Partly I’m still thinking of Hadestown. Partly, I read a passage from Mark Twain’s On Writing and Publishing, and I’ve been thinking of language.
Here: “There had been no death before the case of Cornelius Lean which had arisen and terminated in death since the special rules had been drawn up.”
I know every single one of those words. I understand their meaning. In their totality, though, it’s as if I’m staring at a blank wall.
Now Twain,I think, felt the same way. He had read that in a morning paper, and went on to say, “By the context I know what it means, but you are without that light and will be sure to get out of it a meaning which the writer of it was not intending to convey.”
Nope, Mark, I got no meaning out of it at all. My only guess is that a century ago, the meaning would have been much less obtuse.
And I was thinking that, as language changes, how much of a writer’s meaning do we lose?
There can be modern translations, sure, but then we also find ourselves at the mercy of the translator. Not that we should need English translated, mind you, but give Shakespeare a cold reading, and if your not familiar with the poetry, you’ll be probably end up lost.