In the language of my grandmothers, Anishinaabemowin (the Ojibwe language), the town I was born in: Sheboygan, Wisconsin, means "to drum and to transmit." Various renderings and traditions surround this interpretation. This is the one I learned from tribal elder Saxon St Germain at Hayward, WI in the early 1990s. A similar interpretation is found … Continue reading De-Railed: Dead Woman Waking
Translating the Untranslatable: Elfriede Jelinek in Translation
(Hearty congratulations to translator Aaron Sayne, whose translation of Elfriede Jelinek's "Ahörnchen und Behörnchen" appears as "Chip 'n Dale" in the most recent edition of the University of Iowa's journal of literary translation, Exchanges. In his translator's note, Aaron mentions my Emory lecture on translating Jelinek and cites this blog as his reference, but since … Continue reading Translating the Untranslatable: Elfriede Jelinek in Translation
The N-Word Lover: A Domestic Terror Tale from the “Before Times”
This is a piece from the “Before Times.” The “Before Times”: That’s my term for the “good old days” when Dubya’s reign as worst US president in history seemed secure. When people were comparing him to Hitler. When others, myself included, were saying Bush was worse than Hitler. When Dick “Darth Vader” Cheney held the … Continue reading The N-Word Lover: A Domestic Terror Tale from the “Before Times”
This is for Kinda-Colored Girls who Have Committed Suicide ‘Cause the Wundabread was Never Enough.
About this Title My first attempt to write about my relationship with my birth mother came in 1993, about 6 months before she died. There is a version of it published on the DailyKos blog under that title (posted in the menu to this blog under the title "Motherhood is Overrated"). That story became the … Continue reading This is for Kinda-Colored Girls who Have Committed Suicide ‘Cause the Wundabread was Never Enough.
Last Living Words: The Ingeborg Bachmann Reader
The catalyst for Last Living Words: The Ingeborg Bachmann Reader was Ingeborg Bachmann’s 1961 short story, “Undine geht,” which I translated into English under the title “Undine’s Valediction” in 1992/3. When I submitted the piece for publication to Trivia: A Journal of Ideas, the editors responded by saying: “We’ve never seen anything like this, but … Continue reading Last Living Words: The Ingeborg Bachmann Reader
Dare to Compare: Americanizing the Holocaust
In a previous post, titled I Remember Roger, I mention a speaking engagement held in Bascom Hall at the University of Wisconsin-Madison on November 13, 2003. The presentation was based on an article I had published in American Indian Quarterly in the year 2000. The print version of the article is available as a free … Continue reading Dare to Compare: Americanizing the Holocaust
I Remember Roger
Roger, lounging on the patio I don’t remember the exact sequence of how things fell apart. I remember brushing up against my best friend in the servant’s stairwell that led from the kitchen to the second story of my parents’ home the night of the party. I was headed upstairs and she was on her … Continue reading I Remember Roger
Death in Texas
Portrait of Fred Wall, commissioned posthumously from a photograph A few months before my little brother’s funeral, I was raped by a stranger on the kitchen floor of my home. I had just cleaned the place because I was expecting a visit from my birth mother: every light switch, counter, doorknob was spic and span. … Continue reading Death in Texas
Born Blacked Out
I was born blacked out. My birth is described in court documents as “illegitimate,” and most of what I know about it comes from a file I got from a half-sister who was given up for adoption as an infant. Her adoption was closed and remained so even after my mother’s death. My younger brother … Continue reading Born Blacked Out
The Human Remains: I.am.Lilly.M.Ruh
Without some preliminary qualifiers, this story is likely to ruffle some feathers. Some autobiographical background: My birth name was Lillian Mae Friedberg, but my father's name was Richard Palmer Ruh, and he didn't give me his name until I was 12, about a year after I first met him at a place called Sunburst Youth … Continue reading The Human Remains: I.am.Lilly.M.Ruh
Uncomfortable Truths 