I have been reading a book, I Am a Cat, by Soseki Natsume. In translation, of course – I can’t read Japanese – I can barely remember my kana.
I came across a passage that featured the word rhodomontade, which I had never seen before.
Blacky [another cat], like all true braggarts, is somewhat weak in the head. As long as you purr and listen attentively, pretending to be impressed by his rhodomontade, he is a more or less manageable cat.
I had no idea what rhodomontade meant. I looked it up, and lo and behold, it’s from Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso (and the antecedant Orlando Innamorato by Boiardo). I supposedly read this work as part of my master’s degree program, and though I could talk about its cultural impact, I suspect I never really made it through the text – my ability in 16th century century Italian wasn’t the best, either – much less now.
When a translation features such an obscure word, it’s an indication of either a poor quality translation or a masterful one. Based on my progress so far through Aiko Ito and Graeme Wilson’s translation of Natsume’s novel (original 吾輩は猫である [Wagahai wa neko de aru]), I’m inclined to believe the latter. It’s an interesting picture of Meiji-era Japan – a period which has always fascinated me in any event.
Or l’alta fantasia, ch’un sentier solo non vuol ch’i’segua ognor, quindi mi guida, e mi ritorna ove il moresco stuolo assorda di rumor Francia e di grida, d’intorno il padiglione ove il figliuolo del re Troiano il santo Impero sfida, e Rodomonte audace se gli vanta arder Parigi e spianar Roma santa. – Orlando Furioso, Canto LXV.
