“Is and is not” is a riff familiar from the magic realism of Marquez, Rushdie, and their inheritors – a stylistic signature akin to Hemingway’s monosyllables and Faulkner’s latinate meanders.
So it was striking to find is right there in Canto 7 of Clive James’s recent translation of the Purgatorio. Virgil is speaking of his plight as a holy man who had the bad luck to precede Christ by just a few years:
“Before
Souls worthy of the climb to God came here
To this hill, my dead bones were buried by
Augustus. I am Virgil. For that mere
Defect – lack of the faith that I could not
Have had, because a child was not yet born –
I lost Heaven.” So spoke Virgil of his lot.
Hearing him is Sordello, like Virgil a poet of Mantua – but one born 1200 years later:
As one who marvels at the sudden dawn
Before him of a thing he both believes
And disbelieves, and says `It is … and yet
It isn’t …’ and then finally retrieves
His power to move, Sordello with bent head
Again went humbly to my lord, embraced
Him low down as the lowly do, and said
“O Glory of the Latins, you that graced
Our tongue and proved its power to Earth,
What did of mine or blessing shows me you?”
James made this translation of Dante out of his deep familiarity with postwar writing, and he may be making use of intentional anachronism. But the effect is to suggest that Dante was a magic realist – the first?