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Long, boring preamble: As the title (hopefully) makes abundantly clear, this thread will read through (N, when N equals or greater than 1) obscure foreign takes on the sci-fi and fantasy genre, and see how common tropes and archetypes mutate as they cross the cultural and linguistic barrier. Though to be fair, that's a needlessly highbrow and elaborate way to look at this – it might be just about reading obscure nerdery with no deeper intent. Just thought I'd make that much clear before I embark on a rambling introduction: This thread owes its genesis to the excellent Let's Read the Sword of Truth, which really helps illustrate how fantasy and sci-fi may act as inadvertent thought experiments laying bare the issues with certain ideological concepts which somehow became borderline mainstream (and, of course, the issues that arise when an already terrible philosophy is interpreted by a stupid hack). But if it takes something as unpleasant and preachy about its own stupidity as the Sword of Truth series to expose weird, writhing sexual politics of objectivism (a lovely phrase borrowed from an expunged review of Hitman Absolution), then what about other cultures / languages that borrow popular (essentially Anglo-Saxon, Arthurian / Tolkien-esque) archetypes without really thinking about how they'd mesh with their new environment? (Not that popular fantasy and sci-fi don't have a lot of cargo-cults without any need to cross a single border – see the all too common attempt to square a circle by having the protagonist be both a humble peasant lad and a scion of noble blood as well as the heir to ultimate power). The most obvious example of a cultural difference that springs to mind is the huge torrent of Russian sci-fi time-travel / A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court novels that sprang up in the 90's and has yet to abate. While most of the time-travel novels (not "shocking twist" short stories) we're familiar with deal with restoring the status-quo – "setting right what once went wrong" and all that – Russian sci-fi has an entire sub-genre of people from the present day who arrive in the past and set about disrupting the status quo, making sure the USSR / Russian Empire never collapsed, handing over the nuclear bomb to the Soviets in 1940, and the like. Russians aren't exactly as pleased with the existent status quo as Americans are. … We're not going to read those. There's way too many and they're all waaaaaay too poo poo. I value my time and sanity too much to even attempt (not saying I'll never do a single one of those, or that someone else, whose life and joy is not dear to them, cannot do a readthrough in the thread). The loving point, finally: Instead, we're going to read through a book I thought was absolutely fantastic as a wee lad of… err... 20…………..about 10 years ago. Nimrod Harel's "Heresy". I'd call this a typical example of Israeli fantasy… except that's not really a thing. There are (give or take) 6 million people who speak Hebrew. That's enough to justify a thriving translation market for sci-fi and fantasy, but not really enough for a homegrown author focusing on the genre. Hell, I've been told that Israel's foremost authors don't really make a living from book sales, as such – unless we're talking about the sales of their English translations (being a tiny fish in the ocean is apparently far more profitable than the biggest one in the local puddle) . I can't even think of sci-fi / fantasy stories that found anything like mainstream success in Israel (Etgar Keret kinda uses some tropes, but in his typically "tasteful" way that by no means could get the narrative classified as sci-fi proper) The fact remains though – there are a LOT of kids who grew up reading (poorly) translated fantasy, a bunch of fan clubs, a lot of keening about the lack of consideration for the genre from local publishers… and every so often, a successful Xander77 fucked around with this message at 16:16 on Aug 27, 2015 |
# ? Jul 4, 2015 22:01 |
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# ? May 5, 2024 02:32 |
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In a fit of totally unjustified optimism, the second post is reserved for… something or another. Content links for the unlikely event the thread goes on long enough to need those? Fanart, in the far less likely event the thread generates any? Whatever, the reservation is here just in case.
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# ? Jul 4, 2015 22:02 |
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I'm going to translate the prologue more or less wholesale. The rest of the book will be heavily abridged and summarized, but… I want to flex my translation skills, and let you get a feel for the style (even though that's not really a thing you can do with a translation). Ahhem: quote:Dedicated to Omri, whom Halermon (?) belongs to at least as much as it does to me. Google search doesn't turn up an Omri, so I guess he's Nimrod's son, as that's the most interpretation. Nimrod was 30 at the time this book was published, so Omri must have been 10-12, with a high tolerance for gore and elaborate swordplay. I kinda get the feeling that he was a huge Berserk fan. Prologue posted:In the hours between the moons, all who lived on Halermon dreamed the same dream. Well, that was quite the enticing (if somewhat generic) prologue, wasn't it? Not yet, it wasn't. We're not nearly done here, as the rest of the prologue chapter moves on into specifics, and (IMO) reflects the overall tone of the book much better. quote:Thebolt awoke from his sleep. He dreamed a different dream – his dream featured one of the portly serving girls from the "Nomad" tavern. This girl caught his eye during his last visit to the tavern, and now she appeared in his dream to lounge against him with the full weight of her flesh. Thebolt loved women who doubled him in their weight, and the dream was turning into a rather fortunate dream*. However, at this point the girl sensuously stuck out her tongue, and dragged it across his throat, and by Zama (?) that tongue was completely frozen! Thebolt awoke from his sleep in a fit of panic. * I'm not going to interrupt the translation for this purpose again, but I have to assure you - the choice of words, turns of phrase and repetition is meant to convey the exact style of the original. quote:He was supposed to guard the searcher party until the hour of between-moons, but he fell asleep on guard duty. Thebolt had this minor problem, nothing serious, most certainly nothing any of his searcher party comrades ought to know about, as he intended to get rid of this marginal problem any day now. Thebolt liked the booze, and the booze liked him. Every once in a while he would slip a tiny sip from the little flask he kept near his heart, but only late at night, and only far from the eyes of his comrades. This could cost him his job and much more, but as noted above, Thebolt was fully in control of the problem. The first actual abridgement, holy poo poo. It's just a short paragraph about Thebolt drunkenly going to sleep, but it's a start. Do let me know which parts of this you find utterly redundant (not "the whole thing", thanks) so that I'll know what to summarize in the future . quote:It was the horses frightened neighing that woke him from his alcohol-soaked sleep, he thought. But after a moment, he deduced it was the cold sword blade held against his throat. I might have skipped all of that, but – unless I'm terribly mistaken, this might well be the most elaborate physical description in the entire book. And we're not even dealing with a main character, as such. Also, his sword is purple. Because that's scary. quote:Lord Langford thought this was a worthy adversary. He could kill him now, but something about the strangers question bothered him. Where is the girl, the stranger asked. Imojen (? I just like the mental of image of "heya, it's me, Imojen") he recalled. And then he understood – Imojen was gone. (Somewhat obvious "don't you walk away after that poo poo" posturing. quote:The stranger drew a deep breath. "I will make an exception and won't kill you for your rudeness", he said. He turned his back on the lord and started to distance himself once more. quote:"You are messing with the wrong man", hissed Langford, deliberating on his opening move. quote:Silence prevailed. * "One must pay for his mistakes? Mistakes are made to be paid for? It's a rather Israeli specific expression – something you commonly hear from a drill sergeant. quote:"You said it", a steady voice said behind him. Lord Langford turned his head slowly, as though he knew what sort of demon waited behind his back. He stood there, tall and straight, his short cloak waving in the cool morning breeze. His shirt has a hole in it, about two fingers in diameter, but smooth and whole skin la beyond it. The shirt was soaked with blood, but Lord Langford couldn't see a remnant of a bleeding wound. The stranger stood on both his feet, and looked at the lord. And smiled. "Where were we?" he asked with a somewhat dreamy voice. His gaze misted over and turned skywards, as though trying to catch a slippery memory. Suddenly his eyes lit up, "Ah!" he called out, as though finally recollecting. His gaze fixated upon the lord standing thunderstruck in front of him. "A battle" he cried once more, and his smile grew wider. Join us next time (tomorrow?) when I post about Israel and the curse of the terrible, no good, absolutely lovely translations AKA why I Thoughts? Input? Readtroughs of far more interesting and obscure stuff? Seriously – which parts should I elide further in the future, which should I expand upon? Should I strive to maintain a translation tone that will convey the exact style of the original, or just the intended meaning? Xander77 fucked around with this message at 18:37 on Jul 7, 2015 |
# ? Jul 4, 2015 22:02 |
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hmm ok interesting setup but I think you forgot to make a demand. "I am going to translate this entire horrible Israeli fantasy novel unless you ________." you gotta fill in the blank bud, what is it you are after?
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# ? Jul 7, 2015 13:23 |
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So let's talk about Hebrew translations, lexicon, and word-choice in epic fantasy novels. Modern Hebrew is basically a century old, kinda. I mean, some parts of the initial version are lifted wholesale from the bible, others are upended from Aramaic, mostly used in Middle-Ages discussions, and some were invented from whole-cloth, based on principles haphazardly derived from the rest of the lexicon, made to fit everyday usage (the Bible does cover a large number of subjects, so the popular example of "going down to the grocery store" isn't quite on point – but "visiting a garage" strains the Biblical lexicon to its limits and beyond). Still, even given all of that, you'd imagine that (at the very least) reading a random bit of writing from the late 19th century would be about as difficult (or easy) for respective native speakers of English and Hebrew. After all, how far can a language evolve with the span of a single century? Wrong again, hypothetical person answering my questions, as usual. Man, you really need to get your poo poo together; I don't think you got a single one of these right in forever. You probably know that Modern Hebrew incorporates a fair deal of Arabic, some select bits of Yiddish, and like any modern language, quite a great deal of English, with more filtering in every day despite the best efforts of The Academy of the Hebrew Language . This, parenthetically, is a body which busies itself with trying to come up with and promote a Hebrew name for everyday objects like Television / Disc on Key (which was actually created by an Israeli company and given that name, [ironically? enough]) or (better yet) come up with a more "grammatically correct" name for a laptop in Hebrew, since the existing one just isn't cumbersome enough. All this, while using the English (well, Greek, but you know what I mean) word "Academy" in their organization title, because the Hebrew equivalent "does not convey the breadth of meaning and history of 'Academy'". The irony is, as usual, completely lost upon them, which is one of the most typically Israeli things I can think of. Anyways. As modern Hebrew was absorbing useful words at an alarming rate, evolving from a constructed language into an organic one (and, as much poo poo as I give to Eliezer Ben Yehuda, it was an impressive construction to have the potential to Now. Imagine you are an aspiring 21st century writer in a world that skipped directly from Shakespeare to Philip Roth and Chuck Palahniuk (to pick an utterly random example). Don't touch Robert Stevenson or Daniel Defoe. Skip Jane Austin and Oscar Wilde completely. Kipling and Hemingway (particularly Hemingway) are utterly foreign to you. You will (naturally) have very peculiar ideas of what "proper" literature sounds like. It will be cumbersome, unwieldy, full of esoteric and outdated words and phrases, and you won't see anything wrong with that because that's how "meaningful" or "important" proper literary ideas were conveyed to you, and will be conveyed on to your impressionable readers forever and ever until the end of days, Amen. I'm not going to elaborate on the history of the struggle with this (not to overreact) absolutely idiotic and poisonous attitude, because it’s more than enough for a PHD dissertation. If you can google, look for " עברית רזה ושרירית" aka "lean and muscular Hebrew" – the story doesn't appear to be online in English, but it's basically about how a desperate search for an impromptu compliment of a style that did not fit the cumbersome orthodoxy turned out to be the first stone in an avalanche that rammed through the fortress walls in a steady torrent of mixed metaphors. One of my earliest impressions of the subject was this lovely translator using a newspaper opinion column to defend his choice of "Balconia" (not actually a word) over "Balcony" (the Hebrew equivalent, but you get my point) because the first conveyed so many more additional meanings beyond the authors intent. All this is (hopefully) mostly in the past for all intents and purposes – except when it comes to SF&F translations. Because no one really gives a poo poo about the translation quality, because the quality of the original prose (let's be fair) is probably not the highest, because you really want to convey how epic the action / backstory / song sung by annoying elves around the campfire are… you basically have a lot of translations that get the Hebrew equivalent of dipping into Early Modern English in the middle of an orc-slicing mise en scene. As I mentioned above – though there aren't a lot of sci-fi writers in Israel, there are a lot of fans. That means that there's a lot of fan circles, blogs and reviews that feel obliged to check out a new homegrown novel, even if its quality is lacking. I feel as though Heresy may well owe half its sales to reviewers, and I will be quoting from relevant bits as we go through the novel. One of the more relevant bits in the very first review – this novel feels like a translation. The reviewer blames this on a failure to translate the authorial intent onto the page and on lacking editorial oversight, but I feel otherwise – this is exactly the prose style someone raised on terrible translated SF&F will choose, complete with the needlessly obtuse jargon and elaborately archaic turns of phrase out of nowhere. Xander77 fucked around with this message at 17:00 on Jul 7, 2015 |
# ? Jul 7, 2015 14:45 |
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Hebrew epic fantasy? We already have bible megathread. Sick burn, hot as hell. Ba dum tsss.
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# ? Jul 7, 2015 16:54 |
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Anyway, you may want to edit thread title to better reflect purpose of thread, I clicked this hoping for discussion about stuff like Three Body Problem
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# ? Jul 7, 2015 16:56 |
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mallamp posted:Anyway, you may want to edit thread title to better reflect purpose of thread, I clicked this hoping for discussion about stuff like Three Body Problem
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# ? Jul 7, 2015 18:42 |
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Xander77 posted:I've actually asked the mods to edit the title twice over, as the original was unfortunately truncated. Do you have a better suggestion? How do you find the current discussion suggests a physics problem?
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# ? Jul 8, 2015 12:09 |
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quote:Hiyat the Silver walked through the nebulous corridors of the tabernacle without paying attention to the servants kneeling everywhere. He knew they were doing so without need to actually watch them. Two servants lost their life about an eclipse and a half ago – they kneeled before him, but not fast enough. He actually had to wait for them to do so. They did not rise again. Since then, at least, no such annoying ritual problems arose, and as he walked through the tabernacle, the servants fell like a human leaf fall* The last bit is my own translation error– Hebrew has an actual word for that phenomenon (exfoliation? Meh). It's not a particularly great simile regardless, but at least it works. quote:Hiyat did not consider himself to be a bad man. A cruel man, but not a bad one. He maintained a rigid definition of the two – a bad man enjoyed the suffering of others. Hiyat merely saw suffering as the necessary fastest and best way to achieve what he wanted. To be particular, Hiyat did not actually see himself as a man. quote:Unlike himself, Hiyat's master was bad. "Bad" was far too weak a word to describe his master, he reflected. "Malignant" was a more precise definition. And the most correct term would quite probably be "Diabolical". Had he believed in Zaman, he would consider his master to be Imolo, the Exiled Prince, but he did not believe in her or in any other god besides his master. In his master, he believed fully and completely… having seen him in his full awful power, each instance inscribed with terrible clarity in his memory. He admired his master and feared him, and the thought of betrayal never crossed his mind. After all, one cannot betray a god. His master saw into his heart and knew what he was thinking at any moment. Even if Hiyat could find a way to deceive him, he knew of no conceivable way to slay him. (god Mur? Not sure what the proper capitalization of that nomenclature is) quote:Hiyat knew the barber story. That was what the tabernacle servants called it: simply "the barber story". About 300 years ago, someone paid the royal barber to slit Mur's throat. This was after Mur failed to conquer what will eventually become the Glorian kingdom, and Zaman's speakers kicked the poo poo out his armies with rains of fire and resurrected warriors. Hiyat thinks that was just an Imagineer's trick. Yes, Imagineer. I guess the intended meaning is something along the lines of "illusionist" or at least "sorcerer" but the literal translation is goddamn Imagineer, and I'm sticking with that, because it's hilarious. Anyways, some of the believers started to lose faith in Mur's manly might, forgetting quote:the resurrection of warriors in the Battle of Adelion, the miracle of the Great Divide, stopping the great flood as Zefir, the ascension of the nine apostles, and countless other miracles that took place since the god Mur came down to earth. Eh. The bad guy is invulnerable, and kills the poo poo out of people. Ok. You gently caress with him; he'll kill your whole family and friends, down to the squirrel in your front yard. So far, so good. "Holy poo poo, he might be putting on an executioners hood and killing a bunch of people" – yeah, that's not really escalating things at this point. The book does that a lot – backspaces that pile on more stuff that seemed cool at the time, without much consideration for how well the whole meshes, if at all. quote:Mur was the sole Helermon god to wear the guise of flesh, as any Adelion child knew. Hiyat enters his master's abode without knocking. quote:At first he loved treating the palace as his own. But as the eclipses passed, he noticed a thin smile touching his master's harsh lips, and realized he was allowed a certain degree of rudeness… turning even this minor insubordination into a graciously granted privilege, the master took over the last bastion of rebellion in his servants soul. As the eclipses went by, Hiyat kept to his rudeness mainly by force of habits. Or perhaps to remind himself of the distant past, when he was his own master – he now neither knew nor cared. It seemed to him now as though he had ever served his master, and when he tried to recollect when he ceased calling him "my King" and first referred to him as "my Master" he found he had forgotten that as well – the past was one grey blur of willing slavery. Mur's rooms are covered with pictures of battles, featuring Mur himself on his crimson horse Zavul quote:Mur's mighty tresses whipping around his head, his bare chest and pupil-less eyes making him look like a demon. And who could tell? Hiyat only knew his master for two decades, and before that considered the gods to be mere sha'ala for the masses. It's all about as fancy as you'd expect, with gold, ivory, silk etc. The broken shield – one of Mur's main symbols – repeats in the decorations. quote:The focus of the room was the gold and silver gilded coffin, which hanged from the ceiling on dozens of thin silver chain. The believers called it "the Holy Coffin" and many legends were told about it. quote:At the center of the room, surrounded by large soft pillows, sat his master. At the moment, he lay with two of his concubines. Dozens more were sitting or lying in different places across the room, all as naked as the day they were born. Not far from the ivory throne lay the body of one of the girls, her skulls totally smooshed*, as though run over by a carriage wheel. Hiyat noted that he should tell the servants to remove the corpse once he left. The master lost an average of one concubine every cycle of days, due to violent rage fits. Oddly enough, the other girls, who knew their eventual fate would be no different, looked less like condemned prisoners and more like stupid sheep following the herd to the slaughter. Their eyes were wide open in perpetual astonishment, and their full lips were used only for wan and hollow smiles, and cries of pleasure that shook the tabernacles foundations and made pedestrians across the capital stop and smile. They must have been drugged, Hiyat supposed, though he knew of no drug with such strong effects. Nevertheless, he refrained from tasting the wine and fruit. One more note on throwing poo poo in without editorial oversight, just because it sounds cool – the girls are relaxed, chill, and ready to be slaughtered, not in the least bit active. Oh, and also screaming in passion for the whole city to hear. Sure. *Once again, all word choices are intentional and congruent with the original. quote:His master was also fully naked. His skin was dark like that of the northern nomads, and his head shaved clean, except for a thick, coal-black braid originating from the center of his head and going to the middle of his back, wherein it split into dozens or hundreds of thin braids that swept the floor. The god Mur stopped his actions and turned sharply towards Hiyat. Hiyat served his masters for twenty eclipses, and this wasn't the first time his master's gaze made his gasp in shock. Hiyat thinks Mur is an incarnation / reflection on earth of the god in heaven. quote:A reflection or otherwise, a small example of his calm would be enough to have a Speaker of Zaman change his faith. Hiyat once saw his master murder one of his concubines in cold blood. The murder took over a minute, with the god holding his left hand around the concubine's temples and squeezing. The girl screamed like crazy, and her perfect body twitched like a fish out of water. Throughout this, the master talked with Hiyat about raising the taxes on the land of Mirandora. His voice was quiet and stable, and his head never once turned towards the victim twitching between his fingers. You could guess the master was angry from the content of words, not from the way they were spoken, for his voice was almost completely devoid of intonation. Nevertheless, Hiyat had no doubt that his master felt emotions, for an emotionless man cannot enjoy acts of cruelty, which his master very much had. quote:"You came in at a bad time", calmly stated the god Mur. Mur sits in his ivory throne, for the first time in decades. Hiyat fixates on the missing handle (sloppy maintenance) and feels there's an implied threat there. quote:"You have failed", said the god. Hiyat doesn't know (a contemptible failure). She made an alliance with the Duke of Vigos, who gave her the searchers and Langford to escort her to Tentalas to search for the stone. Langford was really impressive (former Sting, commander of the palace guard) but she left the party just before Hiyat caught up. quote:"A contemptible failure," repeated his master. Hiyat waits half a day without moving a muscle, at which point Mur continues as though he just finished his last sentence: quote:"Listen here, my handless slave. The times are twisted. The dream came sooner than expected, and now plans change. Call the chancellor council tonight. Tomorrow you will return to Glorian, trap the little slut and bring her back here, alive but in chains. No more following and skulking – I've let her play more than long enough. In one diurnal course from now, you must bring her back. Beware – she's not as innocent as she looks. Bring along a pain-chain. Four cycles should be more than enough to amend the damage your foolishness had caused." Tune in next time for eunuch and imaginer adventures!
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# ? Jul 9, 2015 15:24 |
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Sorry about the delay, was busy writing for pay, which unfortunately takes precedence. When we left off, the god Mur sent Hiyat to recover Imojen from wherever she is. quote:The Silver One left the tabernacle. “Rise!” he ordered the heavy-set eunuch that kneeled before him. “Where does he get them?” he wondered. All the Loramis, the tabernacle eunuchs, looked alike to him. Even the offensive scent was the same. Their white, dough-like skin was hairless, and stretched placenta-like over their obese bodies. Their piggy little eyes looked dead even when they smiled. Mayhap they are castrated upstairs as well, he wondered. And the smile was even more nauseating than the moon-pie face across which it spread, since tiny pointed teeth rose between pale lips. Whatever reason they had to file their teeth, he could not imagine. Certainly not for the purpose of fighting, since a single sword-blow should be enough to spill the guts of this clumsy fatso long before he manages to wipe the pointy smile off his face. Hiyat occasionally considered confirming this hypothesis, but made sure to keep his balance. Unlike his master, he preferred not to be seen as an unpredictable madman – it made working with people that much easier. “What is your name?” he asked. quote:Loram the Stargazer*, advisor to the god Mur, was the person most hated by Hiyat out of the wide selection residing in the tabernacle. In fact, he was the most hated person in all of Halermon, and there were two good reason for that: the first was, that he did not care for the way he looked upon his master. The second was his left hand, cut off at the wrist and constantly pulsing with pain. quote:About 20 years ago, Mur’s capital city of Sakal-Mur was one of the five Imagineer cities, and was called Kir-Sakal. It was the first time in known history that one of the free cities was conquered, not counting the destruction of Kir-Sodai by the Perception itself. The very idea of capturing a city with that power protecting it was absurd. His master’s audacity thrilled Hiyat. Note that we’re getting like 3-4 nicknames for Loram in a page or two. See the “throw it in” approach above. quote:The exiled Imagineer was wearing his threadbare blue-rob, and leaning on his star-staff. Since the day the Serverum was turn into the god’s tabernacle, Loram shed his grey robe, the symbol of perception, and none outside the tabernacle saw his face again. The eunuchs were not allowed to leave and he accepted no new students for the skills of Gazing and Undermining after the city was taken – the existing ones were sent to the remaining Serverums. quote:“Things are happening”, echoed Loram. “The time of the children came at last”. quote:”What are your news for them?”, quietly asked the Imagineer. quote:”And where are you headed?” quote:Loram seemingly read his thoughts. “I would start looking for her in the Pira springs, north of Tantales. She’ll end up there, upon my word, Silver One” Join us next time, when we finally get to meet the protagonist. Five guesses as to what his age / occupation / location are. (What, did you think that the girl being pursued by the evil empire was the protagonist? Don't be absurd, she's a girl) Xander77 fucked around with this message at 18:14 on Jul 23, 2015 |
# ? Jul 23, 2015 17:19 |
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Did you truly think this was over? This isn't even my final form. Seriously though, I'm hoping to get a regular update schedule up, and either power through to the more interesting bits (and yes, there are plenty of interesting bits) or finish this and move on to something more representative. Chapter 2, in which we're finally introduced to our protagonist, Avis. Last time around, no one took the bait and made a guess as to his status and occupation, because... he's a farmer lad of 18 or so, obviously. He's feeding his masters bony (one n) horses with terrible local fruit, and convincing them to eat up, with promises of hay rather than straw (I don't know enough about farming / horses to tell if that's a genuine improvement) in the future pie-in-the-sky sort of deal. Meanwhile, he bitches about his life and his work, not without cause, as we'll soon see. But first: quote:"Avis, Avis!" the call came again. It was Lika, daughter of Fizzo, shaking the foundations of the Levatin manor, only she can raise her voice to such octaves, as I know first hand, Avis sniggered to himself." Besides wanton cruelty to the common comma... you REALLY don't want to introduce your protagonist as he smugs it up. Few qualities are less endearing. (Also, as a compromise I'm going to change some word choices to make the text more readable, but mostly keep the run on sentences intact) Anyways, he's been finding a lot of snakes in the straw he shifts. They may fear him more than he fears them, but that only makes them more dangerous (Odds on either the horse persuasion or the snake thing being foreshadowing of more world-shaking events / politics?) He throws their bodies to the pigs, and recalls the first time he's done so, without cutting the head off first. This poisoned the pig, at which point: quote:"A cat-o-nine strike for every eclipse!" screamed master Hovo in a voice saturated with sha'ala drug, but Avis could not hold on to the post for more than six straight strikes, and collapsed fainting come the seventh. So far, so effective, but why stop at "effective" when you can keep piling on? quote:It seemed as though big Rako does not feel the stings of the cat, even though master Hovo made sure the strikes were sharp enough to cut the flesh, but still he cried out, and the other serfs cried right alongside him, there in the hour of the moons-change. Avis knew his fathers tears came not from the heights of torture caused by the cat, but from the depths of humiliations and despair that were the destiny of every serf. The other three taskmasters each also grabbed a pig-skin lash, a whipping stick or a cat, each according to his taste, and joined master Hovo, each one landing twenty-eight strikes across Rako's torn back, a strike for every eclipse. I rather like this bit, good Marxist reader that I am. This isn't Faldor's farm that we're dealing with here - a serf's life is really rather lovely, as would be the life of any "simple farmer boy" protagonist, really. But never mind all that - let's talk about what a big old whorish whore Lika is. Because nothing goes along with torture like underage sex. quote:Lika was more than three eclipses younger and two heads shorter than him. Her body, which wasn't as overtly skinny as that of the pickers, nor as voluptuously curvy as that of the cooks, seemed to tempt any male that came across it. Her long earth-hued hair was always carefully arranged around her heavy breasts, and those were nestled in her ragged white blouse like over-ripe fruit on a market stand. They drove Avis insane, and lured him into sleeping with her in this very barn just last eclipse, despite knowing he was breaking the laws of the Sovereign and the shire. Some taskmasters say the Sovereign is a sorcerer and can see into your heart, Rako says he's just a man, who will be judged by Zama as any of his serfs. Master Hovo, his peniless druggie second cousin, now an influential taskmaster with gold in his pockets and a cat in his hand has this to say: quote:Sovereign Levetin is a great man. Even greater than however great you thought he is... great! By Zama, Sovereign Levetin is a great man! quote:Afterwards, Lika became an assistant-seamstress [probably not a Pratchett nod] as the Sovereign's mansion, his favorite serf kept close to his heart and his bedchamber. Fizo, her father, was quickly promoted to taskmaster and even got a good pot of land of his own, all in return for allowing his youngest daughter to turn into the Sovereigns slut. Avis thought that something in Lika's eyes hinted that this would be her destiny long before her curves filled out. The nomads said that beggars and whores could be spotted the day they are born - perhaps they were right. Avis suspects (or hopes) that Lika is still in love with him, but reminds himself he feels nothing but contempt for her slutty slutty sex-slave ways that she totally has a choice about. quote:Lika was another minor victory in the chain of triumphs Sovereign Levetin and Master Hovo had over him, and the worst thing was that they never knew they were even in a competition, yet kept winning over and over. Avis should dress up, because the Sovereign wants to see him. Lika hasn't seen the Sovereign himself in a while, and it takes a few pages to establish that some sort of terrible disease is killing him. quote:"Even the fools working the earth on the edges of the shire know it. Every serf alive whispers about it. But they don't know what I know. They haven't seen the sovereigns face before he started screaming the night away, as I have. I promise you, Avis, our Sovereign is hearing the black melodies. He will die a sinners death. The mukhtar talks to Zama every night, and if his healer won't save the Sovereign, it's because Zama wills his death." A smile made its way onto the girls fearful countenance. A terrible smile which contained the sorrow of a full eclipse, a full eclipse spent in the company of Sovereign Levetin. quote:"Zama is not merely loving, but also just", said Avis, quoting from the book of [whatever]
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# ? Aug 25, 2015 17:12 |
Where's Solaris. Or The Dirty Pair Strike Again.
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# ? Aug 26, 2015 02:20 |
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Effectronica posted:Where's Solaris. Or The Dirty Pair Strike Again.
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# ? Aug 26, 2015 11:55 |
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Xander77 posted:Feel free to write up the first one - personally I can't stand Lem's work in general, but you might find it palatable. What don't you like about him?
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# ? Aug 26, 2015 12:35 |
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A human heart posted:What don't you like about him?
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# ? Aug 26, 2015 13:24 |
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Xander77 posted:His sense of humor, his views of human nature, his philosophy and his use of language.
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# ? Aug 27, 2015 01:14 |
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Shorter updates, cliffhangers: Master Hovo is pacing, twisting his cat-o-nine around. Hes not actually supposed to carry it when not punishing anyone, so as not to dull the fearful impact, a per Levetin's advice: quote:The man whom he despised and admired in a mixture he failed to comprehend But anyways, his uncle is "busy masticating and regurgitating his sanity", so he's pacing and snapping the cat everything in his path, completely avoiding sha'ala, sleep, and young boys, shaving himself five times a-day (we're not even keeping to the stupid "diurnal course" thing) to ward off disease, and even sinking so low as to chant prayers in his room during the nighttime. Hovo is quote:Skinny, thin, and unsightly. His bulging eyes were covered with brown sha'ala stains, like brown oil spreading over the water of a tepid pond. His nose was broken in two different spots, but the man who did that lost his male parts as a result, so for Hovo those two humps down his beak symbolized something else. Hovo started out as a scummy but deadly bounty hunter, dragging fifty corpses out of the ancient quarter and to the gates of the nearest defenders barrack within an eclipse. For some reason him being famous and doing their jobs for them annoys the defenders, and 4 of them ambush him. quote:To the best of his knowledge, Hovo was the only human who could parry a sword-blade with a dagger-blade. It was a very short fight. So short, it's not worth recapping. Hovo is fast, the defenders are not - anyways, that's his sign to leave the capital and start cracking the whip at his uncle's Shire. Hovo fears nothing like he fears the disease, against which his knives are powerless. His prayers to Zaman go as follows: quote:He did not ask her to heal his uncle, merely a fair chance; Levetin is not just sick, he's apparently possessed. When he's having a fit, something hangs him in the air, "by an invisible nail" grabbing him by the hand, tongue, neck etc, and it's not a pleasant sensation. They suspect... a voodoo rebellion, basically, even though they know that the Perception, which is the local brand of magic, doesn't do that poo poo and doesn't require magic items. The serfs belongings are searched, a few are painfully executed, and that doesn't help at all. Further attacks are even more painful, and it's all they can do to keep Levetin quiet (except though Avis just said the serfs keep hearing him scream). There's a different invisble torture each night now, and I really feel as though this book was written one page at a time, because Lika really should have hinted at SOME of this, because it really doesn't fall under any meaningful definition of "disease". Hovo knows Levetin dislikes him but wants to keep the Sovereign title in the family. Segue to memories of Avis' twelfth birthday, and Levetin's instruction to take down Rako - Hovo stopped beating him because he disliked the interference in his work, not because of the crowds displeasure. quote:Any vast crowd of imbeciles needs a single leader to move forward a single step, and that leader has a single throat to be cut when need be.
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# ? Aug 29, 2015 20:00 |
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New characters! (Sorry about not quite working out the "shorter, faster updates" thing. The Valve model in action) Rawo is annoyed out his meditation by Samia, who is sitting on a tree branch and playing the flute. Badly. The Imagineer girl is doing everything she can to childishly annoy the guardian-brother during their journey. As we switch to her perspective we realize it was because quote:He had about twenty annoying features that drove her insane, but they all fell into the same category: Rawo couldn't give a toss about her. Period. But when they stopped in a [terrible terrible, description abridged] pub in northern Vigus, a waitress with the rear end of a beast of burden (!) started hitting on him. After telling her that "the redhead and I are just busieness" he asks her to stay in a different room for the night, if she doesn't mind. quote:Why would she mind? She wouldn't care if he slept in the stables to make love to Cicero, his Kadian horse, if he was going for the equine look anyway. Rawo may have a dusky warrior silver fox appeal, but it's nothing to a sophisticated lady like Sam, blah blah blah, tsun tsun tsun. Rawo asks Sam if she's still seeing "it". It is apparently some form of vision that keeps getting weaker, so they should hurry up. They're entering Levetin's shire now, spouting exposition about the political order as they do (the Sovereign shouldn't have much of an armed force, unlike the king he's serving), and apparently the serfs are free to leave whenever they want, which makes all the whipping and hangings kinda odd. Really, they don't foresee any problems a purse full of gold, Rawo's tattoo of a sword-rune and Sam's tattoo of a purple-eye rune wouldn't solve. The kingdoms are peaceful, and no conflict is brewing. Foreshadowing! Their horses are worn out from the fast pace they set as they follow the vision. Though Sam should keep her strength for sudden trouble, she gives Cicero, Rawo's horse, the illusion of a few nights sleep. Sam is the only one who can follow this particular vision - she's quite pleased about the Perception requiring her services once more, though she's been banished from studying the Imagineer arts. She'd gently caress the Imagineer elders (not literally, which is why she was kicked out) but she's still loyal to the Perception, and is willing to undertake the quest. Anyways, even though she "almost lost sight" the vision just a page ago, now the black mist seems to cover half the continent before her, pulsing in pain. [This was fairly quick. The next chapter doesn't have any breaks, and plenty of dialog, so I might take some time translating it)
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# ? Sep 21, 2015 18:21 |
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Interview with the Sovereign (In which everything and everyone is really grim) Avis wears his dads wedding attire to talk to the Sovereign, and it's all humorously too large for him (he also forgets to zip up and stick his shirt down his pants like a good Hobo comes along to escort him. Avis is now almost as tall as him now, has farmer muscles, and looks like a soldier rather than a hot boy. Avis knows Hobo is more dangerous than ever, and they can both hear: quote:Avis' kneecaps sing together like an insane woodpecker Avis used to think the mansion holds many mysteries to be explored, but since his twelfth birthday, he thinks of it as the source of all evil, and quite frightening. The entrance hall is filled with a mixture of random gaudy but expensive art. Avis is impressed. The Sovereign Gaspar Levetin is the son of a whore who died of an STD shortly after giving birth to him, and (possibly) a junior cook at the garrison by the name of Levetin. quote:The young man was overjoyed when he found young Gaspar on his doorstep... he placed the moist note back in the babies fist, and dragged the crib to the side of the road by his home, hoping that some rich fellow may stop and pick the baby up before it starves to death. That was Levetin sr - full of compassion. Comedy!, I guess? Anyways, he eventually picks the baby up, and never gets around to getting rid of him. Gaspar grows up as a young hoodlum. The father ends up becoming the cook for the kings middle son (Tyro), and when the king is invited to an inspection of the army and a meal, he sadly doesn't live long enough to taste the desert. In return, Levetin gets a little shire north of the capital, a fair bargain for all concerned. Shortly thereafter, Levetin senior marches in front of the army, carrying the younger brother's head, as Tyro carried the king's head by his side (because that's the sort of subtle thing you do if you bother with poison for your assassination, obviously). Tyro decreed that kings are no longer necessary, and he is now the "Mukhtar" (literally "chosen one", but mostly used to refer to a village elder, an association familiar to Israeli readers, and so kinda odd). quote:This marked the beginning of a brand new age, and like any good revolution, the new age was identical to the old one. (This is the point at which one would mention Levetin getting his own shire, with the assassination plots done and as he gets to rule it, but who cares about such details) The father is a lovely ruler and dies to a riding accident within the year (apparently it's an actual accident, for once). Gaspar, on the other hand, turns out to be a natural ruler ("perhaps proof positive his mother's calculations were wrong") who becomes an expert in Glorian politics and art (despite the gaudiness of his hall, I guess), "general and specific court intrigues", manages to annex bits of neighboring shires, and becomes known as an all-around bad motherfucker. quote:The squished, skinny and bald man lying in bed with a piece of wood between his teeth had nothing in common with the infamous Sovereign Levetin, except for the fact that they were the same man. Levetin looks like poo poo. His skin is papery and transparent, everything about him that isn't covered with dried vomit is full of sweat , and his nightclothes haven't been replaced in eclipses. He calls Avis over: quote:Ten steps stood between him and the Sovereign, and Avis started walking with tears running down his cheeks to the the floor tiles. Whether these were tears of terror, self-pity or helplessness, he could not say. He only knew one thing for certain - with every step in the endless journey towards the Sovereigns bed, his life was running out. At the end of that walk, the black disease that filled the room and emptied Levetin like a squished grape would find a new victim to feed upon. Levetin's kicks Hovo out, despite his objections. Avis would just as soon not come any closer, and just as Levetin goes on a "Zaman does not forgive: not listening to the cries of a babe on his birthday, a young man on his wedding day, and an old man on the day of death" rant, he gets another fit and starts screaming (despite managing to stick the piece of wood between his teeth at the last moment, apparently). With that done, he grabs hold of Avis and tells him he's not suffering from an infectious sickness, but rather some black juju (Avis rather doubts that). Whoever is doing that, is looking for "the stone of quote:"You'd think the stone of kingship would look like the mother of all diamonds. Wrong. It looks more like a tiny crystal at best. A transparent quartz stone. Even uglier than that. But what's special about it is that there's only one like it, and that one is itself. Ask yourself: why are diamonds so precious? I didn't think you knew, so I'll tell you. They're not very pretty - to be honest from the distance of a foot even a jewelry expert can't tell them apart from glass. That can't be the reason. Diamonds are expensive because they are rare. If human poo poo was as rare, you could sell it for the price of diamonds. Now, consider the worth of a stone that is utterly unique. That's right - it's priceless. That's why it's called the stone of Kingship, inherited from king to prince for hundreds of eclipses, from the day Glorian was established. It could have been the case for hundreds of eclipses more, till the kingdom collapsed, if my dad didn't have to take a piss. Sudden diversion for an atheism rant: quote:For me, Zaman was always the same little slut she was the day she had died., No man becomes a god, and none watch over us. To think otherwise is cowardliness, and cowards end their lives as junior cooks. Always remember that. On the other hand, I've seen junior cooks become, kings, so maybe I don't know much. But if Zaman truly exists... if she exists, I honestly wish that she would get... The fit strikes at Levetin like punishment from blashpemy. Avis recalls that "Zaman is not only loving, but also just". When it's over, Gaspar asks Avis whether he enjoys seeing his father suffer. Avis takes it as a threat, but I think no one else is particularly shocked by the revelation (and let's hand it to the book, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to) quote:"Her mother begged me to wait for a safe day, but that child had a beauty the likes of which I've never seen. Believe me, this shire is populated by ugly slatterns, but your mother... haha, I don't even remember her name! Your mother was pure. White. I couldn't restrain myself to the pleasure of safe days, and would you look at that - eight diurnal courses later, you came to life. If that isn't a miracle straight from Zaman's rectum, then what is? Your father was married in a hurry, before she swelled up. That idiot probably never knew she's carrying a little Gaspar inside of her." Levetin's dreamlike smile suddenly disappeared "In the morning, I had her thrown out before her ugliness drove me insane. You don't understand it yet, kid, but you'll see. Things we've touched disgust us. Nothing in this world is filthier than a man." Avis chants "I don't believe any of this" as though it maters. Levetin waves the whole story aside, and tells him about the burial place of the stone - a well in the ruins of an ancient city from the days before Glorian, when the locals would offer human sacrifice to the God Krof. Avis thinks it sounds like a Levetin claims he's only mildly curious about Avis' chances in life. Were he to declare him as his heir, the proclamation would be overruled on the basis of insanity, and also on the basis of Hovo's knife cutting out Avis' throat - which is likely to happen regardless. If Avis is Levetin's son, the stone is a chance for something more than a blacksmith's life. If he is Rako's son, he's too stupid to do anything but take a beating for others. That's enough for Avis to finally snap and try to strangle the Sovereign. But knife-skills apparently run in the family, and Avis backs away as a blade is pressed against his throat. The only reason Levetin hasn't killed himself yet, is because that would leave Hovo free to execute his son. He's giving him 24 hours to get a move on, at which point he will finally end his own suffering. Avis notes that Hovo listened in on the whole conversation, and pretends that Levetin whispers something to him (even though, again, the whole conversation includes an explicit explanation of the stone's location). Levetin, in turn, calls Hovo in and asks him to give Avis a whipping for his lack of respect - to throw him off, and make him doubt what he had just heard, apparently. Or just to get rid of his violent urges and put off Avis' death for later. Avis is too angry, bewildered and humiliated to grab hold of the punishment post. He walks away instead, planning to steal a horse and ride north, regardless of any opposition. Hovo really should call the taskmasters to have him tied up in the sun and tortured for a few days, but he plans on a private meeting in a remote location, to get any missing info revealed with the help of his knives instead.
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# ? Sep 23, 2015 21:48 |
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Guess what? This is way too boring even for me, so I'm (And there was much rejoicing) It's a different translation project! (Boo!) "The Young Athletes" series, starting with "Kick, Alon, kick!" Wait, does this mean I'm going to abandon the whole premise of this thread? Err... kinda, sorta, but maybe not really. It's not a sci-fi book, but it is a unique and obscure take on a genre. I initially wanted to go with The Israeli Hardy boys but I thought that wasn't quite obscure and weird enough. Also, the ideological overtones were a bit too blatant. When your characters start out by Quick introduction to our heroes, right after the table of contents: They're all (As you might imagine, these are all very well developed, multifaceted characters with rich inner lives) Chapter 1. Lively debate, and great tension. 1963 (As a major aside - because what better way to start the actual translation than by blathering on about barely relevant real life circumstances - this book came out in 1962, inspired by the minimally competent performance put on by the Israeli team in the previous season. As you might imagine, it was quite undeservedly optimistic about the near future. Israeli football was terrible throughout the 1960's and - let's not kid around - is still terrible to this very day. Israel kinda managed to put together a decent basketball tradition somehow, but our football is still absolutely terrible, mostly due to lack of funds and interest in training junior teams. Time for these books to make a comeback and inspire trainers everywhere, I guess [clever segue to the actual subject at hand]) As the pre-Olympic encounter between the Greek and Israeli football teams approaches, the preparations intensify. The Israeli team is isolated in their training camp near Netanya, driving themselves to excel at the upcoming battle, under the leadership of the excellent coach Mr Bundy. (Yeah, why not) quote:Meanwhile, the sports journalists were full useful advice, as is their habit. For instance....: (I won't, since it's just a random list of position - name - team A, city B. But I will note that every goddamn single name is Lapidus, or Hason, or Peretz, or Galili - proper Biblical Hebrew Zionist names for Israeli athletes to have. The sort of name an immigrant from Europe or the Middle East was supposed to change his name to so as to show his fresh start when he came to the Holy Land. Variations of Speed (Jews) Joy (Jew) and Tzion-Ben-Judah. I couldn't quite be arsed to google the actual composition of the 1962 Israeli football team, but the 1972 one has plenty of Baum's, Stein's and Rabinovich's, and I can't imagine the team fielded a decade before that was all too different.) The list was suggested by Haim Craiot, who was quite the expert reporter, and everyone considered his revolutionary suggestions carefully (we'll get a bit of information as to who the poo poo all these people are at the end of this chapter (or in paragraph from now), which would have been a good time to explain what's so revolutionary about these suggestions). Under the pressure of public opinion, coach Bundy was forced to accept those players not currently on the team into the training camp. After three weeks of harsh training (which could have been solved with a single montage, but the struggling sports team lacked the necessary technology) and a week before the decisive encounter with Greece, the final team roster faced its first real trial - a friendly game against a random Israeli team. Here is their composition: (Omitted because we’re going to go over it in detail shortly) There was a great deal of lively debate between acclaimed professionals around these surprising changes to the team roster, but the public as a whole trusted the genius coach Bundy (Still funny) And his ability to place the right man in the right spot, as evidenced by the many letters to various editors on the subject (Home and Garden proved consistently disinterested). Let us quote one: (Finally, hot full team composition action!) Dear editor posted:As a longtime fan of Israeli football, one who has been carefully and consistently Chapter B The School team. As usual, Bundy decided to play the test game against a particularly weak team, for reasons of propaganda and publicity, trying to run up the score as much as possible in favor of the national team – 10:0 or 8:1, for instance; in other words, a score that would indicate that the team is in great shape and ready to take on the challenge of an international matchup. (That actually sounds like a Bundy thing to do) (Never gonna give that up. At least until the end of this update) quote:For these reasons, the team chosen for the faceoff wasn’t from the national league, nor from the A league, nor the B league, nor even the C league, but composed of players from the weak school league. This team, as we’ll shortly find out, was made up from the very best youngling student footballers, with the average age of the players being 15. Only one newspaper bothered to publish the team roster (which we’re also going to skip here, since we’re ALSO going to get an in-depth praise session for each player slightly later), with the other papers merely noting that the team was composed of different players from various schools. Mocking opinions bloviated that it might be better to test the team against the worst of the C league, rather than a team whose goal is going to feel the touch of the ball at least twenty or thirty times. These opinions were typical among the student youth, so we won’t bother to write any others. Meanwhile, for some correct opinions from the young sports reporter (was cut and paste invented back in the day? Guess you rely on the same expressions when writing quickly and trying to get to the freaking match already, because you decided to start the book with a bunch of young sports repotererererererers for some reason) Helpful: quote:“We know the actual roster won’t matter much – the difference between 29 goals or 30 goals which might result from replacing a single player is minimal. Let’s keep the current roster, and stop unnerving our already nervous players. Besides, this is the best roster we could possibly have, and I’m going to prove that point at length: Chapter C The teams take the field. (Though the public at large does not care, the students fill the stadium, Ranana and Shoa – Rafi and Alon’s girlfriends – among them). quote:“I dare not imagine what’s going to happen on this field shortly”, said Shoa. Asks referee Elhanani to get poo poo going. The die is cast, the center-forward of the National team gets the ball, and the game starts. Chapter D The first goal. quote:Football is the most fascinating game in the world, for there is no other game capable of attracting so many viewers and holding them in place for 90 tension-filled minutes, their mouth wide opens, eyes bulging, nails bitten, throats closing with excitement (and other signs of a stroke). In this case, the tension and excitement were multiplied by a thousand fold, because Golani kicked the ball lightly towards the right forward, Hason. He only meant to pass the ball to Hason and move forward to a kicking position. However, since Hason was so close, Golani kicked quite lightly and before the ball could make it to Hason, an event no one could predict took place. Alon, the center forward of the school team, standing opposite of Golani, leaped towards the ball and intercepted it before it passed halfway between Golani and Hason. Here lies the school team. They scored. Xander77 fucked around with this message at 09:58 on Oct 5, 2015 |
# ? Oct 5, 2015 02:05 |
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Chapter E: A corner kick and - goal!quote:"I thought I was going to faint!" sighed Shoa, her hand clasped to her heart, at a loss for further words. quote:The moment the ref blew his whistle, Golani charged forward, knocking Alon aside and to the ground. The other strikers charged by his side, fast as shooting arrows. Perez, the noted corner-kick expert gets ready to kick. Rafi, the student goalkeeper, is ready to spring forward. quote:Perez kicked. The ball flew in an elegant arc towards the players huddled around the field. Five of the national-team players raced forward to head the ball into the net. More thundering applause, and girls getting really interested in the question of who the hell that is. (Because even girls who bothered to show up for a game don't actually know the team composition?) Rafi immediately kicks the ball into the center of the field, and everyone rushes towards it. quote:Alon and Hashavia reached the ball at the same time - but no, not quite at the same time; Alon was a millisecond faster, and though they seemed to be both kicking the ball together (each in a different direction, naturally) the ball flew towards the national teams goal. Most of the players were still on the other side of the field, and only now started moving to defend their goal. Alon caught up to the ball, and kicked it forward; he saw the national team's goalkeeper, Barkai, rushing towards him, and fancied he could feel Hashavia's breath on the back of his neck. Three meters away from the goalkeeper, who was in mid-air, trying to grab the ball, Alon caught up and sent the ball forward with his explosive kick. On that note, let's move on to Chapter F: Alon! Alon! Alon! Meanwhile, the national teams players are hella depressed. Golani has turned red with anger, which means we're at least in the second section this boss fight. He kicks forward, bypasses Alon, passes back and forth to Yefet and is now 20 meters away from Rafi's goal. quote:This time, nothing could stop Golani from using his awful kick to score on the school-team. We're tired of describing the applause, particularly since we could never come up with anything other than "thundering" and "canon like" so we'll leave this one to the readers imagination. Applause was had, isn't that enough. Things are "happening quickly" on the field now. Rafi sends the ball towards someone other than Alon, which quickly leads to it being snatched away. The national team passes the ball for a bit, but then Alon "sticks his foot in" and sends it to another school team redshirt. Realizing he's not the hero of the story, he passes right back to Alon, who starts moving forward. quote:The entire audience stood up at once. Alon is confronted by two players at the 40 meter line and sends the ball forward. Unfortunately, it hits the post. Fortunately, Barkai jumps for it, only to see the ball bounce back towards Alon's head (again, at a 40 meter distance). Alon heads the ball into the goal. He falls to the ground, not seeing anything (an early warning about the concussion dangers of constantly having balls fly at your face) and only the thunderous applause and the fact his team starts to carry him around let him know he score once more. Chapter F - Bundy bites into his cap Only now, with 6 minutes on the clock and the score being 3-0, do both the teams and the audience realize that quote:Those who still doubted the above, were quickly proven wrong. The national team's strikers quickly launched a series of angry, wild assaults on Rafi's goal. They have skillfully passed through the thick defense of the school team, and often came within six or seven meters of the goal - but each of their kicks was caught by the young goalkeep. He made such extraordinary leaps! So fast! Bundy is now angrily chewing on the visor of his cap. By this point, we don't even bother to chronicle each goal Alon scores in detail. In fact, once Bundy orders every player to concentrate in front of the goal, it's offhandedly mentioned that the tactic succeeded, as Alon only managed to score once more. "Thank heavens", says Bundy, as he uses his chewed-up cap to wipe the sweat of his forehead. quote:"The score at halftime is 5-0!" gasped out the sole sports journalist covering the game to his editor, his voice choked with excitement, via the special stadium phone booth reserved for reporters. (Remember when those were a thing? Wait, were those ever a thing?) Chapter H: The final whistle (Come to think of it, "the final whistle" means the endgame in both languages, but whatever) During the halftime, Bundy relays secret orders to his players. He believes their young opponents will run out of stamina more quickly (because if there's one thing youth is well known for etc etc), and can finally be scored upon in the second half. At least six times, obviously. The school team is a bit tired, but ready to prove the first half wasn't a fluke. Some kid passes the ball to Alon, who moves forward when... quote:The crowd rose as one. "Penalty kick!" cried out thousands of angry throats. Golani, who switched places with Galili (who switched places with Yehuda and Negevi), intentionally crashed into Alon, sending him to the ground. Alon is In the next installment:
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# ? Oct 31, 2015 22:47 |
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Right. Is there anything I can do to make either of these more interesting, or should I just close the thread?
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# ? Nov 3, 2015 17:53 |
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I dunno man what are you looking for from the thread? That's an answer only you can give, since nobody else seems to know what you want. I kinda dig the translations and easy "no homo" insinuations from the bad translations and cultural differences. My only question is where the SF/F comes into this play by play picture book football match, I suppose. Not every thread explodes with 20 posts a day, even when you make a good and fun one and work really hard on it - trust me I've made a few in my day and had them spin out of control, die a quiet and short death despite being something I thought was pretty interesting/important, or they just get trolled to death and then i closed them in disgust. It happens man, your thread is good, you put a ton of effort into a weird niche and on the internet, this is what we live for. Just not sure what people ought to be responding about. If you want a huge thread full of countless posts, then find a thread you like and make a new OP for the new years, or just be the first to spend a half-dozen hours collecting gifs and useful links and tips for a new hot video game. No matter what you try though, it will always end up different than what you expected, hoped, or intended.
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# ? Nov 3, 2015 21:28 |
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Xander77 posted:Right. Is there anything I can do to make either of these more interesting, or should I just close the thread? Perhaps if you possessed a sense of humour, or any kind of interesting point, or were doing anything other than writing boring paragraphs on how lovely these obviously lovely books are.
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# ? Nov 4, 2015 03:05 |
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A human heart posted:Perhaps if you possessed a sense of humour, or any kind of interesting point, or were doing anything other than writing boring paragraphs on how lovely these obviously lovely books are. The football book (for instance) is probably no more or less lovely than a random Hardy boys novel. Though mostly forgotten at the moment, it was a huge best seller at one point, and hit all the major selling points for Israeli youth in the 60's - an obsession with football (a legacy of the British occupation?) in a country that never fielded a decent national football team, hyper-competent young people (a common feature in Israeli youth novels at the time, and something in common with USSR youth literature), stupid 60's national stereotypes from an Israeli perspective (that's coming into play later on) and, of course, our young athletes defeating nefarious Muslim terrorists using their football skills and... umm, a spot of torture. That's kind of the insane part (compared to Dani the invisible lad and Monkeyo the Monkey doing the same with their respective skills) which was one reason I chose to do this this. My other notion was to trace the evolution of Russian sci-fi starting with 1917 (compared and contrasted with the evolution of English-speaking sci-fi during the same period), which may have drawn a bit more interest, but I'm pretty sure there are plenty of places that have already done so, even if the individual books are obscure and untranslated. Israel, on the other hand, is rather poo poo about maintaining a cultural memory tradition, much less documenting it online. There's so much stuff that forms the foundation of the local pop-culture, but isn't actively read or viewed anymore that I find tracing it to be an illuminating exercise in and of itself. Talking to recent immigrants and foreign students that have been her for a few years and mentioning where certain cultural signifiers hail from, and they're like "what? Finally some poo poo starts making a twisted sort of sense".
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# ? Nov 4, 2015 14:20 |
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PrBacterio posted:so ... everything that makes him great, then. Right. Look at this thread, did you really expect him to like Lem
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# ? Nov 4, 2015 17:58 |
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Xander77 posted:Huh. Sense of humor aside (if you don't think any of this is funny, there's not much I can do about it), if all you're getting out of this is "obviously lovely books", then I kinda failed to make my point. But you didn't write anything interesting about how Israel's stereotypes or cultural manifest in these books, instead you went through the books paragraph by excruciating paragraph putting comments like 'whoa i can't believe he said this, it's so bad' after every section. Like why not just write an essay about it and quote a few passages where relevant?
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# ? Nov 5, 2015 04:01 |
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A human heart posted:But you didn't write anything interesting about how Israel's stereotypes or cultural manifest in these books, instead you went through the books paragraph by excruciating paragraph putting comments like 'whoa i can't believe he said this, it's so bad' after every section. Like why not just write an essay about it and quote a few passages where relevant? 1. I find a bunch of 15 year olds dunking on a national team kinda funny in its own right. 2. The "golly shucks, we sure do love us some sports" attitude makes for a decent contrast / juxtaposition with terrorist torture later on (spoiler alert).
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# ? Nov 5, 2015 05:41 |
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yeah that's the thing you should be foreshadowing that in your earlier posts instead of just outright saying it. Now it feels like a slog we'll have to wait through for 6 months of tom swift without the cool lasers and poo poo
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# ? Nov 7, 2015 17:32 |
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Xander77 posted:Right. Is there anything I can do to make either of these more interesting, or should I just close the thread? Honestly I think the biggest/only problem is the thread title. I came in expecting something totally different from what I got. It's a fun thread; I think the soccer book is probably funnier since it's shorter and full of OTT patriotism and teens being the best ever at soccer. The fantasy one just felt like a huge slog though. Paragraph by paragraph of a lovely book just forces people to read a ahitty book where a funny summary would do far better. And I'd love some more cultural information or whatever thrown in. A Tin Of Beans fucked around with this message at 22:58 on Nov 9, 2015 |
# ? Nov 9, 2015 22:55 |
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I thought it was discussion for non-us based or non-english based SF&F and was going to be talks about weird rear end Russian scifi and other works.
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# ? Nov 23, 2015 00:19 |
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Sorry, my writing and translation time is kind of occupied with paid work, as the alternative is bankruptcy. Gonna finish the bloody football book at the very least (at some point), then maybe ask what people would be more interested in. A Tin Of Beans posted:Honestly I think the biggest/only problem is the thread title. I came in expecting something totally different from what I got. Fallorn posted:I thought it was discussion for non-us based or non-english based SF&F and was going to be talks about weird rear end Russian scifi and other works.
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# ? Nov 23, 2015 14:49 |
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Xander77 posted:If you suggest a better title, I can probably bug a mod to change it. The first part of the thread is fine and the title grabs my attention. It makes me think "there's so much freakish, bizarre, balls-out stupid ugly poo poo written in English that I bet there has to be loads of lunacy written by members of a culture that had a totally different way of experiencing all of the major sf/f touchpoints". Right? It sets up that you are going to be showing me some really crazy poo poo. Well, I read a couple of pages and decided okay, it takes a little bit to have something happen. I scroll down through page after page of worthless poo poo, looking desperately for something sordid I missed, like maybe some weird sex scene, or a retarded monster, or a wizard. AUTHOR'S DEDICATION TO HIS SON. GENERIC INTRO. GENERIC NOTHING. It turns out I did miss some child rape and torture but it was so tedious it didn't warrant any comment from you besides "yup, here it is". I thought maybe you'd present some cool dissonance where the author's attitudes towards society stand out from or are compared with the genre frameworks and tropes that are his medium, and you sort of did (???), but all I learned here was that he thinks hot young girls get spoiled when they have sex with anyone who's not him, and I was the under the impression that that's a fairly common attitude in a lot of places, so I would really be more surprised if the Israeli fantasy novel had a girl not getting "taken" or whatever. I was really disappointed and kept scrolling, saw you getting resentful that nobody had anything to say (never a good sign for threads), was pleasantly surprised to see you drop the Boring rear end poo poo and pick up something else, then was disappointed again when it's a soccer book and you evidently haven't understood why nobody was contributing anything, because you promise some terrorist-child poo poo... sometime in the... far flung future... well I'm not gonna bookmark this page and check back for it, you know? That's why there are no comments. Just elide EVERYTHING until you find something you think would be JAW DROPPING. You could have a couple of pictures, like the cool one with all four of our young nationalist heroes like profiles on a vidgame's character-choice menu, maybe a few pages of boring soccer poo poo to establish the tone, then skip STRAIGHT TO THE hosed UP PARTS. I'm really sorry to grill you in this big stupid post, and I wish I and everyone else could be more interested in this because you've clearly spent some time doing it and I sure do love what I thought this thread was about, but maybe, if you want to practice your translation skills, maybe you could pick literally any work of media that someone might like reading about, instead of something bad AND boring? Do you guys even have any good books? Would a good Israeli sci-fi Can you put down, like, what you actually say for "terrible nerd poo poo"? Do you guys really have a word that translates to nerd in the way it's used in that phrase? How would you describe the "goon" stereotype to people your age who didn't know anything about it?
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# ? Jan 2, 2016 06:24 |
I was hoping this would be a place to discuss the Strugatsky brothers' books.
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# ? Jan 4, 2016 10:32 |
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Cobweb Heart posted:. Just elide EVERYTHING until you find something you think would be JAW DROPPING. You could have a couple of pictures, like the cool one with all four of our young nationalist heroes like profiles on a vidgame's character-choice menu, maybe a few pages of boring soccer poo poo to establish the tone, then skip STRAIGHT TO THE hosed UP PARTS. Looking over the thread, it feels like I was cargo-culting more detailed readthroughs that found something to object to in every paragraph. Nessus posted:I was hoping this would be a place to discuss the Strugatsky brothers' books.
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# ? Jan 4, 2016 18:49 |
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Nessus posted:I was hoping this would be a place to discuss the Strugatsky brothers' books. Neverfear fellow book nerd! I just started Roadside Picnic in the New Year, I got the newish Chicago Review Press edition for Christmas. I've been wanting to read it for a long time, and so far (about 80 pages in) I'm not disappointed. The translation is supposedly "new and improved", though I have no basis to compare it to, and it's not bad. Everything seems to make sense so far, once in a while you'll get a passage that is somewhat awkward but I just re-read it in a russian accent and pretend it didn't bother me. This is my first Strugatsky read and like most classic sci-fi it has a lot of the same pitfalls you see with American sci-fi. Hyper masculine men with lovely attitudes, paper thin female characters. I do really like the way the narrative is put together; the chapters are fairly long with big gaps of time in between that really underscore the effect that being a stalker has on the main character. The allure of the zone, the seductiveness of going back and risking everything. That's about all I have to say so far...I haven't posted in like a million years and I specifically logged in this morning to see if there was any discussion of Soviet Sci-Fi/The Strugatsky brothers. Imagine my surprise!!
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# ? Jan 6, 2016 16:07 |
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Last time on the Young Athletes – after a thrilling time and a half in which a bunch of teens (or two teens in particular, the ones featuring on the cover) scored quote:Everyone felt the balance shift in favor of the national team. Indeed, when Gavi took the penalty kick, the goalkeeper easily caught it, and swiftly kicked the ball over to Golani, who stormed off towards the school team's goal. He easily overcame the defense, and sent the ball towards the upper right corner of the goal, with an incredibly forceful, yet accurate kick, at a mere 11 meters. So he keeps catching (not just stopping or deflecting, but catching) balls over and over against, including point blank kicks from a forward twice his size. None of the other school team players are worth a mention, but Rafi is capable of holding off dozens of kicks on his own. Which, again, is quite literally impossible even without the stupid difference in competence between a teenager and a professional national team. Anyways, the game ends, everyone stands up and claps, back to the thunderous applause canons… the entire teenage audience carries the team from the Ramat Gan stadium and into the streets of Tel Aviv, where the crowds Israeli youth literature was promoting awareness of football concussions decades ahead of its time. Chapter 9 – New blood for the national team This one is well worth abridging. Obviously, Rafi and Alon are going to join the national team now (we'll never hear from any of the other school players again, so I hope the time spent debating that teams composition was well spent) but *now* the book decides to have a relaistic press discussion about whether pair of teenage Gabriel Goalee, a famous sports reporter posted:Alon's general appearance is wondrous. He plays not only with his feet, but also with his head. That is – he thinks. The proper calculation regarding the timing and direction of the kick towards the goal, and his foot's ability to translate his calculations into goals – make him the wonder boy of Israeli football. Chapter 10 – Echoes from Greece Grigoriy Alcibiades (!), a Geek reporter monitoring the state of Israeli football before the big game, earnestly hopes Rafi and Alon won't join the Israeli team, as that would greatly harm the Greek chances in the upcoming match. Naturally, this is translated into Hebrew and used as further evidence of the need for the two to do just that. Barakai and Golani (the current goalkeeper and center-forward / Alon-maimer) threaten to quit if that happens. Meanwhile, Greece defeats Poland 4-0. It's no victory over a bunch of teenagers, but still. Chapter 11: An angry quiet voice Alon keeps getting better after his non-specific injury. Rafi visits him at the hospital, and they take a walk through the garden. quote:"Do you think Bundy will let us join the national team?" Xander77 fucked around with this message at 02:04 on Mar 8, 2016 |
# ? Feb 24, 2016 03:29 |
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Last time on the Young Athletes - Rafi and Alon were kidnapped by some whispering rear end in a top hat! Chapter 12: Ranana and Shoa go into action Shoa calls Ranana "with great excitement" to let her know Rafi and Alon were kidnapped by... someone. Who oh who could that someone be? Palestinian terrorists? Greek football fanatics? Aliens? Obviously it's Golani and Baraki, or some of their friends acting for them! It's time for all the school football players (at least those who have a phone at their house - the 1960's were a different time) to gather a Ranana's house, and come up with a plan of action. Chapter 13: A quarter million students! Correction - the rest of the school team players are still borderline relevant (for a few chapters). They've all gathered at Ranana's place, and Aryeh (you all remember Aryeh, right? He's "red of hair, red of temper") is already suggesting a counter kidnapping. Jump Golani and Barkai outside the training camp, place a sack over their heads, Ranana is against any sort of kidnapping, and in favor of just finding their missing heroes. They can search all across Israel to find the two. After all, they don't just have 11 kids - they have a quarter million students ready and willing to enlist for a great cause. They're going to divide the country by quadrants, assigned to local schools. quote:They all quickly fell to planning. Soon enough, there wouldn't be a single house, hotel, warehouse, hole, cave Chapter 14: A special role for Shoa. quote:"Go the national teams training camp in Natania, address Golani and Barkai, and tell them that if their friends, who have kidnapped Alon and Rafi don't release them at once - Golani and Barkai will suffer a far greater punishment once we release Alon and Rafi on our own", said Ranana. So Shoa borrows a sum from the school team's fund for the express purpose of blackmail / intimidation, and takes a taxi to Natania. Cops stop her at the gates of the training camp. Since flirting with a teenager is obviously the thing to do, they tell her that Golani and Barkai are being investigated right now. They have an alibi, and deny getting anyone else to kidnap their rivals. A van full of senior police officers rolls past shortly thereafter, their faces "full of despair". All hopes now rest on a country-wide search by the students. Shoa manages to flirt her way into the camp. Golan and Barkai don't have time for fans - "well, good thing I'm not a fan", and she gives the dire warning to the two suspected kidnappers. They categorically deny everything. quote:"We'll see", said Shoa, and slammed the door as she left. Scary. Chapter 15: Bundy. Bundy speaks Hungarian, so he uses an interpreter. He doesn't have time for fans either. Shoa would be happy to get an autograph, later, but right she's here to tell him about the efforts being made to locate Rafi and Alon., quote:"On my part, I will make every effort to get the Greek permission to switch two players at least until the end of the first half. If you can bring Alon and Rafi to the field even at the very last moment of the first half, I will replace Golani and Barkai, and our victory over the Greek team will be assured." But wait, they don't have the Greek permission just yet. Shoa should come along to get it. All three - Shoa, Bundy and the nameless interpreter - jump into Bundy's car and roar off. Chapter 16: A meeting with the Greek team. The Greek team and the international referee Messier Funkara, from France, all stay at the Susita hotel in Tel Aviv. (If such a hotel every existed, the internet has absolutely no memory of it. It does remember Susita cars, kinda, because they were exceptionally adorable). Bundy arrives with a minor in tow, as he and Shoa try to convince the Greeks to allow for the substitution in the interests of sportsmanship. The Greek team - Oziris Pantheaclus, Stefan Necreus, Siron Thucydides and Socrates Spartacus Athenes Zeus Titanomachia Aristotle Plato (only one of these is not an actual name) laugh at the very notion that any teenager could defeat them. Replace the entire Israeli team with Young Athletes (title drop) for all they care. The Greek team whispers back and forth, and allows the substitution to take place until the very end of the game, and not just the first half of it. Bundy is overwhelmed.
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# ? Mar 8, 2016 02:03 |
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# ? May 5, 2024 02:32 |
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Chapter 17: A race against the clock Ranana's house is now the headquarters of the missing person search. Maps everywhere, little flags and pins with school and squads on them, the phone constantly ringing. Shoa bursts in with the welcome news that the Greeks have kindly agreed to a last minute substitution. Finding Rafi and Alon is now more important than ever. Students form man-chains, police-helicopters fly overhead, special editions come out with very important "we ain't found poo poo" news. Everyone's trying to pressure Barkai and Golani into confessing, because gently caress those guys. They finally find a Monogrammed handkerchief with Rafi's name halfway between Tel-Aviv and Lod, which narrows things down. Shoa gets the news by phone, and rushes to encourage Bundi as the teams takje the field. Chapter 18:Troubling times on the field – and off it. Tens of thousands pack together to watch the match, millions have their ears pressed against their radios. Golani is trying to clear his name, so he rushes Oziris and makes a wonderful kick towards the upper corner – and right into Necroses hands. The Israeli team presses the offense, but just as Golani is about to kick, Zeus Pallas (!) takes the ball. If only Alon was here, this wouldn't happen. Darrius Lacademonus scores, despite Barkai's best attempts to stop him. quote:'Bundi asks about any results so far', Shoa asked desperately. Chapter 19: Israel on the defense The national team goes into total defense mode, which is like the most realistic thing in this book thus far. Btw, the Israeli term for a total focus on the defense on the football field is "bunker" – as always, political and sport psychology are one and the same. Since the entire team is concentrating on defense, the entire Greek team takes the offense, including the defenders. Syrius Garchus scores the fourth goal at the last moment of the first half. There are now 50,000 people searching the Lod area – many of them equipped with portable transistors, each goal just encouraging them to search that much harder. Chapter 20: A day of infamy. Now the national team switches to total offense, hoping to score at least one goal, but Necroses manages to stop each attempt. Every Israeli player and fan periodically scan the sky for the helicopter carrying the two young player – yet its nowhere to be seen. The resulting depression is enough for the Greeks to score twice more. And again at the very last minute. The game ends, 7:0 to the Greeks. Chapter 21: Where are Alon and Rafi? Shoa gets back to the headquarters, to join Ranana in crying over the map. The handkerchiefs (there are two now, for some reason) must have been just a bit of misdirection. Golani and Barkai's mysterious friends seem determined to hold the young athletes during the second match with Greece as well. Oh, did we forget to note that there's still a second match to played? Chapter 22: Bandy despairs Everything sucks. Ranana drops by just as Bundy's interpreter translates his speech to the team: quote:The Greeks are our superior in every way, both offensively and defensively. We must not expect our next match to take a miraculous course of some sort. Only with sheer stubborn persistence can we expect to achieve anything like an honorable score. My belief is that as far as dedication, fighting-spirit and grit are concerned, there's not a single team in the world that surpasses the Israelis. Let us place our trust in these great Israeli qualities, and do nothing to make our country ashamed" said Bundy, but notes of hidden despair echoed in his voice. Chapter 23: Ranana suspects… In which Ranana finally figures out that based on the book's retarded logic (and the fact that Greek team's plane left from the Lod airport after the kidnapping), the Greek team should be the obvious suspects. She re-reads Grigoriy Alcibiades' "we're so hosed if those two teenagers join the Israeli team" magnum opus to convince Bundy. Xander77 fucked around with this message at 05:41 on Apr 7, 2016 |
# ? Apr 6, 2016 22:32 |