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Două articole interesante, e drept doar primul dintre ele despre cărți:De ce o carte ajunge să aibă prețul de vânzare pe care îl are?
Japan’s Rent-a-Family Industry
O inițiativă de toată lauda, dar rămâne să vedem și rezultatele...Nașterea Ligii Literare din România
Flights by Olga Tokarczuk review – the ways of wanderers si
Olga Tokarczuk's 'extraordinary' Flights wins Man Booker International prize
Victor wrote: "Flights by Olga Tokarczuk review – the ways of wanderers "Citez: One of the fragment-chapters in this fascinating novel of fragments tells of a man who takes a particular book on his travels: a short one by the French-Romanian philosopher Emil Cioran. He feels that European hotels would do well to replace the obligatory Bible with Cioran, because the Bible was no use “for the purposes of predicting the future”.
Forty-Five Things I Learned in the Gulag de Shalámov, VarlamCateva extrase:
The main means for depraving the soul is the cold. Presumably in Central Asian camps people held out longer, for it was warmer there.
I realized that friendship, comradeship, would never arise in really difficult, life-threatening conditions. Friendship arises in difficult but bearable conditions (in the hospital, but not at the pit face).
I realized that humans were human because they were physically stronger and clung to life more than any other animal: no horse can survive work in the Far North.
I saw that women are more decent and self-sacrificing than men: in Kolyma there were no cases of a husband following his wife. But wives would come, many of them (Faina Rabinovich, Krivoshei’s wife).
I discovered that the world should be divided not into good and bad people but into cowards and non-cowards. Ninety-five percent of cowards are capable of the vilest things, lethal things, at the mildest threat.
I understood why people do not live on hope—there isn’t any hope. Nor can they survive by means of free will—what free will is there? They live by instinct, a feeling of self-preservation, on the same basis as a tree, a stone, an animal.
I saw that the only group of people able to preserve a minimum of humanity in conditions of starvation and abuse were the religious believers, the sectarians (almost all of them), and most priests.
Out of Control.Despre cele patru versiuni scrise de Mary Shelley despre Frankenstein si diferentele dintre ele.
Ce citești spune cum iubești:Study: Sci-fi and fantasy readers are killing it in the relationship department
Literatura contemporana e in alta parte
Adolescenții citesc literatură română de nevoie. Dacă nu li s-ar preda doar Eminescu și Rebreanu, poate că ar ajunge să-i iubească pe Cărtărescu sau Braniște.
„Am trăit toată viața la oraș”, îmi zice Ruxandra, o altă fată de 16 ani, „ce știu eu despre glasul pământului?”, se întreabă ea indignată, făcând referire la romanul Ion de Liviu Rebreanu. „Eu vreau să citesc despre lucruri pe care le pot recunoaște, despre problemele mele, despre trăirile mele!” Și e suficient să fim atenți la literatura contemporană ca să găsim exemple de cărți în care aceste fete s-ar putea recunoaște: Exuvii de Simona Popescu, Spre văi de jad și sălbăție de Veronica D. Niculescu, La mine-n cap de Lavinia Bălulescu, În spatele blocului de Mara Wagner.
Chiar asa, ce stiti voi despre "glasul pamantului"? In afara de povesti de la mosi despre cum isi dadeau cu sapa-n cap pentru el.
Doamne, m-a amuzat articolul ăsta, e plin de inepții de la un capăt la altul. Nici nu știu cine e mai confuză, semnatara dării de seamă sau adolescenta indignată că nu știe nimic despre "glasul pământului".
8 ambasadori la București îți zic ce cărți să citești înainte să mergi în țările lorAlegerea ambasadorului statului Chile e o declaratie de razboi pentru Mexic :)
Science fiction was around in medieval times – here’s what it looked like"Alongside histories of SF, histories of science have long avoided the medieval period (over a thousand years in which, presumably, nothing happened). Yet the Middle Ages was no dark, static, ignorant time of magic and superstition, nor was it an aberration in the neat progression from enlightened ancients to our modern age. It was actually a time of enormous advances in science and technology."
https://theconversation.com/why-afl-c...Articolul asta excelent, face o paralela intre un comentariu TV la finala campionatului de fotbal australian si cum e descrisa actiunea din Beowulf.
Probabil stiti sau poate nu, dar la Incheon in Coreea de Sud a avut loc cea de-a 48-a sesiune de evaluare a IPCC in urma careia a rezultat un raport oficial al Natiunilor Unite. Concluziile sunt dramatice dar felul in care au fost mediatizate va duce probabil la ignorarea lor. E util insa un site foarte frumos despre impactul schimbarilor climatice care tine loc de articol. Nu trage concluzii, ca sa nu supere pe nimeni, dar prezinta niste numere interesante:https://interactive.carbonbrief.org/i...
Un articol despre Yan Lianke (scriitor chinez ale cărui cărți au fost interzise de comuniști), dar mai ales o fereastră aproape ireală către China de astăzi... Asemănările cu România noastră nu sunt întâmplătoare.Yan Lianke’s Forbidden Satires of China - How an Army propaganda writer became the country’s most controversial novelist
Cărțile pe care nu le citim; despre "antibiblioteci" și la ce ne sunt ele de folos:The value of owning more books than you can read
am vreo 20-30 de carti necitite in biblioteca si pe lista de la Amazon inca pe atata
https://www.ziarulmetropolis.ro/topul...Top 5 romane din 2018
Asta e asa, un fel de auto-gratulare, pentru ca pe primul loc este si preferata mea de anul trecut, Zuleiha deschide ochii, pe locul doi este o carte de Ayelet Gundar-Goshen, a doua preferata a mea de anul trecut, pe trei un vechi amor, Julian Barnes, pe patru este cartea pe care o citesc - cu nesat - acum, Scara lui Iakov si pe 5 - alta lectura preferata din 2018, Cineva cu care să fugi de acasă (si unul dintre scriitorii mei de top 5).
Ma simt de-a dreptul conformista :)
World's most mysterious text is finally cracked: Bristol academic deciphers lost language of 600-year-old Voynich manuscript to reveal astrological sex tips, herbal remedies and other pagan beliefs
Si studiul: The Language and Writing System of MS408 (Voynich) Explained
Un articol interesant, semnat de Elif Shafak în ediția de astăzi The Guardian:As a lost child in Turkey I found refuge on an imaginary mountain
"Every novel is a journey into elsewhere. [...] Lost and confused though they themselves might often be, storytellers are passionate literary cartographers trying to render the invisible more visible and bring closer that which seems to be afar. It is our way of saying that there is no “us versus them” – the Other is, in truth, my brother, my sister. The Other is me."
Nietzsche’s Eternal ReturnWhy thinkers of every political persuasion keep finding inspiration in the philosopher.
Albert Camus on the Responsibility of the Artist"To create today means to create dangerously. Every publication is a deliberate act, and that act makes us vulnerable to the passions of a century that forgives nothing. And so, the question is not to know whether taking action is or is not damaging to art. The question, to everyone who cannot live without art and all it signifies, is simply to know [...] how the enigmatic freedom of creation remains possible."
Mai jos e un articol mai neobisnuit, de fapt e o postare de pe reddit dar e foarte bine scrisa si am toate motivele sa cred ca e adevarata.-----------
Climate change is unimportant, is it? I live in NSW Australia. I feel every day like I'm living in an apocalypse film.
I live in NSW, Australia. We are on fire, and have been for weeks.
Today has been covered in smoke cloud. You can see it, and it wasn't just an early morning thing. It looks like 70s celluloid film of a wartime movie: hazy burnt orange, making any green look khaki. I look out at the late afternoon sun, and it's red. Not nice autumn orange, though we have just entered summer, it's red in a field of haze. It has been for days. The afternoon sunshine is bright orange on those days where the smoke haze isn't too thick for the sun to get through.
Today was 39 degrees Celsius. The winds have picked up. The firefighters have been at it for over a month. Over two million hectares of forest and bush has been burnt - there isn't much green left on our map. Huge portions of it are now soot black. You look at where the fires are, and the markers of them on the map overlap like you're looking at a field of wildflowers in blue, yellow, and red. People have lost their lives. People have lost their homes. The devastation of wildlife is huge.
Sydney has just been put on a hosepipe ban. I watered my plants with reserve water from the shower. My one cat has asthma. I've been making sure to close us in tightly on smoke days and give her her preventer puffer every day. Otherwise she has an attack when she gets up to do anything at all. It's week three of this.
We are in drought. Again. And it looks worse this time. There are parts of NSW where the dams are empty. Truly empty. Dust fields that are massive, nothing able to grow in these conditions.
The sirens are heard from my house going by time and time again - loud and multiple as I try to get to sleep. People who have it worse than my cat and can't breathe. I drive home and see firetrucks up by people's houses. I pull aside for ambulances racing to help people who rely on clean air a bit more than the rest of us do.
It's two weeks to Christmas, and we look outside to see something apocalyptic rising with the sun. Places I've been - places I know well - sit facing fires approaching them from all sides. "I wish you all the luck in the world" is what I can say to those I know facing it, and what I get back is "We will stand and defend our home."
These aren't small fires that burn out in days. These are firegrounds larger than Sydney itself that have been burning for weeks. The hot air rises from them, along with the ash, and it meets the damp winds off the ocean. The result is a thunderstorm.
You'd think rain would put these fires out. It does not. The ground and combustibles on it is so dry a deluge does little to nothing. The fires keep raging, even as water, unable to be absorbed by a ground too parched to take it, floods away from them. We get floods on top of fires. Sooty water running away from a blaze that won't stop blazing.
These thunderstorms are unlike any I have ever seen before. People say thunderstorms bring a false twilight. This is a very late twilight - nautical twilight, perhaps. Early afternoon becomes just before full dark with a rapidity that is both blustering and daunting. And it's a while yet before the rain falls, though you can hear the thunderclaps and see the lightning these ash-ridden clouds create well before you know the loud pattering of raindrops and hailstones. You just hope one of these lightning strikes doesn't happen nearby.
Because these thunderstorms start new fires. They put nothing out, while, at the same time, bring more fire; more destruction.
I've sat on tenterhooks, waiting to hear whether I'm needed to help evacuate people. I've watched places I know well go up in smoke. I've waded through that smoke haze, feeling like I have a constant burgeoning cold, trying to carry on with daily life when it feels like the place I live, where my loved ones live, is to be short lived.
And then there are the arsonists. I'm at a point where I'd wish the harshest of punishments on anyone who, in whatever fit of stupidity they were suffering, did the malicious act of lighting another of these damned fires. More water that we don't have spent on fighting them. Planes and helicopters flying overhead trying to stop the intractable and progressive wall of huge orange flames before more people, more homes, and more wildlife are destroyed. All because of some absolute wanker who thought it'd be "funny" or "cool".
Outside my window is sepia tones. It isn't usually. Usually it's blue, and an Australian green; and the grey of tarmac and the brown of bricks. It seems all is bathed in that burnt orange; we're all feeling it, some more than others.
I look at Wollemi National Park on Wikipedia. Only home to a species of tree they thought was extinct on the mainland. Home to Aboriginal heritage sites. Home to a great many things. An amazing space of wilderness, it tells you, so worthy of preserving. Not a word about the fact that it is black.
Never before in my life have I been so tempted to edit a Wikipedia article as I was just to add the salient point: "it's on fire". There's little of it left. I tried to edit it. I had the sources I was going to cite with me. I don't understand internet code well enough to do that without my contribution accidentally wiping out, as the fires are doing, the words that that article contains about how worth preserving the national park is.
"Climate change?" they say. "What climate change?"
I looked at Cape Town, South Africa and thought, "Thank the fates we have it okay here!"
Now I look outside and wonder how long it's all going to last. It's hard not to be fatalistic when you're living in a place that's giving you every bloody indication you, your species, and all you care for is inhospitable here. That all the fucking around we've been doing has just been begging for this to happen.
Victor wrote: "o postare de pe reddit dar e foarte bine scrisa si am toate motivele sa cred ca e adevarata."De acord, e greu să nu te impresioneze.
Un articol interesant în cel mai recent număr The New Yorker:How William Gibson Keeps His Science Fiction Real
Midway through his career, the inventor of “cyberspace” turned his attention to a strange new world: the present.
Despre moartea unei pisici, și nu numai:The Strangeness of Grief de V.S. Naipaul
A writer reckons with the different forms of loss.
The problem of mindfulness de Sahanika RatnayakeMindfulness promotes itself as value-neutral but it is loaded with (troubling) assumptions about the self and the cosmos
Gabriel wrote: "The problem of mindfulness de Sahanika RatnayakeMindfulness promotes itself as value-neutral but it is loaded with (troubling) assumptions about the self and the cosmos"
Chiar nu vreau sa par edgy dar de fiecare data cand aud de moda meditatiei imi vine in minte secventa asta: this is the greatest moment of your life and you're out there missing it
Traducerea unei carti este incredibil de dificila. In anumite cazuri, traducerea cartii implica un efort de acelasi ordin de magnitudine cu al autorului (mai mic, e drept, dar totusi comparabil). Articolul de mai jos descrie unele din aventurile care se ascund in spatele operelor mai importante.The Translation Wars - How the race to translate Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky continues to spark feuds, end friendships, and create small fortunes.
Asa cum am mai zis,... nu se cheama ca trisezi :) End of audiobook snobbery as scientists find reading and listening activates the same parts of the brain
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles..."As part of his campaign to raise awareness about poison papers, Kedzie produced 100 copies of Shadows and sent them out to public libraries across Michigan. Each one is a slim volume, containing few words—just a title page, a short preface, and a note from the Board of Health explaining the purpose of the book [...]"
Yan Lianke: What Happens After Coronavirus? (On Community Memory and Repeating Our Own Mistakes)Și oarecum legat: What China’s Literary Community is Reading During the Coronavirus Pandemic
Sheltering in Place with Montaigne"It takes management to enjoy life. I enjoy it twice as much as others, for the measure of enjoyment depends on the greater or lesser attention that we lend it. Especially at this moment, when I perceive that mine is so brief in time, I try to increase it in weight."
Goodreads România
Books mentioned in this topic
The Promise (other topics)Zuleiha deschide ochii (other topics)
Scara lui Iakov (other topics)
Cineva cu care să fugi de acasă (other topics)
Authors mentioned in this topic
Damon Galgut (other topics)V.S. Naipaul (other topics)
Ayelet Gundar-Goshen (other topics)
Julian Barnes (other topics)
A Literary Road Trip Into the Heart of Russia, de Karl Ove Knausgaard
My Saga, Part 1: Karl Ove Knausgaard Travels Through North America
My Saga, Part 2 Karl Ove Knausgaard’s Passage Through America