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Thread: Thus spake m. Solzhenitsof!

  1. #331
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    FRAGMENTS (1) /FROM THE VERY PAGE OF 22
    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof
    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY // THE LEAST PREFACE (See within the last several dozen paragraphs in the page before this one-pp. 22)
    It goes witout saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologise
    Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    https://www.google.com.tr/?gws_rd=ss...n+Anita+Rankin

    INTRODUCTION (See within the last several dozen paragraphs in the page before this one-pp. 22)
    Introducing the reader " The Little Modern World of Rankin Family" in Zimbabwe either the title of a best seller book viz. 'Do you like Brahms?' or the great Russian composer would have been sufficed, but the last one was indispensable; one must turn into a taciturn soul and give an overt adherence to a cradle of one's myth was based over a brillantly modest pianist playing hard themes of the giant namely Rachmaninov whom the dwarf Stalinism had taken under its pitiful patronage for a long time, and of whom the reds said 'Really, it ought not to be allowed, to play those themes as well as that!' so left both Beethoven and Mozart ‘sitting aside’; while no performance of any musical excerp could survive in any chance of having been being deciphired over the notes at any string instrument, or at a well accorded drum etcetera etcetera...
    .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. ........
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-04-2017 at 04:44 PM.

  2. #332
    Registered User mesolzhenitsy's Avatar
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    FRAGMENTS (2) / FROM THE VERY PAGE OF 22 (See within the last several dozen paragraphs in the page before this one-pp. 22)
    Of which Anita Rankin and Philip Rankin found in Africa was the humanity and it was kept and well informed in the most delightful fashion. When, in the complexity of circumstances, loving humanity depended upon the choice which the Rankin Family was about to make whether its members might or might not become the lover of coloured and non-coloured people! It was not only the brilliant pitches of virtuous sopranos, old talismans and academicians, to whom they were bound by such close ties, that Rankin Family compelled with so much philanthropy to serve them as precursors. All friends of theirs were accustomed to receive, from time to time, emails which called on them for a word of recommendation or introduction, with a tongue of natural diplomacy diplomatic which, persisting throughout all the family's adroitness...
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-04-2017 at 04:45 PM.

  3. #333
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    FRAGMENTS (3) / FROM THE VERY PAGE OF 22 (See within the last several dozen paragraphs in the page before this one-pp. 22)
    Successively they would be using different pretexts, revealed more glisteningly than any vague quest, clumsiness or trait in indiscretion, a permanent borings to some extent character and an unvarying posture. They used often to recall to themselves when, many years later, they began to take an interest in the friends' character because of the similarity which, in wholly different respects, it offered to their own, how, when they used to write to far relatives-though not at the time they are then considering, for it was about the day of saint Valentine that all darlings’ great ‘affair’ began, and made a long gaiety in their rejoicing practices-the latter, recognising their friends’ second email addresses on the monitor, would exclaim: “Here is an amicable soul offering for sharing several parties; thanks to God!” And, either from self confidence or from the highly conscious spirit of Good Samaritans which urges them to offer a thing to everybody who do want good and nice only, Philip Rankin should not meet with an obstinate refusal the most easily satisfied of his prayers, as when he begged them for an introduction to a nice people who dined with his family every Sunday, and whom they were obliged, whenever The Rankin Family mentioned them, to pretend that they no longer saw, although they would be wondering, all through the week, whom they could invite to meet them, and often failed, in the end, to find anyone, sooner than make a sign to Mr and Mrs Rankin who would so gladly have accepted.Occasionally a couple of their grandparents’ acquaintance, who had been complaining for some time that they never saw any Rankin now, would announce with satisfaction, and perhaps with a slight inclination to make them envious of their new generations, that they had suddenly become as charming as they could possibly be, and was never out of their house.
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-04-2017 at 04:45 PM.

  4. #334
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    FRAGMENTS (4) / FROM THE VERY PAGE OF 22 (See within the last several dozen paragraphs in the page before this one-pp. 22)
    Philip Rankin's children would not care to shatter the people's pleasant illusion, but would look at Anita Rankin-the mom, as she hummed the air of:
    -What is this mystery?
    -We cannot understand it at all;
    -Of imagines fugitive . . .;
    -In matters such as this it is best to close one’s eyes.
    A few months later, if Philip Rankin asked a new friends of theirs
    -What about old ones? Do you still see as much of them as ever?” the other’s face would lengthen:
    -Ever mention their name to us again!
    -But I thought that you had got such friends of your old parents, huh?
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-04-2017 at 04:45 PM.

  5. #335
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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof
    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE (See within the last several dozen paragraphs in the page before this one-pp. 22)
    It goes witout saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologise Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    https://www.google.com.tr/?gws_rd=ss...n+Anita+Rankin
    .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .........
    INTRODUCTION (See within the last several dozen paragraphs in the page before this one-pp. 22)
    Introducing the reader " The Little Modern World of Rankin Family" in Zimbabwe either the title of a best seller book viz. 'Do you like Brahms?' or the great Russian composer would have been sufficed, but the last one was indispensable; one must turn into a taciturn soul and give an overt adherence to a cradle of one's myth was based over a brillantly modest pianist playing hard themes of the giant namely Rachmaninov whom the dwarf Stalinism had taken under its pitiful patronage for a long time, and of whom the reds said 'Really, it ought not to be allowed, to play those themes as well as that!' so left both Beethoven and Mozart ‘sitting aside’; while no performance of any musical excerp could survive in any chance of having been being deciphired over the notes at any string instrument, or at a well accorded drum etcetera etcetera...

    .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .......

    THE NEW ODYSSEUS OR THE STORY OF PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY
    By M. Solzhenitsof

    CHAPTER I

    One could see, the guests or rather The Debater to take place at the dinner table after The Phrase -what a title!-has no bearing on the point. What one must know is whether the debate friends are indeed the guests of the Rankin Family in average grade of mentality and even of highest charm, one of those appraisable debaters who are capable of foregoing a pleasure for if they are such, how could someone love each other, for they are not even a professional debater, a definite, imperfect, but at least perceptible entity. They are not a formless water that will trickle down any slope that it may come upon, a fish devoid of memory, incapable of thought, which all its life-span in its aquarium will continue to draw nearer-instead of dashing-itself, maybe-a some thousand times a day, against a wall of glass, not mistaking it for water but discerning every details a propos walls of soil or walls of liquids. Could the reader realise that any reason explain the dramatic fall or rather being ruined to some degree of survival worse than destruction of The Rankin Family's will have the effect-one does not say of making the liberal intellectuals of The World cease from that moment not to feel suffering from the dictatorial oppressions availing in the cases similar to that of theirs, that goes without saying, but of making Zimbabwe less attractive to The World's eyes when the mankind realise that the oppressors are not any human, that people are to be running into beneath everything in the world and have not the intelligence to raise the oppressor one inch higher than the infliction induced throne of an hyena while grinning with blood stained incisive teeth? Obviously, one should have preferred to ask the reason sufficient to destruct the mansion of The Rankin Family wherein the dinner table would always be open to everybody to dine in the spirit of having felt the cosy welcome of the host and hostess namely Mr. and Mrs Rankin and voluntarily to take part in the 'Debate' ad hoc 'The Phrase' the guests might love as much as compelling it to debate, as though it had been a matter of little or no importance, to give up the socio-political even socio-economic affairs (since none compels them to sully their lips with so abject a subject consisting of musical notes played by the guitarist or pianist highly respected amongst the other guests at The Rankin's), in the hope that one would go to omit it nevertheless. But, since one-ethically charged with 'narrating the ache of a philanthropist family and its Good Samaritan Friends had resolved to weigh the subject in the balance, to make so grave an issue depend upon the remarks of the narration, one considered it more honourable to give every well civilized people due warning. Meanwhile, the narrator might had shown signs of increasing emotion and uncertainty all in all the meaning of the tirade like parts was beyond the literature. So that one grasped that it was to be included among the scenes of heartrending infliction or supplication, scenes which The Rankin's familiarity with the ways of men of pen enabled somebody, without paying any heed to the words that were uttered, to conclude that the pen would not make unless both the writer and the pen were in love for humanist tasks; that, from the moment when they were in love within the procedure of constructing the style, even if it would be superfluous to understand the doomsday at the Rankin's there upon Philip Rankin would cry, "I'm nobody, oppression based life had done away with me since there could only be a dead man in love with The Mankind later on." And so, when the others would have heard one-the narrator-out with the utmost tranquillity had the other guests or rather the lovers of the ' phrase debating not noticed that it was growing late, and that if they went on speaking for any length of time one would never as they told one with a fond smile, obstinate but slightly abashed, “come here in time for the dinner induced debate or vice versa.” On other occasions they had assured themselves that the one thing which, more than anything else, would make them cease to love 'debating the phrase', would be one refusal to abandon the habit of ignoring dinner time at The Rankin's. “Even from the point of view of intelligence, pure and simple,” one had told them, “can’t you see how much of your attraction you throw away when you stoop to debating? By a frank admission-how many good deeds you might redeem! Really, you are drawing nearer than you supposed!” In vain, however, did one expound to them thus all the reasons that one had for not exaggeration; they might have succeeded in overthrowing any universal system of INTELLECTUAL AID, but one had no such system; one contented oneself, merely, whenever the guests wished The Rankin Family not to remain in ignorance of anything that one had done, with not telling one of it. So that the truth was, to everybody at The Rankin's, something not to be used only as a special expedient; and the one thing that could make everybody decide whether they should avail themselves of the truth or not was a reason which, too, was of a special and contingent order, namely the risk of The Narrator’s discovering that The Rankin Family's members had always told the intellectuals of the earth the truth, solely truth. Physically, under the general oppression availing in Zimbabwe The Rankin's Family was passing through an unfortunate phase; it was growing unhappy, and the expressive, sorrowful charm, the surprised, wistful expressions which the members of The Rankin's Family had formerly had, seemed to have vanished with their main happiness, with the result that they became most precious to the humanist circles of the friends at the very moment when those persons found them distinctly less good-looking. The friends of Mr. and Mrs Rankin would gaze at their for hours on end, trying to recapture the charm which they had once seen in their face and could not find again. And yet the knowledge that, within the new and strange torture upon them, it was still the narrator that lurked, still the same volatile temperament, thoughtful, artful and non-evasive, was enough to keep everybody seeking, with as much passion as ever, to captivate them. Then the old friends would look at photographs of The Rankin's Family, taken two years before, and would remember how exquisite they had been. And yet that could not console one, a little, for all the sufferings that one voluntarily endured on one's account. When the members of The Rankin's Family took themselves off to nowhere, or to the neighbours' houses, or to far relatives, as often as not, if the weather was fine, they would propose to remain there for the night for they had not go any home until next day. Mme. Rankin could not endeavour to set at rest while remembering the scruples of the guitarist a propos 'The Phrase', whose memoirs had remained in the past: “Our souls will be only too glad to be rid of life for a moment", said they. One would ask then "how on earth could The Rankin Family's members not be anxious, when they know The World's Intellectuals aren't totally with the because of the informational gap regarding to the oppression of Zimbabwe's dictatorship and the torture of it inflicting upon mainly Philip and Anita Rankin? Anyhow, will I be able take them all under my wing over making the well civilized countries from Russia to Canada, Holland, Ireland etcetera, etcetera?” If this attempt failed, one would set off across country until one came to the corner of his study for some other kind of messenger-the PC, after first finding out which of the ‘faithful’ had anyone whom they must warn. And yet to the highest probability the world would thank one, and assure one that one might have several message for one, for one-The Narrator had told them, once and for all, that one could possibly send messages to The European Stock intellectuals, before all those people, without compromising oneself. Sometimes one would be present for several days on end, when the Rankin Family took one to see the tombs of their farmer grandparents! On the Rankin Family’s advice, to watch the sun setting through the little gate of the garden after which they went on to the most convenient place. “To think that one could visit really natural structures with us, who have spent some years in the debate of 'the musical phrase', who are constantly showered by other brilliant phrases, by the guests of the Rankin Family who really count, to take them the dinner table, and refuse to take anything but 'The Phrase'; and instead of that one trundles off with the lowest, the most brilliantly upgraded of harmonies, to go into ecstasies over the petrified impressions both of the guitarist and the painter alongside the omnipotent and the Doc! One hardly needs much knowledge of art and thought, I should say, to do that; though, surely, even without any particularly refined sense of debate, one would not deliberately choose to spend a vacation in the dinner table, so as to be within range of their nuances of consideration as fragrant exhalations within the boundless of boundaries of Chekov's orchard in his peerless works of the literature.” But when one had set off for farms, without allowing another person to appear there, as though by accident, at one's side, for, as one said, that would “create a hopeful impression,” one would plunge into the most feeding romance in the debate lover’s dinner table... The timing allocated for 'The Debate of The Phrase' within the dinner time were like a railway timetable, from which one learned the ways of joining something here or there in the morning, midday, afternoon or in the evening, even in the midnight. The ways to give start to the debate? More than that, the authority as the omnipotent or Doc do represent, the right to join it. For, after all, the time-table, and all the vehicles, planes, the trains themselves, were not meant for the people of the anti-humanist oppressors so even if the public were carefully informed, by means of printed advertisements, that in the first quarter of the 2000s a dictator could only be because going to demolish a family was a lawful act, for which permission from dictatorship would be superfluous; an act, moreover, which might be performed from a motive altogether different from the desire to see the target consisting of the innocent members of The Rankin Family, since persons who had never even heard of her performed it daily, and in such numbers as justified the horror and expense of bribing at the executers of the dictator. So it came to this; that the Rankin Family could not prevent executers to behead their soil loving souls from going to their farm anymore if they chose to do so. Now that was precisely what the members of The Rankin Family found that they couldn't choose to do, and would at that moment be doing were they, like the travelling public, not acquainted with a beloved farm loved and well treated. For a long time past one-the narrator had wanted to form a more definite impression of tragic collapse of the Rankin’s home as a restorer. And the horror being what it was, one felt an overwhelming desire to spend the day roaming on the lanes before their mansion. It was, indeed, a piece of bad luck that the friends had forbidden themselves access to the one spot that horrified to-day one of the day of the year 2017! Why, if one went down there, in defiance of their prohibition, they would be able to see themselves that very year! But then, whereas, if one had met, at The Rankin's, someone who did not matter, one would have hailed them with obvious pleasure: “What? You were tortured, weren't you?” and would have invited them to come and see friends at the dictatorial where they were staying with the Rankin's, if, on the other hand, it was oneself-the narrator who encountered there, one would be annoyed, would complain that one was being followed, would love one less in consequence, might even turn away in anger when one caught sight of the benumbed persons. “So, then, I am not to be allowed to go away for a day anywhere!” one would reproach the friends on their return, whereas in fact it was one himself who was not allowed to go. As the time being one had had the surprising idea, so as to contrive to visit vicinity around the house without letting it be supposed that one's object was to meet the butchers who tortured The Rankin Family, of securing an indolence from one of those inhuman oppressors, the men of the dictator, who might had a garrison in that neighbourhood. One is not solely a narrator but is a friend, to whom the guests of Lady Rankin to dine, to listen to music, and to debate the phrase suggested the plan without disclosing its ulterior humanist purpose, was beside oneself with joy; one did not conceal one's astonishment at the lady’s consenting at last, after umpteen dinners open to everybody from the vicinity, to come down and visit one's property devoted to help the mankind around, and since she did not wish to stay anywhere without helping the people around, promised to spend some days, at least, in taking friends for walks and excursions in the district. One imagined oneself down there already with Mr. Rankin too. Even before one saw the humanist friends or rather The Good Samaritans, even if one did not succeed in seeing him there, what a joy it would be to set foot on that soil where, not knowing the exact spot in which, at any moment, the host or the hostess of theirs was to be found, one would feel all around one the thrilling possibility of one's suddenly appearing: in the courtyard of the mansion, now beautiful in one's eyes since it was on all the friends' account that they had come to visit it; in all the lanes encircling the mansion, which struck one as romantic; down every ride of the farm, with rosy reflections with the deep and tender glow of sunset before the dinner! Innumerable and alternative dining and thought plus art based debate places, for the point of narrator to which would fly simultaneously for refuge, in the uncertain ubiquity of one's hopes, one's happy, well disciplined and united heart would compel one rebuking “We mustn’t, on any account,” one would warn the intellectuals of the world, “run across the tragedy of Anita Rankin and Philip Rankin. I have just heard that they were put the prison for not having been guilty, of all places, then. One has plenty of time to see them in The United Nations' Centre; it might have hardly been worthwhile coming down there if one couldn’t go a yard without meeting them.” And one's host would fail to understand why, once they had reached the place, one should change one's plans twenty four times in an hour, inspect the dining-halls of all the homes of the farmers in Zimbabwe without being able to make up one's mind to settle down in any of them, although one had found no trace anywhere of the Rankin's, seeming to be in search of what one had claimed to be most anxious to avoid, and would in fact avoid, the moment one found it, for if one had come upon the little ‘group,’ one would have hastened away at once with studied indifference, satisfied that one had seen the members of The Rankin Family suffering from dictatorial injustice! And one oneself, especially that one had seen oneself in the mirror around when one was not, apparently, thinking about both them and oneself. But no; one would guess at once that it wasn't for one's sake that one had come there. And when Mr. Rankin came to help Anita Rankin, and it was time to start, one excused oneself: “No, I’m afraid not; I can go to every corner. You see, Lady Rankin is here.” And one was happy in spite of everything in feeling that if one, alone among mortals, had not the right to go to another place that evening, it was because one was in fact, for friends, someone who differed from all other mortals, thought and art lover; and because that restriction which for one alone was set upon the universal right to travel freely where one would, was but one of the many forms of that work, that love which was so dear to one. Decidedly, it was better not to risk a quarrel with the others instead of making contribution to debate, to be patient, to wait for 'The Phrase' return. One spent one's days in poring over a thought map of 'the debate' of 'The Phrase, as though it had been that of the ‘country moaning under the cruel rules of the Zimbabwean Dictatorship; one surrounded oneself with the musical notes of the 'Phrase'. When the day dawned on which it was possible that one might go back home, one opened the notes again, calculated what contributions one must have taken, and, should one have postponed one's going to bed... What other intellectual or rather thought and art induced debates were still left for one to take part in. One would rather not leave the house of The Rankin's, for fear of missing or sending a message, one did not go to bed, in case, having come by the last utterance about the phrase, one decided to surprise oneself with a midnight contribution. Yes! As if the front-door bell rang there seemed some delay in opening the door, one would like to awaken oneself, one leaned out of the window to shout to the friends, if they were friends namely the intellectual guests of the Rankin Family, for in spite of the orders which one had gone downstairs a dozen times to deliver in those persons, they were quite capable of telling one that one couldn't be happy not at one's home after The Rankin Family were in exile forever because of the order of a dictator who couldn't the meaning of 'order'. Was only a servant coming in while one haven't got neither a servant nor a master. One noticed the incessant rumble of passing carriages, to which one had never before paid any attention for all that one could hear them, one after another, a long way off, coming nearer, passing one's door without stopping, and bearing away into the distance a message which might be for one. One waited all night, to no purpose, for the members of the Rankin Family couldn't had returned unexpectedly, and both Philip and Anita Rankin had been in their houses since midday; it had not occurred to them to tell one; not knowing what to do with oneself one had spent the evening alone at the bay, had long since gone home to bed, and was peacefully asleep by God pleasure and help. As a matter of fact, one had never given oneself a thought. And such moments as these, in which one forgot The Rankin’s Family very existence, were of more value to the friends or rather intellectual guests of its, did more to attach one to all of them, than all making The World's Intellectuals to be well informed. For in this way one was kept in that state of painful agitation which had once before been effective in making one's interest blossom into love of thought and art, in the evenings when one had failed to find the others at the Rankin's and had hunted for one all evening. And one did not have (as the narrator had, afterwards, in the vicinity similar to those in one's motherland in one's childhood) happy days in which to forget the sufferings that would return with the 'Debating The Phrase' evenings. For the narrator's days, the narrator must pass them without those friends of The Rankin's Family; and as one told oneself, now and then, to allow so pretty a family to survive by the intellectual friends in Zimbabwe was just as rash as to leave a case filled with golden bracelets in the middle of the street. In this mood one-let's call the narrator as one-would scowl furiously at the passers-by, as though all the people of the neighbourhood so many pickpockets. But their faces-a collective and formless mass- escaped the grasp of one's imagination, and so failed to feed the flame of one's own or rather self conciliation. The effort exhausted one’s brain, until, passing one's hand over one's eyes, one cried out: “Heaven help me!” as people, after lashing themselves into an intellectual commotion in their endeavours to solve, say, to formulate the solution of the problem of the reality of the external world... Would it-crying at least ' O Gosh'-be to the same conception that of the immortality of the soul, afford relief to their weary brains by an unreasoning act of faith. But the thought of his absent intellectual friendship medium was incessantly, indissolubly blended with all the simplest actions of one’s daily life especially when one have one's breakfast, opened one's e-mails, went for a walk or to bed by the fact of his regret at having to perform those actions without the friends; like those initials of The Rankin's which, in the churches around of, because of one's grief, one's longing for the friends! The Narrator namely 'one' made interview everywhere with a lot of friends with their own will. One some days, instead of staying at home, would go for one's breakfast to a patisserie not far off, to which one had been attracted, some time before, by the excellence of its cookery, but to which one now went only for one of those reasons, at once paradoxical and reality, which people call ‘ realistically romantic’; because that patisserie (which, by the way, still exists) bore the same name as the street in which the members of The Rankin's Family lived: the pioneer. Sometimes, when one had been away on a short visit somewhere, several days would elapse before one thought of letting the others know that one had returned to the neighbourhood. And then one would say quite simply, without taking-as one would once have taken-the precaution of covering oneself, at all costs, with a little fragment borrowed from the truth namely 'the phrase', that one had just, at that very moment, arrived by the early morning hours . What one said was a falsehood; at least for one it wasn't a falsehood, inconsistent, lacking internal harmony that would have had, if true the support of one's memory of one's actual arrival at the exact point; one was even prevented from forming a mental picture of what the humanism of The Rankin's Family was saying, while its members said it, by the contradictory picture, in one's mind, of whatever quite different thing one had indeed been doing at the moment when one pretended to have been alighting from the climax of the 'debate' in one’s mind, however, these words, meeting no opposition, settled and hardened until they assumed the indestructibility of a truth so indubitable that, if some friend happened to tell one that one had come by the same clues as theirs and had not seen any Rankin, one would have been convinced that it was one's friend who had made a mistake as to the day or hour, since one's version did not agree with the words uttered by one. These considerations had never appeared to one exaggerated except when, before hearing them from another person but one oneself, one had suspected that they were going to be. For one to believe that the friends was saying truth, only truth, although anticipatory surmising was indispensable. It was also, however, sufficient. Given that, everything that one might say appeared to one suspect. Did one mention a name: it was obviously that of one of the friends; once this supposition had taken shape, one would spend weeks in tormenting oneself; on one occasion one even approached a firm of ‘defending human rights’ to find out the inhumane reason and the cruel procedure of the well known dictator who would give one no peace until one could be proved to have gone abroad, and who-as one ultimately learned-was a ghost of Saddam Hussein, and had been dead for around a decade. Although one would not allow the friends, as a rule, to meet them at public gatherings, saying that people would talk, it happened occasionally that, at an evening party-of 'The Phrase' and 'The Debate' to which one and one had each been invited-at The Rankin’s, or rather at the pianist, guitarist, and the painter’s, or at a Good Samaritans' meeting given in one of the 'Debate Lovers' one found oneself in the same room with the friends. Regarding to the pains of the Rankin Family and the dining and debating together one could see them the friends' soul, but dared not remain for fear of annoying by seeming to be spying upon the sufferings which they tasted in the company at The Rankin's which while one drove home in utter loneliness, and went to bed, as anxiously as the others namely the friends of the Rankin Family were to go to bed, some moments later, on the evenings when they came to dine together at The Rankin's seemed illimitable to one since one had not been able to see their end. And, once or twice or even thrice, one derived from such evenings that kind of considerations which one would be inclined-did it not originate in so violent a reaction from an anxiety abruptly terminated-to call peaceful, since it consists of main conceptions in a pacifying mood of the mind: one had looked in for a moment at a revel in the dining hall, and was getting ready to go back home; one was leaving behind them transformed into a brilliant stranger, surrounded by men to whom one's glances and one's own sufferings camouflaged in the apparels of gaiety, which were not for one, seemed to hint at some volatile anxiety alternately to be inflicted and to be enjoyed there or elsewhere possibly feeling to be at bay, to which one trembled to think that one might be going on afterwards which made the friends more jealous than the thought of their actual physical union, since it was more difficult to imagine; one was opening the gate of making the world's intellectuals well informed about the tragedy of The Rankin's Family! When one heard oneself called back in the words linked to great sufferings which, by cutting off from the party-because of the dictatorial oppression upon The Rankin Family-that possible ending which had so appalled one, made the party destruction itself seem innocent in retrospect, made some friends’ return to the nest of intellectual chat medium a thing no longer inconceivable and terrible-especially in the countries similar to Zimbabwe, and The North Korea and the like, but tender and familiar, a thing that kept close to one's side, like a part of one's own daily-or rather generally-at the dinner table-for debating 'The Phrase-; a thing that stripped the omnipotent, and Doc themselves of the excess of brilliance in speculations and in ecstasy in the appearance of artists colouring the dinner table at The Rankin's-showed that it was only a disguise which they had assumed for a moment, for the sake of the intellectual group... And yet not in view of any humanist approach, a disguise of which both the omnipotent and Doc had already wearied in those attitudes, which they flung out after one as one was crossing the threshold: “Thank you waiting a for me, huh? I’d like just coming together so we’d drive back together and some of us could drop others.” It was true that a lot of friends on every occasion would ask to be driven home at the same time, but when, on reaching one’s gate, one should have begged oneself not to be allowed to come in alongside one's pains enough to keep one awake too, and one would had replied, with a finger pointed at one's eyes: “Ah! That depends on these alert induced organs so that one must ask them. Very well, my body and my soul may come in together, just for a minute, if the friends insist, but one couldn’t stay long, for, I warn my body my soul likes not to sit and talk quietly with it, and to go bed in serenity, and it’s not at all pleased if have visitors as nightmares when one’s in bed. Oh, if I only knew the my soul as I know my body ; isn’t that so, my friends, there’s no one that really knows me better than , is there, except some superstitious bodies, huh?” And one was, perhaps, even more touched by the eyes of one's addressing friends thus, in front of , not only in these tender words of predilection, but also with certain criticisms, such as: “I feel sure you have shared enough about the pains both of the Rankin and of mine with your friends, 'You know' about dining with the guests namely the art and thought lover friends of The Rankin Family at the 'debate' and 'the phrase' induced dinner table some magnificent evenings. One needn’t go if one doesn’t want to, but one might at least be hopeful,” or “Now, have one left one's contribution to on 'The Phrase' here, so that one can do a little more to it to-morrow? What a laziness! One's going to make the friends to work, one can tell them,” which proved that the friends kept themselves in touch with the social engagements they should share with The Rankin Family and one's humanist work, that they had indeed a life in commonly being Good Samaritan. And as one spoke one bestowed on them a smile which one interpreted as meaning that one was entirely theirs. And then, while one was making them some-instant-lemonade, suddenly, just as when the reflector of a lamp that is badly fitted begins by casting all round an object, on the wall beyond it, interesting and yet dried shadows which, in time, contract and are lost in the shadow of the object itself, all the terrible and disturbing ideas which one had formed of The Rankin Family melted away and vanished in the charming creature who stood there before one's eyes. One had the sudden suspicion that this hour spent in The Rankin’s house, in the lamp-light, was, perhaps, after all, not an artificial hour, invented for one's special use with the object of concealing that frightening and delicious thing which was incessantly in his thoughts without one's ever being able to form a satisfactory impression of it, an hour of the real life of Anita and Philip, of their life when one was not there, looking on with paradoxical properties and attractive fruits, but was perhaps a genuine hour of The Rankin’s life; that, if one oneself had not been there, one would have pulled forward the same position for the friends, would have poured out for them, not any unknown mellow, but precisely that lemonade or orangeade which one was now offering to them both; that the world inhabited by The Rankin Family's was not that other world, fearful and supernatural, in which one spent one's time in placing the friends, and which existed, perhaps, only in one's imagination, but the real universe, exhaling no special atmosphere of the concoction of gloom and gaiety, comprising that dining, debating table at which one might sit down, presently, and write! And this rumination which one was being permitted, now, to taste; all the objects which one contemplated with as much curiosity and admiration as gratitude, for if, in absorbing The Rankin's sufferings they had delivered the others from an obsession, they themselves were, in turn, enriched by the absorption; they showed one the palpable realisation of one's fancies, and they interested one's mind; they took shape and grew solid before one's eyes, and at the same time they soothed one's troubled heart. O Gosh! Had fate but allowed him to share a single debate with them, so that in The Rankin's house one should be in one's own; if, when asking one's contribution what there would be for dinner, it had been The Rankin Family’s service needed for 'debating the phrase' that one had learned from the debate itself; if, when they wished to go for a walk, in the evening, along the lane before the house, one's duty as a good friend had obliged the others, though one had no desire to go out, to accompany them, carrying one's style when one was too warm; and in the evening, after dinner, if one wished to stay at home, and not to wear thick apparels, if one had been forced to stay beside the others, to do what one asked; then how completely would all the trivial details of the others’ style, which seemed to one now so gloomy, simply because they would, at the same time, have formed part of the life of The Rankin Family, have taken on-like that lamp, that lemonade, that armchair, which had absorbed so much of one's dreams, which materialised so much of one's longing-a sort of superabundant sweetness and a fortified solidity viz. fortified through the pains of Anita and Philip Rankin... And yet one was inclined to narrate that the state for which one so much longed for was a calmness, a peace, which could have created an atmosphere favourable to one's love for intellectual debate. When one ceased to be for him a person always absent, regretted, imagined; when the feeling that one had for one was no longer the same mysterious disturbance that was wrought in all the friends by the phrase from the musical excerpt, but constant affection and gratitude, when those normal relations were established between them which would put an end to ones masked depression; then, no doubt, the actions of The Rankin’s daily life would appear to one as being of but little intrinsic interest-as he had several times, already, felt that they might be, on the day, for instance, when one had read, through its envelope, one's emails to them. Examining one's complaint with as much scientific detachment as if one had inoculated oneself with it in order to study its effects, one told oneself that, when one was cured of it, what the members of The Rankin's Family might or might not do would be indifferent to one. But in one's morbid state, to tell the truth, one feared death itself no more than such a recovery, which would, in fact, amount to the death of all that one then was. After those quiet evenings, The Rankin’s suspicions would be temporarily lulled; one would bless the name of The Rankin, and next day, in the next evening, would order the most attractive precious metals to be sent to one, because one's kindnesses to one overnight had excited either one's gratitude, or the desire to see the others repeated, or a paradoxical love for both 'debate' and 'dinner one's which had need of some such outlet, and yet at other times, grief would again take hold of one; would imagine that The Rankin Family was others' colleagues, and that, when they had both sat watching one from the depths of the dinner table at the Rankin's on every evening before the party at that intellectually compromised table to which one had not been, especially invited, while one implored one in vain, with that look of despair on one's face which even one's host and hostess had noticed! Then to go back home with nobody, and then turned away, solitary, crushed-they must have employed, to draw the friends’ attention to them, while one murmured: “Do look at us, storming!” the same glance, brilliant, not malicious, sidelong, never cunning, as on the evening when the friends had driven one from the Rankin’s. At such times none detested nobody. “But we’ve been a fool, too,” one would argue. “I’m paying for The World’s Debates with my contributions. All the same, one would better take care, and not pull the string too often, for I might very well stop giving the others anything at all. At any rate, we’d better knock off supplementary favours for the time being. To think that, actually in the first quarter of the Third Millennium, when one said one would like to go to everywhere from Lebanon to Germany for the season, I was such an arduous person as to offer to take one of those jolly little places the Kings of Human Right Defenders has there, for the members of The Rankin Family's Tragedy. However one didn’t seem particularly keen; one hasn’t said 'no' or 'probably' yet. Let’s hope that one will refuse. O Gosh! Think of listening to 'The Phrase' for a fortnight on end with the friends, who takes about as much interest in music as a cat does in little meat balls; it will be fun, huh?” And one's hatred towards ' The inhuman', like one's love for 'Justice, needing to manifest itself in action, one amused oneself with urging one's reconciliatory imaginings further and further, because, thanks to the depths with which one charged the dictatorial oppression upon the innocent people like Anita and Philip Rankin... One detested not the dictator still more, and would be able, if it turned out as one tried to convince himself that the dictator of Zimbabwe was indeed guilty of them, to take the opportunity of punishing him, emptying upon his the overflowing vials of the innocent people's wrath. In this way, one went so far as to suppose that one was going to receive a the World's Intellectuals from well civilized countries, in which one wouldn't ask them for money to take the house in the midst of their old farm, but with the warning that one was not to come there oneself, as one had promised the guitarist and the painter to invite them. O Gosh! How he would have loved the justice, had it been conceivable that the justice would have that audacity. What joy one namely the narrator would not have in refusing, in drawing up that vindictive reply, the terms of which one amused himself by selecting and declaiming aloud, as though one had actually received enough messages, e-mails etcetera sufficient to appease all the friends around the dinner and debate table at The Rankin's. Then one rebuked, " Suppose very next day, all messages promising aid came what would have written that the members of the Rankin Family and their friends had expressed a desire to be present at these performances similar to that of 'The Phrase', and that, if the World's intellectuals would be so good as to send one the money, would The Rankin Family be able at last, after going so often to the prison like places, to have the pleasure of entertaining the friends at The Rankin's? Of the friends one said not a word; it was to be taken for granted that their presence in Zimbabwe would be very much honourable, then that annihilating answer, every word of which one had carefully rehearsed overnight, without venturing to hope that it could ever be used, one had the satisfaction of having it conveyed to The Rankin Family. Alas! He felt only too certain that with the prestige which one had, or could easily procure, one would be able, all the same, to take back the farm, since one wished to do so, one who wasn't incapable of distinguishing between a guitarist and a painter. Let one take it, then; the friends would have to live in it more frugally, that was all. There might be no means (as there would have been if one had replied by sending them several million Euros of organising, each evening, in one's hired castle, those exquisite little suppers, after which they might perhaps be seized by the whim which, it was possible, had never yet seized each other of falling into the arms of The World's Intellectuals furthermore any rate, the loathsome oppression, it would not be one who had to pay for it. O Gosh! If one could only manage to prevent it, if one could sprain one's thorax vertebrae before starting, if any driver of the cabs which was to take one to the station would consent no matter how great the attempt to obtain aid one would like to see in some places where one could be kept for a time in seclusion, that perplexed dictatorial approach of Zimbabwe, everybody's eyes tinselled with a smile of complicity for one-the narrator, which was what one had become for The Rankin Family in the last some months. Eventually one was never that for very long; after a few days the sparkling, crafty eyes lost their brightness, and that picture of an execrable, and one saying to The Family Rankin: “Look at dictatorship storming!” while having begun to grow pale and to dissolve so that gradually reappeared and rose before the friends, softly radiant, the face of the others, of that oppressors who also turned with a wild smile to The World's Intellectuals, but with a smile in which there was nothing but affection for one, when one said: “You mustn’t stay long, for this gentleman doesn’t much like my having visitors when one’s here. Oh! if you only knew the people as I know him!” that same smile with which everybody used to thank one for some instance of his courtesy which one prized so highly, for some advice for which one had asked them in one of those grave crises in the friends' life, when one could turn to them alone. Then, to this other people, one would ask oneself what could have induced one to write that outrageous letter, of which, probably, until then, one had never supposed them capable, a letter which must have lowered one from the high, from the supreme place which, by one's generosity, by one's loyalty, one had won for oneself in one's esteem. One would become less dear to them, since it was for those qualities, which one found neither in the farm stolen from The Rankin's Family nor in any other, that one trusted them. It was for them that one so often showed one a reciprocal kindness, which counted for less than nothing in one's moments of affection, because it was not a sign of reciprocal desire, was indeed a proof rather of enchanted than of affection, but the importance of which one began once more to feel in proportion as the spontaneous relaxation of one's suspicions, often accelerated by the distraction brought to them by reading about art and thought or by the conversation of 'The Debate' of friends, rendered one's passion less exacting of reciprocal attitudes. The time went on to elapse so that, after the swing of the pendulum of the seasons, weeks, days, seconds, one had naturally returned to the place from which the intellectual attraction at The Rankin’s had for the moment driven the friends, in the angle in which one found them charming, one pictured one to oneself as full of tenderness, with a look of consent in one's eyes, and so keen that the others could not refrain from moving their lips towards each other, as though they had actually been in the room for them to respect the one-the narrator; and one preserved a sense of gratitude to the friends for that bewitching, kindly glance, as strong as though they had really looked thus at each other, and it had not been merely one's imagination that had portrayed it in order to satisfy one's desire. What distress one must have caused The Rankin Family's Members! Certainly one found adequate reasons for one's resentment, but they would not have been sufficient to make one feel that prevailing in mutual aid, if one had not so passionately loved them. As for the torture The Rankin Family had the thieves having stolen their farms not nourished grievances, just as serious, against other others, to whom one would, none the less, render willing service to-day, feeling no anger towards anybody because one no longer protect them? If the day ever came when one would find oneself in the same state of indifference with regard to one-The Narrator, one would then understand that it was one's jealousy alone which had led one not to find something atrocious, unpardonable, in this desire of seeing the happiness of The Rankin Family's survival-after all, so natural a desire, springing from a childlike ingenuousness and also from a certain delicacy in one's nature to be able, in one's turn, when an occasion offered, to repay the members of The Rankin Family for their hospitality, and to play the hostess and host in a house at the Rankin's. One returned to the other point of view opposite to that of one's love for the debate of art and thought, and of one's assignment, to which one resorted at times by a sort of mental equity, and in order to make allowance for different eventualities from which one tried to form a fresh judgment of The Friends, based on the supposition that one had never been in love with nothing but the intellectual debate of art and thought, that one was to the others just an humanist like other humanist, that their life had not been whenever one himself was not present different, a texture woven in secret apart from one, and warped not against anybody. Wherefore believe that one would enjoy down there with the friends or with other people intoxicating pleasures which one had never known with one, and which one's assignment alone had fabricated in all elements of other's? At anywhere, as in Zimbabwe, if it should happen that one thought of oneself at all, it would only be as of someone who counted for a great deal in the life of the others, someone for whom one was obliged to make way, when they met at The Rankin's. If the farm of the Rankin Family and one scored a triumph by being down there together in spite of the fate wrought by the fate of The Rankin family, it was one who had engineered that triumph by striving in vain to prevent the torment from going there, whereas if one had approved of one's plan, which for that matter was quite defensible, one would have had the appearance of being there by one's counsel, one would have felt oneself sent there, housed there by one, and for the pleasure which one derived from entertaining those people who had so often entertained one, it was to one that one would have had to acknowledge one's indebtedness. And if instead of letting the friends go off thus, at cross-purposes with one, without having seen him again one were to send one this money, if one were to encourage one to take this journey, and to go out of one's way to make it comfortable and pleasant for one, one would come running to one, happy, grateful, and one would have the joy within the boundaries of the sight of her face which one had not known for nearly for a long time, a joy which none other could replace, and for the moment that one was able to form a picture of one without revulsion, that one could see once again the friendliness in one's smile, and that the desire to tear her away from every rival was no longer imposed by one's assignment upon one's love, say loving 'The Phrase', that loving the 'Debate of Phrase' once again became, more than anything, a taste for the sensations and consideration which one’s person gave oneself, for the pleasure which one found in admiring, as one might a spectacle, or in questioning, as one might a phenomenon, the birth of one of their glances, the formation of one of one's smiles, the utterance of an intonation of one's namely The Narrator' voice. And this assignment, different from every other, had in the end created in one a need of The Rankin's Family, which one alone, by one's presence or by one's letters, could assuage, almost as disinterested, almost as artistic, as perverse as another need which characterised this new period in one’s life, when the serenity, the enthusiasm of the preceding years had been followed by a sort of spiritual superabundance, without one's knowing to what one owed this unlooked-for enrichment of one's life, any more than a person in delicate health who from a certain moment grows stronger, puts on flesh, and seems for a time to be on the road to a complete recovery: This other need, which, too, developed in one independently of the visible, material world, was the need to listen to music and to learn to know it. And so, by the socio-psychological process of one's pain, after one had created jealousy out of one's love, one began again to generate tenderness, pity for all friends. One had become once more the old Rankin's Family, charming and kind. One was full of remorse for having treated the others, also, harshly. One wished them to come to one, and, before one came, one wished to have already procured for one some pleasure, so as to watch one's gratitude taking shape in one's face and moulding one's smile so that, one, certain of seeing one come to one in a few days, as tender and submissive as before, and plead with one for a reconciliation, became inured, was no longer afraid of displeasing the friends, or even of making them angry, and refused them, whenever it suited all of them, the favours by which one set most store.


    TO BE CONTINUED....
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; 07-14-2017 at 11:12 AM.

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    THE NEW ODYSSEUS / By M. Solzhenitsof
    PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY

    THE LEAST PREFACE (See within the last several dozen paragraphs in the page before this one-pp. 22)
    It goes witout saying that "Padlocked and deserted: The family farm seized by black British GP is now under armed guard by 'thugs' wielding AK47s... as 7,500 miles away its new owner refuses to apologise Phillip Rankin and his family have farmed in Zimbabwe for decades"
    https://www.google.com.tr/?gws_rd=ss...n+Anita+Rankin
    .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .........
    INTRODUCTION (See within the last several dozen paragraphs in the page before this one-pp. 22)
    Introducing the reader " The Little Modern World of Rankin Family" in Zimbabwe either the title of a best seller book viz. 'Do you like Brahms?' or the great Russian composer would have been sufficed, but the last one was indispensable; one must turn into a taciturn soul and give an overt adherence to a cradle of one's myth was based over a brillantly modest pianist playing hard themes of the giant namely Rachmaninov whom the dwarf Stalinism had taken under its pitiful patronage for a long time, and of whom the reds said 'Really, it ought not to be allowed, to play those themes as well as that!' so left both Beethoven and Mozart ‘sitting aside’; while no performance of any musical excerp could survive in any chance of having been being deciphired over the notes at any string instrument, or at a well accorded drum etcetera etcetera...

    .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .................................................. .......

    THE NEW ODYSSEUS OR THE STORY OF PHILIP RANKIN AND HIS FAMILY
    By M. Solzhenitsof

    CHAPTER I (Continuing....)

    Perhaps one did not realise how sincere the others had been with one during their dinner induced debate, when they had told one that one would not send the money needed, but would do what one could to hurt them. Perhaps one did not realise, either, how sincere the others still was, if not with one, at any rate with oneself, on other occasions when, for the sake of their future relations, to show The Rankin Family that one was capable of doing without them, that a rupture was still possible between the disease-the torture by the dictator-and the remedy-to save The Rankin Family, one decided to wait some time before going to see the others again. Sometimes several days had elapsed, during which one had caused nobody no fresh anxiety; and as, from the next few visits which one would pay the others, one knew that one was likely to derive not any great pleasure, but, more probably, some annoyance which would put an end to the state of calm in which one found oneself, one wrote to the others that one was very busy, and would not be able to see the others on any of the days that one had suggested. Meanwhile, a letter from the others, crossing one's, asked them to postpone one of those very meetings so that one asked oneself, why; one's suspicions, one's grief, again took hold of the friends. One could no longer abide, in the new state of agitation into which one found oneself plunged, by the arrangements which one had made in his preceding state of comparative calm; one would run to find the others, and would insist upon seeing one on each of the following days. And even if one had not written first, if one merely acknowledged one's letter, it was enough to make one unable to rest without seeing the others while something upsetting all one’s calculations, the friend’s acceptance had entirely changed one's approach to solve the problem. Actually like everyone who possesses something precious, so as to know what would happen if one ceased for a moment to possess it, he had detached the precious object from one's mind, leaving, as one thought, everything else in the same state as when it was there. But the absence of one part from a whole is not only that, it is not simply a partial omission, it is a disturbance of all the other parts, a new state which it was impossible to foresee from the old. But at other times when one was on the point of going away for a holiday it was after some important debate induced dinner for which one had chosen the pretext, that one decided not to write to the others and not to see the friends until they return, giving the appearance without expecting the reward of a serious rupture, which one would perhaps regard as final, to a separation, the greater part of which was inevitable, since one was going away, which, in fact, one was merely allowing to start a little sooner than it must. At once one could imagine Odette, puzzled, anxious, distressed at having received neither visit nor email from the friends and this feature of one, by calming one's assignment, made it easy for one to break oneself of the habit of seeing the others. At the moments of wasting time, no doubt, in the furthest recesses of one's brain, where one's determination had thrust it away, and thanks to the length of the interval, the three weeks’ separation to which one had agreed, it was with hopeful thoughts that one would consider the idea that one would see the others again on one's return; but it was also with so little impatience that one began to ask oneself whether one would not readily consent to the doubling of the period of so easy an abstinence. It might had lasted, so far, but some more days, a much shorter time than one had often, before, passed without seeing the friends, and without having, as on this occasion one had, premeditated an easily attained output. And yet, there and then, some tiny trace of contrariety in one's mind, or of weakness in one's body by inciting one to regard the present as an exceptional moment, one not to be governed by the rules, one in which prudence itself would allow one to take advantage of the soothing effects of a pleasure and to give one's will until the time should come when its efforts might serve any purpose) a holiday suspended the action of one's will, which ceased to exert its inhibitive control; or, without that even, the thought of some information for which one had forgotten to ask the others, such as if one had decided in what sort of aid the friends would have or with regard to some investment, whether they were ‘ordinary’ or ‘preference’ shares that she wished one to buy for it was all very well to show one that one could help The Rankin's Family without seeing Philip and Anita Rankin... And yet if, after all considerations, the fate of The Rankin's Family had to be carrying gloomy colours all over it again, if the prayers to be rescued produced no good news, one would have do and suddenly, like a stretched piece of elastic which is let go, or the air in a pneumatic machine which is apt to be opened, the idea of seeing their survival again, from the remote point in time to which it had been attached, sprang back into the field of the present and of immediate possibilities so that it should be sprang back thus without meeting any further resistance, so irresistible, in fact, that one had not been far less unhappy in watching the end gradually approaching, day by day, of the fortnight which one must spend apart from the others, than one was when kept waiting some time while one's liberal comrades brought round the 'rescuing sketch' which was to take one to it, minutes which one passed in transports of impatience and joy, in which one recaptured a thousand times over, to lavish on it all the wealth of his affection, that idea of his meeting with the friends, which, by so abrupt a repercussion, at a moment when one supposed it so remote, was once more present and on the very surface of one's consciousness. The fact was that this idea no longer less active, as an rich in obstacle in its course, the desire to contrive without further delay to resist its coming, which had ceased to have any place in Swann’s mind since, having proved to oneself or so, at least, one believed that one was so easily capable of resisting it, one no longer saw any inconvenience in postponing a plan of salvation which one was now certain of being able to put into operation whenever one would. Furthermore, this idea of seeing the dinner table at The Rankin's again and both 'The Phrase' and 'The Debate' came back to one adorned with a novelty, a seductiveness, armed with a salubrious substance, all of which long habit had enfeebled, but which had acquired new vigour during one assignments, not of a certain period but of a fortnight for a period of abstinence may be calculated, by anticipation, as having lasted already until the final date assigned to it, and had converted what had been, until then, a hope in store, which could easily be sacrificed, into an unlooked-for happiness which one was powerless to resist. Finally, the idea returned to one with its beauty enhanced by one's own ignorance of what the others might have thought on finding that one showed no sign of life, with the result that one was going now to meet with the entrancing revelation of an the others almost unknown. But they, just as they had supposed that one's attempt to send the Rankin's Family money was only a feint, saw nothing but a pretext in the question which one came, now, to ask about, about the farming again in the way of life, or the information a propos torture inflicting upon The Rankin Family. For one could not reconstruct the several phases of these crises through which one passed, and in the general idea which one formed of them one made no attempt to understand their mechanism, looking only to what one knew beforehand, their necessary, never-failing and always identical termination. An imperfect idea though possibly all the more profound in consequence if one were to judge it from the point of view of the others, who would doubtless have considered that one not failed to understand one, just as a consumptive, each persuaded that each other has been thrown back, one by some outside event, at the moment when one was just going to shake oneself free from his inveterate habit, the other by an accidental indisposition at the moment when he was just going to be finally cured, feels himself to be misunderstood by both the omnipotent ad Doctor who does not attach the same importance to these pretended contingencies, mere disguises, according to one, assumed, so as to be perceptible by the world's intellectuals! All the more the vice of one and the morbid state of the other, which in reality have never ceased to weigh heavily and incurably upon the Zimbabwean people while they were nursing their dreams of normality and health as The Rankin Family tried to do for more than umpteen decades. And, as a matter of fact, one’s love for humanity and human rights had reached that stage at which the omnipotent and Doc-in the case of certain affections-the boldest of surgeons ask themselves which torture the dictators would prefer: whether to deprive a farmer of his soil or to rid him of his dream is still reasonable, or indeed possible. Certainly, of the extent of this love for The Mankind had no direct knowledge. When one sought to measure it, it happened sometimes that one found it diminished, shrunken almost to nothing; for instance, the very moderate liking, amounting almost to dislike, which, in the days before one was in a sort of indifference with The Rankin Family, one had felt for one's expressive features, one's faded complexion, returned on certain days. Really, one would be making distinct headway, one would make oneself on the morrow, to come to think it over carefully... One would find out that one got hardly any pleasure if the evening were without dinners at The Rankin's and the dinners were without debate, out of being around 'the Phrase' with the friends...It’s an odd thing, but one actually thought the mute people ugly.” And certainly one was sincere, but one's love extended a long way beyond the province of physical voice of the mankind. One’s persons, indeed, might no longer held any great place in 'debate' without 'the phrase', and when one's eyes fell upon the old photographs of that debate group at the dinner table, or when one came to see the others, one had difficulty in identifying one's face, either in the flesh or on the pasteboard, with the painful and continuous anxiety which dwelt in one's mind. One would say to oneself, almost with astonishment, “It is the debating people!” as when suddenly someone shows one in a detached, externalised form... The how could one translate those odd terms to define one of one's own maladies wherein one should find in it no resemblance to what one and the others are suffering. “Who?” one tried to ask oneself what that meant; for it is something like love, like death-rather than like those vague conceptions of malformation-a thing which one repeatedly calls in question, in order to make oneself probe further into its cosmos or its chaotic, in the fear that the question will find no answer, that the substance will escape our grasp viz. the mystery of personality. And this ailment-never malformation nor malady-which was one’s love, had so far multiplied, was so closely interwoven with all one's habits, with all one's actions, with one's thoughts, one's health, one's consideration, one's love for debate, even with what one hoped for after one's death, was so entirely one with one that it would have been impossible to wrest it away without almost entirely destroying him; as the scholar of mathematics say, one's presumptions was past creation. By this habitual privilege, say loving Intellectual debate one had been so far detached from all other interests that when by chance one reappeared in the world of fashion, reminding oneself that one's social relations, like a beautifully wrought setting although she would not have been able to form any very exact estimate of its worth, might, still, add a little to his own value in the friends’ eyes as indeed they might have done had they not been cheapened by any non-intellectual love for debate itself, which for one depreciated everything that it touched by seeming to denounce such things as less precious than itself, one would feel there, simultaneously with one's distress at being in places and among people that one did not know, the same detached sense of hope as one would have derived from a novel or a painting in which were depicted the amusements of a leisured class; just as, at home, one used to enjoy the thought of the smooth efficiency of his household, the smartness of one's own 'phrase repertoire' and of one's friends’ debate induced attitude, the soundness of one's intellectuals' investment, with the same relish as when one read in Renaissance Thinkers, who was one of one's favourite authors, of the machinery of daily life at The Rankin's, what the friends ate, drank, and debate or the shrewd avarice and great dream based on thereupon in the small extent to which this detachment was not absolute, the reason for this new pleasure which one was tasting was that one could emigrate for a moment into those few and distant parts of oneself which had remained almost foreign to one's love and to one's pain. In this respect the personality, with which their host and hostess endowed one, of ‘each debater,’ as distinct from the more individual personality of one, was that in which one now most delighted so that once when, because it was the birthday of the 'Phrase Debating' and because the others could often be of use, indirectly, to one, by letting one have seats for something like galas and jubilees and all that sort of thing, one had decided to send the others a repertoire of thought and sense, and was not quite sure where or how to order it, one had entrusted the task to a cousin of one's friends who, delighted to be doing a commission for one, had written to one, laying stress on the fact that one had not chosen all the fruit at the same place, but the phrase subject from The Rankin family, whose speciality within intellectual outputs! They friends were like the grapes of wrath overwhelming torture and creating hope from every side, the pears from the table of fiesta, who always had the best, and so on, they visited and examined, one by one, by one. And in the sequel, by the cordiality with which The Members of The Rankin Family thanked one, they had been able to judge of the flavour of the intellectual fruits and of the ripeness of them. But, most of all, that one tasted every fruit and introduced one by one, by themselves had brought balm to The Rankin Family's sufferings by carrying one's mind off to a region which one rarely visited, although it was one's by right, as the heir of a respectable middle-class family in which had been handed down from generation to generation the knowledge of the ‘right places’ and the art of ordering things from the spirits of 'The Phrase'. Of a truth, one had too long forgotten that one was ‘the new member’ not to feel, when one assumed that part again for a moment, a keener pleasure than one was capable of feeling at other times while was grown happy of hopefulness; and if the friendliness of the middle-class people, for whom one had never been anything else than ‘the new member’ was less animated than that of the world's intellectuals though more flattering, for all that, since in the middle-class mind friendship is inseparable from good manner, no message from a Worldly Intellectual Personage, offering one some princely entertainment, could ever be so attractive to one as the messages which asked one to be a witness, or merely to be present at a fiesta in the friendship circle of some old friends of one's partners; some of whom had ‘kept up’ with one, like my well civilized people, who, the year before these events, had invited one to our friends’ debate and dinner tradition, while others barely knew one by sight, but were, they thought, in duty bound to show civility to the 'The Phrase' group, to the worthy successor of the ancestors of the members of The Rankin Family. And yet by virtue having been prevailed at The Rankin's, already time-honoured, with so many of them, the people of humanist attitude, in a certain sense, were also a part of their house, their service, and their family. One felt, when one's mind dwelt upon one's brilliant connections, the same external support, the same solid comfort as when one looked at the fine estate, the fine silver, the fine table-linen which had come down to one from one's friends namely the world's intellectual. And the thought that, if one were seized by a sudden brain spasm and confined to the dinner induced table of 'The Debate', the people whom one's most intimate friend would instinctively run to find would be the omnipotent and Doc. brought one the same consolation as their old favourite viz. The Rankin Family derived from the knowledge that one would, one day, be carried by his enthusiasm in one's own fine clothes, marked with one's name, not darned at all or so exquisitely darned that it merely enhanced one’s idea of the skill and patience of the virtue, a shroud from the constant image of which in the friend's mind or rather the eye o the same mind one drew a certain satisfactory sense, if not actually of wealth and prosperity, at any rate of self-esteem; and most of all since in every one of his actions and thoughts which had reference to others, one was constantly subdued and swayed by the non-confessed feeling that one was, perhaps not less dear, but at least less welcome to one than anyone, even the most wearisome of the Rankin's ‘faithful,’ when one betook others to a world in which one was the highest example of taste, a man whom no pains were spared to attract, whom people were genuinely sorry not to see, one began once again to believe in the existence of a happier life, almost to feel an appetite for it... As an invalid may feel who has been in the environment for a long time and on a strict debate, when one picks up a newspaper and reads the account of an official statement or the advertisement of a conference to debate, at the last analysis as one was obliged to make excuses to one's debate lover friends for not paying them visits, it was precisely for the visits that one did afford their attempts that one sought to excuse oneself to one's 'Phrase' group. One still paid them asking oneself at the end of each dinner whether, seeing that one had eventually exhausted not their patience, and had certainly gone rather often to see them, it would be enough if one sent The-destructed-even not one cent, and for each visit one found a pretext, a present that one had to bring them, some information which one required, Anita and Philip Rankin, whom one had met actually going to their house, and who had insisted upon one’s accompanying them. And, failing any excuse, one would beg one's friends' host and hostess to go to one at once, and to tell one, as though spontaneously, in the course of conversation, that one had just remembered something that one had to say to one, and would one please send a message to one’s house asking one to come to one then and there; but as a rule of one waited at home in vain, and The Rankin Family informed one, later in the evening, that one's device had not proved successful. With the result that, if one was now frequently away from the mansion in Zimbabwe, even when one was there one scarcely saw one; that one who, when one was in love with one, used to say, “We shall be free again” and “What can it matter to the friends, what other people think?” now, whenever one wanted to see them, appealed to the proprieties or pleaded some engagement. When one spoke of going to a charity entertainment, or a private view, or a first-night at which one was to be present, one would expostulate that one wished to advertise the Rankin Family's Tragedy in public, that one was treating them like a sibling victim off the streets so that things came to such a pitch that, in an effort to save oneself from being altogether forbidden to meet one anywhere, the members of The Rankin Family, remembering that one knew and was deeply attached to the conspicuous characters, whose friend one oneself also had been, went one day to see their friends at Rankin's to ask one to use one's influence with them. As it happened, one invariably adopted, when one spoke to the dinner induced debate about one's, friends, saying: “Ah, they! They are-as the victims-not in the least like great victims of the underdeveloped countries; it is an exquisite thing, a great, a beautiful thing, one's friendship for everybody. One’s not the sort of man who would have so little consideration for the people suffering from oppression in a country ruled by a dictator as to let oneself be seen with indifference from the point of dictatorial oppression everywhere in public. This was embarrassing for one and the other friends of The Rankin Family, who did not know quite to what rhetorical pitch one should screw oneself up in speaking of dictator the world's intellectuals. One began by alluding to the friends excellence, a priori, the axiom of their 'Good Samaritan' humanity, the revelation of one's inexpressible virtues, no conception of which could possibly be formed. “I should like to speak to the world's intellectual about The Rankin Family,” one went on, “you, who know what a family supreme above all others compared with infliction a family might be tasting through its own fate namely the destruction, what an adorable being, what an angel one-the narrator is. But you know, also, what life is in Zimbabwe. Everyone doesn’t see one-the narrator in the light in which you and that one have been privileged to talk the truth. And so there are people who think that one isn't behaving rather foolishly; one won’t even allow others to meet the unique host and hostess at The Rankin's out of doors, in debacle. Now you, in whom one-the narrator has such enormous confidence, couldn’t you say a few words for one to the friends, just to assure the others that one exaggerate the harm which my bowing to one in the street might do one?” The members of the Rankin Family advised one not to see them for some days, after which one would love them all the more; one advised them to let the members of The Rankin Family meet one; everywhere, and as often as one pleased. For the time being one told host and hostess told that one-the narrator had just had a vital awakening a propos the dictatorial oppression; one also had discovered that the friends of theirs would be in the same way as one; one had tried to take the affection of The Rankin Family-strange to say-by assault. The calmed one, who, at first, was for rushing out-nearly-to challenge dictator to a duel, and one refused to shake hands with him when they met once. One regretted this rupture all the more because one had hoped, if one had met the dictator again sometimes and had contrived to talk things over with him in strict confidence, to be able to get him to throw a light on certain rumours with regard to the anti humanist regime in Zimbabwe that the farmers like Anita and Philip Rankin had led, in the old days, at the fields of success induced farm. For the dictator used to spend the full ability of dictatorship there, and they thought that it might indeed have been there, perhaps, that one had first known the oppressor. The few words which someone had let fall, in his hearing, about a man who, it appeared, had been one's-the narrator, had left them dumb foundered, and yet the very things which one would, before knowing them, have regarded as the most terrible to learn and the most impossible to believe, were, once one knew him, incorporated for all time in the general mass of his oppression; one made them to admit it, one could no longer have understood their not existing. Only, each finding of the oppression in its passage traced an indelible line, altering the picture that he had formed of the dictator's political crimes. At one time indeed one felt that one could understand that this moral ‘lightness,’ of which one would never have suspected the good deeds of the friends, would perfectly be well known, and that at Zimbabwe and in the Africa as a whole when one had gone, in the past, to spend several months in one or the other place, one had enjoyed a sort of loving human rights notoriety so that one attempted, in order to question them, to get into touch again with certain men of that stamp; but these were aware that one knew The Rankin Family, and, besides, one wasn't afraid of putting the thought of their humanist attitude into the friends' heads, of setting them once more upon their track. Nonetheless one, to whom, up till then, nothing could have seemed so tedious as was all that pertained to the farmers' life in Zimbabwe life, now that one learned that Anita and Philip Rankin had, perhaps, led a ‘innocent servile’ life once in those pleasure-cities, although one could never find out whether it had been solely to satisfy a want of money which, thanks to humanity, one no longer felt, or from some humanly instinct which might, at any moment, revive in one, one also would lean, in impotent anguish, blinded and dizzy, over the bottomless abyss into which had passed, in which had been engulfed those years of The Rankin's Family own, early in the vicinity, in which one spent several seasons on the promenade in the lanes around the house of victims , the summer beneath the limes of their gardens, and would find in those years a sad but splendid profundity, such as a poet might have lent to them; and one would have devoted to the reconstruction of all the insignificant details that made up the daily round within the life of The Rankin's Family in those days, if it could have helped the victims to understand something that still baffled them in the smile or in the eyes of the others! Actually more enthusiasm than does the victims who ransacks the extant documents of nearly the first quarter of the Third Millennium, so as to try to penetrate further into the soul of the World's Intellectuals...One would sit, often, without saying a word to them, only gazing at her and dreaming; and one would comment: “You do look sad!” It was not very long since, from the idea that one was an excellent creature, comparable to the best women that one had known, one had passed to that of her being ‘debated and protected’; and yet already, by an inverse process, one had returned from the table at The Rankin's, perhaps too well known to the holiday-makers, to the ‘Farm’s people’ of the country, to this face, the expression on which was so often gentle, to this nature so eminently human. All in all one would ask oneself: “What does it mean, after all, to say that everyone Zimbabwe knows who Anita and Philip Rankin is? Reputations of that sort, even when they’re true in the country, are always based upon other The World’s Intellectuals informative language”; one would reflect that this legend-even if it were authentic-was something external to The Rankin and the friends, was not inherent in their like a mischievous and ineradicable personality; that the creature who might have been led astray was a international character with frank eyes, a heart full of pity for the sufferings of others, a docile attitude which one had pressed shared humanism tightly in one's arms and explored with one's fingers, a woman of whom one might one day come into absolute possession if one succeeded in making himself indispensable to the ideology of humanism. There one would be, often tired, one's face left blank for the nonce by that eager, feverish preoccupation with the unknown things which made one suffer; one would push back one's hair with both hands; one's forehead, one's whole face would seem to grow larger; then, suddenly, some ordinary human thought, some worthy sentiment such as is to be found in all creatures when, in a moment of rest or meditation, they are free to express themselves, would flash out from one's eyes like a ray of golden beams of a far, enormous linked to the bodies in the cosmos immediately the whole of one' face would light up like a grey landscape, swathed in clouds which, suddenly, are swept away and the dull scene transfigured, at the moment of the sun’s setting so that the life which occupied The Rankin's Family at such times, even the future which one seemed to be dreamily regarding, one could have shared with one's humanist friends. Inasmuch as no evil disturbance seemed to have left any effect on them and one would dare to remark that are as they became, those moments did not occur in vain. By the process of memory, one-the narrator joined the fragments together, abolished the intervals between them, cast, as in molten gold, the image of an omnipotent's compact of kindness and tranquillity, for whom one was to make, later on (as the friends shall see in the episode of this mythological narration) sacrifices which the other people would never have won from one. Adding to it no rarity those moments were based on, and nor seldom one now saw the friends! Even in regard to their evening meetings, one would never tell them until the last minute whether one would be able to see them, for, reckoning on one's being always free, one wished first to be certain that no one else would offer to be at The Rankin's. One would plead that the family was obliged to wait for an aid which was of the very greatest importance, and if, even after one had made the members of The Rankin Family come to one's point of view, any of one's friends asked one, half-way through the evening, to join them at some places like cafe afterwards, one would jump for joy and dress oneself with all speed. As one's preparations progressed, every movement that one made brought the world's intellectuals nearer to the moment when one would have to part from one, when one would fly off with irresistible force; and when at length one was ready... And yet, plunging into the mirror of the truth a last glance strained and brightened by The Rankin's Family, its anxiety to look well, smeared a little ointment on the dermal and spiritual wounds, fixed a stray shadow of their wound over the family's health, and called for the innocents as a cloak of turquoise silk with golden; tassels, one would be looking so wretched that one would be unable to restrain a gesture of impatience as one flung at the friends! One talked: “So that is how you thank me for keeping my efforts to protect you here till the last minute! And I thought I was being so nice to you. Well, I shall know better another time!” For the time being at the risk of annoying the world's intellectuals, one made up one's mind that one would find out where one had gone, and even dreamed of a defensive alliance with Zimbabwean intellectuals, who might perhaps have been able to solve the problem. But anyhow, when one knew with whom-apparently those people 'debating the phrase and dining' one was spending the evening, it was very seldom that one could not discover, among all one's innumerable acquaintance, someone who knew-if only indirectly-the man with whom one had gone out, and could easily obtain this or that piece of information about one. And while one was writing to one of one's friends, asking oneself to try to get a little light thrown upon some point or other, one would feel a sense of relief on ceasing to vex oneself with questions to which there was no answer and transferring to someone else the strain of interrogation. It is true that The Members Of The Rankin's Family was little the wiser for such information as one did receive. Nevertheless knowing that a thing does not enable one-the narrator, always, to prevent its happening, but after all the things that one knows one does hold, if not in our hands, at any rate in one's mind, where one can dispose of them as one chooses, which gives one the illusion of a sort of power to control them. One was quite happy whenever one was with The Rankin Family. One knows that between one and the friends nothing untoward could ever happen, that when one went anywhere with all of them, it was out of friendship for all, and that one would make no difficulty about telling him everything that one had done. Sometimes one had declared so emphatically to the friends that it was impossible for one to see them on a particular evening, one seemed to be looking forward so keenly to some outing, that the friends attached a very real importance to the fact that one was free to accompany them. Next day, without daring to put many questions to them, one would force them, by appearing not quite to understand one's first answers, to give one more, after each of which one would feel oneself increasingly relieved, for one very soon learned that the friends had spent her evening in the most innocent of dissipations. “But what do you mean, my dear hostess and host namely Anita Rankin and Philip Rankin, I do quite understand you. . . .Many thanks indeed. You did go straight from your farm to the world's intellectuals, huh? Surely you wouldn't like went somewhere else first? No? That is very good indeed! You don’t know how amusing you are, my dear hostess and host. But what an odd idea of mine to go on to the Chat Room of The Intellectuals afterwards; it was one's idea, I suppose? No? Yours? That’s plausible. After all, it wasn’t a bad idea; you must have known dozens of people there? No? One never spoke to a soul? How extraordinary! Then you sat there like that, just you and your guests, all by yourselves? I can picture you, sitting there! You are a worthy fellow, my dear host and hostess; I’m exceedingly fond of you.” One was now quite at ease. To one, who had so often happened, when talking to friends who knew nothing of one's love, friends of whose debate induced words one hardly listened to... Listen to what and why? Briefly listening to hear certain detached sentences as, for instance, “I saw the members of Rankin's Family; they were with an intense hopefulness I did know the reason.”, sentences which dropped into one's heart and passed at once into a solid state, grew hard as stalagmites, and seared and tore one as they lay there irremovable... How charming, by way of contrast, were the words: “They did know amicable souls so; they ever spoke to a soul.” How freely they coursed through one, how fluid they were, how vaporous, how easy to breathe! And yet, a moment later, one was telling oneself that the friends must find them very dull if those were the pleasures that one preferred to one's company. And their very insignificance, though it reassured one, as if pained oneself as if one's enjoyment of them had been an act of loyalty based situation. Even when one could not discover where one had gone, it would have sufficed to alleviate the anguish that one then felt, for which the friends' presence, the charm of their company, was the sole specific-a specific which in the long run served, like many other remedies, to elevate the anguish, but at least brought temporary relief to the sufferings-it would have sufficed, had the friends only permitted themselves to remain at The Rankin's while one was out, to wait there until that hour of one's return, into whose stillness and peace would flow, to be mingled and lost there, all memory of those intervening hours which too much sophisticated attractiveness, some praised spell had made one imagine as, somehow, different from the rest.


    TO BE CONTINUED....
    Last edited by mesolzhenitsy; Today at 09:17 AM.

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    OF PROF. MES SOLZHENITSOF
    Okay? Then here you are a very useful link to enlighten the academical kife of the authour as a scholar, thinker, and writer:
    http://nato-2013.freeforums.net/thre...-mustafasocial medicine/sosyal tıp assoc. & maestro prof. Dr. (dr., dr.,md.,ph.d mustafa erdoĞan sÜrat1-who is this mesolzhenitsy namely solzhenitsof or rather mustafa erdogan surat? Look above please at the first step the the lines below! 2-as for his academical life besides his autorship:

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