking on a bone, in the time of Carlos V, I argue that it is false, although I am not interested in demonstrating the opposite.
Luisa, the daughter of my cousin, is 15 years old today. She is a beautiful creature, “just like the most beautiful dolls made in Nuremburg”, my birth city. With this I have said everything. Her eyes of blue have the candor of unlimited innocence, her hair falls in golden curls to the side of her cheeks, pink with dawn, and fresh as a head of lettuce, and her lips, like cherries from the Black Forest, I do not know what memories they waken in the palate, to the extent that dampness shudders and slips down the angle to the right of the mouth.
Fifteen years! The most delicious age for a woman,
despite already having ripened this unconscious seed that we call the human heart, the head enjoys the most ethereal and divine emptiness.
Fifteen years! The age in which one thinks of nothing, failing to think of something else. And nevertheless, there is nothing to worry about after 20. Why? Unfathomable mysteries of the unconscious, that hardening of the bones.
Despite everything, the daughter of my cousin is not a mushroom. Her hands of cotton know how to make muffins with syrup on the outside, and apple on the inside, so rich and so inviting, they honor the bone that was not swallowed by her father's ancester.
To celebrate his birthday, the burgomeister has gathered a crowd with a good appetite. He believes, like me, that the modern table has many tricks and little juice; that there is no wine like Rhine, and the ham is excellent when it is not bad quality. So, upon entering the dining room, I paused for a moment on the threshold, to observe the tableaux that the family and friends presented.
At the head of the table was seated my cousin, at his right, Luisa, dressed in white, with blue ties. In the front of her, her cousin Hermann, who looked at her with all the ferocity of a lieutenant in love, with the consent of Marshall Vogelplatz, who was sitting next to Luisa, and wishing to commune with the lieutenant.
The marshal is a tremendous personage: His nose is the color and temperature of the setting sun, and in the belly, all the dimensions of a well educated elephant. He swallows like a palmiped and drinks like a whirlwind. Captain Hartz, the village pastor, Kasper (secretary of the burgomeister) and his wife, the schoolmaster, and the director of the nearby military encampment, with his wife, and in front of the owner of the house, his mistress...here is the brilliant whole, gathered at the house of the burgomeister.
My seat has not been occupied, and I manage to not have anyone move from their seats, by quickly taking mine.
"Come on, Fritz" my cousin says to me, smiling with a mocking air. "Finally, eh? I believed you would keep scratching miserably at the infamous cello, that gives you every appearance of a sentimental toad, when you sit at my side"
"It's understood, cousin, that you insist on hating music.”
"Stop the music, Fritz, the music does not mean anything. Look, this is the positive, the solid, that which can be well digested! And this! Pass me your cup, this is Liebfrauenmilch, the best Rhine label, the glory of Germany, glorifying our palates like the ones of the gods.
"Very good, indeed, but I see that I have interrupted an interesting conversation, perhaps, and I wouldn’t like to do that."
"Not so; it is one of the many preoccupations of my nephew."
"How so?"
"Just imagine, he is trying to convince me that a man can lose his center of gravity. Ha, Ha, Ha!"
"And why not? if he is placed, for example, at a location that neutralizes the attractions of the earth and the moon."
"Nor had I thought such a thing" interrupted the lieutenant Blagerdorff. "Do you know about Horacio Kalibang?"
"A character named very much like a figure from The Tempest by Shakespeare"
"This is going off on a tangent" observed the marshal, swallowing with ease an enormous bite. "Do you know about Horacio Kalibang, the man who has lost his center of gravity? Yes or no?"
"No, Señor Marshall, and neither do I expect to meet him."
"He is a prodigy of the fantasy of Hermann. Let's go! Cauliflower and meat! You are an idiot, nephew! Serve the marshall some wine. Luisa, my daughter, serve Mr. Marshall. Captain! Would you like to pass me this chicken,which despite the action of the fire, jumps in the dish, as if it had also lost gravity? Fritz, drink, son, drink!"
"Thanks, cousin, I would not like to be like Horacio.."
`
"The Señor Kalibang!" interrupted one of the maids, entering into the room, frightened.
"Adelante! Adelante!" Come in, come in! exclaimed the burgomeister, getting to his feet, as we all were, and then dropping to a chair, as if a bullet had struck his lungs.
But that hadn't happened.
The personage who was presented in the scene was possibly 5 feet in height, or that is to say 1 meter 443 millimeters, and formed proportionally. His face was completely devoid of expression, and to see him one would say that he had just emerged from a mold at a mask factory. Not a single movement of the eyelids revealed the sensations that determined the change of light, or the variation of the images. His pupils didn’t move, they were like those portraits that are fixed to the front, causing dread in children who for the first time, see them.
They were the expression of the flat plane in relief.
"A very good evening, ladies and gentlemen" he said, looking simultaneously at everyone.
"Have a very excellent evening, Señor Kalibang" babbled my cousin, the burgomeister, seeing the lips of the newcomer move in an identical manner to pronounce each one of the syllabus of those words; "Take your seat."
"Thank you; as I have no weight, any position is the same to me."
In that moment, there were only two faces that did not register the most profound terror; the lieutenant Blagerdorff, and that of Horacio Kalibang. The first shone with the light of victory; the second had been stamped by the eternal shadow of indifference. I do not count myself. Kalibang made a movement with the right arm, and instantly his body inclined in such a manner that the line of gravity fell half a meter away from his feet.
"Impossible!" exclaimed the burgomeister. "This is entirely outside the laws of physics!"
"Unless..." insinuated Kasper.
"What..what...unless you are such a fool as my nephew."
"Uncle!"
"Silence, Hermann" said Luisa, making a gesture that dominated the lieutenent.
"Unless.." repeated Kasper, "Señor Kalibang is hollow, or has feet of platinum."
"What?"
"I think so, because having platinum at the specific weight of 21 can serve as a resistance to the body's gravity, in an inclination of this grade, causing the legs to have enough energy not to give."
"Do not say such a thing, Kasper..Señor Kalibang has declared, when we offered a seat, that because he lacks weight, any position is equal.”
"Ladies and Gentlemen, many good nights; you see I am not a myth"
And turning on one of his heels, Señor Kalibang retired, inclining in the same impossible manner.
The marshal had lost his appetite despite being his turn with the desserts, and the other guests as well, and except for Hermann and I, kept the most strange silence and stupid dread.
"Do you know what that is?" asked the lieutenant.
"Do I know it? Of course! It is the most stupendous that can be seen; the most wondrous of all the phenomena: To lose gravity!"
I smiled.
"And what indifference to all opinions" said the burgomeister between his teeth.
"And what a look..!" added Luisa.
"It looked like an owl" said one.
"Two owls" insinuated another.
This prelude was not displeasing to me. Like the birds who wake up each other, hidden by the leaves whispering at dawn, the owners of the house and their guests seemed to mutually encourage each other, after an instant of terror that had made a minute last as long as a century.
"I shall know who Horacio Kalibang is; meanwhile, Marshall, let’s finish what is almost over. Wine! Wine! Coffee! Hey, boys, do not sleep!"
May the transparent wine sparkle in the cup
May it spread the joy in torrents!
"Do you see, cousin, that there is no happiness without music? You yourself give the example"
"They are emotions, Fritz, emotions of another kind, that result in discordant notes. I do not know if you understand me, but you know that an excess of impressions must be transformed in some way. I sing, some laugh, others cry.."
"I tremble"
"I eat"
"I drink Rhine wine and love the music just because..goodness for its own sake ..the music for its own sake..What does the music mean? I don't know, it is not important for me to know. Wine here...one sings and rejoices.”
"I look at Luisa.."
"But the lieutenant does not escape my glance." added the marshall, his face flashing a burning twilight.
The greater punishments,
the deep groans,
the grieving breasts,
cured, fall silent, erased in wine.
"Hoorah!"
"Another!"
"Encore!"
"Horacio Kalibang! Another! Encore! The man who has lost his gravity..Hey! You are all fools!"
And taking the hat and the stick, the burgomeister left abruptly from the dining room.
One moment later, I left also, thinking that it is not necessary to be called Horacio Kalibang to lose gravity.
Note to readers: to continue with the story, go here.
Monday, December 26, 2011
(ENG) La Lucha con El Texto
As we do the English translation of Horacio Kalibang by Eduardo Holmberg, (an amazing robot story written in the 1800's in Argentina), I realize that every translation is a poetic and interpretive act, characterized by struggles with the text and the subjectivity of the translator. So I made this logo "La Luchadora del Texto" to signify our struggles. Anywhere you see it you will see where we are struggling.
And here are some of our struggles.
1) Ana and I took some liberties with the text in the first section. The narrator, Fritz apologizes to the reader directly but in the 3rd person. This type of aside is common for Victorian writing. "Razón tendra el lector, y mucha, para quejarse por la extraña introducción que me he permitido regalarle.." (The readers will be right to complain about the strange introduction I have allowed myself to give them). Technically we should be saying "the strange introduction which I have allowed myself to give him". But for now at least, since there are two women translating, (and working quite hard I might add) we are using the gender neutral "them" in this instance until we can figure this out to our satisfaction.
2) Holmberg uses "pariente" regarding the narrator's relationship with Burgomeister Hipknock. The english translation of "pariente" is "relative" or "kinsman" In section 3, Holmberg uses the word "primo" which means cousin. "Para que el lector pueda apreciar la conducata de mi primo, el burgomaistre Hipknock". We decided to use "cousin" throughout, because "relative" in English is too confusing and general, especially since there are lot of relatives in this story.
3) Is Horacio Kalibang "it" or "he"? I was not sure about this when I first started reading the text. The Spanish prepositions indicated that Horacio could be an "it" or a "he" but not female. However, in Section 2, the people at the dinner party say "El hombre que ha perdido la gravedad" (The man who has lost his gravity). So from there, I decided that Kalibang was a "man" in this story, not an object.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
(ENG) Chapter 1: Horacio Kalibang
This is a science fiction story that I am translating from Spanish with help from Ana Lucía Alonso, an artist and animator from Argentina. I am going to post it section by section, and in the end I will make it a PDF and put it next to the Spanish translation on this blog. It has 7 sections, it's really more in the nature of a 15 page short story. If you have any comments on the translation, leave them on this blog posting. -sam smiley
Para los lectores de español:
Si desea leer el texto original "Horacio Kalibang o los autómatas" por Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg en español, puede descargar el archivo PDF, haga clic en "ciencia ficción" en la página principal.
HORACIO KALIBANG O LOS AUTOMATAS
Horacio Kalibang or the Automatons
by Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg
translated by sam smiley and Ana Lucía Alonso
1.
"It is completely false" said the burgomeister, raising his lips to the green cup, in which his nephew had just served him a delicate Rhine wine.
"And you believe this is outside the limits of the conceivable?" asked Hermann with malice.
"The conceivable! The conceivable! Everything is conceivable, nephew, but not everything is possible."
"So I have heard it said more than one time; but since I knew that fact with its terrifying reality, I have come to understand that there exists strange phenomena, that human science cannot explain, and it may never be able to explain"
"Your opinion is no more than a schoolchild"
"Uncle!"
“So what? you imagine, by chance that it is possible to be something else? Only a whippersnapper, who denies the truths revealed by man (with his concentration and incessant application to the study of nature), and accepts the folly, exactly as you have manifested? You believe, perhaps, that I was born yesterday? Has it occured to you to suspect that you are talking with a religious fanatic who is going to confirm your preoccupations by way of beliefs or faith? No, Hermann, no; you are very wrong. But, why don’t you serve the marshal? And you, Luisa, have you lost the taste for this, after what you have heard? Kaspar, pass me the ham. Captain! Rhine wine?”
“Thank you, I have been served already.”
“Marshal, a slice of ham? Excellent, my marshal, it is the best that is made in Pomerania, with goose breast.”
The burgomeister was right. It was a delicacy, that everyone judged rigorously, without being able to declare any other result that it was exquisite, and therefore it was possible to qualify equally a beautiful woman, and a delicious ham from Pomerania.
The readers will be right to complain about the strange introduction that I have allowed myself to give them, before introducing them to Horacio Kalibang, with all the solemnity that the character and the readers deserve; but it was not possible to begin in in any other way because to enter the room in which that conversation took place, at that very moment, the burgomeister Hipknock was contradicting his nephew, the lieutenant Hermann Blagerdorff, and as a faithful portrait, I could not do anything but take the recorded words without the past history.
To continue with the story click here.
Para los lectores de español:
Si desea leer el texto original "Horacio Kalibang o los autómatas" por Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg en español, puede descargar el archivo PDF, haga clic en "ciencia ficción" en la página principal.
HORACIO KALIBANG O LOS AUTOMATAS
Horacio Kalibang or the Automatons
by Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg
translated by sam smiley and Ana Lucía Alonso
1.
"It is completely false" said the burgomeister, raising his lips to the green cup, in which his nephew had just served him a delicate Rhine wine.
"And you believe this is outside the limits of the conceivable?" asked Hermann with malice.
"The conceivable! The conceivable! Everything is conceivable, nephew, but not everything is possible."
"So I have heard it said more than one time; but since I knew that fact with its terrifying reality, I have come to understand that there exists strange phenomena, that human science cannot explain, and it may never be able to explain"
"Your opinion is no more than a schoolchild"
"Uncle!"
“So what? you imagine, by chance that it is possible to be something else? Only a whippersnapper, who denies the truths revealed by man (with his concentration and incessant application to the study of nature), and accepts the folly, exactly as you have manifested? You believe, perhaps, that I was born yesterday? Has it occured to you to suspect that you are talking with a religious fanatic who is going to confirm your preoccupations by way of beliefs or faith? No, Hermann, no; you are very wrong. But, why don’t you serve the marshal? And you, Luisa, have you lost the taste for this, after what you have heard? Kaspar, pass me the ham. Captain! Rhine wine?”
“Thank you, I have been served already.”
“Marshal, a slice of ham? Excellent, my marshal, it is the best that is made in Pomerania, with goose breast.”
The burgomeister was right. It was a delicacy, that everyone judged rigorously, without being able to declare any other result that it was exquisite, and therefore it was possible to qualify equally a beautiful woman, and a delicious ham from Pomerania.
The readers will be right to complain about the strange introduction that I have allowed myself to give them, before introducing them to Horacio Kalibang, with all the solemnity that the character and the readers deserve; but it was not possible to begin in in any other way because to enter the room in which that conversation took place, at that very moment, the burgomeister Hipknock was contradicting his nephew, the lieutenant Hermann Blagerdorff, and as a faithful portrait, I could not do anything but take the recorded words without the past history.
To continue with the story click here.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
(ENG) Henrietta Lacks: a "scientific american"
However, her family was not treated ethically after this "discovery" and was not compensated or acknowledged for their contribution. This brings up many ethical questions about what happens even today, when you "donate" a portion of your body and DNA during medical treatment.
Henrientta has not been truly acknowledged for her (involuntary) contribution until recently. However, in my mind, she is truly a "scientific american". Since Rebecca Skloot's book The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, (2010) things have changed. In 2011, Morgan State University in Baltimore, Maryland awarded her a posthumous honorary degree. In Vancouver, Washington, United States, a new high school is going to be named in her honor: Henrietta Lacks Health and Bioscience High School (HeLa High)
http://www.evergreenhbsa.com/
Here are some other resources on Henrietta Lacks to learn more about her:
Wikipedia entry:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henrietta_Lacks
A foundation for the Lacks family set up by Skloot and the family after she wrote the book:
http://www.henriettalacksfoundation.org/
Fascinating BBC documentary by Adam Curtis, archived for free. The music is a little dated, but the interviews reveal a lot about the implicit racism of science in the treatment of Henrietta Lacks.
http://www.archive.org/details/AdamCurtisTheWayofAllFlesh
-sam smiley
Saturday, December 3, 2011
(ESP) Señor Nic-Nac: Un tesoro de ciencia ficcíon
Cuando asistí a un grupo de lectura el año pasado, me presentaron la escritura de Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg, un botánico y naturalista que trabajaba en el siglo XIX en Argentina.
Wikipedia (English)
Wikipedia (Spanish)
Importante: la entrada en de Wikipedia en español es más completa.
Cuanto más descubría acerca de él, más me interesaba en lo que hizo, en el cruce de las fronteras de la ciencia y la literatura.
Actualmente estoy leyendo “Viaje maravilloso del señor Nic-Nac al planeta Marte”. Solo he encontrado este texto en Español, publicado por Ediciones Colihue, aunque yo pude comprarlo en Amazon.
Para mí, es soprendente que este libro no haya entrado en el canon de ciencia ficción al lado de Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, y Mary Shelley. En parte, es un problema de idioma, ya que no ha sido traducida al inglés. Ahora, sin embargo, es mi ganancia, porque realmente he disfrutado de las partes que he leido. Holmberg escribió el libro para popularizar la ciencia a sus conciudadanos Argentinos. Es bastante accessible, y a su vez no es difícil de leer para los adultos que están aprendiendo español.
Un pequeño sumario del cuento. Señor Nic Nac abandona su cuerpo con la ayuda de su amigo mysterioso, Seele. Utiliza la proyección astral para ir al planeta Marte. Marte parece tener muchas similitudes con Argentina. He llegado hasta este punto ahora pero estoy encontrando que es un libro realmente bueno para leer.
El libro se publica en una edición nueva, pero sólo en Español. El ISBN es 9505639074. Se publica por Ediciones Colihue (2006) en Argentina. Es en parte disponible en la web por Google Books.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
(ENG) Señor Nic-Nac: A Science Fiction Treasure
Through attending a reading group last year, i was introduced to the writing of Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg, a botanist and natural historian who worked in the 1800's in Argentina.
Wikipedia (English) Holmberg
Wikipedia (Spanish) Holmberg
Important: the Spanish Wikipedia entry is much more complete.
The more I found out about him, the more I was interested in what he did, in crossing the borders of science and literature.
I am currently reading "The Marvelous Voyage of Señor Nic Nac and the planet Mars." I have only found this text in Spanish, published by Ediciones Colihue although I was able to buy it on Amazon.
To me it is amazing that this book has not entered the canon of science fiction alongside of Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, and Mary Shelley. Partly it is a language issue, since it hasn't been translated into English. Now however, it is my gain, as I have truly enjoyed the parts I have read. Holmberg wrote the book to popularize science to his fellow Argentinians. It is fairly accessible, and also it is not hard to read for adults who are learning Spanish. It was published in serial form in an Argentian newspaper in 1875.
A short summary of the story. Senor Nic Nac leaves his body with the help of his mysterious friend Seele. He uses astral projection to go to the Planet Mars. Mars seems to have many resemblances to Argentina. That is as far as I am right now but I am finding it a really great read. With the help of friends, I am going to try to publish it in English on this blog.
The book is currently published in a new edition, but in Spanish only. It has great notes by Pablo Crash Solomonoff. Its ISBN is 9505639074. It is published through Ediciones Colihue (2006) in Argentina. It is partly available online through Google Books.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)