Jorge Luis Borges’ Favorite Short Stories (Read 7 Free Online)

Image by Grete Stern via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In Jorge Luis Borges’ short sto­ry “The Library of Babel,” the tit­u­lar library con­tains “all that it is giv­en to express, in all lan­guages”:

Every­thing: the minute­ly detailed his­to­ry of the future, the archangels’ auto­bi­ogra­phies, the faith­ful cat­a­logue of the Library, thou­sands and thou­sands of false cat­a­logues… the trans­la­tion of every book in all lan­guages, the inter­po­la­tions of every book in all books.

As well as an iron­ic alle­gor­i­cal take on the New­ton­ian notion of the uni­verse as leg­i­ble and orga­nized, Borges’ sto­ry enacts his expe­ri­ence of a life lived almost entire­ly inside lit­er­a­ture as one of the most eru­dite writ­ers, essay­ists, and librar­i­ans of all time. Borges was not only intim­i­dat­ing­ly wide­ly-read, but his crit­i­cal opin­ions were noto­ri­ous­ly idio­syn­crat­ic and con­trar­i­an. He pre­ferred the obscure to the wide­ly cel­e­brat­ed, cas­ti­gat­ing, for exam­ple, admir­ers of Baude­laire as “imbe­ciles” (accord­ing to his long­time friend and biog­ra­ph­er Adol­fo Bioy Casares) while pro­fess­ing his own admi­ra­tion for Baudelaire’s one­time friend, the morose and unpleas­ant zeal­ous Catholic con­vert Leon Bloy.

But in addi­tion to his pen­chant for writ­ers no one reads, Borges also loved more pop­ulist writ­ers like G.K. Chester­ton and Rud­yard Kipling and had the canons of sev­er­al Euro­pean lit­er­a­tures mem­o­rized, not to men­tion the labyrinthine works of sev­er­al medieval Catholic philoso­phers and all of Spin­oza. In short, his tastes were unpre­dictable and entire­ly his own, untaint­ed by any ges­tures toward fash­ion or pub­lic sen­ti­ment. And that is why he is an excel­lent guide to the genre of writ­ing that his name has become asso­ci­at­ed with more than any oth­er: that of spec­u­la­tive fic­tion or “fan­tas­tic tales.” In 1979, Borges edit­ed a col­lec­tion of such writ­ing, in 33 vol­umes, in Span­ish (though per­haps orig­i­nal­ly in Ital­ian). Each vol­ume is devot­ed to a selec­tion of works from a sin­gle author (includ­ing Borges him­self, vol­ume 2) or to a geo­graph­i­cal dis­tri­b­u­tion, such as “Russ­ian Tales” (vol­ume 29) and “Argen­tin­ian Tales” (vol­ume 30).

In a 2009 piece for The Rum­pus, Grant Mon­roe details his attempt to track down the con­tents of this mas­sive anthol­o­gy, called, after Borges’ sto­ry, The Library of Babel. While the col­lec­tion is con­sid­er­ably less impen­e­tra­ble, “indef­i­nite and per­haps infi­nite” than the library-world of his famous sto­ry, it is nonethe­less daunt­ing, and one could get lost in its cor­ri­dors for sev­er­al months. Below, you can find a list of sev­en select­ed stories—with links to online versions—very rough­ly rep­re­sen­ta­tive of the breadth and strange depths of Borges’ cura­to­r­i­al imag­i­na­tion. Then see the full con­tents of The Library of Babel anthol­o­gy below the jump.

1. Auguste Vil­liers de l’Isle-Adam, “A Tor­ture by Hope

A con­tem­po­rary and friend of Borges’ detest­ed Baude­laire, Vil­liers de l’Isle-Adam was just the kind of down-at-heel aris­to­crat­ic roué whom every­one imag­ines when think­ing of French sym­bol­ist poet­ry. Great­ly influ­enced by Poe, his Cru­el Tales, from which the sto­ry above comes, is a col­lec­tion of most­ly mys­ti­cal sto­ries.

2. Pu Songling, “The Tiger Guest

This 17th cen­tu­ry Chi­nese writer was much-beloved by Borges, and his influ­ence on the latter’s work is patent­ly evi­dent from a cur­so­ry scan of the titles in Pu’s col­lec­tion, Strange Sto­ries from a Chi­nese Stu­dio.

3. Charles Hin­ton, “A Plane World

Hin­ton, a British math­e­mati­cian and sci-fi writer who was much inter­est­ed in the fourth dimen­sion and who coined the word “tesser­act,” wrote spec­u­la­tive fic­tion deeply informed by physics and math­e­mat­ics, often com­plete with dia­grams, as in the above short work, one of nine pam­phlets pub­lished as Sci­en­tif­ic Romances.  Hin­ton is men­tioned in at least two of Borges’ sto­ries.

4. Fyo­dor Dos­to­evsky, “The Croc­o­dile: An Extra­or­di­nary Inci­dent

One does not gen­er­al­ly think of Dos­to­evsky as a writer of “fan­tas­tic tales,” nor, for that mat­ter, of short fic­tion. But Borges includes this lit­tle-known short in his vol­ume of Russ­ian Tales.

5. Arthur Machen, The Shin­ing Pyra­mid

Briefly asso­ci­at­ed with British occultists like A.E. Waite and exert­ing a great deal of influ­ence on Aleis­ter Crow­ley, H.P. Love­craft, and gen­er­a­tions of genre writ­ers, Welsh writer Arthur Machen was also a favorite of Borges.

6. Voltaire, “Micromegas

Every­one is famil­iar with Voltaire the philoso­pher and satirist, but few know of his con­tri­bu­tion to the devel­op­ment of sci­ence fic­tion with his sev­en-part sto­ry “Micromegas,” the tale of a 20,000 foot tall alien ban­ished from his world for heresy.

7. Leopol­do Lugones, “Yzur

This Argen­tin­ian writer was a major influ­ence on Borges. Although he receives his own edit­ed vol­ume in the anthol­o­gy (vol­ume 19), this sto­ry appears in vol­ume 30, “Argen­tin­ian Tales.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

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

Two Draw­ings by Jorge Luis Borges Illus­trate the Author’s Obses­sions

18 (Free) Books Ernest Hem­ing­way Wished He Could Read Again for the First Time      

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

List via The Rum­pus

The Library of Babel

1. Jack Lon­don, The Con­cen­tric Deaths

“The Min­ions of Midas”

“The Shad­ow and the Flash”

“Lost Face”

“The House of Mapuhi”

“The Law of Life”

 

2. Jorge Luis Borges, August 26, 1983

“August 26, 1983″

“The Rose of Per­acel­sus”

“Blue Tigers”

“Shakespeare’s Mem­o­ry”

An Inter­view with Borges, with Maria Esther Vasquez

A Chronol­o­gy of J.L. Borges’ Life, from Siru­ela Mag­a­zine

The Ruler and Labyrinth: An Approx­i­ma­tion of J.L Borges’ Bib­li­og­ra­phy, by Fer­nan­dez Fer­rer

 

3.  Gus­tav Meyrink, Car­di­nal Napel­lus

“Der Kar­di­nal Napel­lus”

“J.H. Obere­its Besuch bei den Zeit­egeln”

“Der Vier Mond­brüder”

 

4.  Léon Bloy, Dis­agree­able Tales

“La Taie d’Argent”

“Les Cap­tifs de Longjumeau”

“Une Idée Médiocre”

“Une Mar­tyre”

“La Plus Belle Trou­vaille de Caïn”

“On n’est pas Par­fait”

“La Reli­gion de M. Pleur”

“Ter­ri­ble Châ­ti­ment d’un Den­tiste”

“La Tisane”

“Tout Ce Que Tu Voudras!”

“La Dernière Cuite”

“Le Vieux de la Mai­son”

 

5.  Gio­van­ni Pap­i­ni, The Mir­ror That Fled

“Il Giorno Non Resti­tu­ito”

“Due Immag­i­ni in una Vas­ca”

“Lo Spec­chio che Fugge”

“Sto­ria Com­ple­ta­mente Assur­da”

“Il Men­di­cante di Ani­me”

“Una Morte Men­tale”

“Non Voglio Più Essere Ciò che Sono”

“Chi Sei?”

“Il Sui­ci­da Sos­ti­tu­to”

“L’ultima Visi­ta del Gen­tilu­o­mo Mala­to”

 

6.  Oscar Wilde, Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime

“Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime”

“The Can­ter­ville Ghost”

“The Self­ish Giant”

“The Hap­py Prince”

“The Nightin­gale and the Rose”

 

7.  Vil­liers de L’Isle-Adam, El Con­vi­da­do de las Últi­mas Fes­ti­vas

“L’Aventure de Tsé-i-la”

“Le Con­vive des Dernières Fêtes”

“A Tor­ture By Hope”

“La Reine Ysabeau”

“Som­bre Réc­it Con­teur Plus Som­bre”

“L’Enjeu”

“Véra”

 

8.  Pedro Anto­nio de Alar­cón, El Ami­go de la Muerte

“El Ami­go de la Muerte” [or “The Strange Friend of Tito Gil”]

“The Tall Woman”

 

9.  Her­man Melville, Bartle­by the Scriven­er

“Bartle­by, the Scriven­er: A Sto­ry of Wall-Street”

 

10.  William Beck­ford, Vathek

Vathek, a novel­la.

 

11.  H.G. Wells, The Door in the Wall

“The Plat­tner Sto­ry”

“The Sto­ry of Late Mr. Elve­sham”

“The Crys­tal Egg”

“The Coun­try of the Blind”

“The Door in the Wall”

 

12.  Pu Songling, The Tiger Guest

“The Bud­dhist Priest of Ch’ang-Ch’ing”

“In the Infer­nal Regions”

“The Mag­ic Mir­ror”

“A Super­nat­ur­al Wife”

“Exam­i­na­tion for the Post of Guardian Angel”

“The Man Who Was Changed into a Crow”

“The Tiger Guest”

“Judge Lu”

“The Paint­ed Skin”

“The Stream of Cash”

“The Invis­i­ble Priest”

“The Mag­ic Path”

“The Wolf Dream”

“Dream­ing Hon­ors”

“The Tiger of Chao-Ch’ëng”

“Tak­ing Revenge”

 

13.  Arthur Machen, The Shin­ing Pyra­mid

“The Nov­el of the Black Seal”

“The Nov­el of the White Pow­der”

“The Shin­ing Pyra­mid”

 

14.  Robert Louis Steven­son, The Isle of Voic­es

“The Bot­tle Imp”

“The Isle of Voic­es”

“Thrawn Janet”

“Markheim”

 

15.  G.K. Chester­ton, The Eye of Apol­lo

“The Duel of Dr Hirsch”

“The Queer Feet”

“The Hon­or of Israel Gow”

“The Eye of Apol­lo”

“The Three Horse­men of the Apoc­a­lypse”

 

16.  Jacques Cazotte, The Dev­il in Love

The Dev­il in Love, a novel­la.

“Jacquez Cazotte,” an essay by Ger­ard de Ner­val

 

17.  Franz Kaf­ka, The Vul­ture

“The Hunger Artist”

“First Sor­row” [or “The Trapeze Artist”]

“The Vul­ture”

“A Com­mon Con­fu­sion”

“Jack­als and Arabs”

“The Great Wall of Chi­na”

“The City Coat of Arms”

“A Report to the Acad­e­my”

“Eleven Sons”

“Prometheus”

 

18.  Edgar Allan Poe, The Pur­loined Let­ter

“The Pur­loined Let­ter”

“Ms. Found in a Bot­tle”

“The Facts in the Case of M. Valde­mar”

“The Man in the Crowd”

“The Pit and the Pen­du­lum”

 

19.  Leopol­do Lugones, The Pil­lar of Salt

“The Pil­lar of Salt”

“Grand­moth­er Juli­eta”

“The Hors­es of Abdera”

“An Inex­plic­a­ble Phe­nom­e­non”

“Francesca”

“Rain of Fire: An Account of the Immo­la­tion of Gomor­ra”

 

20.  Rud­yard Kipling, The Wish House

“The Wish House”

“A Sahib’s War”

“The Gar­den­er”

“The Madon­na of the Trench­es”

“The Eye of Allah”

 

21.  The Thou­sand and One Nights, Accord­ing to Gal­land

“Abdu­la, the Blind Beg­gar”

“Alladin’s Lamp”

 

22.  The Thou­sand and One Nights, Accord­ing to Bur­ton

“King Sin­bad and His Fal­con”

“The Adven­tures of Bul­ulkia”

“The City of Brass”

“Tale of the Queen and the Ser­pent”

“Tale of the Hus­band and the Par­rot”

“Tale of the Jew­ish Doc­tor”

“Tale of the Ensor­celled Prince”

“Tale of the Prince and the Ogres”

“Tale of the Wiz­ir and the Wise Duban”

“The Fish­er­man and the Genii”

 

23.  Hen­ry James, The Friends of the Friends

“The Friends of the Friends”

“The Abase­ment of the North­mores”

“Owen Wingrave”

“The Pri­vate Life”

 

24.  Voltaire, Micromegas

“The Black and the White”

“The Two Con­forters”

“The His­to­ry of the Trav­els of Scara­men­ta­do”

“Mem­non the Philoso­pher”

“Micromegas”

“The Princess of Baby­lon”

 

25.  Charles Hin­ton, Sci­en­tif­ic Romances

“A Plane World”

“What is the Fourth Dimen­sion?”

“The Per­sian King”

 

26.  Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Great Stone Face

“Mr. Higginbotham’s Cat­a­stro­phe”

“The Great Stone Face”

“Earth’s Holo­caust”

“The Minister’s Black Veil”

“Wake­field”

 

27.  Lord Dun­sany, The Coun­try of Yann

“Where the Tides Ebb and Flow”

“The Sword and the Idol”

“Car­cas­sonne”

“Idle Days on the Yann”

“The Field”

“The Beg­gars”

“The Bureau d’Echange de Maux”

“A Night at an Inn”

 

28.  Saki, The Ret­i­cence of Lady Anne

“The Sto­ry-Teller”

“The Lum­ber Room”

“Gabriel-Ernest”

“Tober­mory”

“The Back­ground” [trans­lat­ed as “El Mar­co” (or “The Frame”)]

“The Unrest Cure”

“The Inter­lop­ers”

“Quail Seed”

“The Peace of Mowsle Bar­ton”

“The Open Win­dow”

“The Ret­i­cence of Lady Anne”

“Sred­ni Vashtar”

 

29.  Russ­ian Tales

“Lazarus”, Leonid Andreyev

“The Croc­o­dile”, Fydor Doesto­evsky

“The Death of Ivan Illitch”, Leo Tol­stoy

 

30.  Argen­tinean Tales

“El Cala­mar Opta por su Tin­ta,” Adol­fo Bioy Casares

“Yzur,” Leopol­do Lugones [See above.]

“A House Tak­en Over”, Julio Cor­tazar

“La Galera,” Manuel Muji­ca Láinez

“Los Objec­tos,” Silv­ina D’a­cam­po

“El Pro­fe­sor de Aje­drez,” Fed­eri­co Peltzer

“Pudo Haberme Ocur­ri­do,” Manuel Pey­rou

“El Elegi­do,” Maria Esther Vasquez

 

31.  J.L. Borges and Adol­fo Bioy Casares, New Sto­ries of H. Bus­tos Domecq

 

32.  The Book of Dreams (A Col­lec­tion of Recount­ed Dreams)

List of Authors: Fran­cis­co de Queve­do y Vil­le­gas, Alexan­dra David-Néel, Alfon­so X, Alfred de Vigny, Aloy­sius Bertrand, Anto­nio Macha­do, Bern­abé Cobo, D. F. Sarmien­to, Eliseo Díaz, Fran­cis­co Aceve­do, François Rabelais, Franz Kaf­ka, Friedrich Niet­zsche, Gastón Padil­la, Giuseppe Ungaret­ti, Got­tfried Keller, H. Desvi­gnes Doolit­tle, Her­bert Allen Giles, Herodotus, H. Gar­ro, Horace, Ibrahim Zahim [Ibrahim Bin Adham], James G. Fraz­er, Jorge Alber­to Fer­ran­do, Jorge Luis Borges, José Fer­rater Mora, José María Eça de Queiroz, Joseph Addi­son, Juan José Arreo­la, Lewis Car­roll, Lao Tzu, Louis Aragon, Lui­gi Piran­del­lo, Luis de Gón­go­ra, Mircea Eli­ade, Moham­mad Mossadegh, Nemer ibn el Barud [no Wiki entry; see Ama­zon com­ment field], O. Hen­ry, Otto von Bis­mar­ck, Paul Grous­sac, Pla­to, Plutarch, Rab­bi Nis­sim ben Reuven, Ray­mond de Beck­er,  Roder­i­cus Bar­tius, Roy Bartholomew, Samuel Tay­lor Coleridge, Sebastián de Covar­ru­bias Oroz­co, Thorn­ton Wilder, Lucretius, Tsao Hsue Kin [Cao Xue­qin], Ward Hill Lam­on, William But­ler Yeats, Wu Cheng’en, Gio­van­ni Pap­i­ni, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Charles Baude­laire

 

33.  Borges A to Z (A Com­pi­la­tion)

(Con­tents unknown.)

The Pleasure Garden, Alfred Hitchcock’s Very First Feature Film (1925)

Last week, we fea­tured Sight & Sound mag­a­zine’s last crit­ics poll, in which Alfred Hitch­cock­’s Ver­ti­go unseat­ed the long­time cham­pi­on, Orson Welles’ Cit­i­zen Kane. The lat­ter famous­ly appeared as Welles’ debut, released in 1941, just days before the direc­tor and star attained the ripe old age of 26. Ver­ti­go, by con­trast, rep­re­sents the work of a mature film­mak­er; when it came out in 1958, its 59-year-old direc­tor had 46 pre­vi­ous pic­tures under his belt. Today, let’s go back to the first of those, to a Hitch­cock film far less wide­ly seen — though of no less inter­est to Hitch­cock enthu­si­asts — than the San Fran­cis­co tale of the trou­bled Scot­tie Fer­gu­son and elu­sive Madeleine Elster: 1925’s The Plea­sure Gar­den, view­able free in full at the top of this post. This silent adap­ta­tion of an Oliv­er Sandys nov­el, a British pro­duc­tion meant to show­case Amer­i­can star Vir­ginia Val­li, plunges into the roman­ti­cal­ly tur­bu­lent milieu of Lon­don cho­rus girls.

It takes that plunge by open­ing with a sequence crit­ic Dave Kehr calls “a clip reel of Hitch­cock motifs to come.” Clear­ly the 26-year-old Hitch­cock arrived with his skills and sen­si­bil­i­ties in place, but when he took on this project in 1925, he’d already had a bad expe­ri­ence in the film indus­try: 1922’s abort­ed Num­ber 13 would have giv­en him his first direc­to­r­i­al cred­it, but that pro­duc­tion ran out of mon­ey when pho­tog­ra­phy had only just begun.

The Plea­sure Gar­den itself would­n’t get pub­licly screened until 1927, after Hitch­cock had already had some suc­cess with his third fea­ture The Lodger. But the pic­ture that will always remain his first has accrued a good deal of respect over the past 86 years, and it received a BFI restora­tion this year. If you can’t find a show­ing of the restora­tion yet, watch the ear­li­er ver­sion right here. You can also watch the trail­er for the restora­tion here.

You will find oth­er great films in our col­lec­tion of Free Hitch­cock Movies Online, as well as in our larg­er col­lec­tion 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Very First Films: Three Short Doc­u­men­taries

The 10 Great­est Films of All Time Accord­ing to 846 Film Crit­ics

Watch 25 Alfred Hitch­cock Trail­ers, Excit­ing Films in Their Own Right

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 Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Student Poses as Professor, Kicks Off Chemistry Class at University of Rochester With a Prank

Patrick Adel­man is a stu­dent at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Rochester pur­su­ing degrees in math­e­mat­ics and polit­i­cal sci­ence. He’s also, accord­ing to his LinkedIn pro­file, a mem­ber of the Cham­ber Boys, the uni­ver­si­ty’s radio com­e­dy group. And, oh yes, a pro­duc­tion intern at the Howard Stern show. That’s prob­a­bly all the set up you need to see what hap­pened in Dr. Ben­jamin Hafen­stein­er’s Chem­istry 131 class last week. Enjoy the rest of the week­end.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The Ele­ments: Tom Lehrer Recites Chem­i­cal Ele­ments to the Tune of Gilbert & Sul­li­van

The Thanks­giv­ing Math Lec­ture: Real Meets Vir­tu­al

Pro­fes­sor Ronald Mal­lett Wants to Build a Time Machine in this Cen­tu­ry … and He’s Not Kid­ding

Free Online Chem­istry Cours­es from Great Uni­ver­si­ties

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96-Year-Old Writes Song for Dearly Departed Wife, Becomes Oldest Artist on Billboard’s Top 100

When a  96-year-old man becomes a social media sen­sa­tion, it’s usu­al­ly not too hard to see why.

Fred Sto­baugh, the gent fea­tured above, ran across a call for entries for Green Shoe Stu­dio’s Singer Song­writer Con­test and used it as an excuse to write a love song for his wife, Lor­raine. That’s plen­ty sweet, espe­cial­ly when one does the math—Fred and Lor­raine were togeth­er for 75 years, and mar­ried for all but three. When one learns that Fred buried his bride just six weeks before hear­ing about the con­test, the sto­ry takes on a sort of roman­tic urgency. We need him to win this con­test.

Rather than upload­ing a video of his “Oh Sweet Lor­raine” to YouTube as instruct­ed, Sto­baugh slipped the lyrics into a mani­la enve­lope and mailed them off along with an explana­to­ry note. Green Shoe’s Jake Col­gan was open to the trans­gres­sion, as befits a record pro­duc­er who made the con­scious deci­sion to set up shop in Peo­ria, Illi­nois.

It’s safe to assume most of the entrants approached the con­test with their eyes on the prize, a pro­fes­sion­al­ly record­ed demo CD and pho­to shoot, and lau­rels with which to adorn their devel­op­ing careers. No dis­re­spect to them—they were fol­low­ing the rules in good faith—but the puri­ty of Strobaugh­’s motives no doubt set him apart as much, if not more than his longevi­ty.

Speak­ing of which, it was just announced that Sto­baugh has top­pled the-then-85-year-old Tony Ben­nett to become the old­est artist ever appear­ing in Bill­board­’s Hot 100.

With all the atten­tion being paid to the endear­ing­ly mod­est Mr. Strobaugh, let’s do take a moment to acknowl­edge this year’s actu­al con­test win­ner Gra­ham Cowger, as well as the run­ners up. A class act can be a dif­fi­cult act to fol­low. To quote Lou Reed entire­ly out of con­text, “always back to Lor­raine.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Acoustic Gui­tar Project Gives Song­writ­ers World­wide a Gui­tar and One Week to Write a Song

Last Min­utes with ODEN: A Touch­ing Short Film

9‑Year-Old Philoso­pher Pon­ders the Mean­ing of Life and the Uni­verse

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is remind­ed of the won­der­ful Joe Put­ter­lik in Miran­da July’s film, The Future. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

The 10 Greatest Films of All Time According to 846 Film Critics

citizen kane best

We’ve recent­ly fea­tured the all-time-great­est-film-selec­tions from such cel­e­brat­ed direc­tors as Stan­ley Kubrick, Mar­tin Scors­ese, Woody Allen, and Quentin Taran­ti­no. Some of these lists came from the grand poll put on last year by Sight & Sound, the British Film Insti­tute’s well-respect­ed cin­e­ma jour­nal. While scru­ti­niz­ing the vot­ing records in the direc­tors’ divi­sion yields no small plea­sure for the cinephile, to focus too close­ly on that would ignore the big pic­ture. By that, I mean the over­all stand­ings in this most painstak­ing crit­i­cal effort to deter­mine “the Great­est Films of All Time”:

  1. Ver­ti­go (Alfred Hitch­cock, 1958)
  2. Cit­i­zen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941)
  3. Tokyo Sto­ry (Yasu­jirô Ozu, 1953)
  4. La Règle du jeu (Jean Renoir, 1939)
  5. Sun­rise (F.W. Mur­nau, 1927)
  6. 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stan­ley Kubrick, 1968)
  7. The Searchers (John Ford, 1956)
  8. Man with a Movie Cam­era (Dzi­ga Ver­tov, 1929)
  9. The Pas­sion of Joan of Arc (Carl Theodor Drey­er, 1928)
  10. (Fed­eri­co Felli­ni, 1963)

These results came out with a bang — the sound, of course, of Ver­ti­go dis­plac­ing Cit­i­zen Kane. How many who watched the young Orson Welles’ debut dur­ing its finan­cial­ly inaus­pi­cious orig­i­nal run could have guessed it would one day stand as a byword for the height of cin­e­mat­ic crafts­man­ship?

But Cit­i­zen Kane just flopped, draw­ing a good deal of crit­i­cal acclaim even as it did so, where­as, sev­en­teen years lat­er, Hitch­cock­’s Ver­ti­go not only flopped, but did so into a fog of mixed reviews, tum­bling uncer­e­mo­ni­ous­ly from there into obscu­ri­ty. Prints became scarce, and the ones Hitch­cock afi­ciona­dos could lat­er track down had seen bet­ter days. It would take a kind of obses­sion — not to men­tion a thor­ough restora­tion — to return Ver­ti­go to the zeit­geist.

We ignored Ver­ti­go at our per­il, and if we now ignore Cit­i­zen Kane because of its new sec­ond-chair sta­tus, we do that at our per­il as well. The 90-minute doc­u­men­tary, The Com­plete Cit­i­zen Kane, orig­i­nal­ly aired in 1991 as an episode of the BBC’s Are­na. It looks at Welles’ mas­ter­piece from every pos­si­ble angle, even bring­ing in New York­er crit­ic Pauline Kael, whose essay “Rais­ing Kane” took a con­tro­ver­sial anti-auteurist posi­tion about this most seem­ing­ly auteur-dri­ven of all Amer­i­can films.

Fol­low us on Face­book, Twit­ter, Google Plus and LinkedIn and share intel­li­gent media with your friends. And if you want to make sure that our posts def­i­nite­ly appear in your Face­book news­feed, just fol­low these sim­ple steps.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Quentin Taran­ti­no Lists the 12 Great­est Films of All Time: From Taxi Dri­ver to The Bad News Bears

Woody Allen Lists the Great­est Films of All Time: Includes Clas­sics by Bergman, Truf­faut & Felli­ni

Mar­tin Scors­ese Reveals His 12 Favorite Movies (and Writes a New Essay on Film Preser­va­tion)

Stan­ley Kubrick’s List of Top 10 Films (The First and Only List He Ever Cre­at­ed)

Philoso­pher Slavoj Zizek Inter­prets Hitchcock’s Ver­ti­go in The Pervert’s Guide to Cin­e­ma (2006)

Orson Welles Explains Why Igno­rance Was the Genius Behind Cit­i­zen Kane

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 Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Don’t miss any­thing from Open Cul­ture in 2014. Sign up for our Dai­ly Email or RSS Feed. And we’ll send cul­tur­al curiosi­ties your way, every day.

18 (Free) Books Ernest Hemingway Wished He Could Read Again for the First Time

hemingway list free

In the 1930s, Ernest Hem­ing­way wrote a series of short pieces for Esquire mag­a­zine called the “Key West Let­ters.” One of those pieces, the 1935 “Remem­ber­ing Shoot­ing-Fly­ing” has an inter­est­ing premise—Hemingway claims that remem­ber­ing and writ­ing about shoot­ing are more plea­sur­able than shoot­ing itself. Or at least that he’d rather remem­ber shoot­ing pheas­ant than actu­al­ly shoot clay pigeons. In the next para­graph, this nos­tal­gia for good shoot­ing gets tied up with good books, such that the essay betrays its true desire—to be a med­i­ta­tion on read­ing. Before he catch­es him­self and gets back on top­ic, Hem­ing­way launch­es into a long par­en­thet­i­cal:

I would rather read again for the first time Anna Karen­i­na, Far Away and Long Ago, Bud­den­brooks, Wuther­ing Heights, Madame Bovary, War and Peace, A Sportsman’s Sketch­es, The Broth­ers Kara­ma­zov, Hail and Farewell, Huck­le­ber­ry Finn, Wines­burg, Ohio, La Reine Mar­got, La Mai­son Tel­li­er, Le Rouge et le Noire, La Char­treuse de Parme, Dublin­ers, Yeat’s Auto­bi­ogra­phies and a few oth­ers than have an assured income of a mil­lion dol­lars a year.

Is this hyper­bole? Lit­er­ary blus­ter? The gen­uine desire to encounter again “for the first time” the lit­er­a­ture that trans­formed and widened his world? Maybe all of the above. Bet­ter to stay home and remem­ber the greats—write about them and hope for a time when they’re new again—than to fill one’s time with mediocre and for­get­table books. At least that seems to be his argu­ment. And while I’m sure you have your own lists (feel free to add them to the com­ments sec­tion below!), some of you may wish to take a shot at Hemingway’s and savor those works that for him over­shad­owed near­ly every oth­er.

To that end, we’ve com­piled a list of the books he names, with links to online texts and audio, where avail­able. Enjoy them for the first time, or read (and lis­ten) to them once again. And remem­ber that the texts are per­ma­nent­ly housed in our col­lec­tions of Free Book Audio Books and Free eBooks.

Anna Karen­i­na by Leo Tol­stoy (eBookAudio Book)

Far Away and Long Ago by W.H. Hud­son (eBookAudio Book)

Bud­den­brooks by Thomas Mann (eBook)

Wuther­ing Heights by Emi­ly Bron­të (eBookAudio Book)

Madame Bovary by Gus­tave Flaubert (eBookAudio Book)

War and Peace by Leo Tol­stoy (eBookAudio Book)

A Sportsman’s Sketch­es by Ivan Tur­genev (eBook)

The Broth­ers Kara­ma­zov by Fyo­dor Dos­to­evsky (eBookAudio Book)

Hail and Farewell by George Moore (eBook)

Adven­tures of Huck­le­ber­ry Finn by Mark Twain (eBookAudio Book)

Wines­burg, Ohio by Sher­wood Ander­son (eBookAudio)

Queen Mar­got by Alexan­dre Dumas (eBook)

La Mai­son Tel­li­er by Guy de Mau­pas­sant (eBook)

The Red and the Black by Stend­hal (eBookAudio Book)

La Char­treuse de Parme by Stend­hal (eBook)

Dublin­ers by James Joyce (eBookAudio Book)

Rever­ies over Child­hood and Youth by William But­ler Yeats (eBook)

The Trem­bling of the Veil by William But­ler Yeats (eBook)

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ernest Hem­ing­way Cre­ates a Read­ing List for a Young Writer, 1934

Ernest Hem­ing­way Writes of His Fas­cist Friend Ezra Pound: “He Deserves Pun­ish­ment and Dis­grace” (1943)

Ernest Hem­ing­way to F. Scott Fitzger­ald: “Kiss My Ass”

Neil deGrasse Tyson Lists 8 (Free) Books Every Intel­li­gent Per­son Should Read

via Lists of Note

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Psychedelic Scenes of Pink Floyd’s Early Days with Syd Barrett, 1967

Roger Waters of Pink Floyd turns 70 years old today. Waters was the prin­ci­pal song­writer and dom­i­nant cre­ative force dur­ing the band’s famous 1970s peri­od, when it released a string of pop­u­lar and influ­en­tial con­cept albums such as Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here and The Wall. But today we thought it would be inter­est­ing to take you all the way back to 1967, when Waters was 23 years old and the band was led by his child­hood friend Syd Bar­rett.

The video above is from a May 14, 1967 broad­cast of the BBC pro­gram The Look of the Week. Pink Floyd had­n’t released an album yet. Only two nights ear­li­er the band had staged its atten­tion-get­ting “Games for May” con­cert at the Queen Eliz­a­beth Hall. In the TV broad­cast, Pink Floyd plays its ear­ly favorite “Astron­o­my Domine” before Waters and Bar­rett sit down for a rather tense inter­view with the clas­si­cal­ly trained musi­cian and crit­ic Hans Keller. It’s amus­ing to watch Keller’s face as he express­es his extreme irri­ta­tion at the band’s loud, strange music. “My ver­dict is that its a lit­tle bit of a regres­sion to child­hood,” he says with a gri­mace. “But after all, why not?”

Waters and Bar­rett man­age to hold their own dur­ing the inter­view. Bar­rett comes across as lucid and well-spo­ken, despite the fact that his heavy LSD use and men­tal insta­bil­i­ty would soon make him unable to func­tion with­in the band. By Decem­ber of 1967, Pink Floyd would add gui­tarist David Gilmour to the line­up to com­pen­sate for Bar­ret­t’s errat­ic behav­ior. By March of 1968 — only 10 months after the BBC broad­cast — Bar­rett would quit the group.

We’ll close with an even ear­li­er video of Pink Floyd onstage. Filmed on Jan­u­ary 27, 1967 at the leg­endary UFO club in Lon­don, the clip is from the Feb­ru­ary 7, 1967 Grana­da TV doc­u­men­tary So Far Out It’s Straight Down. It shows the band play­ing anoth­er major song from its psy­che­del­ic era, “Inter­stel­lar Over­drive.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour Sings Shakespeare’s Son­net 18

Watch Pink Floyd Plays Live in the Ruins of Pom­peii (1972)

Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters Per­forms The Wall at the Berlin Wall (1990)

On the 10th Anniversary of His Death, Watch Warren Zevon’s First & Last Appearances on Letterman

Singer/songwriter War­ren Zevon died of lung can­cer ten years ago tomor­row. I remem­ber the day of his pass­ing well, but at the time I was a lit­tle baf­fled by the enor­mous num­ber of trib­utes to the musi­cian, who I vague­ly thought of (stu­pid­ly) as a nov­el­ty song­writer vague­ly asso­ci­at­ed with the L.A. soft rock scene. How wrong I was. I arrived at the Zevon par­ty late, but I final­ly showed up, and came to under­stand why almost every musi­cian from the sev­en­ties and eight­ies that I admire deeply admires War­ren Zevon and his hard­bit­ten, wit­ty, and unsen­ti­men­tal nar­ra­tive style. There’s so much Zevon in so many trou­ba­dours I love: Joe Jack­son, Tom Waits, Spring­steen. Always on the cusp of star­dom but nev­er quite a star like peers and for­mer room­mates Lind­sey Buck­ing­ham, Ste­vie Nicks, and Jack­son Browne, Zevon was nev­er­the­less one of the most well-regard­ed writ­ers of the L.A. rock scene. Whether it was his mis­an­throp­ic com­mit­ment to his cynicism—as All­mu­sic describes his per­son­al­i­ty—that side­lined him or his strug­gles with acute alco­holism isn’t entire­ly clear, but he always had his cham­pi­ons among crit­ics and peers alike.

In addi­tion to the afore­men­tioned lumi­nar­ies, Zevon’s career was boost­ed by mem­bers of R.E.M., with whom he record­ed under the name Hin­du Love Gods, and—most vis­i­bly and consistently—by David Let­ter­man, who had a twen­ty year rela­tion­ship with Zevon as his guest and some­time sub­sti­tute band leader. At the top of the post, you can see Zevon’s final appear­ance on Letterman’s show. The two attempt light ban­ter but lapse occa­sion­al­ly into awk­ward paus­es as they dis­cuss Zevon’s diag­no­sis. The talk is frank and filled with mor­dant wit, as was Zevon’s way, and Let­ter­man con­fess­es he’s astound­ed at his long­time friend’s abil­i­ty to keep his sense of humor. When Let­ter­man asks Zevon if he’s learned some­thing Dave doesn’t know about life and death, Zevon responds with the end­less­ly quotable line, “not unless I know how much you’re sup­posed to enjoy every sand­wich.” In the clip above, watch one of Zevon’s final per­for­mances on the same show. He plays the pow­er­ful bal­lad “Muti­neer,” a song with a fit­ting epi­taph for Zevon’s life: “ain’t no room on board for the insin­cere.”

And in the clip above, see Zevon’s first appear­ance on Let­ter­man in 1982, play­ing “Excitable Boy” and “The Over­draft.” Watch­ing these ear­ly and late per­for­mances, I’m baf­fled again—this time by why War­ren Zevon wasn’t a major star. But it doesn’t mat­ter. Those who know his work, includ­ing near­ly every major singer/songwriter of the last forty years, know how amaz­ing he was. For more of Zevon’s amaz­ing­ness, check out this full 1982 con­cert film from an appear­ance in Pas­sa­ic, New Jer­sey. And please, remem­ber to enjoy every sand­wich.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Tom Waits and David Let­ter­man: An Amer­i­can Tele­vi­sion Tra­di­tion

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Watch The Amazing 1912 Animation of Stop-Motion Pioneer Ladislas Starevich, Starring Dead Bugs


Last week we fea­tured 1937’s The Tale of the Fox, the crown­ing glo­ry of inven­tive Russ­ian film­mak­er Ladis­las Stare­vich’s work in pup­pet ani­ma­tion. But he did­n’t always shoot pup­pets as we know them; at the dawn of his career — and thus the dawn of Russ­ian ani­ma­tion — he had to make use of what lay close at hand. Today we go back a cou­ple decades fur­ther, to the time when Stare­vich (then known, before his immi­gra­tion to Paris, as Władysław Starewicz) worked not as an ani­ma­tor but as the direc­tor of Kovno, Lithua­ni­a’s Muse­um of Nat­ur­al His­to­ry. Inter­est­ed in film­ing noc­tur­nal stag bee­tles but unable to get a per­for­mance out of them under film lights, he hit upon the idea of shoot­ing not liv­ing insects but dead ones, their legs replaced with wire which he could repo­si­tion frame-by-frame. The result? Stare­vich’s ear­ly, still-enter­tain­ing shorts like 1911’s The Ant and the Grasshop­per (also known as The Drag­on­fly and the Ant) at the top.


But you haven’t tru­ly expe­ri­enced dead-bug ani­ma­tion until you’ve seen The Cam­era­man’s Revenge, just above. Stare­vich made it in 1912, by which time his ani­ma­tion skills had devel­oped to the point that each play­er moves in a man­ner both real­is­ti­cal­ly bug­like (some con­tem­po­rary view­ers mis­took them for trained insects mov­ing in real time) and par­o­d­i­cal­ly evoca­tive of human char­ac­ters. Slate’s Joan New­berg­er describes the plot of this “com­ic melo­dra­ma in metic­u­lous­ly detailed minia­ture sets” as fol­lows: “We meet a bee­tle cou­ple, Mr. and Mrs. Zhukov (zhuk means bee­tle in Russ­ian), both of whom are car­ry­ing on extra­mar­i­tal affairs. Zhukov wins the affec­tions of a drag­on­fly cabaret dancer, but flies into a rage when he comes home to dis­cov­er his wife in the ‘arms’ of an artist (also played by a bee­tle).” But the plot thick­ens, and this seem­ing­ly sim­ple (if obvi­ous­ly com­plex in craft, espe­cial­ly for the time) tale even uses a bit of cin­e­ma-with­in-cin­e­ma at its denoue­ment. Starewicz made ear­ly stop-motion for sure, but he did­n’t make the ear­li­est. Smithsonian.com has a post on that, cit­ing the 1902 Thomas Edi­son-pro­duced Fun in a Bak­ery Shop as the first sur­viv­ing exam­ple — but, alas, a bug­less one.

Stare­vich’s films can be found in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More. Look under Ani­ma­tion.

via Slate’s Vault Blog

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Tale of the Fox: Watch Ladis­las Starevich’s Ani­ma­tion of Goethe’s Great Ger­man Folk­tale (1937)

The Mas­cot, Pio­neer­ing Stop Ani­ma­tion from Wla­dys­law Starow­icz

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 Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Salvador “Dalí is the Biggest ‘Prick’ of the 20th Century,” Says the Quotable Henry Miller

henry miller dali

There’s no two ways about it. Hen­ry Miller had a way with words. He could be blunt, lewd, cut­ting, all in one short sen­tence. You want a lit­tle case study? Ok, how about the notes Miller scrawled back in 1973, when he called Sal­vador Dalí “the biggest ‘prick” of the 20th cen­tu­ry” (or, in anoth­er instance a “prick of the first water”). What was his beef with the Span­ish sur­re­al­ist? It all start­ed in 1940, when Miller and his lover, the incom­pa­ra­ble Anaïs Nin, spent some time cooped up in the same house with Dalí, who turned out to be an insuf­fer­able pri­ma don­na. Their time togeth­er end­ed in a wild shout­ing match, with Miller and Nin storm­ing out of the home and hold­ing a grudge for decades to come. The sto­ry is nice­ly recount­ed by Book Tryst, a site that has recent­ly become a new favorite of ours.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Illustrated by Salvador Dalí in 1969, Finally Gets Reissued

Des­ti­no: The Sal­vador Dalí – Dis­ney Col­lab­o­ra­tion 57 Years in the Mak­ing

Tom Schiller’s 1975 Jour­ney Through Hen­ry Miller’s Bath­room (NSFW)

Hen­ry Miller Talks Writ­ing and the Expat Life with Anaïs Nin, Lawrence Dur­rell, and Oth­ers (1969)

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Hear the Isolated Vocal Tracks for The Beatles’ Climactic 16-Minute Medley on Abbey Road

I have many mem­o­ries grow­ing up of gin­ger­ly plac­ing my father’s Abbey Road LP on the turntable and spend­ing the after­noon lying on the floor and peer­ing at the pho­tos inside the album cover’s gatefold—trying to wrap my head around what kind of hairy genius­es could make music like this. I had no inkling that this was their final record­ing togeth­er, that the band was about to come apart. None of that mat­tered to me. I didn’t quite grasp how this band evolved from the teen pop sen­sa­tions in iden­ti­cal suits and hair­cuts with their legions of flail­ing school­girl fans and goofy com­e­dy troupe ban­ter. This seemed like an entire­ly dif­fer­ent entity—and the par­tic­u­lar sub­lim­i­ty of the med­ley on side 2 (lis­ten to it here) had me lift­ing up the nee­dle and drop­ping it back at the intro to “You Nev­er Give Me Your Mon­ey” over and over.

That med­ley is such an impres­sive demon­stra­tion of The Bea­t­les’ range of voice and sen­si­bil­i­ty that it almost func­tions as a cap­sule for the sound of their whole lat­er career—all the weird nar­ra­tives, blues, bal­lads, and gor­geous­ly lush hymns and lul­la­bies. What remains con­stant through­out every Bea­t­les’ record—even before George and Ringo’s song­writ­ing contributions—is the vocal and lyri­cal inter­play of Lennon/McCartney, and it’s all on fine dis­play in the med­ley.

George Har­ri­son described side 2 in 1969 as “a big med­ley of Paul and John’s songs all shoved togeth­er.” Lennon gave George and Ringo more cred­it for the med­ley in an inter­view that same year:

We always have tons of bits and pieces lying around. I’ve got stuff I wrote around Pep­per, because you lose inter­est after you’ve had it for years. It was a good way of get­ting rid of bits of songs. In fact, George and Ringo wrote bits of it… lit­er­al­ly in between bits and breaks. Paul would say, ‘We’ve got twelve bars here– fill it in,’ and we’d fill it in on the spot. As far as we’re con­cerned, this album is more ‘Beat­ley’ than the dou­ble (White) album.

How­ev­er it all came about, it’s the med­ley’s strange lyri­cal twists, mélange of vocal styles, and pow­er­ful har­monies that stay with me, and that I find myself singing soft­ly, even after hav­ing gone sev­er­al years with­out hear­ing the album in full. Per­haps you do this too. Now we can hear what The Bea­t­les’ them­selves sound­ed like in the stu­dio sans instru­ments with the iso­lat­ed vocal tracks for the side 2 med­ley at the top of the post. Hear the full album ver­sion here and see the Med­ley track­list below.

You Nev­er Give Me Your Mon­ey

Sun King

Mean Mr. Mus­tard

Poly­thene Pam

She Came in Through the Bath­room Win­dow

Gold­en Slum­bers

Car­ry That Weight

The End

via Eric Alper

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Short Film on the Famous Cross­walk From the Bea­t­les’ Abbey Road Album Cov­er

John Lennon’s Raw, Soul-Bar­ing Vocals From the Bea­t­les’ ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ (1969)

The 10-Minute, Nev­er-Released, Exper­i­men­tal Demo of The Bea­t­les’ “Rev­o­lu­tion” (1968)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness


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