Just a quick entry to announce the death of British singer and songwriter Amy Winehouse. She was a great artist. Unfortunately, as many of her predecessors, she was addicted to drug and alcohol. She was only 27 years old, the same age of Kurt Cobain and Jim Morrison when they died.
Rest in peace Amy, we will miss you.
7.24.2011
7.20.2011
Brit Library and Google
The British Library has agreed on putting something like 40 million pages on the internet in a digital format. Books include titles from 1700-1870, in several languages. The first published are feminist pamphlets about Queen Marie-Antoinette. For example, Les droits de la femme. A la reine, [The Rights of Women. To the Queen] by Olympe de Gouges which I downloaded and read. I'd suggest you to do the same]
The files are free to download. In fact, the text no longer is under copyright laws.
I am not very keen on reading from a computer - I'd rather touch and smell the book - but I think this is a fab project we should all support because it's not about reading 'old stuff'. It is about understanding that culture, books which made history, is for us all and should be available to everyone.
The files are free to download. In fact, the text no longer is under copyright laws.
I am not very keen on reading from a computer - I'd rather touch and smell the book - but I think this is a fab project we should all support because it's not about reading 'old stuff'. It is about understanding that culture, books which made history, is for us all and should be available to everyone.
7.16.2011
A new start
welcome back to my blog. It used to be up (and running although not very often) a few years ago but then grandpa fell ill and I simply no longer had time for anything other than taking care of him. I so much wanted him to recover that I completely forgot about myself. Would I do it again? Yes! Because after a year he's now 'okay' and today it's his 92nd birthday (celebrate!;-)
Last year he was in intensive care and there was no real celebration but we're here now and it feels like we've been blessed.
However, I still have problems sleeping and relaxing (I somehow become a very anxious person which is not in my nature, not to this level). Therefore, a friend of mine bought me a book by Marianne Williamson: A course in weight loss. She says it helped her a lot accepting some of the losses in her life and giving up smoking (which we were all so worried about) because the book is not (only) about letting kilos go (apparently using the verb "to lose" is a mistake). It is also, and more importantly, about letting go of all the problems life throws at you. In fact, every single time something bad happens you tend to add weight to extra protect yourself. Is it really so? I am not sure this book can help (me) relax, but I feel like I need to get my life back on track and I feel this might be a good way to start. Therefore, I decided to get back to my blog and see what happens.
The idea is to write about lessons in the book (21. But my friend said it took her a long time to really understand the whole thing so she read it all in one go and then step by step, a couple of pages a week, which is what she suggested me to do), books I read and news about the book world I so much love. I hope you will join me on this emotional journey;-)
The first news I am going to mention is J.K. Rowling's new website. It's about Harry Potter.
I haven't seen the website yet but I did watch the last movie in the series. I think they did a brilliant job.
4.03.2010
The Invention of Solitude
I haven't been online in a while: computer not working, then a number of unexpected extras on my plate. I am tired of getting extras, tired of updating the blog less than I'd love to. Guess you too are tired of hearing me saying this...but believe it or not, there's nothing I can do about it - unless you expect me to sleep less than I already do (average of 5 hours a day...my mind doesn't stop unfortunately).
Anyway...here I am, so very happy of writing ...and I hope you will somehow still want to listen.
I came across Paul Auster a few months ago. A friend gave me The Invention of Solitude saying I should read that. I didn't have time so the book kept looking at me every single time I went to bed - put it there thinking I would be able to read a couple of pages before sleeping -. I finally managed to read it last night - couldn't sleep but was to tired to do everything other than relax and read -.
It's a short book, less than 200 pages, and it's divided into 2 parts: 2 narrators, 2 different perspectives. The title of the book is taken from part 2, which, I guess, was supposed to be the best/more interesting. Is it really so? Would love to have feedback from you. IMHO it is not. In fact, Part one is challenging and so very emotional. Part two is boring, a summa of quotes, bits and pieces from several authors. Some are very interesting but the whole thing is way too "croweded" if you allow me.
The book has a very powerful beginning: a son having to deal with the death of his father, a man he did not really know because they were never that close and did not live together (his parents were divorced). Still, his father, a man he's just beginning to know via the objects in the big house, full of absolutely everything.
How would you feel for a man who was by name your father but not by heart, not the way a "real" or "good" father is?
The narrator doesn't seem to know. He remembers, he criticises, he feels. And it is just amazing that you, the reader, a stranger, cannot help but feeling the exact same way. I did at least. I could see the big rooms, filled with objects; I could hear the silence; I could smell death...
Death is a major character in this novel. It is the answer, the question, the connection, the solution. It is the element that makes characters "human".
Then, there is part 2. The narrator is no longer the son, it's the father this time. We get to understand him a little better than we did through his son's tale. But it does feel as if he was trying to impress the reader considering the number of quotes and the way he describes some parts of his life.
If I was to analyse the structure I would say it does make sense that part two is the last one because it is based on the father's view. Solitude is the key word in this part as well as that of the father's life and choices. I couldn't help thinking the structure of the novel seems to send some sort of message from Paul Auster: there's no hope because there's none at the end of the novel; none in the father's view (part 2) whereas part one, the son's tale, is more vivid and somehow represents light at the end of the tunnel: his son, his family, the differences between his life and that of his father. SO I'd suggest you to read part two first...
It was not my cup of tea but don't think it's bed either.
Labels: Male writers , solitude , novels , narrators
Anyway...here I am, so very happy of writing ...and I hope you will somehow still want to listen.
I came across Paul Auster a few months ago. A friend gave me The Invention of Solitude saying I should read that. I didn't have time so the book kept looking at me every single time I went to bed - put it there thinking I would be able to read a couple of pages before sleeping -. I finally managed to read it last night - couldn't sleep but was to tired to do everything other than relax and read -.
It's a short book, less than 200 pages, and it's divided into 2 parts: 2 narrators, 2 different perspectives. The title of the book is taken from part 2, which, I guess, was supposed to be the best/more interesting. Is it really so? Would love to have feedback from you. IMHO it is not. In fact, Part one is challenging and so very emotional. Part two is boring, a summa of quotes, bits and pieces from several authors. Some are very interesting but the whole thing is way too "croweded" if you allow me.
The book has a very powerful beginning: a son having to deal with the death of his father, a man he did not really know because they were never that close and did not live together (his parents were divorced). Still, his father, a man he's just beginning to know via the objects in the big house, full of absolutely everything.
How would you feel for a man who was by name your father but not by heart, not the way a "real" or "good" father is?
The narrator doesn't seem to know. He remembers, he criticises, he feels. And it is just amazing that you, the reader, a stranger, cannot help but feeling the exact same way. I did at least. I could see the big rooms, filled with objects; I could hear the silence; I could smell death...
Death is a major character in this novel. It is the answer, the question, the connection, the solution. It is the element that makes characters "human".
Then, there is part 2. The narrator is no longer the son, it's the father this time. We get to understand him a little better than we did through his son's tale. But it does feel as if he was trying to impress the reader considering the number of quotes and the way he describes some parts of his life.
If I was to analyse the structure I would say it does make sense that part two is the last one because it is based on the father's view. Solitude is the key word in this part as well as that of the father's life and choices. I couldn't help thinking the structure of the novel seems to send some sort of message from Paul Auster: there's no hope because there's none at the end of the novel; none in the father's view (part 2) whereas part one, the son's tale, is more vivid and somehow represents light at the end of the tunnel: his son, his family, the differences between his life and that of his father. SO I'd suggest you to read part two first...
It was not my cup of tea but don't think it's bed either.
Labels: Male writers , solitude , novels , narrators
3.04.2010
Die, Slowly
Hello everyone,
I don't have much time these days, for nothing basically...so I decided to take a book of poems and read at least one a week. It's a real treat!!;-)
I want to share one with you, hope you'll enjoy!
DIE SLOWLY, Pablo Neruda
He who becomes the slave of habit,
who follows the same routes every day,
who never changes pace, who does not risk and change the color of his clothes,
who does not speak and does not experience,
dies slowly.
He or she who shuns passion,
who prefers black on white,
dotting ones is rather than a bundle of emotions, the kind that make your eyes glimmer,
that turn a yawn into a smile,
that make the heart pound in the face of mistakes and feelings,
dies slowly.
He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem,
who does not allow himself to be helped,
who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck,
about the rain that never stops,
dies slowly.
He or she who abandon a project before starting it,
who fail to ask questions on subjects he doesn't know,
he or she who don't reply when they are asked something they do know,
die slowly.
Let's try and avoid death in small doses,
always reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort by far greater than the simple fact of breathing.
Only a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
I don't have much time these days, for nothing basically...so I decided to take a book of poems and read at least one a week. It's a real treat!!;-)
I want to share one with you, hope you'll enjoy!
DIE SLOWLY, Pablo Neruda
who follows the same routes every day,
who never changes pace, who does not risk and change the color of his clothes,
who does not speak and does not experience,
dies slowly.
He or she who shuns passion,
who prefers black on white,
dotting ones is rather than a bundle of emotions, the kind that make your eyes glimmer,
that turn a yawn into a smile,
that make the heart pound in the face of mistakes and feelings,
dies slowly.
He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem,
who does not allow himself to be helped,
who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck,
about the rain that never stops,
dies slowly.
He or she who abandon a project before starting it,
who fail to ask questions on subjects he doesn't know,
he or she who don't reply when they are asked something they do know,
die slowly.
Let's try and avoid death in small doses,
always reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort by far greater than the simple fact of breathing.
Only a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
2.25.2010
bookshops, characters and solitude
I recently found out a friend of mine works, part-time, in a local bookshop which has been there my whole life. Same place, same people. The owners are two sisters who, I understand, decicated their entire life to books. Since they never got married they share a flat not far from the bookshop and their daily routine is something like...they open the bookshop at 9 am, close it at 12:30 am for lunch, open it again at 2.30 pm and close it at 7pm.
I confess I was always curious about them, what they do, how their lives are really like and I was somehow happy to find out someone knew them. I didn't get to know anything special, nor of great interest...but in a way they look like characters from a book - to me at least - and the feeling was that of finally opening the book.
Still, it was also quite upsetting: do all people who dedicate their lives to books die 'alone', have no children, no love, nothing of the kind?
Do people from small bookshops do nothing but read and read and...read? I know there's a lot to say about theme, I know they have so much to offer but I also have the feeling books are losing their ability to connect people.
I remember attending a conference once about the importance of tales for kids. The speaker pointed out that tales give children the opportunity to learn about life, to understand they are not alone and can overcome problems, just like Cinderella does.
I've always read about the solitary life of writers and I myself know how difficult it is to have a socialise while trying to write a novel but I do have the feeling modern times stole the magic within/around books. We read, but have no time to share.
Not so long ago people would meet in cafes to talk about books, literature in general...where's all gone?
As much as I love internet I think it created a funny idea of what 'Culture' is...need info? Check online...easy, practical, fast. Still I miss the touch and smell of books...
2.10.2010
J.D. Salinger
The death of a great writer is, no doubt of that, something to talk about. But it's hard. Hard to think a real talent is no longer with us; hard to be left with nothing but what has been published while he was alive because there's no certainty his heirs will want to share the rest. Or, maybe, there is because of the money they might get, but for those who love books (fiction, non fiction), talent has no price.
J.D. Salinger is no longer with us. He left at the end of January (27, to be precise). But although I did read The Catcher in the Rye and understood (hope so) his amazing American talent, I confess I didn't feel his passing that shocking. Was it because he was born in 1919? To be honest, it was not. Point is...he wasn't much around. Only two interviews were ever published while he was alive: one for a local magazine (if I don't get wrong from Cornish) and the second to The New York Times in 1974.
We do not know much about Jerome as a person. We only know what he wanted us to, almost nothing, which is somehow weird considering the number of people wanting to be "famous" (who would do everything to get there). Weird also because characters in The Catcher in the Rye are rebels, people who are going to get noticed, in a way or another. Still, Jerome, was different, somehow his rebellion was fitting the role of the perfect "outsider" by being as normal as he could ever be.
You may have not read his books, you may feel they are not that good...but at least as far as I'm concerned, J.D. Salinger represented my idea of "writer", of someone who feels the need to write, not because he wants to be famous, but because it's a necessity, something he couldn't live without. And I think a life spent writing is worth it, do you?
I guess a part of me will always love Salinger because he was born in 1919, just like grandad who's still here (hopefully for many years to come): silly, and sentimental, but that's me;-)
Ps Did you know that when The Catcher in the Rye was firstly published it was banned in most parts of the US because of words such as "go**amn" (used 255 times)!?
J.D. Salinger is no longer with us. He left at the end of January (27, to be precise). But although I did read The Catcher in the Rye and understood (hope so) his amazing American talent, I confess I didn't feel his passing that shocking. Was it because he was born in 1919? To be honest, it was not. Point is...he wasn't much around. Only two interviews were ever published while he was alive: one for a local magazine (if I don't get wrong from Cornish) and the second to The New York Times in 1974.
We do not know much about Jerome as a person. We only know what he wanted us to, almost nothing, which is somehow weird considering the number of people wanting to be "famous" (who would do everything to get there). Weird also because characters in The Catcher in the Rye are rebels, people who are going to get noticed, in a way or another. Still, Jerome, was different, somehow his rebellion was fitting the role of the perfect "outsider" by being as normal as he could ever be.
You may have not read his books, you may feel they are not that good...but at least as far as I'm concerned, J.D. Salinger represented my idea of "writer", of someone who feels the need to write, not because he wants to be famous, but because it's a necessity, something he couldn't live without. And I think a life spent writing is worth it, do you?
I guess a part of me will always love Salinger because he was born in 1919, just like grandad who's still here (hopefully for many years to come): silly, and sentimental, but that's me;-)
Ps Did you know that when The Catcher in the Rye was firstly published it was banned in most parts of the US because of words such as "go**amn" (used 255 times)!?
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