update from sparkleup

writing/3/unknown-things/iyov/reverse/background.md

@@ -22,6 +22,8 @@ I know, for instance, that my conversations with my husband around transition we
 
 These were almost certainly conversations. They were full of filled pauses and the backtracking failures of speech that come with just plain chatting, but that's not what I remember. I remember discourses and speeches and prayers.
 
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 [^background-remember]: The Book of Job remembers it through just the discourses. It remembers entire conversations, entire histories of friendship, through the lens of those two weeks Job spent in the cold firepit, covered with ashes and sores. It remembers them all through discourses and speeches and prayers.
 Perhaps strangest of all, though, it remembers them disjoint and out of order.
 

writing/3/unknown-things/iyov/reverse/intro.md

@@ -41,9 +41,11 @@ Some long winter followed. He had died and crumpled to the ground. He mouldered
 
 Stories are as bound to time as we are, and all we can do is steal back a bit of that memory through however many words. All we can do with these memories pinned in place is regard them from a second level of distance and make guesses. All I can do now is make guesses as to the meaning of however many conversations — those very real words lost to the whims of technology — that lead to the slow and not always but often painful death of who I was.
 
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 [^intro-approaches]: The Book of Job, out of all of the books in the Hebrew bible, is buried deepest under layers of guesses. Even in the Christian bible, the only book that comes close is Revelation. Perhaps it is the dire nature by which both approach the world. Job takes a look at the world, heaves a weary sigh, and says, "I suppose this is it. This is the lot we have been given in life." While Revelation looks at the world and growls deep in its throat, a sound coming from the belly, and says, "This must not be it. This cannot be the way in which the world works."
 
-    Or perhaps it is the way in which they view death. While Job looks on death almost fondly, REvelation reiterates the Christian sentiment than death has been defeated using the genre of apolcalypse (that is, a revealing, a pulling back of the curtain). The world that was is no more, and as there is everlasting life beyond it, it is worth considering only in that context and otherwise only worth discarding.
+    Or perhaps it is the way in which they view death. While Job looks on death almost fondly, Revelation reiterates the Christian sentiment than death has been defeated using the genre of apocalypse (that is, a revealing, a pulling back of the curtain). The world that was is no more, and as there is everlasting life beyond it, it is worth considering only in that context and otherwise only worth discarding.
 
 [^intro-symbols]: The framing for The Book of Job takes the form of a fable, a set of universal symbols designed to instruct as well as entertain. The structure is as follows: 
 
@@ -61,7 +63,7 @@ Stories are as bound to time as we are, and all we can do is steal back a bit of
 
     Yet again, God gives Job up to the Adversary — "Only preserve his life" — who strikes Job with a rash from head to toe, leaving him to sit among the ashes and scrape at his flesh.
     
-[^intro-adversary]: This is the translation of the phrase in Hebrew, *ha-satan*. Alter notes that it wasn't until much more recently that this was refigured as specifically Satan: "The word satan is a person, thing, or set of circumstances that constitutes an obstacle or frustrates one's purposes." \parencite[466]{alter} The Jewish Publication Society concurs. (Job 1:6, JPS) It is a job title more than it is identity. In fact, the transition from the Adversary to Satan himself is fraught. The specifically academic New Oxford Annotated Bible (NOAB) retains the New Revised Standard Version translation as Satan qua Satan, but acknowledges in translation footnotes each time the term *ha-satan* shows up that this is "Or the Accuser; Heb. *ha-satan*". \parencite[736]{noab}
+[^intro-adversary]: This is the translation of the phrase in Hebrew, *ha-satan*. Alter notes that it wasn't until much more recently that this was refigured as specifically Satan: "The word *satan* is a person, thing, or set of circumstances that constitutes an obstacle or frustrates one's purposes." \parencite[466]{alter} The Jewish Publication Society concurs. (Job 1:6, JPS) It is a job title more than it is identity. In fact, the transition from the Adversary to Satan himself is fraught. The specifically academic New Oxford Annotated Bible (NOAB) retains the New Revised Standard Version translation as Satan qua Satan, but acknowledges in translation footnotes each time the term *ha-satan* shows up that this is "Or the Accuser; Heb. *ha-satan*". \parencite[736]{noab}
 
 [^intro-bless]: Even Job's wife seems to sigh: "Do you still cling to your innocence? Curse God and die." (Job 2:9, Alter)
 

writing/3/unknown-things/iyov/reverse/younes.md

@@ -22,6 +22,8 @@ All the same, I was young, I was dumb, and I was flaking away at the edges of th
 
 An aside: ((furry as a queer space))[^younes-translation]
 
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 [^younes-interpolation1]: It is important to reckon with two interpolations within the text that appear to be later additions, and it would be nice to address these before coming to the text that they interrupt.
 
     The first interpolation is that of a poem that comprises the entirety of chapter 28. The poem takes the form of a Hymn to Wisdom that Alter describes as "a fine poem in its own right, but one that expresses a pious view of wisdom as fear of the Lord that could scarcely be that of Job." \parencite[458]{alter}