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Virginia Woolf Loved Dostoevsky, Oscar Wilde Sometimes Despised Dickens & Other Gossip from The Reading Experience Database

woolf dost

The Read­ing Expe­ri­ence Data­base (RED), host­ed by the Open Uni­ver­si­ty, pro­vides a vast, open-access com­pendi­um of British authors’ read­ing habits from 1450 through 1945. The resource is a con­tin­u­ous­ly updat­ed repos­i­to­ry of lit­er­ary ref­er­ences, com­piled using excerpts of biogra­phies, let­ters, news­pa­pers, mag­a­zines, and oth­er infor­ma­tive texts. Among oth­er things, the data­base pro­vides both a humor­ous and fas­ci­nat­ing look at what var­i­ous authors thought of their peers.

Vir­ginia Woolf, it seems, cham­pi­oned Fyo­dor Dos­to­evsky (“It is direct­ly obvi­ous that he [Dos­to­evsky] is the great­est writer ever born.”), but spurned Hen­ry James (“… we have his works here, and I read, and can’t find any­thing but faint­ly tinged rose water, urbane and sleek, but vul­gar…”). Robert Louis Steven­son, a friend of James’, was too con­flict­ed about some of his writ­ing (“I must break out with the news that I can’t bear the Por­trait of a Lady. I read it all, and I wept, too; but I can’t stand your hav­ing writ­ten it, and I beg you will write no more of the like”). Oscar Wilde, mean­while, char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly con­trar­i­an, despised cer­tain aspects of Dick­ens (“peers were sur­prised to hear him speak dis­parag­ing­ly of Dick­ens, the most pop­u­lar nov­el­ist of the day. While Wilde admired the author’s humor and his gift for car­i­ca­ture he loathed Dick­en­s’s mor­al­iz­ing”).

Don’t see your favorite British author’s delight­ful­ly snarky com­men­tary? Help your fel­low read­er and sub­mit it your­self.

To learn more about the Read­ing Expe­ri­ence Data­base, watch this intro­duc­to­ry video.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Vir­ginia Woolf Writes About Joyce’s Ulysses, “Nev­er Did Any Book So Bore Me,” and Quits at Page 200

The His­toric Meet­ing Between Dick­ens and Dos­to­evsky Revealed as a Great Lit­er­ary Hoax

Vladimir Nabokov Makes Edi­to­r­i­al Tweaks to Franz Kafka’s Novel­la The Meta­mor­pho­sis

Stephen Fry Reads Oscar Wilde’s Children’s Sto­ry “The Hap­py Prince”

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The History of Economics & Economic Theory Explained with Comics, Starting with Adam Smith

economix adam smith

“Every­one has ques­tions about the econ­o­my. I start­ed look­ing for the answers in eco­nom­ics. I found enough insights to get me inter­est­ed, but I could­n’t seem to make the insights add up. I went back to the orig­i­nal sources, the great econ­o­mists, and start­ed to see a big pic­ture. And while the whole pic­ture was com­pli­cat­ed, no one part of it was all that hard to under­stand. I could see that all this infor­ma­tion made a sto­ry. But I could­n’t find a book that told the sto­ry in an acces­si­ble way. So I decid­ed to write one, in the most acces­si­ble form I knew: comics.”

Thus begins Michael Good­win’s new book Economix: How Our Econ­o­my Works (and Does­n’t Work) in Words and Pic­tures.

The book cov­ers two (plus) cen­turies of eco­nom­ic his­to­ry. It starts with the Phys­iocrats, Adam Smith and the­o­ret­i­cal devel­op­ment of cap­i­tal­ism, and then steams ahead into the 19th cen­tu­ry, cov­er­ing the Indus­tri­al Rev­o­lu­tion, the rise of big busi­ness and big finance. Next comes the action packed 20th cen­tu­ry: the Great Depres­sion, the New Deal, the threat from Com­mu­nism dur­ing the Cold War, the tax reforms of the Rea­gan era, and even­tu­al­ly the crash of 2008 and Occu­py Wall Street. Along the way, Good­win and the illus­tra­tor Dan E. Burr demys­ti­fy the eco­nom­ic the­o­ries of fig­ures like Ricar­do, Marx, Malthus, Keynes, Fried­man and Hayek — all in a sub­stan­tive but approach­able way.

As with most treat­ments of mod­ern eco­nom­ics, the book starts with Adam Smith. To get a feel for Good­win’s approach, you can dive into the first chap­ter of Economix, which grap­ples with Smith’s the­o­ries about the free mar­ket, divi­sion of labor and the Invis­i­ble Hand. Economix can be pur­chased online here.

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:

An Intro­duc­tion to Great Econ­o­mists — Adam Smith, the Phys­iocrats & More — Pre­sent­ed in a Free Online Course

60-Sec­ond Adven­tures in Eco­nom­ics: An Ani­mat­ed Intro to The Invis­i­ble Hand and Oth­er Eco­nom­ic Ideas

Read­ing Marx’s Cap­i­tal with David Har­vey (Free Course)

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Watch Jean Genet’s Only Film, the Censored A Song of Love (1950)

Pet­ty crim­i­nal, out­law writer, polit­i­cal rad­i­cal, gay icon—the name Jean Genet means many things to many peo­ple, but film­mak­er isn’t usu­al­ly one of them. Yet Genet did direct a short film, A Song of Love (Un chant d’amour), in 1950. Silent and shot in grainy black and white, the film presents a pas­sion­ate rela­tion­ship between inmates, sep­a­rat­ed from each oth­er by the prison walls. The pris­on­ers express their estranged desire for each oth­er in increas­ing­ly sen­su­al ways until the frame is filled with writhing bod­ies. All the while, a lone guard watch­es, men­ac­ing and jeal­ous.

Despite the fact that the film was banned for many years, and that Genet him­self dis­owned it, it’s a foun­da­tion­al work for lat­er gay film­mak­ers, from Andy Warhol to the ear­ly Derek Jar­man, whose first fea­ture Sebas­tiane (1976) sure­ly owes a debt to A Song of Love. Genet’s choice of set­ting is no mere auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal detail; the pre­vi­ous year he faced a life sen­tence after his tenth con­vic­tion, and was only saved by the inter­ven­tion of his respect­ed sup­port­ers Jean-Paul Sartre, Pablo Picas­so, and Jean Cocteau, who peti­tioned the pres­i­dent on his behalf. It’s pos­si­ble to read A Song of Love in many ways, but it’s hard not to see it at least as Genet’s pro­jec­tion of the frus­trat­ed (yet hot­house) sex­u­al ten­sion he would know if incar­cer­at­ed for the rest of his days.

Of course Genet began his writ­ing career in prison, draft­ing his first nov­el, the pulpy yet pro­found­ly lyri­cal Our Lady of the Flow­ers, while serv­ing out a sen­tence in the ear­ly for­ties. Genet’s erot­i­cal­ly charged, some might say deca­dent, fic­tion worked to reclaim and reval­ue his iden­ti­ty as a homo­sex­u­al, social out­cast, and crim­i­nal. In his auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal nov­el, The Thief’s Jour­nal, writ­ten in 1949 while his fate was being decid­ed, Genet defined him­self thus:

Lim­it­ed by the world, which I oppose, jagged by it, I shall be all the more hand­some and sparkling as the angles which wound me and give me shape are more acute and the jag­ging more cru­el.

The quote could almost serve as an epi­graph for Genet’s only film, which, writes Fer­nan­do Croce, draws its “pre­sid­ing image… of flesh against stone” from The Thief’s Jour­nal. It’s an image Croce inter­prets as “metaphor for soci­ety-enforced divi­sion imposed on gay men, and also of the need for con­nec­tion which encom­pass­es all human exis­tence.” Like all Genet’s work, A Song of Love takes plea­sure from pain and finds arrest­ing inti­ma­cy and unabashed­ly lib­er­at­ing sex­u­al ful­fill­ment in the Parisian sew­ers, gar­rets, and jails.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Jean Genet, France’s Out­law Poet, Revealed in a Rare 1981 Inter­view

Three “Anti-Films” by Andy Warhol: Sleep, Eat & Kiss

Wittgen­stein: Watch Derek Jarman’s Trib­ute to the Philoso­pher, Fea­tur­ing Til­da Swin­ton (1993)

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

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T.S. Eliot, as Faber & Faber Editor, Rejects George Orwell’s “Trotskyite” Novel Animal Farm (1944)

We’ve writ­ten recent­ly about that most com­mon occur­rence in the life of every artist—the rejec­tion let­ter. Most rejec­tions are uncom­pli­cat­ed affairs, osten­si­bly reflect­ing mat­ters of taste among edi­tors, pro­duc­ers, and cura­tors. In 1944, in his capac­i­ty as an edi­to­r­i­al direc­tor at Faber & Faber, T.S. Eliot wrote a let­ter to George Orwell reject­ing the latter’s satir­i­cal alle­go­ry Ani­mal Farm. The let­ter is remark­able for its can­did admis­sion of the pol­i­tics involved in the deci­sion.

From the very start of the let­ter, Eliot betrays a per­son­al famil­iar­i­ty with Orwell, in the infor­mal salu­ta­tion “Dear Orwell.” The two were in fact acquaint­ed, and Orwell two years ear­li­er had pub­lished a pen­e­trat­ing review of the first three of Eliot’s Four Quar­tets, writ­ing “I know a respectable quan­ti­ty of Eliot’s ear­li­er work by heart. I did not sit down and learn it, it sim­ply stuck in my mind as any pas­sage of verse is liable to do when it has real­ly rung the bell.”

Eliot’s apolo­getic rejec­tion of Orwell’s fable begins with sim­i­lar­ly high praise for its author, com­par­ing the book to “Gul­liv­er” in what may have been to Orwell a flat­ter­ing ref­er­ence to Jonathan Swift. A mutu­al admi­ra­tion for each oth­er’s artistry may have been the only thing Eliot and Orwell had in com­mon. “On the oth­er hand,” begins the sec­ond para­graph, and then cites the rea­sons for Faber & Faber’s pass­ing on the nov­el, the prin­ci­ple one being a dis­missal of Orwell’s “uncon­vinc­ing” “Trot­skyite” views. The rejec­tion also may have stemmed from some­thing a lit­tle more craven—the desire to appease a wartime ally. As the Ency­clopae­dia Brit­tan­i­ca blog puts it:

Eliot, that Tory of Tories, did not want to upset the Sovi­ets in those fraught years of World War II. Besides, he opined, the pigs, being the smartest of the crit­ters on the farm in ques­tion, were best qual­i­fied to run the place.

The deci­sion was prob­a­bly not Eliot’s alone, and Eliot par­en­thet­i­cal­ly dis­owns the opin­ions per­son­al­ly, writ­ing “what was need­ed, (some­one might argue), was not more com­mu­nism but more pub­lic-spir­it­ed pigs.” Indeed. The full text of Eliot’s let­ter is below.

13 July 1944

Dear Orwell,

I know that you want­ed a quick deci­sion about Ani­mal Farm: but min­i­mum is two direc­tors’ opin­ions, and that can’t be done under a week. But for the impor­tance of speed, I should have asked the Chair­man to look at it as well. But the oth­er direc­tor is in agree­ment with me on the main points. We agree that it is a dis­tin­guished piece of writ­ing; that the fable is very skil­ful­ly han­dled, and that the nar­ra­tive keeps one’s inter­est on its own plane—and that is some­thing very few authors have achieved since Gul­liv­er.

On the oth­er hand, we have no con­vic­tion (and I am sure none of oth­er direc­tors would have) that this is the right point of view from which to crit­i­cise the polit­i­cal sit­u­a­tion at the present time. It is cer­tain­ly the duty of any pub­lish­ing firm which pre­tends to oth­er inter­ests and motives than mere com­mer­cial pros­per­i­ty, to pub­lish books which go against cur­rent of the moment: but in each instance that demands that at least one mem­ber of the firm should have the con­vic­tion that this is the thing that needs say­ing at the moment. I can’t see any rea­son of pru­dence or cau­tion to pre­vent any­body from pub­lish­ing this book—if he believed in what it stands for.

Now I think my own dis­sat­is­fac­tion with this apo­logue is that the effect is sim­ply one of nega­tion. It ought to excite some sym­pa­thy with what the author wants, as well as sym­pa­thy with his objec­tions to some­thing: and the pos­i­tive point of view, which I take to be gen­er­al­ly Trot­skyite, is not con­vinc­ing. I think you split your vote, with­out get­ting any com­pen­sat­ing stronger adhe­sion from either party—i.e. those who crit­i­cise Russ­ian ten­den­cies from the point of view of a pur­er com­mu­nism, and those who, from a very dif­fer­ent point of view, are alarmed about the future of small nations. And after all, your pigs are far more intel­li­gent than the oth­er ani­mals, and there­fore the best qual­i­fied to run the farm—in fact, there couldn’t have been an Ani­mal Farm at all with­out them: so that what was need­ed, (some­one might argue), was not more com­mu­nism but more pub­lic-spir­it­ed pigs.

I am very sor­ry, because who­ev­er pub­lish­es this, will nat­u­ral­ly have the oppor­tu­ni­ty of pub­lish­ing your future work: and I have a regard for your work, because it is good writ­ing of fun­da­men­tal integri­ty.

Miss Shel­don will be send­ing you the script under sep­a­rate cov­er.

Yours sin­cere­ly,

T. S. Eliot

After four rejec­tions in total, Orwell’s nov­el even­tu­al­ly saw pub­li­ca­tion in 1945. Five years lat­er, a Russ­ian émi­gré in West Ger­many, Vladimir Gorachek, pub­lished a small print run of the nov­el in Russ­ian for free dis­tri­b­u­tion to read­ers behind the Iron Cur­tain. And in 1954, the CIA fund­ed the ani­mat­ed adap­ta­tion of Ani­mal Farm by John Halas and Joy Batch­e­lor (see the full film here). Yet anoth­er strange twist in the life of a book that could make dis­cern­ing anti-com­mu­nists as uncom­fort­able as it could the staunchest defend­ers of the Sovi­et sys­tem. You can find Ani­mal Farm list­ed in our Free Audio Books and Free eBooks col­lec­tions.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Read Rejec­tion Let­ters Sent to Three Famous Artists: Sylvia Plath, Kurt Von­negut & Andy Warhol

Gertrude Stein Gets a Snarky Rejec­tion Let­ter from Pub­lish­er (1912)

No Women Need Apply: A Dis­heart­en­ing 1938 Rejec­tion Let­ter from Dis­ney Ani­ma­tion

Down­load George Orwell’s Ani­mal Farm for Free

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

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Slavoj Žižek Examines the Perverse Ideology of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy

Beethoven’s icon­ic Ninth Sym­pho­ny pre­miered in Vien­na in 1824, at “a time of great repres­sion, of ultra-con­ser­v­a­tive nation­al­ism” as the old orders fought back against the rev­o­lu­tions of the pre­vi­ous cen­tu­ry. But it’s dif­fi­cult to imag­ine the com­pos­er hav­ing any nation­al­ist intent, what with his well-known hatred of author­i­ty, par­tic­u­lar­ly impe­ri­al­ist author­i­ty (and par­tic­u­lar­ly of Napoleon). Even less obvi­ous is the impu­ta­tion of nation­al­ist ten­den­cies to Friedrich Schiller, whose poem, “Ode to Joy” Beethoven adapts to a glo­ri­ous cho­rus in the fourth move­ment. Schiller’s poem, writes Scott Hor­ton in Harper’s, “envi­sions a world with­out mon­archs” in which uni­ver­sal friend­ship “is essen­tial if humankind is to over­come its dark­er moments.” And in his take on the ubiq­ui­tous piece of music, con­trar­i­an the­o­rist Slavoj Žižek acknowl­edges in the clip above from his lat­est film, A Pervert’s Guide to Ide­ol­o­gy, that the Ninth is gen­er­al­ly tak­en for grant­ed “as a kind of an ode to human­i­ty as such, to the broth­er­hood and free­dom of all peo­ple.”

And yet Žižek , being Žižek, draws our atten­tion to the Ninth Sym­pho­ny as a per­fect ide­o­log­i­cal con­tain­er, by ref­er­ence to its unfor­get­table use in Stan­ley Kubrick’s A Clock­work Orange, as unspar­ing a look at humanity’s “dark­er moments” as one might find on film (excerpt above). Kubrick (and com­pos­er Wendy Car­los) drew on a long, dark his­to­ry of asso­ci­a­tions with the Ninth. As evi­dence of its “uni­ver­sal adapt­abil­i­ty,” Žižek points to its well-known use by the Nazis as a nation­al­ist anthem, as well as by the Sovi­et Union as a com­mu­nist song; in Chi­na dur­ing the Cul­tur­al Rev­o­lu­tion, when almost all oth­er West­ern music was pro­hib­it­ed; and at the extreme Apartheid right in South Rhode­sia. “At the oppo­site end,” Žižek says, the Ninth Sym­pho­ny was the favorite of ultra-left­ist Shin­ing Path leader Abi­mael Guz­man, and in 1972, it became the unof­fi­cial “Anthem of Europe” (now of the Euro­pean Union). The tow­er­ing piece of music, Žižek claims, enables us to imag­ine a “per­verse scene of uni­ver­sal fra­ter­ni­ty” in which the world’s dic­ta­tors, arch-ter­ror­ists, and war crim­i­nals all embrace each oth­er. It’s a deeply dis­turb­ing image, to say the least. Watch the full excerpt for more of Žižek’s exam­i­na­tion of the ide­o­log­i­cal weight Beethoven car­ries.

via Bib­liokept

Relat­ed Con­tent:

In His Lat­est Film, Slavoj Žižek Claims “The Only Way to Be an Athe­ist is Through Chris­tian­i­ty”

Slavoj Žižek’s Pervert’s Guide to Ide­ol­o­gy Decodes The Dark Knight and They Live

The Mak­ing of Stan­ley Kubrick’s A Clock­work Orange

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

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Watch Charlie Chaplin Demand 342 Takes of One Scene from City Lights

The Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion has put out a new edi­tion of Char­lie Chap­lin’s City Lights, and on the disc they’ve includ­ed the rare footage above of Chap­lin direct­ing that most famous of his pic­tures. We see him giv­ing instruc­tions to young Vir­ginia Cher­rill, who appeared in the film as a blind flower girl for whom Chap­lin’s Tramp falls head over heels. Chap­lin’s char­ac­ter approved of Cher­rill much more hearti­ly than Chap­lin him­self did. The direc­tor con­sid­ered the actress an “ama­teur” and remem­bered her often “doing some­thing which wasn’t right. Lines. A line. A con­tour hurts me if it’s not right.” That remark, orig­i­nal­ly made in an inter­view con­duct­ed in 1968, 37 years after City Lights, comes quot­ed in David Robinson’s new book, Chap­lin: His Life and His Art. The New York­er’s Richard Brody also uses it in his post on City Lights and Chap­lin’s direc­tion of Cher­rill, of whom he, for one sequence, demand­ed as many as 342 takes.

Does that send Chap­lin straight to the canon of per­fec­tion­ist film­mak­ers? You may say yes, but Brody, whose pow­ers of cin­e­mat­ic obser­va­tion at times make me want to scrap every­thing and ded­i­cate my life to film crit­i­cism, has a more inter­est­ing response. “It’s tempt­ing to ascribe Chaplin’s obses­sion­al direc­tion,” he argues, “but I think that the episode reveals an even more pow­er­ful strain of Chaplin’s art, a sort of imper­fec­tion­ism.

Chap­lin didn’t have a men­tal tem­plate that he want­ed Cher­rill to match; he approach­es the scene not quite know­ing what he want­ed.” Chap­lin, so it seems, sim­ply worked this way, seek­ing per­fec­tion, but an unusu­al “per­fec­tion of results, not of con­for­mi­ty to a pre­con­ceived schema. He sought what pro­voked, in him, the per­fect emo­tion, the per­fect aes­thet­ic response—but he wouldn’t know it until he saw it. He start­ed to shoot in the con­fi­dence that the thing—whatever it was—would hap­pen.” And now you can watch 65 of the fruits of Chap­lin’s quest for this imper­fec­tion­is­tic per­fec­tion for free on our very own col­lec­tion of Chap­lin films on the web.

via The New York­er

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Three Great Films Star­ring Char­lie Chap­lin, the True Icon of Silent Com­e­dy

The Pow­er of Silent Movies, with The Artist Direc­tor Michel Haz­anavi­cius

Hol­ly­wood, Epic Doc­u­men­tary Chron­i­cles the Ear­ly His­to­ry of Cin­e­ma

535 Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, etc.

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

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Filmmaker Michel Gondry Presents an Animated Conversation with Noam Chomsky

Even if you reg­u­lar­ly read Open Cul­ture, where we make a point of high­light­ing unusu­al inter­sec­tions of cul­tur­al cur­rents, you prob­a­bly nev­er expect­ed a col­lab­o­ra­tion between the likes of Michel Gondry and Noam Chom­sky. Gondry we’ve known as an imag­i­na­tive film­mak­er behind fea­tures like Eter­nal Sun­shine of the Spot­less Mind and Be Kind Rewind (as well as music videos for artists like Beck, Kanye West, and the White Stripes), one dri­ven to pur­sue a Con­ti­nen­tal whim­sy tem­pered by a ded­i­ca­tion to elab­o­rate, dif­fi­cult-look­ing hand craft and an appar­ent inter­est in Amer­i­can cul­ture.

Chom­sky we’ve known, depend­ing on our inter­ests, as either a not­ed lin­guist or a con­tro­ver­sial writer and speak­er on pol­i­tics, soci­ety, and the media. Gondry’s new doc­u­men­tary Is the Man Who Is Tall Hap­py?, the project that brings them togeth­er at least, show­cas­es both the less-seen pure­ly philo­soph­i­cal side of Chom­sky, and the also rarely acknowl­edged inquis­i­tive, con­ver­sa­tion­al side of Gondry. In the New York Times “Anato­my of a Scene” clip at the top, the direc­tor explains his process.

Nat­u­ral­ly, Gondry went through a fair­ly unusu­al process to make the film, giv­en that he based the whole thing on noth­ing more elab­o­rate than a long-form in-office con­ver­sa­tion with the MIT-based pro­fes­sor and activist. To get the footage he need­ed of Chom­sky talk­ing, he brought in — nat­u­ral­ly — his vin­tage wind-up Bolex 16-mil­lime­ter film cam­era. He then wove those shots in with his also high­ly ana­log hand-drawn ani­ma­tion, which illus­trates Chom­sky’s ideas as he describes them — and as Gondry prods him for more. “The cam­era is very loud,” Gondry explains over a delib­er­ate­ly shaky frame, “and that’s why I have to draw it each time you hear it.” Just above, you can watch the film’s trail­er, which offers Chom­sky’s voice as well as Gondry’s. “Why should we take it to be obvi­ous that if I let go of a ball,” we hear the inter­vie­wee ask, “it goes down and not up?” We also hear the inter­view­er admit that he “felt a bit stu­pid here,” but these two men’s con­sid­er­able dif­fer­ences — in gen­er­a­tion, in nation­al­i­ty, in sen­si­bil­i­ty, in their con­cerns, in the forms of their work — pro­vide all the more rea­son to lis­ten when they talk. And if you find the intel­lec­tu­al trip not to your taste, just behold the visu­al one.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Noam Chom­sky & Michel Fou­cault Debate Human Nature & Pow­er (1971)

Noam Chom­sky vs. William F. Buck­ley, 1969

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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C.S. Lewis’ Prescient 1937 Review of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien: It “May Well Prove a Classic”

hobbit-cover-largeIn 1937, C.S. Lewis (who would lat­er write The Chron­i­cles of Nar­nia – find it in a free audio for­mat here) pub­lished in the Times Lit­er­ary Sup­ple­ment a review of The Hob­bit by J.R.R. Tolkien. Lewis and Tolkien were no strangers to one anoth­er. They had met back in 1926 at Oxford Uni­ver­si­ty, where they both served on the Eng­lish fac­ul­ty. In the years to come, they formed a close friend­ship and joined the Inklings, an Oxford lit­er­ary group ded­i­cat­ed to fic­tion and fan­ta­sy.

Lewis’ review of The Hob­bit was short, a mere three para­graphs. And it’s hard to say now whether Lewis was giv­ing a kind review to a friend, or mak­ing some pre­scient lit­er­ary obser­va­tions. Or, per­haps, some com­bi­na­tion of the two. The clos­ing lines go like this:

The Hob­bit … will be fun­nier to its youngest read­ers, and only years lat­er, at a tenth or a twen­ti­eth read­ing, will they begin to realise what deft schol­ar­ship and pro­found reflec­tion have gone to make every­thing in it so ripe, so friend­ly, and in its own way so true. Pre­dic­tion is dan­ger­ous: but The Hob­bit may well prove a clas­sic.

The com­plete review has now been repub­lished, and you can read it over at The Paris Review.

via Fla­vor­wire

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load Eight Free Lec­tures on The Hob­bit by “The Tolkien Pro­fes­sor,” Corey Olsen

Lis­ten to J.R.R. Tolkien Read a Lengthy Excerpt from The Hob­bit (1952)

Dis­cov­er J.R.R. Tolkien’s Per­son­al Book Cov­er Designs for The Lord of the Rings Tril­o­gy

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Bob Dylan Finally Makes a Video for His 1965 Hit, “Like a Rolling Stone”

Ear­li­er today, we told you all about Bob Dylan’s con­tro­ver­sial Vic­to­ri­a’s Secret com­mer­cial shot in 2004 — the first com­mer­cial in which the musi­cian ever appeared on screen. Tonight, we leave you with this — Dylan’s new­ly-released video for his 1965 hit “Like a Rolling Stone.” As you’ll see, it’s not just a video. It’s an inter­ac­tive video that lets “view­ers flip through 16 tele­vi­sion chan­nels as a vari­ety of tele­vi­sion per­son­al­i­ties lip-sync the lyrics.” You can check it out above, or watch it in a larg­er for­mat here. The new video coin­cides with the release of Bob Dylan: The Com­plete Album Col­lec­tion Vol. 1, a CD box set that con­tains “35 stu­dio titles, 6 live albums, 2‑CD ‘Side Tracks,’ and a hard­cov­er book fea­tur­ing new album-by-album lin­er notes.” The log­i­cal ques­tion is what’s left for Vol. 2?

via Rolling Stone

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Andy Warhol Shoots “Screen Tests” of Nico, Bob Dylan & Sal­vador Dalí

Bob Dylan and Van Mor­ri­son Sing Togeth­er in Athens, on His­toric Hill Over­look­ing the Acrop­o­lis

Bob Dylan and The Grate­ful Dead Rehearse Togeth­er in Sum­mer 1987. Lis­ten to 74 Tracks.

Two Leg­ends Togeth­er: A Young Bob Dylan Talks and Plays on The Studs Terkel Pro­gram, 1963

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Bob Dylan’s Controversial 2004 Victoria’s Secret Ad: His First & Last Appearance in a Commercial

Bob Dylan’s been piss­ing off his fans since he went elec­tric at the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val in 1965, leav­ing scores of bit­ter folkies with feel­ings of betray­al. But he’s also tak­en many a prin­ci­pled stand, walk­ing off The Ed Sul­li­van Show ear­ly in his career in 1963, for exam­ple, when he learned that CBS want­ed to cen­sor his “Talkin’ John Birch Para­noid Blues” for being poten­tial­ly libelous to the far-right group. Then there are those episodes that have sim­ply baf­fled his admir­ers, like his release of the almost uni­ver­sal­ly panned Self Por­trait and his con­ver­sion to evan­gel­i­cal Chris­tian­i­ty. What­ev­er pos­sessed him to appear in the 2004 Victoria’s Secret ad above, how­ev­er, is anyone’s guess. While it may not have the same geopo­lit­i­cal juice as his con­tro­ver­sial appear­ance in Chi­na in 2011, aside from the gen­er­al weird­ness of once coun­ter­cul­tur­al fig­ures sell­ing prod­ucts, it’s a move that espe­cial­ly trou­bled fans of Dylan, to say the least.

There were, of course, cries of “sell out.” Then there’s the trou­bling sta­tus of Victoria’s Secret, a com­pa­ny that has accu­mu­lat­ed no small share of con­tro­ver­sy since the ad aired, and which at the time was not espe­cial­ly known as a social­ly respon­si­ble enti­ty.

Though Dylan had already licensed the song “Love Sick” from 1997’s Time Out of Mind to the com­pa­ny (and in 2000 licensed “For­ev­er Young” to Apple), this is the first and only time he’s appeared on screen in a com­mer­cial, with the excep­tion of a 2010 Google ad that recy­cled clips from the ’65 “Sub­ter­ranean Home­sick Blues” film.

While ad agen­cies may have replaced A&R for hun­gry young indie bands, the phe­nom­e­non of wealthy, aging rock stars shilling for major cor­po­ra­tions seems to defy rea­son. Most peo­ple assume it’s always a cash grab. Dylan him­self joked in 1965 that the only thing he’d sell out for would be “ladies under­gar­ments.” In a per­haps unfor­tu­nate­ly titled arti­cle for Slate, Seth Steven­son sug­gest­ed that Dylan and those of his gen­er­a­tion took the cor­po­rate bait in attempts to remain rel­e­vant and “remind the world that they still exist.” In the case of the Victoria’s Secret ad (see a “behind the scenes” video here), this is a lit­tle hard to swal­low. Not even the bale­ful­ly timed release of his Love and Theft in Sep­tem­ber of 2001 could over­shad­ow the enor­mous suc­cess of that album, which, All­mu­sic writes, “stands proud­ly among his very best.” 2006’s plat­inum-sell­ing Mod­ern Times was not far behind. Unlike his online response to the Chi­na con­tro­ver­sy, Dylan him­self revealed noth­ing of his inten­tions, leav­ing fans with the unset­tling image of one of the 20th century’s most icon­o­clas­tic artists (and one nev­er espe­cial­ly known for his sex appeal) hawk­ing lin­gerie on nation­al tele­vi­sion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie Appears in the “Director’s Cut” of a New Louis Vuit­ton Ad, Nods to Labyrinth

Ker­ouac Wore Khakis: Ghost of the Beat Writer Stars in 1993 Gap Adver­tis­ing Cam­paign

Nev­er Mind the Bol­locks, Here’s … John Lydon in a But­ter Com­mer­cial?

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

 

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