Thirty-Five Passages over Water
2009; University of Oklahoma; Volume: 83; Issue: 4 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1353/wlt.2009.0317
ISSN1945-8134
Autores Tópico(s)Literature, Musicology, and Cultural Analysis
ResumoGee, The Poet and theSea by JuanRamon Jimenez,Dark ThingsbyNovica Tadic, DeKok and the Mask of Death byA.C. Baantjer MORE ON PAGE8 CLOCKWISE FROM FARLEFT Latenight intheold city center; midday inthenew city center; statues line the Lithuanian National Opera and Ballet Theatre building; and thedomesof theChurchof theSaint Virgin's Apparition shine in the sun. EightBooks to Read Before You Go? Or Even If You Don't The BalticQuintet: Poemsfrom Estonia, Finland, Latvia, Lithuania and Sweden, ed. Edita Page (Wolsak & Wynn, 2008). Laimonas Briedis, Vilnius: City of Strangers (Baltos Lankos /CEU, 2009). The EarthRemains:An Anthologyof Contemporary Lithuanian Prose, ed. & tr.Laima Sruoginis (East European Monographs, 2003). Ricardas Gavelis, Vilnius Poker, tr. Elizabeth Novickas (Open Letter, 2009). Vanda Juknaite, My Voice Betrays Me (East European Monographs, 2007). Marcelijus Martinaitis, K. B.: The Suspect, tr. Laima Vince (White Pine, 2009). Six Lithuanian Poets, ed. & tr. Eugenijus Alisanka (Arc,2008). Tomas Venclova, The Junction (Bloodaxe, 2008). AND OTHER PASSAGES HLflO CHEUSE Thirty-Five Passages Over Water Alan Cheuse On board theArahura (which, in Maori, means Pathway to Dawn), the imposing steamer-size car/passenger ferry fromWellington, North Island, New Zealand, to Picton, South Island, New Zealand?this past winter. I don't know thatwe've been happier (knock on wood, as i my dear latemother used to say). The weather|^^^ ^^mmm^^ ^^mmmmmm\ WaS^a*r' ^r^8nt sun'an<^ once me large autoand passenger ferry pushed out ofWellington Har bor?all thecolorfulhouses smiling down at us, the facade of an Oceanian Trieste?it churned around thepoint into thandeCook Straitwhere we met head-on a strong chill breeze, remind ingus ofwhere we found ourselves, along the forty-first parallel, facing south towardAntarc tica, where the waters of theSouth Pacific rushed toembrace and meld with the waters of the Tasman Sea. I had a goal, towrite a travel story about this small but fascinating dual-island nation, and K. was travelingwith me. This was our lovely life together,sometimes bending toward my work, sometimes, on those extraordinary evenings when ten months ofherwork bloomed in twelveminutes on stagewhen dancers performed her choreographic creations, inclining toward hers. Who knows where we'll be when you read this, dear stranger or friend?under theground or under the water, our ashes long scattered to milder winds than these? (ifanyone at allwill read this!)?but know thatas faraswe have traveled ithas been good. Standing on the captain's bridge of that ferry,a privilege bestowed on us by virtue of my assignment,we knew no better course than togo where the captain would lead us, and enjoy the moment-to-moment amazements of the three-hour voyage. Here a leaping pod of dolphins! A pod of clouds sailed above us as ifinsome sortofmirror image ofhow we moved along the water. All brightness now upon the waves. Itwas summer, when the powerful cur rentsof theStraitwere less ficklethan inother seasons. This meeting of the two oceans?ferries had gone down in stormshere twice in the last century?nothing like it in thenorthern hemispheres. The embrace of the ferocious flows, where one begins theother ends. A love affairof fiercecurrents.The kind of love thatcomes inyouth,when you know nothing and feel thatyou have an eternity,or later in life when you have almost everything and know thatyou will lose it.That kind of ferocity!Those clouds seem to descend, and where itwas clear, suddenly we're seeing through a mist. Storms come up like this,and boats go down. Butwe press ahead, blithely, the radar showing nothing but blissful emptiness ahead. And then the fogcleared and we caught sight of theother side, the upper coast of theSouth Island, a lineof tree-strewncliffsand small fiordsand channels. And K. and I turned to each other,holding hands like children about toplay a game, and feltthe pleasure of knowing we were almost there, wherever we were going. Editorial note: From Trance after Breakfast: And Other Passages, just published by Sourcebooks (www. sourcebooks.com). Copyright ? 2009 by Alan Cheuse. Reprinted by permission of the author. July-August 2009 i7 ...
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