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Picture of a book: Platero and I/Platero y yo: A Dual-Language Book
Picture of a book: A History of Witchcraft
Picture of a book: Alicia en el país de las maravillas
Picture of a book: El retrato de Dorian Gray
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Picture of a book: The Book of Embraces
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The Book of Embraces

Eduardo Galeano
CORONAVIRUS UPDATE - In light of our current crisis, many embraces are needed. Of course, as we all recognize, social distancing prevents our physical embraces but now is the time for a mental embrace of our entire human family. Eduardo Galeano of Uruguay (1940-2015) is one of the finest of the Latin American writers. If you would like to add a healthy dose of inspiration and magic in your life, pick up The Book of Embraces, a collection of over 200 poetic memoirs/stories/happenings complete with the author's fanciful montage images covering a range of topics: art, dreams, the human voice, names, Indians, television, the culture of terror, to name several. To share a taste of this literary fiesta, here are my brief comments coupled with the author’s quotes.THE FUNCTION OF ART“Diego had never seen the sea. His father took him to discover it. . . . And so immense was the sea and its sparkle that the child was struck dumb by the beauty of it. And when he finally managed to speak, trembling, stuttering, he asked his father: “Help me to see!”” --------- As in nature, so in art. As a young boy growing up in the country I was infatuated with the drawings I saw in books of knights in armor. My parents brought me to the Metropolitan Museum in New York City where I walked into a room with an entire exhibit of knights in armor on horses surrounded by colorful banners. I was likewise struck dumb. GRAPES AND WINE“On his deathbed, a man of the vineyards spoke into Marcela’s ear. Before dying, he revealed his secret: “The grape,” he whispered, “is made of wine.” Marcela Perez-Silva told me this, and I thought: If the grape is made of wine, then perhaps we are the words that tell who we are.” ---------- Bulls-eye, Eduardo. The notion that humans are rational animals is sheer poppycock. I’m rarely rational and usually not in my best moments. We humans are word-symbol-language making animals.THE FUNCTION OF A READER“When Lucia Palaez was very small, she read a novel under the covers. She read it in fragments, night after night, hiding it under the pillow. She had stolen it from the cedar bookshelf where her uncle kept his favorite books. . . . Lucia has never read that book again. She would no longer recognize it. It has grown so much inside her that now it is something else: now it is hers. ---------- I recently read where a young man insisted an attractive young lady date him. The mademoiselle asked him, in turn: What book are you from? ----- Ha! I can’t imagine a more telling question. You are what you read. A DEFINITION OF ARTEdwardo Galeano tells us of Portinari, a well-known artist in Brazil who was pressed by the communist government to give a definition of art. “I don’t know,” said Portinari. And then: “All I know is this: art is art, or it’s shit.”” ---------- After giving our time and energy to viewing much art, there comes a point where we have a very good sense of what is genuine and what is not, a point where we can trust our eyes. This reminds me of the Supreme Court Justice who said he couldn’t define hard-core pornography but knows it when he sees it. CELEBRATION OF FANTASYGaleano tells of his visit to Cuzco, Peru when a small boys crowded round him and started shouting. He writes, “Then, in the middle of this racket, a little waif who barely cleared a yard off the ground showed me a watch drawn in black ink on his wrist. “An uncle of mine who lives in Lima sent it to me,” he said. “And does it keep good time?” I asked him. “It’s a bit slow,” he admitted.” ---------- Thanks for playing the game of imagination and fantasy with a child, Eduardo! Nearly all of us have a childhood story of our artwork or creativity being putdown by a teacher, parent or other adult. Yet, when as children we conformed to established regimentation we were never putdown; quite the contrary, we were praised. HUNGER“A system of isolation: Look out for number one. Your neighbor is neither your brother nor your lover. Your neighbor is a competitor, an enemy, an obstacle to clear or an object to use. The system feeds neither the body nor the heart: many are condemned to starve for lack of bread and many more for lack of embraces. ---------- For a number of years I was part of an improvisational dance group where a few dozen dancers, mostly strangers to one another, would arrive at a designated dance space on Friday nights and dance wildly, joyfully for hours, punctuated by many tender embraces. After one session someone asked me how we can actually get away with all this on Friday nights. Sorry to say, the filmmakers who make ultra-violent movies never have to ask how they can get away with making such films. TELEVISION“Television, that final light that saves you from loneliness and from the night, is reality. Because life is a show, the system promises those who behave themselves a comfortable seat.” ---------- When I was a boy growing up in a small house the television was always on at high volume, morning, noon and night. My only escape was going off to college -- my first taste of what in India is termed moksha, that is, release from the world of ordinary experience. It’s been nearly five decades since my escape and in all those years I’ve never watched another television show.
Picture of a book: La Casa de Bernarda Alba
books

La Casa de Bernarda Alba

Federico García Lorca
La casa de Bernarda Alba = The House of Bernarda Alba, Federico García Lorca The House of Bernarda Alba (Spanish: La casa de Bernarda Alba) is a play by the Spanish dramatist Federico García Lorca. Commentators have often grouped it with Blood Wedding and Yerma as a "rural trilogy". Lorca did not include it in his plan for a "trilogy of the Spanish land" (which remained unfinished at the time of his murder).Upon her second husband's death, domineering matriarch Bernarda Alba imposes an eight-year mourning period on her household in accordance with her family tradition. Bernarda has five daughters, aged between 20 and 39, whom she has controlled inexorably and prohibited from any form of relationship. The mourning period further isolates them and tension mounts within the household. After a mourning ritual at the family home, eldest daughter Angustias enters, having been absent while the guests were there. Bernarda fumes, assuming she had been listening to the men's conversation on the patio. Angustias inherited a large sum of money from her father, Bernarda's first husband, but Bernarda's second husband has left only small sums to his four daughters. Angustias' wealth attracts a young, attractive suitor from the village, Pepe el Romano. Her sisters are jealous, believing that it's unfair that plain, sickly Angustias should receive both the majority of the inheritance and the freedom to marry and escape their suffocating home environment. Youngest sister Adela, stricken with sudden spirit and jubilation after her father's funeral, defies her mother's orders and dons a green dress instead of remaining in mourning black. Her brief taste of youthful joy suddenly shatters when she discovers that Angustias will be marrying Pepe. Poncia, Bernarda's maid, advises Adela to bide her time: Angustias will probably die delivering her first child. Distressed, Adela threatens to run into the streets in her green dress, but her sisters manage to stop her. Suddenly they see Pepe coming down the street. She stays behind while her sisters rush to get a look, until a maid hints that she could get a better look from her bedroom window. As Poncia and Bernarda discuss the daughters' inheritances upstairs, Bernarda sees Angustias wearing makeup. Appalled that Angustias would defy her orders to remain in a state of mourning, Bernarda violently scrubs the makeup off her face. The other daughters enter, followed by Bernarda's elderly mother, Maria Josefa, who is usually locked away in her room. Maria Josefa announces that she wants to get married; she also warns Bernarda that she'll turn her daughters' hearts to dust if they cannot be free. Bernarda forces her back into her room. It turns out that Adela and Pepe are having a secret affair. Adela becomes increasingly volatile, defying her mother and quarreling with her sisters, particularly Martirio, who reveals her own feelings for Pepe. Adela shows the most horror when the family hears the latest gossip about how the townspeople recently tortured a young woman who had delivered and killed an illegitimate baby. Tension explodes as family members confront one another and Bernarda pursues Pepe with a gun. A gunshot is heard outside. Martirio and Bernarda return and imply that Pepe has been killed. Adela flees into another room. With Adela out of earshot, Martirio tells everyone else that Pepe actually fled on his pony. Bernarda remarks that as a woman she can't be blamed for poor aim. A shot is heard, immediately she calls for Adela, who has locked herself into a room. When Adela doesn't respond, Bernarda and Poncia force the door open. Soon Poncia's shriek is heard. She returns with her hands clasped around her neck and warns the family not to enter the room. Adela, not knowing that Pepe survived, has hanged herself. The closing lines of the play show Bernarda characteristically preoccupied with the family's reputation. She insists that Adela has died a virgin and demands that this be made known to the whole town. (The text implies that Adela and Pepe had an affair; Bernarda's moral code and pride keep this from registering). No one is to cry.تاریخ نخستین خوانش: روز نهم ماه مارس سال 1976 میلادیعنوان: خانه ی برناردا آلبا؛ نویسنده: فدریکو گارسیا لورکا؛ مترجم: ف‍ان‍وس‌ ب‍ه‍ادرون‍د؛ تهران، مینا، 1384، در 91 ص؛ شابک: 9646475701؛ موضوع: نمایشنامه های نویسندگان اسپانیایی - سده 20 ممترجم: محمود کیانوش؛ تهران، نشر قطره، 1388، در 103 ص؛ شابک: 978964643419509؛نمایشنامه را، در کتاب: سه نمایشنامه، اثر: لورکا، با ترجمه ی روانشاد: احمد شاملو، خوانده ام؛ لورکا این نمایشنامه را در عنوان فرعی اش درامای زنان در روستاهای اسپانیا توصیف کرده است. ا. شربیانی
Picture of a book: The Canterville Ghost
books

The Canterville Ghost

Oscar Wilde
The original Wilde Thing does it again...Seriously...how does one not love on Oscar Wilde when he's throwing down the snarky...in this case, and in proper British fashion, against cocky, adolescent-cultured Americans and their starched-lip, tradition-trapped English cousins? A bounty of clever from start to finish, Wilde's tale is charming, engaging and pitch-perfect. For a story less than 30 pages long, Wilde accomplishes so much, using scalpel-like precision in both his language and his plotting to tell a story with a little bit of everything. The funny is considerable, the sadness and softer emotions are amply represented, and the brilliance is ubiquitous throughout. My sole complaint is that I wish it were a bit longer, as I would have loved for Wilde to give himself more time with these people and this setting. PLOT SUMMARY:Briefly, since this is a short story…A family of flag-flaunting United Staters acquire an historic English mansion from the thoroughly prim, thoroughly British Lord Canterville. Throw in a murderous, aesthetically-minded ghost with a penchant for high drama and theater, and you have a classic, joy-inducing tale of clashing cultures, progress vs. tradition, and Wilde’s self-mockery of his own philosophy of decadent aestheticism. And….as an added bonus that few beyond Wilde could have accomplished in this setting, you also have subtler themes of a deeper nature running through the narrative, such as penance, forgiveness, and redemption. THOUGHTS:I am a Wilde enthusiast, though my knowledge of his work is limited to this piece and The Picture of Dorian Gray, both of which I have loved. His prose speaks to me and I find his comedic orientation and verbal bitchiness to be hand in glove with my own sense of humor. His timing and delivery make me smile, whether he's commenting on his countrymen as having "really everything in common with America nowadays except, of course, language” to the reciting the casual arrogance of Mr. Otis’s response when Lord Canterville tries to dissuade him from acquiring the haunted estate: \ I will take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. I have come from a modern country, where we have everything that money can buy; and with all our spry young fellows painting the Old World red, and carrying off your best actors and prima-donnas, I reckon that if there were such a thing as a ghost in Europe, we'd have it at home in a very short time in one of our public museums, or on the road as a show.\ Wilde’s humor is like a hammer wrapped in silk-covered down. It floats gracefully into your ear and then sucker punches you with its meaning. Here, Wilde even aims his high powered criticism at himself, as the ghost, Sir Simon, is a thinly veiled reflection of the author. Initially, we see Sir Simon, this artisitc spook with flair and panache, as a victim of the boorish Yankees who have invaded his haunt, and who are totally unmoved by any of his scare tactics. They apply stain remover to the recurring blood stains, oil his chains to avoid excessively rattling, and medicate his evil laugh after mistaking it for coughing. For them, he is simply a problem to solve. It seems our artist can't get a break, and Wilde has us sympathizing with the frustrated spectre. But Wilde slowly starts to show us that the ghost is far from innocent. We learn of his previous murders and his complete amorailty and self-centeredness. Wilde slowly closes the trap and we begin to see the truth behind the ghost's genteel facade. One line, in particular, that struck me was when he casually admitted to killed his wife because she "was very plain, never had my ruffs properly starched, and knew nothing about cookery.” It’s almost a throwaway line, but it really drove home for me the character of Sir Simon.Now don’t go thinking based on the above that this is really a serious tale. The humor is steady throughout and I was pretty much smiling from beginning to end reading Wilde's on target wit. \ ‘What a monstrous climate!’ said the American Minister, calmly, as he lit a long cheroot. ‘I guess the old country is so overpopulated that they have not enough decent weather for everybody.’\ It’s just that Wilde adds enough little splashes of depth, of emotion, to make the entire story more resonant and, ultimately, more enjoyable.\ ‘Yes, death. Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace.’\ You can't ask for better than that. I want to make one final comment about Wilde’s skill as it relates to his creative use of the setting. As you read the description of Canterville Chase, you see a litany of characteristics that paint it as the quintessential gothic mansion. Stone gargoyles, secret passageways, paintings of the previous Canterville residents, and even the stereotypical suit of armor as décor-enhancer. Throw in some dark wood and stained glass windows and you have a haunted house cliché that should be gloomy and positively oozing dread.But is it? Of course not…Wilde simply uses this benckmark so he can quickly and effectively turn it on its head. So…I loved this and I thought how Wilde took what started as a satire on the uncouthness of Americans and the stale traditionalism of the English, and turned it into something uplifting by marrying the best attributes of both was inspired. I just wish it had been longer and the story had had a little more time to breathe. I can’t wait to read more of his work. 4.5 stars. HIGHEST POSSIBLE RECOMMENDATION.
Picture of a book: Fungi from Yuggoth and Other Poems
books

Fungi from Yuggoth and Other Poems

Howard Phillips Lovecraft, (1890 - 1937) is in the top rank of American writers in the genre of the macabre. Since publication of The Outsider and Others in 1939, his work has been published in many parts of the world, widely anthologised, and filmed. His books include The Survivor and Others, The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath, The Doom That Came to Sarnath, Fungi from Yuggoth and Other Poems, The Tomb and Other Tales, At the Mountains of Madness, The Lurker at the Threshold (Lovecraft and Derleth) and The Lurking Fear. Lovecrat was born and lived most of his life in Providence, Rhode Island.1."Foreword", by August Derleth2."Providence"3."On a Grecian Colonnade in a Park"4."Old Christmas"5."New England Fallen"6."On a New England Village Seen by Moonlight"7."Astrophobos"8."Sunset"9."To Pan"10."A Summer Sunset and Evening"11."To Mistress Sophia Simple, Queen of the Cinema"12."A Year Off"13."Sir Thomas Tryout"14."Phaeton"15."August"16."Death"17."To a Youth"18."My Favorite Character"19."To Templeton and Mount Monadnock"20."The Poe-et's Nightmare"21."Lament for the Vanished Spider"22."Regnar Lodbrug's Epicedium"23."Little Sam Perkins"24."Drinking Song from the Tomb"25."The Ancient Track"26."The Eidolon"27."The Nightmare Lake"28."The Outpost"29."The Rutted Road"30."The Wood"31."The House"32."The City"33."Hallowe'en in a Suburb"34."Primavera"35."October"36."To a Dreamer"37."Despair"38."Nemesis"39."Yule Horror"40."To Mr. Finlay, Upon His Drawing for Mr. Bloch's Tale, 'The Faceless God'"41."Where Once Poe Walked"42."Christmas Greetings to Mrs. Phillips Gamwell—1925"43."Brick Row"44."The Messenger"45."To Klarkash-ton, Lord of Averoigne"46."Psychopompos"47."The Book"48."Pursuit"49."The Key"50."Recognition"51."Homecoming"52."The Lamp"53."Zaman's Hill"54."The Port"55."The Courtyard"56."The Pigeon-Flyers"57."The Well"58."The Howler"59."Hesperia"60."Star Winds"61."Antarkos"62."The Window"63."A Memory"64."The Gardens of Yin"65."The Bells"66."Night Gaunts"67."Nyarlathotep"68."Azathoth"69."Mirage"70."The Canal"71."St. Toad's"72."The Familiars"73."The Elder Pharos"74."Expectancy"75."Nostalgia"76."Background"77."The Dweller"78."Alienation"79."Harbour Whistles"80."Recapture"81."Evening Star"82. "Continuity"Cover Illustration: Gervasio Gallardo
Picture of a book: Berenice
books

Berenice

Edgar Allan Poe
Since there are a few dozen reviews already posted here, in the spirit of freshness I will compare Poe’s tale with a few other tales, each of these other tales picking up on a Berenice theme.OBSESSIONIn The Gaze by Jean Richepin, the narrator peers through the window of a cell at a madman, arms spread, head uplifted, transfixed by a point on a wall near the ceiling. The doctor-alienist relates to the narrator how this inmate is obsessed with the gaze of eyes from an artist’s portrait. “For there was something in that gaze, believe me, that could trouble not only the already-enfeebled brain of a man afflicted with general paralysis, but even a sound and solid mind.” Indeed, as it turns out, the doctor-alienist is, in his own way, obsessed with the eyes of the portrait. Obsession in this tale is clear-cut and unambiguous, the level-headed narrator encountering two different men obsessed by painterly eyes.TEETHToward the end of At the Death-Bed by Guy de Maupassant, a tale told by an old man reflecting back on an experience he has years ago when he and a friend sat in a room next to the chamber where lay the corpse of German pessimistic philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer. The old man relates how they both heard a sound and saw something white pass across the death bed and disappear under an armchair. Terrified, they moved to the chamber with the bed. We read, “Meanwhile my friend, who had taken the other candle, bent down. Then he touched my arm without a word. I followed his gaze and there, on the ground, under the armchair next to the bed, all white on the dark carpet, open as if ready to bite – Schopenhauer’s false teeth.” And the next sentence provides the explanation: “The rot setting in had loosened his jaws, and they has sprung from his mouth.” A horrifying experience for the old man, to be sure. But as powerful as his experience was, it had a completely rational explanation.SPLIT IDENTITYThe Double Soul by Jean Richepin is a straightforward tale about a sixteen year-old boy who witnesses his father’s death, a witnessing that causes him, psychologically, to live as two separate persons alternately. A doctor-alienist observing the young man in his sanitarium notes, “Undoubtedly, the duplication of personality manifested itself regularly, at two-year intervals: when the two years of one personality came to an end, the other was ready to come into play; between the two of them, one curious phenomenon was indispensable, a kind of mental trigger by which the first self-yielded its place to the second.” Richepin’s tale is fascinating but the fascination emerges from a telling where the disclosing of psychological facts is direct and unmistakable.Let’s now move to Poe’s tale, which is, in many respects, at the opposite end of the aesthetic spectrum from all three of the above. Rather than a straight-forward story told by a level-headed narrator, Poe’s tale-teller conveys how he has been sickly and morose and mentally unbalanced since childhood, which, of course, alerts us to question his reliability. And to add to the eeriness and the Gothic, the tale is told in the gloomy, gray book-lined chamber of the family mansion where the narrator was born and where his mother died. There is something suffocating and ghastly and unreal permeating the atmosphere. We read, “The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn, - not the material of my every-day existence but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.” In other words, for the narrator, his dream-world is his concrete reality.Dark and creepy is ratcheted up several notches as the narrator goes on to sketch how he and his cousin Berenice grew up together – he himself cloistered indoors in ill-health, Berenice rambling outdoors in energetic radiant health. Radiant health, that is, until Berenice is stricken by a debilitating illness the narrator describes as a kind of extreme epilepsy. Meanwhile, the narrator's own disease grows, a sickness and intensity of nerves he terms monomania, where he obsesses on objects or words for hours, for days and sometimes even weeks. We read how his obsession affects his perception of his cousin: “True to its own character, my disorder reveled in the less important but more startling changes wrought in the physical frame of Berenice – in the singular and most appalling distortions of her personal identity.”How does the narrator distort Berenice’s personal identity? Dark and creepy is ratcheted up yet again as the narrator further mixes his obsession with dream-visions of Bernice. We read, “The eyes were lifeless, and lusterless, and seemingly pupil-less, and I shrank involuntarily from their glassy stare to the contemplation of the thin and shrunken lips. They parted; and in a smile of peculiar meaning, the teeth of the changed Berenice disclosed themselves slowly to my view.” Ah, to have your lover’s teeth take on a life of their own in your obsessive, monomaniacal, twisted, morbid mind!I wouldn’t want to continue with quotes or relaying the details of Poe’s tale so as to possibly spoil the ending for readers. It is enough to point out that Poe didn’t stop here. There is ample evidence at the end of the tale that the narrator suffers from another disorder so extreme even he cannot face it squarely – that disorder being split identity or what in medical parlance is known as dissociative identity disorder (previously known as multiple personality disorder).Is it any wonder at the time of the tale’s publication in 1835 Poe’s critics and readers said the author went too far, that this Gothic tale was so ghastly and gruesome as to offend good taste? And I didn’t even touch on the possibility of Berenice being buried alive! Nearly two hundred years later this tale of horror can still raise the hairs on the back of a reader’s neck.*The quotes from the two Jean Richepin stories are from Crazy Corner translated by Brian Stableford and published by Black Coat Press. The quotes from Guy de Maupassant’s tale come from French Decadent Tales, translated by Stephen Romer and published by Oxford University Press.