Read the First Page of Thomas Pynchon’s New Novel, Bleeding Edge

Pynchon first page

Click the image for a larg­er view. And if it does­n’t get large enough, click it again…

Pyn­chon. What to say? An all-night marathon read­ing of Gravity’s Rain­bow changed my brain chem­istry. A cou­ple days locked in a room with V altered my real­i­ty for­ev­er. I read the first chap­ter of Mason & Dixon. Bought and for­got a copy of Against the Day. Scanned a review of Inher­ent Vice.

So maybe the lat­er Pyn­chon hasn’t grabbed me, or my leisure read­ing time has just evap­o­rat­ed. Or both. I’m sure I’m not alone in this. But now we’ve got anoth­er chance to gape at the reclu­sive paranoiac’s labyrinthine prose, since his new nov­el Bleed­ing Edge comes out Sep­tem­ber 17th. And pub­lish­er Pen­guin has thrown us a morsel—you can read the first page of Bleed­ing Edge (above), from Penguin’s Fall 2013 cat­a­log.

Described as a “his­tor­i­cal romance on New York in the ear­ly days of the inter­net,” Bleed­ing Edge takes place in a pre-lapser­ian 2001, “in the lull between the col­lapse of the dot-com boom and the ter­ri­ble events of Sep­tem­ber 11th.” The nov­el promis­es plen­ty of intrigue, dark humor, lay­ers of occult fore­bod­ing, “lamen­ta­tions about the ’60s coun­ter­cul­ture,” and “shady fascis­tic orga­ni­za­tions with futur­is­tic names.”

Read the full descrip­tion of Bleed­ing Edge at Gothamist.

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Wash­ing­ton, DC. Fol­low him @jdmagness

Flannery O’Connor Reads ‘Some Aspects of the Grotesque in Southern Fiction’ (c. 1960)

Here is a rare record­ing of Flan­nery O’Con­nor read­ing an ear­ly ver­sion of her wit­ty and reveal­ing essay, “Some Aspects of the Grotesque in South­ern Fic­tion.”

O’Con­nor gives an elo­quent out­line of her vision as both a South­ern and a Catholic writer. She defends her work against crit­ics who say it is high­ly unre­al­is­tic. “All nov­el­ists are fun­da­men­tal­ly seek­ers and describers of the real,” she says, “but the real­ism of each nov­el­ist will depend on his view of the ulti­mate reach­es of real­i­ty.” In the pub­lished ver­sion of the essay, she writes:

When­ev­er I’m asked why South­ern writ­ers par­tic­u­lar­ly have a pen­chant for writ­ing about freaks, I say it is because we are still able to rec­og­nize one. To be able to rec­og­nize a freak, you have to have some con­cep­tion of the whole man, and in the South the gen­er­al con­cep­tion of man is still, in the main, the­o­log­i­cal. That is a large state­ment, and it is dan­ger­ous to make it, for almost any­thing you say about South­ern belief can be denied in the next breath with equal pro­pri­ety. But approach­ing the sub­ject from the stand­point of the writer, I think it is safe to say that while the South is hard­ly Christ-cen­tered, it is most cer­tain­ly Christ-haunt­ed. The South­ern­er, who isn’t con­vinced of it, is very much afraid that he may have been formed in the image and like­ness of God. Ghosts can be very fierce and instruc­tive. They cast strange shad­ows, par­tic­u­lar­ly in our lit­er­a­ture. In any case, it is when the freak can be sensed as a fig­ure for our essen­tial dis­place­ment that he attains some depth in lit­er­a­ture.

This pas­sage can be heard, in dif­fer­ent form, begin­ning at the 3:40 mark in the record­ing. Like many of O’Con­nors essays, “Some Aspects of the Grotesque in South­ern Fic­tion” was writ­ten not for pub­li­ca­tion, but for pub­lic read­ing. She was known to rewrite and rearrange these pieces between read­ings. In this record­ing, O’Con­nor is using the piece as a prepara­to­ry state­ment for a read­ing of her clas­sic sto­ry, “A Good Man is Hard to Find.”

We don’t know the date of the record­ing, but the text dif­fers sig­nif­i­cant­ly from the posthu­mous­ly pub­lished ver­sion, so per­haps it is an ear­ly ver­sion. The ear­li­est extant record­ing of the essay that we know of was made on Octo­ber 28, 1960 for the Dorothy Lamar Blount Lec­ture Series at Wes­leyan Col­lege in Macon, Geor­gia. There is also known to be a record­ing of O’Con­nor read­ing the piece on Novem­ber 16, 1962 at East Texas State Uni­ver­si­ty.

To com­pare the record­ed ver­sion to the one even­tu­al­ly pub­lished in Mys­tery and Man­ners: Occa­sion­al Prose, you can click here to open the essay in a new win­dow.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Rare 1959 Audio: Flan­nery O’Connor Reads ‘A Good Man is Hard to Find’

Hear Flan­nery O’Connor’s Short Sto­ry, “Rev­e­la­tion,” Read by Leg­endary His­to­ri­an & Radio Host, Studs Terkel

Flan­nery O’Connor’s “Every­thing That Ris­es Must Con­verge” Read by Estelle Par­sons

83 Years of Great Gatsby Book Cover Designs: A Photo Gallery

great gatsby cover designsEvery­body is famil­iar with Fran­cis Cugat’s orig­i­nal cov­er art for The Great Gats­by. It famous­ly gives expres­sion to lines from Fitzger­ald’s clas­sic work — lines that talk about Daisy Buchanan as the “girl whose dis­em­bod­ied face float­ed along the dark cor­nices and blind­ing signs.” Accord­ing to Charles Scrib­n­er III, the orig­i­nal pub­lish­er, Cugat cre­at­ed the design while Fitzger­ald was still writ­ing the nov­el, and when Fitzger­ald saw the dis­em­bod­ied face, he could­n’t resist writ­ing the imagery into the book. Scrib­n­er quotes the author as say­ing, “For Christ’s sake, dont give any­one that jack­et youre sav­ing for me. Ive writ­ten it into the book.”

Today, Cugat’s orig­i­nal book jack­et fetch­es more at auc­tion than a first edi­tion of the nov­el itself. And even though many oth­er artists have tak­en a crack at design­ing cov­ers for The Great Gats­by, none holds a can­dle to Cugat’s 1925 design. Just take a look at this pho­to gallery at The New York Times. (Click on each cov­er to see them in a larg­er for­mat.)

The Gats­by book cov­ers all cur­rent­ly reside at the Uni­ver­si­ty of South Car­oli­na, which hous­es oth­er items that Fitzger­ald held near and dear to him — like his copy of Joyce’s Ulysses, his leather brief­caseflask, and more. You can also find orig­i­nal dust jack­ets for Fitzger­ald’s oth­er nov­els on the SC web site, includ­ing Ten­der is the Night, This Side of Par­adise, and The Last Tycoon.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Only Known Footage of the 1926 Film Adap­ta­tion of The Great Gats­by (Which F. Scott Fitzger­ald Hat­ed)

Sev­en Tips From F. Scott Fitzger­ald on How to Write Fic­tion

Loli­ta Book Cov­ers: 100+ Designs From 37 Coun­tries (Plus Nabokov’s Favorite Design)

Jack Kerouac’s Hand-Drawn Cov­er for On the Road

Find The Great Gats­by in our Free eBooks col­lec­tion

Find the Yale Course “Hem­ing­way, Fitzger­ald, Faulkn­er” in our Col­lec­tion of 700 Free Online Cours­es

Patti Smith Shares William S. Burroughs’ Advice for Writers and Artists

Would you take advice from William S Bur­roughs? What if it were fil­tered through the human­is­tic sen­si­bil­i­ties of Pat­ti Smith? Address­ing the crowd at last sum­mer’s Louisiana Lit­er­a­ture Fes­ti­val at the Louisiana Muse­um of Mod­ern Art, the punk poet­ess shared some good coun­sel laid on her in her youth by the Beat­’s high­est priest. Build a good name, he told her, and make sure every­thing you cre­ate stays true to it, until even­tu­al­ly that name becomes its own cur­ren­cy.

It cer­tain­ly worked out well for her, though Smith is quick to give solace to those toil­ing in obscu­ri­ty.  It’s con­ceiv­able that one as relent­less­ly cre­ative as she would occa­sion­al­ly feel the sting of indif­fer­ence. It’s also wel­come when some­one in her posi­tion acknowl­edges how fan­tas­tic it is to have one’s work embraced by the peo­ple. (And she’s got a choice snarl for the knee jerks who equate pop­u­lar­i­ty with sell­ing out.)

An old soul from the out­set, the sea­soned Smith has teen spir­it to spare when it comes to the democ­ra­tiz­ing pos­si­bil­i­ties of the Inter­net. It’s here, she pre­dicts, that those with the met­tle to keep at their cre­ative work will find the recog­ni­tion their good names deserve.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day does­n’t brush her hair much either. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Pat­ti Smith Read from Vir­ginia Woolf, and Hear the Only Sur­viv­ing Record­ing of Woolf’s Voice

Pat­ti Smith’s Cov­er of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spir­it” Strips the Song Down to its Heart

William S. Bur­roughs’ “The Thanks­giv­ing Prayer,” Shot by Gus Van Sant

Charles Bukows­ki: Depres­sion and Three Days in Bed Can Restore Your Cre­ative Juices (NSFW)

A View From the Room Where Melville Wrote Moby Dick (Plus a Free Celebrity Reading of the Novel)

melville roomIt’s in Pitts­field, Mass­a­chu­setts, right in the midst of the Berk­shires. Need­less to say, not a drop of water in sight.

Now that I’ve got your atten­tion, let me give you an update on The Moby Dick Big Read project. Since we high­light­ed the project last fall, all 135 chap­ters of the great Amer­i­can nov­el have been read by celebri­ties like Til­da Swin­ton, Stephen Fry, Mary Oliv­er, and Simon Cal­low. And now the com­plete set of audio record­ings are online and ready for free down­load. Get them here:  iTunesSound­cloudRSS Feed, or the Big Read web site itself.

We start you off with Tilda’s read­ing of Chap­ter 1 right below.

Pho­to above comes to us via @stevesilberman

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Ernest Hemingway Appears on Cuban TV in 1954; Talks About Winning The Nobel Prize

Ernest Hem­ing­way lived in Cuba much longer than he lived in Paris or Key West. From 1939 until 1960–the year before his death–he lived on a farm out­side Havana, in the vil­lage of San Fran­cis­co de Paula, called Fin­ca Vigía, or “Look­out Farm.”

It was not the most fruit­ful peri­od of Hem­ing­way’s life as a writer. His 1950 nov­el, Across the Riv­er and Into the Trees, was sav­aged by the crit­ics, and many were begin­ning to think he was fin­ished. But in 1952 Hem­ing­way came roar­ing back with The Old Man and the Sea, set in Cuba, an ele­men­tal sto­ry of a lone­ly old fish­er­man’s strug­gle to catch a big fish and bring it back to shore through shark-infest­ed waters. With The Old Man and the Sea, William Faulkn­er said, Hem­ing­way had found God. “Time may show it to be the best sin­gle piece of any of us,” said Faulkn­er,” I mean his and my con­tem­po­raries.”

In 1953 the nov­el was award­ed the Pulitzer Prize, and in 1954 Hem­ing­way received the Nobel Prize in Fic­tion. Short­ly after­ward he was vis­it­ed at the Fin­ca Vigía by reporter Juan Manuel Martínez and a cam­era­man from the Cuban tele­vi­sion net­work CMQ. In a mix­ture of Castil­ian Span­ish and Cuban ver­nac­u­lar, Hem­ing­way tells Martínez that he is over­joyed at being the first Cubano sato, or “half-breed Cuban” to receive a Nobel Prize. “The use of the adjec­tive ‘sato’ by Ernest Hem­ing­way shows he had a deep rela­tion­ship with ordi­nary Cubans,” writes Guiomar Vene­gas Del­ga­do in a 2009 arti­cle in enVi­vo, the jour­nal of Cuban radio and tele­vi­sion, “and that as an artist he knew to lis­ten and assim­i­late their idioms and slang.”

To hear Ernest Hem­ing­way read his 1954 Nobel Prize accep­tance speech from Cuba, see our July 2011 post, “Remem­ber­ing Ernest Hem­ing­way, Fifty Years After His Death.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sev­en Tips From Ernest Hem­ing­way on How to Write Fic­tion

Ernest Hem­ing­way Reads “In Harry’s Bar in Venice”

James Joyce in Paris: “Deal With Him, Hem­ing­way!”

The Only Known Footage of the 1926 Film Adaptation of The Great Gatsby (Which F. Scott Fitzgerald Hated)

Every­one’s get­ting ready for the release of The Great Gats­by, the new film adap­ta­tion of F. Scott Fitzger­ald’s 1925 clas­sic nov­el. Direct­ed by Baz Luhrmann, this ver­sion stars Leonar­do DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire, Carey Mul­li­gan, Isla Fish­er and oth­ers. It has been shot in 3D.

Undoubt­ed­ly, crit­ics will be quick to com­pare the 2013 adap­ta­tion to the 1974 pro­duc­tion, which had its own strengths — a screen­play writ­ten by Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la and Vladimir Nabokov for starters. And then a cast with Robert Red­ford, Mia Far­row, and Sam Water­ston in star­ring roles. See the orig­i­nal trail­er above.

Few­er com­par­isons will be made to the less star-stud­ded adap­ta­tion of 1949, which came into the­aters and then fell into deep obscu­ri­ty. And nary a word will be said about how Luhrman­n’s film stacks up against the first appear­ance of The Great Gats­by on cel­lu­loid. That’s because the 1926 silent film has­n’t been seen in decades. It’s sim­ply lost. All that remains of the orig­i­nal 80 minute film is the one minute trail­er above. And the ghost of F. Scott Fitzger­ald isn’t com­plain­ing. Accord­ing to Anne Mar­garet Daniel’s post in Huff­Po, when Scott and Zel­da saw the film in Hol­ly­wood, they gave the Para­mount pro­duc­tion one big thumbs down. (That’s for you Roger.) Zel­da wrote in a let­ter: “We saw ‘The Great Gats­by’ in the movies. It’s ROTTEN and awful and ter­ri­ble and we left.” Hem­ing­way could­n’t have said it bet­ter.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sev­en Tips From F. Scott Fitzger­ald on How to Write Fic­tion

Rare Footage of Scott and Zel­da Fitzger­ald From the 1920s

F. Scott Fitzger­ald in Drag (1916)

Find The Great Gats­by in our Free eBooks Col­lec­tion

90 Silent Films in Col­lec­tion of Free Movies Online

Borges: Profile of a Writer Presents the Life and Writings of Argentina’s Favorite Son, Jorge Luis Borges

“Al otro, a Borges, es a quien le ocur­ren las cosas,” begins the very short sto­ry “Borges y yo”. That trans­lates to “It’s to the oth­er man, to Borges, that things hap­pen” in Eng­lish. The tale’s author, Jorge Luis Borges, lived his life between Eng­lish and his native Span­ish, just as he lived between his pub­lic and pri­vate per­sonas. No sur­prise, then, that his writ­ing gen­er­ates so much ener­gy from mat­ters of iden­ti­ty, lan­guage, and thought, and thus makes you want to learn more about the mind behind it. Here at Open Cul­ture, we par­tic­u­lar­ly enjoy doing our learn­ing through Are­na, the BBC’s intel­lec­tu­al­ly omniv­o­rous and artis­ti­cal­ly lib­er­at­ed tele­vi­sion doc­u­men­tary series. The 1983 broad­cast above, takes as its sub­ject the imag­i­na­tive Argen­tine mas­ter of the short sto­ry. The show has always done well by what we might call cult writ­ers (see also its episode on the no less imag­i­na­tive Philip K. Dick), and the cult of Borges now seems broad­er and more enthu­si­as­tic than ever. If you count your­self as a mem­ber, this episode “Borges and I” makes for required view­ing.

Sit­ting down with Are­na, the elder­ly Borges speaks with­out hes­i­ta­tion on his rela­tion­ship to lan­guage, his dis­cov­ery of his own lim­i­ta­tions as a writer, the regimes that have ruled his home­land, his pro­fes­sion­al life spent at libraries (includ­ing his time as direc­tor of Argenti­na’s Bib­liote­ca Nacional), and his accel­er­at­ing blind­ness. We see scenes of life in Borges’ beloved Buenos Aires. We see the writer step­ping care­ful­ly through the city streets, cane in one hand, feel­ing the build­ings with the oth­er. We see, per­haps most fas­ci­nat­ing­ly of all, dra­ma­tized pas­sages of Borges’ most famous sto­ries: “Funes the Mem­o­ri­ous”, about a peas­ant con­demned to remem­ber every­thing per­fect­ly, los­ing his abil­i­ty to gen­er­al­ize, and thus to think; “The Cir­cu­lar Ruins”, about a man attempt­ing to dream anoth­er human being into exis­tence, detail by minute detail; “Death and the Com­pass”, about a detec­tive who either acci­den­tal­ly or delib­er­ate­ly walks straight into a vil­lain’s elab­o­rate, tetra­gram­ma­ton-based trap. Borges’ fans tend to think of his sto­ries as thor­ough­ly wrapped up in, and insep­a­ra­ble from, the text that con­sti­tute them, but some of these seg­ments con­vince me that, as movies, they would­n’t turn out half-bad.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jorge Luis Borges’ 1967–8 Nor­ton Lec­tures On Poet­ry (And Every­thing Else Lit­er­ary)

Borges: The Task of Art

Jorge Luis Borges: The Mir­ror Man

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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