…diç si eksperiment i vogël – simulim i zërit të Kadaresë duke i lexuar disa nga citatet e tij, apo duke folur në anglisht, simulim me ndihmën e IA (Inteligjencës Artificiale) – Kadare, i njohur botërisht, krenaria e kombit, njëri nga shkrimtarët më të mëdhenj në botë, veprat e tij janë përkthyer në 45 gjuhë…
(me sa di unë, ai fliste frëngjisht por jo anglisht, të paktën jo deri në v. 1990, kur pati shkuar në Francë – tani mund ta dëgjoni duke folur rrjedhshëm : )
Sky Division – AI Simulation – The voice of Ismail Kadare (1936-2024)
…small experiment – simulation of his voice, reading, or speaking in English, his own quotes, with the help of AI (Artificial Intelligence) – Kadare, Albanian writer, one of the greatest writers in the world, his works have been translated into 45 languages…
(as far as I know, he could speak French but not English, at least not until 1990, when he moved to France – so, here you hear him speak fluently : )
[ some selected quotes, the best quotes of Kadare, used in the simulation ]
We cannot deny, that 80 or even 90 percent of the spiritual treasures from the past 3,000 years, have come from Europe. There is no other Greek theatre anywhere else in the world. There is no other Shakespeare, Dante or Cervantes.
In antiquity, there were three regions in southern Europe: Greece, Rome, and Ilyria. Albanian is the only survivor of the Ilyrian languages. That is why it has always intrigued the great linguists of the past.
The laws of literary creation are unique; they don’t change, and they are the same for everyone everywhere. I mean that you can tell a story that covers three hours of human life or three centuries – it comes to the same thing. Each writer who creates something authentic in a natural way instinctively also creates the technique that suits him.
If you are a serious writer or just a normal one, in one way or another, you are writing in the service of freedom. All writers know, understand, or dream that their work will be in the service of freedom.
Dictatorship and authentic literature are incompatible… The writer is the natural enemy of dictatorship.
I thought for a long time about leaving Albania, but at the same time to play a role in its life.
I am of the opinion that I am not a political writer, and, moreover, that as far as true literature is concerned, there actually are no political writers. I think that my writing is no more political than ancient Greek theatre. I would have become the writer I am in any political regime.
I consider I’ve had a good day when, among the lines I’ve written, I’ve produced from my innermost core what I call ‘the appearance of the pearl’. That could refer to a discovery, a sense of harmonious cohesiveness, or something like that.
In general, literature is a natural adversary of totalitarianism. Tyrannical governments all view literature in the same way: as their enemy. I lived for a long time in a totalitarian state, and I know firsthand that horror.
For me as a writer, Albanian is simply an extraordinary means of expression – rich, malleable, adaptable. It has modalities that exist only in classical Greek, which puts one in touch with the mentality of antiquity.
Literature led me to freedom, not the other way round. For a writer, personal freedom is not so important. It is not individual freedom that guarantees the greatness of literature; otherwise, writers in democratic countries would be superior to all others.
The great universal literature has always had a tragic relation with freedom. The Greeks renounced absolute freedom and imposed order on chaotic mythology, like a tyrant.
Having spent the greater part of my life under a Communist dictatorship, I am very familiar with the Bolshevik mentality according to which an author in general, and an eminent author in particular, is always guilty, and must be punished accordingly.
It is well known that in the Communist countries, and especially in my own Albania, readers were often called upon to demonstrate their vigilance by detecting and denouncing the ‘errors’ of authors.
Guidebooks used to write the name of my city in two ways: Gjirokaster in Albanian, and Argyrokastron for foreigners. The classical-sounding name somehow gave it better credentials, because people in the Balkans famously exaggerate and often call their villages cities.
I first came across the script for ‘Macbeth’ between the ages of 11 and 12; it was the first book that shook my life. Because I did not yet understand that I could simply purchase it in a bookstore, I copied much of it by hand and took it home. My childhood imagination pushed me to feel like a co-author of the play.
If I manage to write something that I consider good and valuable in a particular place, that spot automatically has a special aura for me. In Albania, there are two cities where I have written the majority of my work: Gjirokaster, my home city, and Tirana.