🟡🔵 "What flower worth the pain?"
@citapress
The Emergency Was Curiosity author Christie George on "fan nonfiction" & collective approaches to creativity; Toyo Suyemoto & Arundhati Roy.
#ArundhatiRoy #ToyoSuyemoto #ChristieGeorge #Literature
#WomenInLiterature
Some of my favourite reads have been some of the shortest, I think there is an craft to brevity that many authors would be well advised to learn. Latest example for me was reading Seicho Matsumoto's Suspicion, it's tightly plotted but never feels too short or lacking in detail, indeed more detail would have been detrimental given how important ambiguity is to setting the tone.
https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/461008/suspicion-by-matsumoto-seicho/9780241724422
Onizuka Kumako is a fierce woman: tall, beautiful, and not afraid to speak her mind. In Tokyo bars, she seduces customers and commits petty crime, using her connections to the local yakuza to get by. When she meets Shirakawa Fukutaro, a rich widower desperate for companionship and unaware of her shady past, the two hit it off and are soon married. But their newly-wed bliss is suddenly cut short: one rainy July evening, their car veers off course, plunges into the harbour and Fukutaro is pulled beneath the waves. Suspected of murder and labelled a femme fatale, Kumako is hounded by the press, but stays firm, repeatedly proclaiming her own innocence. As pressure from dogged journalists mounts, the tide of public opinion is rising against her. But when a scrupulous defence lawyer takes on her case, doubt begins to creep in . . . In this intricate, psychological noir, masterfully translated into English for the first time, Seicho Matsumoto draws out the hidden demons that guide our convictions, our biases and our deepest desires.
Hi my rinktum! Black gal sweet,
Same like goodies w’at de w’ite folks eat;
Ho my Riley! don’t you take’n tell ’er name,
En den ef sumpin’ happen you won’t ketch de blame;
Hi my rinktum! better take’n hide yo’ plum;
Joree don’t holler eve’y time he fine a wum.
Den it’s hi my rinktum!
Don’t git no udder man;
En it’s ho my Riley!
Fetch out Miss Dilsey Ann!
— Joel Chandler Harris
https://palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/8ab23ae5-cdcd-4129-8b52-5a1c3a4e0753
#lit #bookstodon #books #literature
The Oriole sings in the greening grove
As if he were half-way waiting,
The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
Timid, and hesitating.
The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
And the nights smell warm and pinety,
The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
Are yellow-green and tiny.
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,
Streams laugh that erst were…
— Paul Laurence Dunbar
https://palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/8b0e9c2d-81ce-49c3-b261-5b75a38abb2f
#nature #humor #bookstodon #books #literature
I stumbled across E.M. Forster’s 1909 story “The Machine Stops” years ago, and his dystopian vision still haunts the edges of my thoughts. When I think about technology, social media, and the relationship between ideas and reality—or when I just have that dazed, floaty feeling from spending too much time staring at screens—I picture the story’s main character, Vashti... #dystopia #ai #literature #scifi
https://thingsinvisible.substack.com/p/the-machine-stops-3bf
The next day, at noon, Zanoni visited Viola; and the next day, and the next, and again the next — days, that to her seemed like a special time set apart from the rest of life. And yet he never spoke to her in the language of flattery, and almost of adoration, to which she had been accustomed. Perhaps his very coldness, so gentle as it was, assisted to this…
— Edward Bulwer Lytton
https://palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/6d91dbcb-c361-45ca-a8f5-d4af885e0565
#lit #bookstodon #books #literature
Why art thou chang'd? O Phaon! tell me why?
Love flies reproach, when passion feels decay;
Or, I would paint the raptures of that day,
When, in sweet converse, mingling sigh with sigh,
I mark'd the graceful languor of thine eye
As on a shady bank entranc'd we lay:
O! Eyes! whose beamy radiance stole away
As stars fade trembling from the burning sky!
— Robinson
https://palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/c986a6c4-1bd4-4da4-800f-a1827fb8212e
#love #nature #bookstodon #books #literature
“With anti-immigration rhetoric on the rise, the poetry of A.C. Jacobs achieves a new relevance in its celebration of humanity and diversity”
—read Will Burns’s review of NAMELESS COUNTRY in The Bottle Imp
6/6
#Scottish #literature #poetry #Jewish #diaspora #20thcentury
The blurb of Nameless Country states that Arthur ‘A. C.’ Jacobs was ‘a Jew in Scotland, […] a Scot in England, and [..] a diaspora Jew in Israel, Italy, Spain and the UK.’ Born in 1937 to Orthodox Jewish Lithuanian parents in the Gorbals, Jacobs spent much of his adult life travelling. The complex, intersectional […]
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