Emo Nemo

Mily

Sarah

Shaidrian Rios

Jimmy Beans

miCCwatreSSop

Julie Wynne - videos

Kapuster

Nicky Tallon

Harini Sen

Vastralaya

Evan Shively (Perseus271)

people are not good to each other.perhaps if they wereour deaths would not be so sad.Love him or hate him, Charles Bukowski was a bitter, drunken asshole with a gift for putting onto paper all the ugliness and baseness hiding in the human heart. Before jumping into the discovery and thoughts that are the inspiration for this ramble about the dirty old writer, a few moments should be spent on the actual poetry found in this volume. I’ve always enjoyed the earlier Bukowski, before he became too jaded and bitter and let a few really tender moments flower within all the crassness. Love, and more specifically the failures and loss of it, are the heart of this collection. All through the poems here are allusions to the ‘red haired woman’, whom Bukowski shows a deep regret in loosing. Much of the crassness feels reactionary to this loss of love as Bukowski documents a spiral into dirty, drunken debauchery and madness as a method of hardening the heart against such pains. Love is replaced with lust to erase loneliness, yet, ironically, it only instills further self-hatred and builds towards a crippling loneliness.\
  there is always one womanto save you from anotherand as that woman saves youshe makes ready todestroy.\
Bukowski is that drunk asshole always diving to the bottom of a glass, keeping shallow relationships and never trusting women. He is, at best, a rude misogynist, but under the layers of dysphemism, we see a heart drowning in sorrow (and booze). There is still some charm though, he is often humorous in his crassness, and there are moments where he truly shows remorse for the terrible manner in which human beings treat one another. He  did not really like people, probably a lot of that having to do with his fear of being hurt by others. His poetry is rather simple, nothing complex to pick apart, and very rarely uses many poetic devices, but that is what makes it so powerful. It cuts right to the heart. He often describes the writing process as pounding the keys like a prizefighter, and often refers to his typewriter as his 'piano' (Bukowski was a huge fan of classical music, especially Brahms, and compares music and writing often).This collection contains a poem that not only introduced me to Knut Hamsun (who is now one of my favorite authors), but I’ve always kept in mind as a darkly comical motivation for being a writer:How to be a Good Writeryou've got to fuck a great many womenbeautiful womenand write a few decent love poems. and don't worry about ageand/or freshly-arrived talents. just drink more beermore and more beer and attend the racetrack at least once a week and winif possible learning to win is hard -any slob can be a good loser. and don't forget your Brahmsand your Bach and yourbeer. don't overexercise. sleep until moon. avoid paying credit cardsor paying for anything ontime. remember that there isn't a piece of assin this world over $50(in 1977). and if you have the ability to lovelove yourself firstbut always be aware of the possibility oftotal defeatwhether the reason for that defeatseems right or wrong - an early taste of death is not necessarilya bad thing. stay out of churches and bars and museums, and like the spider bepatient -time is everybody's cross, plusexiledefeat treachery all that dross. stay with the beer. beer is continuous blood. a continuous lover. get a large typewriterand as the footsteps go up and downoutside your window hit that thinghit it hard make it a heavyweight fight make it the bull when he first charges in and remember the old dogswho fought so well: Hemingway, Celine, Dostoevsky, Hamsun. If you think they didn't go crazyin tiny roomsjust like you're doing now without womenwithout foodwithout hope then you're not ready. drink more beer. there's time. and if there's notthat's all righttoo. While looking to find more references to Hamsun in this collection, I noticed that within the margins, my own handwriting was mixed with that of another’s. It turns out that one of my closest friends, a friend I have not seen in years and have been separated from by the circumstances of life that separate even the closest of people, had gone through this book and left me all sorts of comments for me to think about, as well as comment upon my own reaction. It was like having a conversation across 3 years time with an old friend, the type of friend that is more like a brother. The power of language and writing seemed more important than ever suddenly, as it is a tool tying people together across space and time. This particular collection couldn’t be more fitting to find these notes written years earlier (I have a few other books where we both wrote notes to each other, such as Thus Spoke Zarathustra which we were both reading at the same time while he was our ‘guy on couch’ at an old apartment), both with Bukowski’s discussions of loneliness, but as it was indicative of my current state at that time. A few years ago was a bit of a darker period where the group of us had close ties and stayed rather under the radar of society. I would go to class, return to our apartment and we would spend all our time playing music, drinking and discussing film and books. This was a bitter period, as I had been in that post-heartbreak stage where the world seems ugly and, like Bukowski, just wanted to revel in my bitterness for awhile. Finding these notes brings back only the happy memories of those times and makes you realize that the loss of someone you loved as a brother is far more important to you than the loss of any former lover, and these are the people you miss most down the line in the birth pangs of some lonely, introspective morning. This all reminds me very much of the Savage Detectives and that sadness of people spreading out across the map as friendships rust and wash away in the changing tides. What struck me most was his notes about the sadness that permeates this collection. In one margin is written: ‘Bukowski seems genuinely troubled/depressed by the imagery of failed relationships and their aftermath – the failings of love and the intended + unintended ways we hurt one another’. That more or less sums this book up. I also enjoyed moments where he circled lines such as ‘oh brothers, we are the sickest and lowest of the breed’, which summed up that summer we all spent together in our tiny, dirty Ypsilanti apartment. He was also kind enough to highlight every mention of the ‘redhead’ and string together the story that is told through fragments.Enough of that emotional reflection though, nobody likes that sort of stuff. Which leads me to a quote from Neil Young (my favorite, and it pains me to be referencing such an obvious song instead of some lesser-known greater one) that ‘every junky is like a setting sun’. They are on their way out, difficult, if not painful, to look right at, yet beautiful. Bukowski fits this bill, as his life and works are painful to watch, but there is some beauty in there. Also like a setting sun, people like this aren’t something you can hang around long or you will get hurt (or loose your vision if you stare at the sun too long!). This is a messy metaphor, but I swear it’s going somewhere. Poems like those of Bukowski, or people who fit this bill such as drinking buddies, are good for certain times and places, however, you can’t linger there. When you are feeling dirty and ugly and crass, Bukowski is wonderful fun. Works like his are empowering at those times because you can relate and laugh along with, and, primarily, because it is reassuring to see that others with this same ugliness are able to create something beautiful. Once you’ve had your fill though, the time comes to move forward, as this sort of ugliness can only lead to more ugliness and eventually it will fill you and drag you down with it. These types of works are very reactionary, only as a venomous bite toward what hurts you and not a truly constructive method of moving on. The mid to late 2000s was full of this sort of behavior, look at the emo culture, where people wanted to express their disdain for the world around them (the emo culture did it with more self loathing and tears, whereas something like Bukowski is more about pushing someone away through acting depraved and hard when you actually truly want them to get close to you). However, we can’t always be angry and we have to move on, get over our problems, or they win. They become us. We can’t be simply made up of only our failures and sadness, we must learn to deal with them, get past them, and win by being stronger than our problems. I tend to rag on Chuck Palahniuk a lot, but he really fits this idea for me, and if I can quickly explain it, perhaps I won’t have to keep using him as an example anymore. His works were very popular in the era mentioned above (okay, I know Bukowski wasn’t writing then, but this has transcended Bukowski’s works into a discussion about getting over problems), because they were a gripe against social forces. Chuck P. took hold of many adolescents through writing stories with adults who are characterized like angsty teenagers. They view the world and societal constructs as threatening, as something holding them down, and turn to nihilism to deal with that. However, nihilism will only negate things, it won’t transcend them. I lost interest in Palahniuk once I realized that he would never offer a true solution to the problems he imposes on his characters (as well as simply recycling characters and techniques, but that is a different discussion). I couldn’t wallow in his cynicism and darkness any longer, and turned to bigger, better and brighter authors. I have never looked back. Yet, I can’t condemn him entirely, because he fit my 17 year old needs for awhile. I enjoyed Fight Club at the time, Choke made me laugh, and sometimes it is good to wallow in the ugliness. But stay to long and the pity-party, because that is all it really is, becomes sad and pathetic.All in all, I’m glad I’ve read Bukowski, but I feel like my life has taken me places where his opinions no longer really reach me. I can’t wallow in that sadness, and I find his lusts rather creepy and his woman-bashing rather offensive. However, that is exactly what he was striving for. Still, those moments of beauty are worth coming back for, and I can’t express enough how cool it was to find the notes from my friend. Mostly, being able to reminisce about those days of stupid, wild youth is what really holds my heart.3.5/5Okay, and this poem, Dinosauria, We is great (although not from this collection)

I don’t know what to do with these stars anymore. I give stars to books and then I think, ‘god, you give five stars to everything, people will think you are terribly undiscriminating’ – so then I give four stars or even three stars to some books. Then I look back and it turns out that that I’ve given four stars to Of Human Bondage and honestly, how could I possibly have thought it was a good idea to give that book less than five stars? It is the absurdity of human conventions that has us doing such things.Now, that is what is called a segue, from the Italian ‘seguire’ – to follow. For the last thirty years I have studiously avoided reading this book. I have done that because for the last thirty years I have known exactly what this book is about and there just didn’t seem any point in reading it. In high school friends (one of them even became my ex-wife) told me it was a great book about a man condemned to die because he was an outsider. Later I was told that this book was a story about something much like the Azaria Chamberlain case. A case where someone does not react in a way that is considered to be ‘socially appropriate’ and is therefore condemned.But after 30 years of avoiding reading this book I have finally relented and read it. At first I didn’t think I was going to enjoy it. It didn’t really get off to the raciest of starts and the character's voice – it is told in first person – was a bit dull. He is a man who lives entirely in the present, how terribly Buddhist of him – although, really there doesn’t seem to be all that much to him.My opinion of the book began to change at his mother’s funeral. I particularly liked the man who kept falling behind in the march to the cemetery and would take short cuts. Okay, so it is black humour, but Camus was more or less French – so black humour is more or less obligatory.I really hadn’t expected this book to be nearly so funny as it turned out. I’d always been told it was a ponderous philosophical text – and so, to be honest, I was expecting to be bored out of my skull. I wasn’t in the least bit bored.A constant theme in my life at present is that I read ‘classics’ expecting them to be about something and they end up being about something completely different. And given I’ve called this a ‘constant’ theme then you might think I would be less than surprised when a read a new ‘classic’ and it turns out to be completely different to my expectations. I’m a little more upset about this one than some of the others, as I’ve been told about this one before, repeatedly, and by people I’d have taken as ‘reputable sources’ – although, frankly, how well one should trust one’s ex-wife in such matters is moot.I had gotten the distinct impression from all of my previous discussions about this book that the guy ends up dead. In fact, this is not the case – he ends up at the point in his life where he has no idea if he will be freed or not. The Priest who comes to him at the end is actually quite certain that he will be freed. Let’s face it, he is only guilty of having murdered an Arab, and as we have daily evidence, Westerners can murder Arabs with complete impunity. The main point of the book to me is when he realises he is no longer ‘free’. He needs this explained to him – because life up until then had been about ‘getting used to things’ and one can 'get used to just about anything'. But the prison guard helpfully informs him that he is being ‘punished’ and the manifestation of that punishment is the removal of his ‘freedom’. Interestingly, he didn’t notice the difference between his past ‘free’ life and his current ‘unfree’ one. The most interesting part of the book to me was the very end, the conversation with the priest. The religious often make the mistake of thinking that Atheists are one thing – I’ve no idea how they ever came to make this mistake, but make it they do. Given that there are thousands upon thousands of different shades of Christians – from Jesuit Catholics to Anti-Disney Episcopalians – it should be fairly obvious that something like Atheism (without any ‘organised’ church or even system of beliefs) could not be in anyway ‘homogeneous’.I am definitely not the same kind of Atheist as Camus. To Camus there is no truth, the world is essentially absurd and all that exists is the relative truth an individual places on events and ideas. This makes the conversation with the priest fascinatingly interesting. To the priest the prisoner who is facing death is – by necessity – someone who is interested in God. You can play around with ideas like the non-existence of God when it doesn’t seem to matter (life is long and blasphemy can seem fun) – but surely when confronted with the stark truth of the human condition any man would turn away from their disbelief and see the shining light.Not this little black duck. Now, if I was in that cell I would have argued with the priest too – but I would not have argued in the same way that Meursault argues. No, I do not believe in God, but I do believe in truth, and so Camus’ arguments are barred to me.Meursault essentially says, “Look, I’m bored, I’m totally uninterested in the rubbish you are talking – now go away”. Now, this is a reasonable response. What is very interesting is that the priest cannot accept this as an answer. The world is not allowed to have such a person in it – if such a person really did exist then it would be a fundamental challenge to the core beliefs of the priest. So, he has to assume Meursault is either lying to him or is trying to taunt him. But it is much worse – he is absolutely sincere, he is not interested in this ‘truth’.I don’t know that the world is completely meaningless, it is conventional rather than meaningless. That those conventions are arbitrary (decided by the culture we grew up in) doesn’t make them meaningless, it makes them conventional. I don’t think I would like to live in a world where people go up and kill Arabs pretty much at random and with impunity, but then again, we have already established this is precisely the world I do live in. My point is that it would be better if we did adhere to some sort of moral principles and that these should be better principles than ‘he should be killed because he didn’t cry at his mum’s funeral’. Camus is seeking to say that all of our ‘moral principles’ in the end come to be as meaningless as that – we judge on the basis of what we see from the framework of our own limited experience. And look, yes, there is much to this – but this ends up being too easy.The thing I like most about Existentialism, though it isn’t really as evident in this book as it is in the actual philosophy – although this is something that Meursault is supposed to have grown to understand (sorry, just one more sub-clause) even though this wasn’t something I noticed at all while reading the book, was the notion of responsibility. I didn’t think in the end Meursault was all that much more ‘responsible’ for his actions than he had been at the start. But I do think that ‘responsibility’ is a key concept in morality and one that seems increasingly to be ignored.Better by far that we feel responsible for too much in our lives than too little – better by far that we take responsibility for the actions of our governments (say) than to call these governments ‘them’. I’m not advocating believing in The Secret - but that if one must err, better to err on the side of believing you have too much responsibility for how your life has turned out, rather than too little.So, what can I say? I enjoyed this much more than I expected – but I’m still glad I waited before reading it, I really don’t think I would have gotten nearly as much out of it at 15 as I did now.

Fernando Pessoa was many writers in one. He attributed his prolific writings to a wide range of alternate selves, each of which had a distinct biography, ideology. and horoscope. When he died in 1935, Pessoa left behind a trunk filled with unfinished and unpublished writings, among which were the remarkable pages that make up his posthumous masterpiece, The Book of Disquiet, an astonishing work that, in George Steiner's words, "gives to Lisbon the haunting spell of Joyce's Dublin or Kafka's Prague."Published for the first time some fifty years after his death, this unique collection of short, aphoristic paragraphs comprises the "autobiography" of Bernardo Soares, one of Pessoa's alternate selves. Part intimate diary, part prose poetry, part descriptive narrative, captivatingly translated by Richard Zenith, The Book of Disquiet is one of the greatest works of the twentieth century.

This unusual fictional memoir - in good part autobiographical - narrates without self-pity and often with humor the adventures of a penniless British writer among the down-and-outs of two great cities. The Parisian episode is fascinating for its expose of the kitchens of posh French restaurants, where the narrator works at the bottom of the culinary echelon as dishwasher, or plongeur. In London, while waiting for a job, he experiences the world of tramps, street people, and free lodging houses. In the tales of both cities we learn some sobering Orwellian truths about poverty and of society.

Academics hail it as the beginning of modernism, but to readers around the world—even those daunted by Moby-Dick—Bartleby the Scrivener is simply one of the most absorbing and moving novellas ever. Set in the mid-19th century on New York City's Wall Street, it was also, perhaps, Herman Melville's most prescient story: what if a young man caught up in the rat race of commerce finally just said, "I would prefer not to"?The tale is one of the final works of fiction published by Melville before, slipping into despair over the continuing critical dismissal of his work after Moby-Dick, he abandoned publishing fiction. The work is presented here exactly as it was originally published in Putnam's magazine—to, sadly, critical disdain.

"It began as a mistake." By middle age, Henry Chinaski has lost more than twelve years of his life to the U.S. Postal Service. In a world where his three true, bitter pleasures are women, booze, and racetrack betting, he somehow drags his hangover out of bed every dawn to lug waterlogged mailbags up mud-soaked mountains, outsmart vicious guard dogs, and pray to survive the day-to-day trials of sadistic bosses and certifiable coworkers.This classic 1971 novel--the one that catapulted its author to national fame--is the perfect introduction to the grimly hysterical world of legendary writer, poet, and Dirty Old Man Charles Bukowski and his fictional alter ego, Chinaski.

It was to correct common misconceptions about his thought that Jean-Paul Sartre, the most dominent European intellectual of the post-World War II decades, accepted an invitation to speak on October 29, 1945, at the Club Maintenant in Paris. The unstated objective of his lecture (“Existentialism Is a Humanism”) was to expound his philosophy as a form of “existentialism,” a term much bandied about at the time. Sartre asserted that existentialism was essentially a doctrine for philosophers, though, ironically, he was about to make it accessible to a general audience. The published text of his lecture quickly became one of the bibles of existentialism and made Sartre an international celebrity.The idea of freedom occupies the center of Sartre’s doctrine. Man, born into an empty, godless universe, is nothing to begin with. He creates his essence—his self, his being—through the choices he freely makes (“existence precedes essence”). Were it not for the contingency of his death, he would never end. Choosing to be this or that is to affirm the value of what we choose. In choosing, therefore, we commit not only ourselves but all of mankind.This book presents a new English translation of Sartre’s 1945 lecture and his analysis of Camus’s The Stranger, along with a discussion of these works by acclaimed Sartre biographer Annie Cohen-Solal. This edition is a translation of the 1996 French edition, which includes Arlette Elkaïm-Sartre’s introduction and a Q&amp;A with Sartre about his lecture.

The Death of Ivan Ilyich (also Romanized Ilich, Ilych, Ilyitch; Russian: Смерть Ивана Ильича, romanized: Smert' Ivána Ilyicha), first published in 1886, is a novella by Leo Tolstoy, considered one of the masterpieces of his late fiction, written shortly after his religious conversion of the late 1870s.Considered to be one of the finest examples of a novella, The Death of Ivan Ilyich tells the story of a high-court judge in 19th-century Russia and his sufferings and death from a terminal illness.Ivan Ilyich lives a carefree life that is "most simple and most ordinary and therefore most terrible". Like everyone he knows, he spends his life climbing the social ladder. Enduring marriage to a woman whom he often finds too demanding, he works his way up to be a magistrate, thanks to the influence he has over a friend who has just been promoted, focusing more on his work as his family life becomes less tolerable.

One of the most influential works of this century, this is a crucial exposition of existentialist thought. Influenced by works such as Don Juan, and the novels of Kafka, these essays begin with a meditation on suicide: the question of living or not living in an absurd universe devoid of order or meaning. With lyric eloquence, Camus posits a way out of despair, reaffirming the value of personal existence, and the possibility of life lived with dignity and authenticity.

Dostoevsky’s most revolutionary novel, Notes from Underground marks the dividing line between nineteenth- and twentieth-century fiction, and between the visions of self each century embodied. One of the most remarkable characters in literature, the unnamed narrator is a former official who has defiantly withdrawn into an underground existence. In complete retreat from society, he scrawls a passionate, obsessive, self-contradictory narrative that serves as a devastating attack on social utopianism and an assertion of man’s essentially irrational nature.Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, whose Dostoevsky translations have become the standard, give us a brilliantly faithful edition of this classic novel, conveying all the tragedy and tormented comedy of the original.

The Metamorphosis and Other Stories, by Franz Kafka, is part of the Barnes &amp; Noble Classics series, which offers quality editions at affordable prices to the student and the general reader, including new scholarship, thoughtful design, and pages of carefully crafted extras. Here are some of the remarkable features of Barnes &amp; Noble Classics:All editions are beautifully designed and are printed to superior specifications; some include illustrations of historical interest. Barnes &amp; Noble Classics pulls together a constellation of influences—biographical, historical, and literary—to enrich each reader's understanding of these enduring works.Virtually unknown during his lifetime, Franz Kafka is now one of the world’s most widely read and discussed authors. His nightmarish novels and short stories have come to symbolize modern man’s anxiety and alienation in a bizarre, hostile, and dehumanized world. This vision is most fully realized in Kafka’s masterpiece, “The Metamorphosis,” a story that is both harrowing and amusing, and a landmark of modern literature. Bringing together some of Kafka’s finest work, this collection demonstrates the richness and variety of the author’s artistry. “The Judgment,” which Kafka considered to be his decisive breakthrough, and “The Stoker,” which became the first chapter of his novel Amerika, are here included. These two, along with “The Metamorphosis,” form a suite of stories Kafka referred to as “The Sons,” and they collectively present a devastating portrait of the modern family.Also included are “In the Penal Colony,” a story of a torture machine and its operators and victims, and “A Hunger Artist,” about the absurdity of an artist trying to communicate with a misunderstanding public. Kafka’s lucid, succinct writing chronicles the labyrinthine complexities, the futility-laden horror, and the stifling oppressiveness that permeate his vision of modern life.Jason Baker is a writer of short stories living in Brooklyn, New York.

We is a dystopian novel by Russian writer Yevgeny Zamyatin, written 1920–1921. It was first published as an English translation by Gregory Zilboorg in 1924 by E. P. Dutton in New York, with the original Russian text first published in 1952. The novel describes a world of harmony and conformity within a united totalitarian state. It influenced the emergence of dystopia as a literary genre. George Orwell said that Aldous Huxley's 1931 Brave New World must be partly derived from We, although Huxley denied this.

The Double (Russian: Двойник, Dvoynik) is a novella written by Fyodor Dostoevsky. It was first published on January 30, 1846 in the Fatherland Notes. It was subsequently revised and republished by Dostoevsky in 1866.In Saint Petersburg, Yakov Petrovich Golyadkin works as a titular councillor (rank 9 in the Table of Ranks established by Peter the Great.), a low-level bureaucrat struggling to succeed. Golyadkin has a formative discussion with his Doctor Rutenspitz, who fears for his sanity and tells him that his behaviour is dangerously antisocial. He prescribes "cheerful company" as the remedy. Golyadkin resolves to try this, and leaves the office. He proceeds to a birthday party for Klara Olsufyevna, the daughter of his office manager. He was uninvited, and a series of faux pas lead to his expulsion from the party. On his way home through a snowstorm, he encounters a man who looks exactly like him, his double. The following two thirds of the novel then deals with their evolving relationship.

Nine Stories (1953) is a collection of short stories by American fiction writer J. D. Salinger published in April 1953. It includes two of his most famous short stories, "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" and "For Esmé – with Love and Squalor". (Nine Stories is the U.S. title; the book is published in many other countries as For Esmé - with Love and Squalor, and Other Stories.)The stories are:"A Perfect Day for Bananafish""Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut""Just Before the War with the Eskimos""The Laughing Man""Down at the Dinghy""For Esmé – with Love and Squalor""Pretty Mouth and Green My Eyes""De Daumier-Smith's Blue Period""Teddy"

One of Charles Bukowski's best, this beer-soaked, deliciously degenerate novel follows the wanderings of aspiring writer Henry Chinaski across World War II-era America. Deferred from military service, Chinaski travels from city to city, moving listlessly from one odd job to another, always needing money but never badly enough to keep a job. His day-to-day existence spirals into an endless litany of pathetic whores, sordid rooms, dreary embraces, and drunken brawls, as he makes his bitter, brilliant way from one drink to the next.Charles Bukowski's posthumous legend continues to grow. Factotum is a masterfully vivid evocation of slow-paced, low-life urbanity and alcoholism, and an excellent introduction to the fictional world of Charles Bukowski.

In what is widely hailed as the best of his many novels, Charles Bukowski details the long, lonely years of his own hardscrabble youth in the raw voice of alter ego Henry Chinaski. From a harrowingly cheerless childhood in Germany through acne-riddled high school years and his adolescent discoveries of alcohol, women, and the Los Angeles Public Library's collection of D. H. Lawrence, "Ham on Rye" offers a crude, brutal, and savagely funny portrait of an outcast's coming-of-age during the desperate days of the Great Depression.

The Idiot is a novel by the 19th-century Russian author Fyodor Dostoevsky. It was first published serially in the journal The Russian Messenger in 1868–69.

"Once upon a time there lived in Berlin, Germany, a man called Albinus. He was rich, respectable, happy; one day he abandoned his wife for the sake of a youthful mistress; he loved; was not loved; and his life ended in disaster." Thus begins Vladimir Nabokov's Laughter in the Dark; this, the author tells us, is the whole story except that he starts from here, with his characteristic dazzling skill and irony, and brilliantly turns a fable into a chilling, original novel of folly and destruction. Amidst a Weimar-era milieu of silent film stars, artists, and aspirants, Nabokov creates a merciless masterwork as Albinus, an aging critic, falls prey to his own desires, to his teenage mistress, and to Axel Rex, the scheming rival for her affections who finds his greatest joy in the downfall of others. Published first in Russian as Kamera Obskura in 1932, this book appeared in Nabokov's own English translation six years later. This New Directions edition, based on the text as Nabokov revised it in 1960, features a new introduction by Booker Prize-winner John Banville.

Written in 1914 but not published until 1925, a year after Kafka’s death, The Trial is the terrifying tale of Josef K., a respectable bank officer who is suddenly and inexplicably arrested and must defend himself against a charge about which he can get no information. Whether read as an existential tale, a parable, or a prophecy of the excesses of modern bureaucracy wedded to the madness of totalitarianism, The Trial has resonated with chilling truth for generations of readers.

Intensely good writing, with the unique Nabokovian feature of phrases we've never heard before somehow moving propulsively. Unfortunately, after a promising start, the plot turns flimsy, with the "twist" at the end telegraphed far too often to be anything other than a disappointment. This is an iceberg novel, but what's beneath the surface (the book jacket copy) is likely more interesting than the ramblings of our lead, Hermann, who (in the Zweigian conceit of the novel) has written and sent the prose to Nabokov for publication.Nabokov has an interesting line in the introduction (coming some 30 years after he wrote DESPAIR in Russian): "Hermann and Humbert are alike only in the sense that two dragons painted by the same artist at different periods of his life resemble each other. Both are neurotic scoundrels, yet there is a green lane in Paradise where Humbert is permitted to wander at dusk once a year; but Hell shall never parole Hermann."This seems odd - though both are unreliable narrators who commit a vile crime, the insidiousness of Humbert is far more extreme, and not just because LOLITA is a superior novel. Humbert's charm makes him disturbing, while Hermann is so unlikable that we can never be immersed in his mind. Though he is fully in control of the narrative, he is mainly a source of derision.Now, there is much pleasure here in what the reader knows and the narrator doesn't - the relationship between Ardalion and Hermann's wife is a brilliant piece of writing, with lots of great humor coming out of Hermann's not knowing what is so obviously happening. This book also has the strangest supporting character I can remember, a man named Orlovious who is somehow instrumental to the plot, in a large percentage of the book's scenes, and never once explained or described. I enjoyed the many digs at Dostoyevsky too ("Dusty") - the whole thing can be read as a Dostoyevsky parody, now that I think about it. But despite the evident strengths, this is a minor book by a major writer -3.7 stars.

The adventures of high school and junior high students on the last day of school in May 1976.

A young couple living in a Connecticut suburb during the mid-1950s struggle to come to terms with their personal problems while trying to raise their two children.

2008 romantic drama film directed by Sam Mendes

Tommy is an unemployed mechanic who spends most of his time in a bar (Trees Lounge) in a small blue collar town. He seems to always be thinking, "If only X then I could stop drinking".

A young man's experience in a juvenile detention center that touches on the tumultuous changes that befall his family and the community in which he lives.

Several ordinary high school students go through their daily routine as two others prepare for something more malevolent.

Failing to make it on his own, twenty-seven-year-old Jim moves back in with his parents and deals with crippling family obligations.

Marnie just graduated from college, drinks likes she's still in school, and is looking for a temporary job but a permanent boyfriend. She loves a guy who doesn't love her (?), ping-pongs between awkward romantic alternatives and even

Follows two young boys dealing with their parents' divorce in Brooklyn in the 1980s.

Documentary covering the growth and subsequent overexposure of the Seattle "grunge" music scene in the early 90s

Rob, a record store owner and compulsive list maker, recounts his top five breakups, including the one in progress.

A film about the career of the notorious punk rock band, the Sex Pistols.

The story of the famous and influential 1960s rock band The Doors and its lead singer and composer, Jim Morrison, from his days as a UCLA film student in Los Angeles, to his untimely death in Paris, France at age 27 in 1971.

1991 biopic film about The Doors directed by Oliver Stone

An original mix of fiction and reality illuminates the life of comic book hero everyman Harvey Pekar.

2003 American biographical film about Harvey Pekar

Documentary on Charles Bukowski, author of 'Notes of a Dirty Old Man', 'Love Is a Dog from Hell', and the autobiographical novels, 'Women', 'Hollywood', and 'Post Office'.

A Seattle musician's life and career are reminiscent to those of Kurt Cobain.

A pharmacy-robbing dope fiend and his crew pop pills and evade the law.

Back when sex was safe, pleasure was a business and business was booming, an idealistic porn producer aspires to elevate his craft to an art when he discovers a hot young talent.

A lovelorn screenwriter becomes desperate as he tries and fails to adapt 'The Orchid Thief' by Susan Orlean for the screen.

2002 American semi-autobiographical film by Spike Jonze

The brief life of Jean Michel Basquiat, a world renowned New York street artist struggling with fame, drugs and his identity.

A frustrated Barry Egan calls a phone-sex line to curb his loneliness. Little does he know that he will land in huge trouble and will also jeopardise his relationship with Lena.

James Chance, also known as James White (born April 20, 1953 as James Siegfried in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, United States), is an American saxophonist, keyboard player, songwriter and singer.A key figure in no wave, Chance has been playing a combination of improvisational jazz-like music and punk in the New York music scene since the late 1970s, in such bands as Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, James Chance and the Contortions, James White and the Blacks (as he appeared in the film Downtown 81), The Flaming Demonics, James Chance & the Sardonic Symphonics, James Chance and Terminal City, and James Chance and Les Contortions.Born and raised in Milwaukee and Brookfield, Wisconsin, Chance attended Michigan State University, then the Wisconsin Conservatory of Music in Milwaukee. There, Chance joined a band named Death, which performed covers of the Stooges and the Velvet Underground before moving toward original songs. At the end of 1975, Chance dropped out and moved to New York City after the dissolution of the band and the death of its singer. He quickly became active in both the free jazz and no wave punk rock scenes. His first band in New York in 1976 was an instrumental quartet with violin, drums and bass called Flaming Youth. After studying for a short time under David Murray, Chance formed The Contortions, who fused jazz improvisation and funky rhythms, with live shows often ending in violence when Chance would confront audience members. The Contortions reached a wider audience with their contribution to the Brian Eno-compiled No New York collection of No Wave acts. The band appeared in Rosa von Praunheim's film Das Todesmagazin in 1979.

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