I’m reading the Kathasaritsagara now! Reading those kind of collections of tales makes me feel like I’m living among the ancient/medieval villagers of India, an interesting perspective shift to say the least
I would also recommend that you read the story of Ruskin Bond. His experience as a child in India is pretty unique, Sadly, I don’t remember the story book I was talking about, but it’s tear-welling, about the forest of Dehra, the landscape at Mussorie as well as his parent and friend. It’s more and less of a biography in a way, And about the Indian stories, I think you’ll find a rhythmic pattern. Maybe the translations can ruin it, I can’t confirm or deny this. But if you do, I think you will find the story engaging, like a stage play.
And about the Indian stories, I think you’ll find a rhythmic pattern. Maybe the translations can ruin it, I can’t confirm or deny this.
I think you’re right, I’m probably missing out on certain contexts and linguistic play reading the English translations. It adds to the melancholy in a way though, knowing there’s more beneath the surface of the words I can only barely grasp
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I’m reading the Kathasaritsagara now! Reading those kind of collections of tales makes me feel like I’m living among the ancient/medieval villagers of India, an interesting perspective shift to say the least
I would also recommend that you read the story of Ruskin Bond. His experience as a child in India is pretty unique, Sadly, I don’t remember the story book I was talking about, but it’s tear-welling, about the forest of Dehra, the landscape at Mussorie as well as his parent and friend. It’s more and less of a biography in a way, And about the Indian stories, I think you’ll find a rhythmic pattern. Maybe the translations can ruin it, I can’t confirm or deny this. But if you do, I think you will find the story engaging, like a stage play.
I’ll check it out! Thanks for the rec
I think you’re right, I’m probably missing out on certain contexts and linguistic play reading the English translations. It adds to the melancholy in a way though, knowing there’s more beneath the surface of the words I can only barely grasp