Huang Bat Bat itibaren 36876 Mera, Pontevedra, İspanya
Ne söylenebilir? Bu kitap, 16 yaşında bir çocuk olarak hayatınızı değiştirir ve muhtemelen ölene kadar sizinle kalır.
I can't compare this translation of the Commedia to many others, since the only other I've read more than isolated extracts from was a slightly bowdlerized late Victorian edition. Still, it seems to be a clean and simple translation, which, although it doesn't attempt to recreate the rhyming scheme of the original Italian, does reproduce a lot of the original rhythm and flow. The notes are mostly helpful, even though the insistent use of Roman forms of mythological deities, even when the Greek form is better known did get a little confusing at times. (For example, I did blink at 'Latona, the mother of Diana' for a second, before saying 'Hey, wait, Leto.' That's probably to be laid at the door of the fact that I am much more a Hellenist than I am a Latinist.) There were also a couple of points in the notes in which Musa was factually incorrect - mixing up the names of rulers or popes, for example, or placing the events of one reign in the reign of a successor, but that happened only seldom. The Commedia is one of those great, sprawling epics that I love to revel in - especially because it's one of those works that seems to be at one and the same time a portrait of the writer, and a snapshot of the civilisation he lived in at the time in which he was writing. It helps satisfy the history and the poetry geeks that dwell within me. I think it's one of the first great psychological poems, too; just so, so fascinating. The Inferno has always been my favourite canticle of the three. The Wacky Medieval Theology takes up a lot less space than it does in Paradiso, or even Purgatorio, once Beatrice takes over from Virgil. But it's mostly because it takes place in Hell that I prefer it; Hell is automatically more fun, what with the torture and the torment and the farting demons (I kid you not).