Hell hath no fury...
Aug. 3rd, 2004 07:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dream_labyrinthToday I did something I usually don't. I'm reading what we Germans call "washing dirty laundry" - telling about your personal problems in a relationship, usually only done by celebrities because nobody's really interested in the dirty laundry of anybody else. In this case, I borrowed Angela Bowie's book about her time with David Bowie from the library. For one thing, the translation is terrible. Apparently, the translator tried to find a "cool" way of writing, using many English words, which makes me think they shouldn't have bothered to translate the book at all.
The other thing that first came to my mind when starting to read was this quote by William Congreve Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Maybe I do her wrong, I'm only through the introduction and the first chapter, but to me most of the things that don't tell about her own importance are just written to make DB look like the meanest, coldest, least caring person in the world. You'd think that sometime between the 60s and 1993, when she published the book, she had the time to look at things again and lose some of the anger she might have felt when the relationship broke up. Maybe it's just in the beginning of the book and gets better later, but right now it seems as if she was desperate to make some money, and the easiest way to do that was to talk about a celebrity she happened to know. It's like all these "I slept with..." chicks who tell details about the sexual preferences of some celebrity to any journalist that stays still long enough. The truth of these statements is something that can be doubted, and that's why I usually don't read this kind of thing. Don't ask me why I made an exception this time. Maybe because I'm just as nosy as everybody else. Or maybe I wanted to give her a chance to tell her story. I'm continuing to read in between writing this, and I am really doubtful whether I will manage to go on til the end. This translation is driving me crazy. Maybe the original is just as bad, maybe it's not the fault of the translators at all, but who knows.
The only thing that is quite clear from the book is that Angela Bowie knew it all before and that she was extremely good in whatever she did. *Yawn* Why couldn't she limit herself to the typical interview with the yellow press instead of writing a whole book? Again: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
The other thing that first came to my mind when starting to read was this quote by William Congreve Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Maybe I do her wrong, I'm only through the introduction and the first chapter, but to me most of the things that don't tell about her own importance are just written to make DB look like the meanest, coldest, least caring person in the world. You'd think that sometime between the 60s and 1993, when she published the book, she had the time to look at things again and lose some of the anger she might have felt when the relationship broke up. Maybe it's just in the beginning of the book and gets better later, but right now it seems as if she was desperate to make some money, and the easiest way to do that was to talk about a celebrity she happened to know. It's like all these "I slept with..." chicks who tell details about the sexual preferences of some celebrity to any journalist that stays still long enough. The truth of these statements is something that can be doubted, and that's why I usually don't read this kind of thing. Don't ask me why I made an exception this time. Maybe because I'm just as nosy as everybody else. Or maybe I wanted to give her a chance to tell her story. I'm continuing to read in between writing this, and I am really doubtful whether I will manage to go on til the end. This translation is driving me crazy. Maybe the original is just as bad, maybe it's not the fault of the translators at all, but who knows.
The only thing that is quite clear from the book is that Angela Bowie knew it all before and that she was extremely good in whatever she did. *Yawn* Why couldn't she limit herself to the typical interview with the yellow press instead of writing a whole book? Again: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
