Zhenya Klimov in Oberstdorf | 27.02.2021 | for @mlledevoltaire
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Zhenya Klimov in Oberstdorf | 27.02.2021 | for @mlledevoltaire
Blood of Elves Easter Eggs
Słusznie! [...] Patrzycie, a oczu nie macie, słuchacie, a uszy wasze głuche. Bo miłości bożej nie ma w was, boście są jako puste beczki… | True! [...] You look, but have no eyes, you listen, but your ears are deaf. For there’s no godly love in you, for you’re as empty barrels...
A clear reference to 1 Corinthians 13. Sapkowski likes sneaking in allusions to the Bible, both in the Witcher and, especially, in the Hussite Trilogy (where he has used parts of Song of Songs in a sex scene, cause he’s extra like that).
[...] Nie zrozumieliście, że ballady te o losie ludzkim mówiły, o tym, żeśmy w rękach bogów jeno zabawką, a krainy nasze bożym są igrzyskiem. | You didn’t understand that those ballads spoke about the fate of mankind, about the fact that we’re but a plaything in the hands of gods, and our lands are their playground.
A reference to Jan Kochanowski’s poem from 1580s. God’s Playground is also a title of Norman Davies’ book on the history of Poland.
Ha, nawet na żywej korze świętego Bleobherisa, spójrzcie jeno, o, tuż nad głową pana poety, wyrzezany kozikiem ohydny wyraz. Do tego jeszcze błędnie wyrzezany, nie dość, że wandal to był, to w dodatku nieuk, pisać nie umiejący. | Ha, even in the live bark of the holy Bleobheris, just look, right there, over the master poet’s head, someone’s carved a nasty word with a knife. Carved incorrectly, on top of it, not only was it a vandal, but also a dunce who couldn’t spell.
One of the most common Polish swear words is the word ‘chuj’, which, indeed, gets carved into a lot of poor trees, usually by kids, who misspell it as ‘huj’. Literally means a dick or a cock, but generally used in the same way as ‘fuck’ in English.
Nilfgaard to kara boża! To bicz, którym Nieśmiertelni schłostają was, grzesznicy, byście… | Nilfgaard is a divine punishment! It’s a scourge with which the Immortals will whip you, sinners [...].
A very common sentiment among christians during the Great Turkish War (also known as the War of the Holy League) that took place in Europe in the years 1683-1699. According to many priests and preachers at the time, the Ottoman invasion was the divine punishment for living in sin and forgetting the christian values.
Będzie to zależało od tego, czy przekażecie mi teraz pozdrowienia od naszych wspólnych znajomych. Powinniście to uczynić na wstępie, a zapomnieliście jakoś. | That depends on whether you’ll give me regards from our common friends. You should’ve done it at the beginning, but you somehow forgot.
The communists have developed an extensive surveillance system, causing widespread paranoia and making the citizens second-guess everything. People tried to establish ways of determining who could be trusted in a world where anyone could be a secret agent or an informer.
A i ów wstrętny paszkwil, owo szeroko kolportowane Monstrum, które wzburzyło fanatyków i popchnęło ich do zbrodni, też podobno było anonimowym dziełem jakiegoś czarodzieja. | And that horrid libel, that widely distributed Monstrum, which had shaken the fanatics and led them to commit that crime, was supposedly an anonymous work of a magician.
An allusion to The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, an antisemitic document prepared by tsar Nikolai II Romanov’s secret police. The document was largely a plagiarism of an anti-Napoleonic satire called Dialogue in Hell, where there are no Jewish characters.
The Protocols described a Jewish plan for global domination and were used by generations of antisemites, from the Romanovs, through the communists, the nazis, all the way to the Americans such as Henry Ford. It was exposed as a forgery in 1921, which didn’t stop people from spreading the lies, unfortunately.
Śmierć ma oczy błękitne i zimne, a wysokość obelisku nie ma znaczenia, nie mają też znaczenia napisy, jakie się na nim wykuje. | Death’s eyes are cold and blue, and the height of the obelisk doesn’t matter, nor do words carved into it.
Typically, the colour blue is used as a symbol of peace, innocence, and purity. It has strong connotations with christianity as the colour of Mary’s robes. The Polish word niebieski, meaning blue, is derived from the word niebo, meaning the sky or heaven, which brings to mind vastness of an open space (something that can feel quite overwhelming and scary), but also passing on to heaven, a.k.a. death. It’s commonly used to depict the coldness and pallor of a corpse. In Slavic literature and art, Death is often portrayed as a pale young woman, usually blue-eyed. It’s also the colour of mourning in Iranian culture.
This particular line from Sapkowski always makes me think of one of the poems by Solomon Bart, where he says: “My death’s eyes are blue / and words oddly tender”.
Dobry elf to martwy elf. — Marszałek Milan Raupenneck | A good elf is a dead elf. — Marshal Milan Raupenneck
A (most likely) Soviet antisemitic slogan, sadly used by some up to this day.
Dziwna nazwa. To znaczy, jeśli się nie mylę, "Wiewiórki"? | Odd name. That means, if I’m not mistaken, ‘Squirrels’?
The name might seem a simple reference to the fact that Scoia’tael hide in the forests and work in packs just like squirrels, but knowing Sapkowski, it’s a little deeper than that. A squirrel eating a nut was used in Jewish art to represent a man studying Torah, while medieval Europe considered squirrels lazy and greedy, and their red hair symbolic of an evil, barbaric nature.
Squirrel is also one of the zodiac signs in the Zoroastrian totem calendar, which is important to note, since the most famous Scoia’tael unit, the Vrihedd Brigade uses lightning symbols on their banners and epaulettes. We can assume they look somewhat similar to the nazi SS symbol, also known as the double sig rune. Now, the sig rune is a part of the Black Sun — an Aryan symbol I talked about here — and Aryans were largely Zoroastrian. Coincidence? I think not.
Niestety, uważała, że źródłem większości chorób jest nieróbstwo, zaś nieróbstwo najskuteczniej leczy się kijem. | Unfortunately, she thought that idleness is the source of most sickness, and idleness is most effectively cured with a stick.
A very common sentiment among the older generations of Slavs.
A raz, gdy ni z tego, ni z owego dała mi pajdkę chleba ze smalcem i cukrem, to tak mnie tym zaskoczyła, że z wrażenia upuściłem tę pajdkę, smalcem w dół. | And once, when she suddenly gave me a piece of bread with lard and sugar, I was so shocked that I dropped it, buttered side down.
Soo, lard with sugar is a bit strange of a mix, but pretty much all of us have eaten bread with butter (or margarine) and sugar at some point of our lives. Other variations of this childhood classic are: bread with cream and sugar, sugar and water, or sugar and tea. And yes, that means you pour that water/tea over the bread covered with sugar.
It was a common sweet snack in the cold war, when sweets were difficult to find and very expensive.
To spleśniały chleb ze śruty. [...] Miażdżony czosnek z gorzką solą zaśmiardnąć nie ma prawa, choćby stał sto lat. | It’s mildewed bread of bruised grain. [...] Crushed garlic and bitter salt cannot stink, even if it stood there for a hundred years.
Garlic and certain types of fungi are natural antibiotics, while bitter salt (magnesium sulfate) can be used as a muscle relaxant and a laxative/purge.
Ludzi do morza, krzyczą, nie wiedząc, że nawet to chwytne hasełko podpowiedzieli im nilfgaardzcy emisariusze. Nie rozumiejąc, że to hasełko nie jest skierowane do nich, ale właśnie do ludzi, że ma wzbudzić ludzką nienawiść, nie zapał bitewny młodych elfów. | Throw humans into the sea, they yell, not knowing that even this catchy slogan came from the Nilfgaardian emissaries. Not realising that this slogan isn’t aimed at the, but humans, that it’s meant to fuel their hatred, not the fighting spirit of the young elves.
Most likely a reference to the nazi propaganda fueling national antisemitism, as well as conflicts between ethnic minorities, or the Soviet propaganda influencing multiple conflicts, such as the Arab-Israeli wars or the events leading to the outbreak of the Soviet-Afghan War.
Tak zwana Bura Chorągiew, poznaję po płaszczach i bobrzych kołpakach. | So called Dun Banner, I recognise their cloaks and beaver calpac.
A nod to the song about Józef Piłsudski’s Polish Legions, called ‘The Grey Infantry’.
Bronić mężczyzn, by nie wieszano ich za ręce na drzewach, nie wbijano na pale. Bronić jasnowłosych dziewczyn, by nie rozkrzyżowywano ich między wbitymi w ziemię kołkami. Bronić dzieci, by ich nie zarzynano i nie wrzucano do studni. | Defend the men, so that no one hung them on trees by the hands or impaled them. Defend the fair-haired girls, so that no one spread them between stakes hammered into the ground. Defend the children, so that no one slaughtered them and threw into the wells.
These methods are commonly associated with Vlad III Ţepeș (the historical Dracula), who’s believed to have picked them up from the Ottomans (who, in turn, might’ve picked them up from the Golden Horde and Timurids).
Nie mam nic przeciwko wiedźminom. Niech sobie polują na wampiry. Byleby tylko płacili podatki. — Radowid III Śmiały, król Redanii | I have nothing against the witchers. Let them hunt the vampires. As long as they pay their taxes. — Radovid III the Bold
Paraphrase of a quote ascribable to Andrzej Zebrzydowski: ‘Let them believe even in a goat, as long as they pay the dessiatin’, as well as an allusion to the religious tolerance of medieval Poland (shame that nothing’s left of that).
Everett! Zostaw to, bo się ubrudzisz. | Everett! Leave that, you’ll get dirty.
Gives off the same vibe as ‘Victoria! Don’t kick that man, you’ll sweat’ from the movie Kingsize, a Polish classic.
Waluta jest? Waluta, pytam? Temerski albo nilfgaardzki pieniądz? | You’ve got currency? Currency, I ask? Temerian or Nilfgaardian coin?
Another nugget of the socialist reality: owning and exchanging foreign money was technically forbidden, but since the Polish currency was notoriously unstable and the national stores empty, everyone bought dollars and marks on black market to buy stuff at the ‘internal export stores’ (something like the duty free stores nowadays).
Przemoc rodzi przemoc. Nienawiść wrosła w serca... i zatruła krew pobratymczą… | Violence breeds violence. Hatred grew into the hearts… and poisoned the brotherly blood…
Two quotes. The first is by an Italian anarchist Errico Malatesta, the second by one of the most prominent Polish writers, Henryk Sienkiewicz (With Fire and Sword).
[Żacy] dyskretnie grali w cetno i licho, w 'kozła', w 'kupę' lub inne wymagające inteligencji gry. | [The students] discreetly played evens and odds, ‘buck’, ‘pile-up’, and other games that required intelligence.
Cetno i licho, literally meaning even and odd, is an old, old game, where one party hides some number of objects or simply thinks of a number, and the other has to guess whether that number is even or odd. The other two, I assume, are card games. The word kozioł in Polish means a buck, and since bucks have goatees, I think it might be a fictional version of barbu. I’m a bit lost when it comes to the last one, however, because the word kupa can mean a number of things, such as a pile, a stack, or a bunch, as well as, literally, poop. There’s a passage in the Baptism of Fire that sort of links this word to one of the suits of cards, an equivalent of hearts in our world’s cards, though, so it might be some variant of hearts, the game?
Medyczka zmarszczyła zadarty nosek, parsknęła, nie po raz pierwszy wprawiając Jaskra w podziw nad łatwością, z jaką żacy rozpoznawali wywiadowców, szpiegów i konfidentów. | The medic wrinkled her turned-up nose and spluttered, not for the first time filling Jaskier with awe over the ease with which the students recognised secret agents, spies, and informers.
Awersja żywiona przez studentów do tajnych służb była przysłowiowa[...]. | The aversion students felt towards the secret services was proverbial.
A nod to the Polish history of March 1968, where university students started a wave of protests and demonstrations against the socialist government and their antisemitic policies, as well as censorship and lack of freedom in the broad sense. Many of the slogans and cries were about the secret agents and informers, most of which recruited from the so-called working-class active (and which were essentially the Party’s fighting squads). In 1980, students created a union, quite similar to “Solidarność”, and actively supported the strikes and protests, demanding change.
Awantura o getto ławkowe dla nieludzi ledwie się skończyła, a tobie już pilno do nowej? | The fight about ghetto benches just ended, and you’re already looking for a new problem?
Ghetto benches were a way of segregating and effectively limiting the number of Jewish students in Polish universities in the 1930s. They were introduced and violently enforced by the right-wing organisations such as National Democracy and National Radical Camp.
Popularne na dworze króla Vizimira powiedzonko głosiło, że jeśli Dijkstra twierdzi, że jest południe, a dookoła panują nieprzebite ciemności, należy zacząć się niepokoić o losy słońca. | A popular saying in king Vizimir’s court claimed that if Dijkstra says it’s noon, while it’s pitch dark all around, you should start to worry about the sun.
I mean, let’s just say it out loud: Dijkstra is basically Stirlitz, if Stirlitz was actually, you know, competent.
Nilfgaard stoi nad Jarugą, a ja tu słyszę: 'Niech sobie stoi'. Słyszę: 'Dalej nie pójdą'. | Nilfgaard stands at Yaruga and I hear: ‘Well, let them’. I hear: ‘They won’t move any further’.
For a very long time, the Danube was considered a natural border between the West and the East, and the European monarchies thought the Ottomans wouldn’t move past it. Guess what, though. They absolutely did.
Ale po Sodden nagle się okazało, że był przeciw, a wszystkiemu winna jest samowola marszałków. I poleciały głowy. Szafoty spłynęły krwią. To są pewne informacje, nie żadne plotki. Osiem uroczystych egzekucji, dużo więcej skromniejszych kaźni. Kilka pozornie naturalnych, ale zagadkowych zgonów, sporo nagłych przejść w stan spoczynku. Mówię wam, Emhyr wpadł w szał i praktycznie wykończył własną kadrę dowódczą. | But after Sodden it suddenly turned out that he was against it and it’s all the fault of lawless marshals. Heads began to roll. Scaffolds ran with blood. This is confirmed information, not some gossip. Eight formal executions, many more smaller. Several seemingly natural but suspicious deaths, a lot of sudden retirements. I’m telling you, Emhyr ran amok and effectively finished off his officers.
A common tactic, particularly popular in the Ottoman Empire, Russian Empire, and Soviet Union. Though generally speaking, Nilfgaard bears more resemblance to the Ottoman Empire than the other two, the methods used by Emhyr are those of Ivan the Terrible or Stalin. The Ottoman executions were rarely public and usually bloodless.
A gdy ich słynna kawaleria zje już większość własnych koni, zrobimy im drugie Sodden. | And once their famous cavalry has eaten most of their own horses, we’ll give him another Sodden.
A fairly common occurrence, especially during winter campaigns and sieges. Even armies of Genghis-Khan or Napoleon had to resort to eating their horses (and in the Napoleonic Army’s case, their fellow soldiers) at certain points of their conquests.
Spotkali się na tajnej naradzie w zamku Hagge nad Pontarem. | They met for a secret conference in the Hagge castle on Pontar.
The name Hagge looks and sounds a lot like Hague. Ironically, the solution the monarchs agree on, is one that has been outlawed by the IV Hague Convention.
Jak znajdujesz ten kraj, namiestniku? Udało ci się polubić twą nową Prowincję? | How do you find this country, steward? Did you learn to like your new Province?
Another resemblance between Nilfgaard and the Ottoman Empire. The Ottomans turned the conquered states into Provinces (eyalets or vilayets), governed by valis (usually high-ranked officers or officials).
As usual, all translation is mine, sorry if it differs from the official.
Any Witcher fanfic recs?
Sorry I took so long to answer this message, I’m the worst when it comes to bookmarking fics so I had to sit down and browse my history for this.
I haven’t read too much in this fandom, but here are some of the fics I really enjoyed:
Left That Body Long Ago -- Geralt/Jaskier, modern au, angst, a fic written way before the Netflix show
all of these thousand miles -- Geralt/Jaskier, Netflix verse, Geralt finally apologises for being an asshole and we all know what follows
Love, Destiny, and Other Such Bullshit -- Geralt/Yen, Geralt/Jaskier, Geralt/Yen/Jaskier, and a side of Yen/Triss, Netflix verse, post show, some angst, living in denial and eventually coming to terms with their feelings
Push my button, anytime -- Geralt/Jaskier, a good old PWP
A Song Unsung -- Geralt/Jaskier, friends to lovers, Jaskier being impossibly dumb and Geralt loving it despite pretending otherwise
and here and here you can find the sins I committed in this fandom, all of those are mainly Geralt/Jaskier because I’ve been shipping them for about 15 years now
I hope you’ll find something for yourself here. Sorry it’s such a short list, but I haven’t had enough time to really dive into the fandom.
The Last Beginning, Lauren James
I got The Last Beginning on a whim while in Paris last year, purely because I saw the author in some of Alice Oseman's YouTube videos and found her really endearing. I had no idea whatsoever what it's really about and had no expectations. And perhaps that's why I was so pleasantly surprised.
I feel like YA has become quite repetitive, in the sense that every year or so we get a new fresh trope that we see over and over, and over again, until we're all sick of it. The Last Beginning felt like a breath of fresh air, marrying themes common for contemporary stories – such as falling in love for the first time, navigating through first work experiences and bonding with your family through hardships – with sci-fi elements, such as AI, new technology, and time-travel with all the physics and programming behind it.
What I really appreciate is how accessible this story was. I often find it difficult to follow sci-fi novels, because of how technical and full of jargon they are. This was absolutely not the case here, all the science behind the time-travel technology is described and explained in a way that's easy to follow even for people like myself, who can't understand physics, no matter how hard they try. I also really loved the fact that the AI wasn't a cold-hearted machine, but rather a fully-fledged character with deep love for TV shows.
This brings me to another thing I absolutely adored about this novel – the presence of media and fandom in it. I feel that often in sci-fi the world can be a little one-dimensional – we get to see all of the technology and science development, but we don't really know what people do in their spare time. In The Last Beginning, however, we get to see it all – from fictionalised bio-pics, through talk-shows, reboots of Sherlock Holmes and other classics, to fanfiction and fanart. It's such a refreshing thing to see in this genre.
I really liked the characters, as well, they were believable in the ways they spoke and acted, and lovable despite their faults. It's still rare to see a female protagonist who's a scientist (in spe) as well as a proud lesbian. The book could definitely use some more diversity, though, as most of the characters (certainly all the main ones) are white.
Overall, it was a really enjoyable experience and I'm definitely planning to reach for Lauren James' other books in the future.
Side note: I know that technically it's the second book in a series (duology?), but it absolutely stands on its own, you don't need to have read the previous one to understand what's going on.
Labyrinth, Burhan Sönmez
I'm like water seeping out of a broken cup. I can't return to my cup, and if I did, it wouldn't be able to contain me.
Burhan Sönmez’s İstanbul İstanbul is perhaps the most heartwrenching and shattering novel I’ve read. It’s been two years since I finished it, and the memory of it is still raw and tender, still making me want to both reread the book and never touch it again. When I preordered Labyrinth, it was with the certainty that it would be nothing like that, it was with the expectation that Sönmez would fall hard, and with a sense of obligation to support him through that. And Labyrinth is, indeed, a different kind of story, it’s not a book that kicks you in the gut and watches you retch afterward. It is powerful in its own, unique way. It’s a restless wait for the storm, a search for yourself, a maze that we all carry inside ourselves. It’s a story that resonated with me, that made me go ‘oh, I know this feeling, I’ve done those things, I’ve had those thoughts’. Boratin has it all – he’s loved by his friends, family and fans, he’s a talented musician, he’s good-looking and well-off. Yet, when he wakes up in the hospital, they tell him he’d jumped off the bridge, trying to kill himself. Boratin doesn’t know if he really did that, because he no longer remembers anything of his life. What he remembers is past so distant it should no longer be relevant. Though it is. Sönmez did a beautiful job capturing depression and anxiety, creating a labyrinth of mirrors, where you can see your own face looking at you from every page. If you’ve struggled with your mental health, you’ll recognise yourself in Boratin, you’ll feel his frustration with the world that surrounds him, the forever-repeating patterns, the people who mean well, but end up doing more harm than good because they just don’t understand your struggle. You’ll feel the burden of other people’s expectations settling on your shoulders. The desperate need to find your own way, your own place, your own self. Am I my brain, or is my brain me? What makes me who I am? Another thing that Sönmez excels in is his ability to show the ugly truth of modern politics. For Boratin past and present are all the same – is this the last sultan he’s looking at, or is it Erdoğan? Haydarpaşa is burning, but in what year? 1917? 2010? Is this the Young Turks revolting, or is it just the Gezi protests? Or is it all the same thing, history repeating itself time and time over? Is it possible to move on, without repeating the old mistakes? For me, Labyrinth is more of a mirror than it is a story, a mirror reflected within a mirror, within a mirror, within a mirror. But there’s a way out of every maze, there are hope and self-discovery at the end of it, and a white blank page waiting to be filled by you, by me, by Boratin.
The Sword of Destiny Easter Eggs
“Przecie on nawet bez zwierciadła polazł, z mieczem tylko. A bez zwierciadła bazyliszka nie zabić, każdy to wie.” /
“He went there without a looking glass, with nothing but a sword. And you cannot kill a basilisk without a looking glass, everyone knows that.”
There’s a Polish legend of a basilisk lurking in the basements of Warsaw and turning people into stone with its gaze. No knight could slay it, until a humble tailor came along. He went to the basement with nothing but a looking glass, and when the basilisk looked into it, it turned into stone. The tailor, shocked by his success, dropped the glass, which broke, reflecting the sunlight coming into the basement through a small window, and when the sun shone on the stone statues, they turned back to life.
King Niedamir
His name could be translated literally as Will Give No Peace, which is very much his politics in a nutshell.
“Lokalny mistrz szewski, niejaki Kozojed, wymyślił sposób na gadzinę. Zabili owcę, napchali ją gęsto ciemierem, wilczymi jagodami, blekotem, siarką i szewską smołą. Dla pewności miejscowy aptekarz wlał do środka dwie kwarty swojej mikstury na czyraki, a kapłan ze świątyni Kreve odprawił modły nad ścierwem. Potem ustawili spreparowaną owieczkę pośrodku stada, podparłszy kołkiem. Nikt po prawdzie nie wierzył, że smoczysko da się skusić tym śmierdzącym na milę gównem, ale rzeczywistość przeszła nasze najśmielsze oczekiwania. Lekceważąc żywe i beczące owieczki, gad połknął przynętę razem z kołkiem.” /
“The local master cobbler, certain Kozojed, found a way to slay the beast. They killed a sheep, stuffed it full of hellebore, nightshade, fool’s parsley, sulfur, and cobbler’s tar. For safety measures, the local apothecary poured in two quarts of his cure for boils, and the priest of the Kreve temple prayed over the carcass. Then they stood the prepared sheep amid the flock, supported with a stake. Truth be told, no one believed that the dragon could fall for this shit reeking from a mile away, but the reality exceeded our expectations. The dragon, ignoring the live and bleating sheep, went straight for the bait and ate it along with the stake.”
Another Polish legend said that a dragon used to live in a hill under the Wawel Castle in Kraków. It ate both sheep and people, until a local cobbler stuffed a sheep with sulfur and put it in front of the dragon’s cave. The dragon ate it and the sulfur made it so thirsty that it crawled to the Vistula and drank, and drank, and drank, until it burst. And that’s how a cobbler saved us all.
The name of the cobbler here -- Kozojed -- means someone who eats goats, but it’s just one letter away from the word Kozojeb, which would mean someone who fucks goats.
And Kreve sounds a lot like krew, which means blood.
“Alem poniechał, wiecie, znowu by hyr poszedł, że krasnoludy złośliwe, że agresywne, że sukinsyny i że niemożliwa jest... jak to się nazywa, cholera... kołogzystencja, czy jak tam. I zaraz znowu byłby gdzieś pogrom, w jakimś miasteczku. Słuchałem tedy grzecznie, głową kiwałem.” /
“But I dropped the idea, you know, because word would get around again that dwarves are nasty, that they’re aggressive, that they’re sons of whores, and it’s impossible to… shit, how do you say… cogzist, or whatever. And there’d be another pogrom in some town, or other. So I just listened politely and nodded.”
So, dwarves (and pretty much the non-humans overall) are more or less loosely based on Jewish people, they go through quite similar struggles, meet with the same stereotypes, etc. This scene in particular shows Sapkowski’s inspiration by the history of Jews in Europe, because the word ‘pogrom’ is used specifically to describe hate crimes (well, mass-murders, really) committed against Jews in the Russian Tsardom (and later by many other folks, but that’s where it began).
“Nie wiadomo zresztą po co, bo i tak co drugi to półelf lub ćwierćelf, przeklęta krew i rasa, wszystko, co złe, przez elfów.” /
“I don’t know why, because they’re all half- or quarter-elves anyway, cursed blood and cursed race, everything that’s bad is the fault of the elves.”
Again, this is an antisemitic sentiment sadly still very common in Europe, including Poland, of course.
“Geralt nie dodał, że również przez wozaków, bo żart, choć znany, nie wszystkich śmieszył.” /
“Geralt didn’t add that it was also the fault of the carters, because the joke, though popular, didn’t amuse some.”
In Polish a very common mocking reply to ‘everything is the fault of the Jews!’ is ‘and cyclists!’, here replaced by carters.
“O królewnie Vandzie, która to utopiła się w rzece Duppie, bo nikt jej nie chciał.” /
“Princess Vanda, who drowned herself in the Duppa river, because no one wanted her.”
The original tale of princess Wanda tells a story of her killing herself to avoid getting married to a German prince, because we had a lot of History with the Germans and had to make it clear with out tales. Though another version of the tale suggests that she’d refused to marry the German prince, beat his ass in a war, and lived long and happily, remaining a virgin till the day she died (that last part is often interpreted as queer-coding).
Dupa, on the other hand, means ass, because we’re two and love simple jokes, apparently.
The story of Freixenet turned into a cormorant
It’s a twisted variation of the Grimm brothers’ tale of the six brothers turned into swans and the curse can only be undone if their sister manages to stay silent for six years straight, while making them shirts made of nettles. In the meantime, in the classic Grimm fashion, the sister marries a young king, gets accused by her evil mother-in-law of eating her baby, and sentenced to burning at stake, but with a bit of dramatic perfect timing, the swans turn into men, and everything ends well.
Just ah heads up, your theme makes it difficult to read your posts when not in mobile.
Hi, thank you so much, I didn't realise I messed up the background colours so much. 😅 It should be all nice and readable now, but lmk if there's any issue still.
Geralt/Jaskier: books vs Netflix adaptation
In the wake of the new Netflix series, Geralt/Jaskier has suddenly become one of the most popular ships in the Witcher fandom. As someone who’s been shipping these two idiots for almost fifteen years, I couldn’t be more pleased. However, I can’t help but notice the majority of the fandom acting as if the adaptation had invented love between Geralt and Jaskier, and I must call bullshit.
Sure enough, the Netflix series has blessed us with Joey Batey, whose Jaskier is a wonderful bisexual disaster, hopelessly in love with his Witcher. His feelings for Geralt are clear as day, impossible to miss. That’s not the case for book Jaskier. Not because book Jaskier doesn’t experience the same love and yearning, but because book Jaskier can’t afford to let it show, just as he can’t afford to exclaim his full name to a bunch of strangers, or show the darker, more insecure side of his personality to anyone but Geralt. What the Netflix Jaskier puts on display, the book Jaskier tries to keep hidden, and you can only see it when he slips up.
The main difference between the books and the show, however, is not the portrayal of Jaskier. It’s Geralt.
The show chose to present the relationship between the bard and his witcher as very one-sided, with Jaskier obviously pining for Geralt, and Geralt being too emotionally constipated to even call Jaskier a friend. That’s not the case in the books -- the first time we get a mention of Jaskier is when Nenneke announces his arrival to Ellander and asks whether Geralt wishes to see him, to which Geralt responds right away with ‘Of course. He’s my friend’. ‘Opposites attract,’ he tells Nenneke a moment later, when she wonders what on earth brings these two together.
Is the love between Geralt and Jaskier romantic in the books? Not necessarily. It’s not any less deep or precious because of it, though.
What’s important to keep in mind, is that Geralt’s relationships generally fall under two categories: those driven by destiny, and those driven by negative emotions. The first category is people like Vesemir, to whom Geralt is bound by the Law of Surprise, Ciri, bound to Geralt by the same law, and, in a way, Yennefer, whom he can no longer escape, after the wish he made. Yennefer could also fall under the second category, though. Her relationship with Geralt is strong and fierce, but ultimately toxic, full of jealousy, doubt, and often resentment. The other relationships stem from either pity, or Geralt’s self-loathing, and more often than not Geralt enters them just so that he can hate himself for it later, the way he did with Renfri, for example.
There are two notable exceptions in his life, however. First being Nenneke, the priestess of Melitele, the mother-figure in Geralt’s life. Nenneke is the missing puzzle-piece to Vesemir, Geralt’s other parent-figure, she’s the person Geralt needs to complete his illusion of a family he wants so badly, she’s the person whose approval Geralt craves, with whom he’s not afraid to be vulnerable. The other exception, is Jaskier.
What makes Jaskier special is that Geralt doesn’t need him. Jaskier doesn’t fit into a specific archetype, he’s not bound to Geralt by a greater force, he might very well be a casual acquaintance like Mousesack. And yet, whenever their paths cross, Geralt chooses to keep Jaskier in his life.
This friendship and platonic love that stems from it, defy all logic. On one hand, we have Geralt, who spends his entire life pushing regular humans away, convinced that they must despise him deep down, and doing his best to not get involved. Geralt, who sees a bard in trouble, and saves his sorry ass, without thinking. And on the other -- there’s Jaskier, a coward, who meets the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, and follows him to the end of the world, as if that’s the most natural thing to do.
In the show, it’s Jaskier, who approaches Geralt, who invites himself to tag along, who doesn’t get discouraged even when he gets punched in the gut. In the books, two lonely men run into each other while running away from their problems, and decide to travel together. And they will keep running into each other, time and time over, because they feel safe around each other. Geralt keeps Jaskier safe physically, saving him from monsters, fleeing with him from war. Jaskier, on the other hand, keeps Geralt safe from his worst enemy -- himself. He’s not afraid to call Geralt out on his bullshit and be brutally honest, when it’s needed. The story we first see Jaskier in is called ‘The Voice of Reason’. And that’s precisely what Jaskier is for our Witcher who’d otherwise brood and spiral.
And the book Geralt appreciates it. He never treats Jaskier the way Netflix Geralt does, he’s never violent, or intentionally cruel. When they get captured by the Elves in Dol Blathanna, Geralt pleads with Filavandrel without calling Jaskier ‘just a bard’. When they encounter the djinn and Jaskier gets hurt, Geralt seeks help and bargains with Yennefer not because it was his wish that injured Jaskier, not because he feels guilty, but because he genuinely cares for his bard and simply has to do all he can to save him. He’s willing to pay whatever price Yennefer demands, but only after he gets Jaskier into safety.
What the show misses is the softness and casual intimacy that is a big part of Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship in the books. They feel perfectly comfortable touching, they share a bed on multiple occasions, they share clothes, they ride Roach together many a time, and if Jaskier is conscious during those rides, he always clings to Geralt’s waist. They’re always looking out for each other, often making small sacrifices just to give the other what he needs at the moment.
The Netflix Geralt treats Jaskier as a mildly amusing nuisance. The book Geralt gets exasperated at times (hey, who wouldn’t?), but he’s never dismissive -- he knows Jaskier is talented, intelligent, and well educated, and he cares for his opinion. ‘I’m a poet, Geralt. Does it matter what I think?’ Jaskier asks when facing the golden dragon. ‘It does,’ Geralt says. And it’s Jaskier’s ‘Don’t kill... Can you?’ that affects Geralt's final decision, not Yennefer’s ‘Kill that dragon for me’.
The book Geralt would’ve never said something like ‘If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands’. The book Geralt enjoys Jaskier’s company. ‘You must’ve lost your mind, Jaskier,’ he says instead. ‘You must’ve lost your mind, if you think I’d leave you’. Because the book Geralt loves his bard, out of his free will, he chooses to love that absolute disaster. And that disaster loves him back, without jealousy, without strings attached, without destiny’s sword and axe hanging above their necks. Because not all relationships have to be grand and tragic, and full of heartbreak.
The Last Wish Easter Eggs
If you’ve read this collection of short stories (or the rest of the Witcher Saga, for that matter), you’re probably well-aware that Andrzej Sapkowski loves retellings with a twist to them. What you might not realise, if you’re not a Polish speaker, however, is that he also loves to sneak in referrences to our legends and folk tales, as well as give people names that speak volumes about their character. So, for those of you, who didn’t grow up speaking the language of autumn leaves, and listening to the tales of dragons and basilisks defeated by clever, pure-hearted cobblers or tailors, here’s a little compilation of the Easter Eggs scattered across the pages. Enjoy!
“Później mówiono, że człowiek ten nadszedł od północy, od Bramy Powroźniczej.” / “Later, it was said the man came from the north, from Ropers Gate.”
In our tales nothing good ever comes from the North, and the word ‘powróz’ means specifically a very thick and sturdy rope, rope that can be used to drag cattle to the slaughterhouse, or to hang a man. This sentence alone tells us this man is trouble.
“W końcu, kto lubił Rivów. | Każdy Riv to złodziej.” / “After all, who liked Rivs. | Every Riv is a thief.”
‘Każdy Polak to złodziej’ / ‘Every Pole is a thief’ is a very common stereotype about us in the West, especially Germany and the UK. This makes us instinctively feel for Geralt and side with him.
Velerad
Sounds a lot like ‘wiele rad’, meaning ‘a lot of advice’. Very fitting, considering that the guy spends most of his screentime giving Geralt unsolicited advice.
“(...) nawet jeden pastuszek, kretyn znany w całej okolicy, niech spoczywa w pokoju.” / “(...) even one shepherd, an idiot known in the area, may he rest in peace.”
Traditionally, where there is a monster, there die sheep and shepherds. It’s a far more dangerous job than you’d think. Respect your local shepherds, they’re what keeps the monsters at bay.
“Konkretnie dwóch czeladników szewskich. Dlaczego szewcy są tacy głupi, Geralt?” / “Specifically, two cobbler’s apprentices. Why are cobblers so stupid, Geralt?”
One of the most popular Polish fables tells a story of a young cobbler’s apprentice, who frees a princess, just because he’s pure hearted and naive and helped every freaking bug along the way, and they decided to help him back with the tasks assigned by the Bad Witch.
“Słyszałeś o przekleństwie Czarnego Słońca?" / “Have you heard of the Black Sun’s curse?”
This one is interesting, because Black Sun, though explained in the story as the total eclipse, is also an old alchemic symbol (I believe it’s some sort of unleashing of the hidden darkness, so vaguely what Stregobor claims it was), but most importantly -- it’s an old Aryan (as in actually Aryan, meaning old Iranian) symbol adapted by the nazis (this is where the symbol of SS came from), they even put it on the floor of one of their castles, kind of making it a sick mixture of nazi supremacy meeting old Babylon and Arthurian myth.
Later Stregobor mentions the old tribes of Dauks and Wożgors (no clue how they translated that, sorry), who built grand necropoli -- the vague descriptions of those sound like the old Germanic tribes of Northern and Central-Eastern Europe, I’d wager that the ones Sapkowski refers to here are Danes and Wandals, specifically. The Germanic tribes indeed have believed in the Black Sun and that’s why nazis assumed they were ultimately the ancestors of the aryans (though, the black sun as well as swastika were super widespread symbols adopted by most cultures and religions of Europe, West Asia and North Africa).
After that Stregobor mentions Lilith (who is mostly known in the Judeo-Christian world as the ‘first wife of Adam’, but who was actually most likely an old mesopotamian deity, and plot-twist, the black sun comes from Mesopotamia as well) who’s still ‘worshipped in the East under the name of Niya’ (the Mesopotamian goddess named Ninil?).
“Zgromadzeni w końcu stołu młodsi i mniej ważni komesi, podochoceni, zaintonowali fałszywie znaną piosenkę o rogatym koziołeczku i mściwej, pozbawionej poczucia humoru babuleńce.” / “The younger and less important lords gathered at the end of the table, began to sing out of tune a well-known song of a goat with horns and a vengeful old woman with no sense of humour.”
This really is an old song, in which the goat eats all the cabbage, so in retaliation the woman banishes it to the forest, where the goat gets eaten by a wolf and only its horns remain. Poor goat just wanted a cronch.
“Jest ballada o parobku imieniem Yolop, który…” / “There’s a ballad of a farmhand called Yolop, who…”
Depending on the dialect, jełop or jołop is a word used for a man, who’s… well, not particularly bright. It’s not as derogatory as kretyn or debil, it has a more affectionate ring to it, and usually means an uneducated but well-meaning person.
“Też chcę zobaczyć diabła, przekonać się, czy jest taki straszny jak go malują.” / “I want to see the devil, too, find out if he’s as scary as they claim.”
‘Nie taki diabeł straszny jak go malują’ / ‘the devil is not as scary as they claim’ is an idiom used when speaking about something (usually a task) that we considered really daunting, but turned out to be fairly easy.
“I palą diabłu ogarek.” / “And they gave the devil a stump.”
‘Bogu świeczka, a diabłu ogarek’ (‘a candle for god, a stump for the devil’) is another idiom, we use it for a person who’s really sly and makes sure to please everyone to profit from it.
“- Stara wiedźma i młoda wiedźma - mruknął Jaskier.” / “‘Old witch and young witch,’ Jaskier muttered.”
In many Slavic (specifically Russian) tales Baba Yaga has a daughter, who usually pays the price for all the evil deeds of her mother.
“- Tam gdzie... Cholera. Tam, gdzie...
- Dobranoc - powiedział diabeł." /
“Where… Bloody hell. Where…’
‘Goodnight,’ said the devil.”
‘Gdzie diabeł mówi dobranoc’ (where the devil says goodnight’) is an idiom meaning the middle of nowhere, the end of the world, a.k.a. the perfect metaphor that Jaskier is looking for.
If you spotted some more details like this, please let me know, I’d love to hear about them!
PS. The translation of the quotes above might differ from the official English translation. I only own those books in Polish, so I had to translate it all on my own, I hope it makes sense.