Introducing Ergo, the New Open Philosophy Journal

ergoadApril30The new open phi­los­o­phy jour­nal, Ergo, was “cre­at­ed in response to a need for gen­er­al phi­los­o­phy jour­nals that are effi­cient, open access, inclu­sive, and trans­par­ent.” Tra­di­tion­al phi­los­o­phy jour­nals move slow­ly, tak­ing some­where between 5 and 9 months to tell schol­ars whether their sub­mis­sions will be accept­ed or not. They over­whelm­ing­ly favor work writ­ten by white men. And they cater to meta­physics and epis­te­mol­o­gy, while giv­ing less atten­tion to the phi­los­o­phy of mind, ethics, and polit­i­cal the­o­ry.

Enter Ergo, the new open jour­nal cre­at­ed by The Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan, which just pub­lished its first issue online. The aver­age time-to-deci­sion was 21 days, with the jour­nal reject­ing 93% of the sub­mis­sions. The first five accept­ed arti­cles cov­ered Epis­te­mol­o­gy (twice), His­to­ry of Mod­ern Phi­los­o­phy, Phi­los­o­phy of Biol­o­gy, and Phi­los­o­phy of Mind. And, as the edi­tors seem acute­ly aware, the first sub­mis­sions were still dom­i­nat­ed by men. (Get more back­ground on the jour­nal here.)

All of the arti­cles are free to read­ers (while authors retain copy­right under a Cre­ative Com­mons license.) You can find more free pub­li­ca­tions by the Uni­ver­si­ty of Michi­gan in our pre­vi­ous post: 15 Free eBooks on New Media Stud­ies & the Dig­i­tal Human­i­ties.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

110 Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

Wal­ter Kaufmann’s Clas­sic Lec­tures on Niet­zsche, Kierkegaard and Sartre (1960)

An Intro­duc­tion to the Polit­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy of Isa­iah Berlin Through His Free Writ­ings & Audio Lec­tures

Phi­los­o­phy with a South­ern Drawl: Rick Rod­er­ick Teach­es Der­ri­da, Fou­cault, Sartre and Oth­ers

Jimmy Page Describes the Creation of Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love”

For all the praise deserved­ly heaped on Jim­my Page for his tech­nique as an inno­v­a­tive rock-blues shredder—with his vio­lin-bowed walls of noise and motor speed­way licks—one can lose sight of just how great he was as a dri­ving rhythm play­er. The rough mix of Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lot­ta Love”—which chugs along with­out the stu­dio ver­sion’s sig­na­ture stock car-engine sound in the refrain—brings Page’s rhythms to the fore. The song’s pro­duc­tion also demon­strates Page’s skill in the stu­dio. The gui­tarist mas­ter­mind­ed the sound of “Whole Lot­ta Love” and the record­ing of AOR ground­break­er Led Zep­pelin II, and he tells the sto­ry of the song’s cre­ation, along with that unfor­get­table riff, in an inter­view with The Wall Street Jour­nal:

I came up with the gui­tar riff for “Whole Lot­ta Love” in the sum­mer of ’68, on my house­boat along the Thames in Pang­bourne, Eng­land. I sup­pose my ear­ly love for big intros by rock­a­bil­ly gui­tarists was an inspi­ra­tion, but as soon as I devel­oped the riff, I knew it was strong enough to dri­ve the entire song, not just open it. When I played the riff for the band in my liv­ing room sev­er­al weeks lat­er dur­ing rehearsals for our first album, the excite­ment was imme­di­ate and col­lec­tive. We felt the riff was addic­tive, like a for­bid­den thing.

The rough mix above trav­eled with the band as they toured the U.S. in May and June of 1969, over­dub­bing in stu­dios in Los Ange­les and New York. Page describes how he, engi­neer George Chkiantz, and mix­er Eddie Kramer cre­at­ed the song’s reverb-drenched son­ic enve­lope, design­ing each piece to work specif­i­cal­ly for stereo FM radio. “For the song to work as this panoram­ic audio expe­ri­ence,” he says, “I need­ed Bon­zo [drum­mer John Bon­ham] to real­ly stand out, so that every stick stroke sound­ed clear and you could real­ly feel them. If the drums were record­ed just right, we could lay in every­thing else.” He com­pares Robert Plant’s sear­ing vocal to his gui­tar work:

Robert’s vocal was just as extreme. He kept gain­ing con­fi­dence dur­ing the ses­sion and gave it every­thing he had. His vocals, like my solos, were about per­for­mance. He was push­ing to see what he could get out of his voice. We were per­form­ing for each oth­er, almost com­pet­i­tive­ly.

As for the pre-echo and mas­sive amounts of reverb on Plant’s vocals in the song’s breakdown—all of this came about by acci­dent. An alter­nate take of Plant’s voice bled through on the mas­ter tape. Page and Kramer decid­ed to leave it in and add the effects to make it seem inten­tion­al. More impro­vi­sa­tion­al stu­dio wiz­ardry between the two pro­duced the crazed out­ro. “Jim­my and I went nuts on the knobs,” recalls Kramer, “We had eight dials con­trol­ling the lev­els on eight indi­vid­ual tracks, so we rehearsed the chore­og­ra­phy of what we were going to do to cre­ate the far-out sounds.”

Like cur­rent claims against the band for musi­cal theft in “Stair­way to Heav­en,” “Whole Lot­ta Love” engen­dered a law­suit from Willie Dixon, who wrote Mud­dy Water’s “You Need Love.” Page and Plant both admit the debt, but Page defends his con­tri­bu­tion, say­ing “if you take Robert’s vocal out, there’s no musi­cal ref­er­ence.” In any case, they were even­tu­al­ly forced to give Dixon co-cred­it for the song. In a 1990 inter­view with Musi­cian, Plant waxed philo­soph­i­cal about the con­tro­ver­sy: “Page’s riff was Page’s riff. It was there before any­thing else. I just thought, ‘well, what am I going to sing?’ That was it, a nick. Now hap­pi­ly paid for. At the time, there was a lot of con­ver­sa­tion about what to do. It was decid­ed that it was so far away in time and influ­ence that… well, you only get caught when you’re suc­cess­ful. That’s the game.”

Of course, the essence of the blues is musi­cal quo­ta­tion, and the affair was more a mat­ter of mon­ey, not a case against the song’s cre­ative pow­er or the orig­i­nal­i­ty of that killer riff. Read more about the mak­ing of “Whole Lot­ta Love” from Page, Chkiantz, and Kramer at The Wall Street Jour­nal.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Whole Lot­ta Led Zep­pelin: Live at the Roy­al Albert Hall and The Song Remains the Same–the Full Shows

Jim­my Page Tells the Sto­ry of “Kash­mir”

Hear Led Zeppelin’s Mind-Blow­ing First Record­ed Con­cert Ever (1968)

Decon­struct­ing Led Zeppelin’s Clas­sic Song ‘Ram­ble On’ Track by Track: Gui­tars, Bass, Drums & Vocals

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

Illustrations of The Lord of the Rings in Russian Iconography Style (1993)

russian LOTR 1

Giv­en the detail with which J.R.R. Tolkien describes his fan­tas­ti­cal yet earth­i­ly ground­ed char­ac­ters and land­scapes, you’d think illus­tra­tors would have an easy time putting pic­tures to the words. You might even assume that any artist who tried his or her hand at the job would pro­duce more or less the same visu­al inter­pre­ta­tion. And yet the his­to­ry of illus­trat­ed edi­tions of The Hob­bit and the Lord of the Rings tril­o­gy has­n’t gone that way at all. Dif­fer­ent pub­lish­ers at dif­fer­ent times and dif­fer­ent places have com­mis­sioned very styl­is­ti­cal­ly dif­fer­ent things. We have shown you exam­ples of Tolkien’s Per­son­al Book Cov­er Designs for The Lord of the Rings Tril­o­gy as well as what Where the Wild Things Are author Mau­rice Sendak could come up with. And, in March, we fea­tured a play­ful­ly visu­al­ized Sovi­et LOTR edi­tion from 1976. Now, take a look at the large set of images here, pulled from a 1993 edi­tion illus­trat­ed by Sergey Yuhi­mov (more infor­ma­tion, albeit in Russ­ian, here and here), and you’ll get the sense that the Rus­sians may have a knack for visu­al­iz­ing the goings-on of Mid­dle-Earth.

russian LOTR2

Still, the illus­tra­tions from Rus­si­a’s Hob­bit and almost 30-years-new­er Lord of the Rings could hard­ly share less of a sen­si­bil­i­ty. A Metafil­ter post on the lat­ter draw a num­ber of attempt­ed descrip­tions by Tolkien fans: “LOTR trans­lat­ed almost as Chris­t­ian iconog­ra­phy.” “They leap around about 1000 years of art his­to­ry.” “Mad, but also charm­ing.” “They would make great tarot cards.”

LOTR 6
Objec­tions may arise to the accu­ra­cy of the char­ac­ters por­trayed — as always — as well as the artist’s adher­ence (or lack there­of) to the traits of one peri­od of art or anoth­er, but we can hard­ly ignore what an aes­thet­ic impact these illus­tra­tions make even just on first glance. Some of the Metafil­ter com­menters express their wish­es for The Adven­tures of Huck­le­ber­ry Finn (“used in Russ­ian pri­ma­ry school cur­ric­u­la, or was dur­ing the Com­mu­nist era”) illus­trat­ed this way, or maybe a Lord of the Rings “in the style of Hierony­mus Bosch.” But from these vivid, styl­is­ti­cal­ly Medieval, reli­gious-icon-sat­u­rat­ed images, I per­son­al­ly take away one con­clu­sion: when the idea first came to find a direc­tor to bring Tolkien to the screen, they real­ly should’ve hired Andrei Tarkovsky.

You can see a gallery of images in four parts: Part 1 — Part 2Part 3, Part 4.

Our thanks go to @zeljka8 for help­ing find back­ground infor­ma­tion for these illus­tra­tions.

LOTR 4.1

Relat­ed con­tent:

Sovi­et-Era Illus­tra­tions Of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hob­bit (1976)

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

The Only Draw­ing from Mau­rice Sendak’s Short-Lived Attempt to Illus­trate The Hob­bit

Two Beau­ti­ful­ly-Craft­ed Russ­ian Ani­ma­tions of Chekhov’s Clas­sic Children’s Sto­ry “Kash­tan­ka”

Watch Sovi­et Ani­ma­tions of Win­nie the Pooh, Cre­at­ed by the Inno­v­a­tive Ani­ma­tor Fyo­dor Khitruk

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

Philip Seymour Hoffman Contemplates Happiness in New Animated Video

The ani­mat­ed video series Blank on Blank returns with a pre­vi­ous­ly unaired inter­view with Philip Sey­mour Hoff­man, the tal­ent­ed actor who died of a hero­in over­dose ear­li­er this year. The audio, record­ed at the Rubin Muse­um of Art in Decem­ber, 2012, fea­tures Hoff­man in con­ver­sa­tion with philoso­pher Simon Critch­ley. The top­ic is hap­pi­ness — some­thing that Hoff­man is care­ful to dis­tin­guish from hedo­nis­tic plea­sure. “I would def­i­nite­ly say plea­sure is not hap­pi­ness, because I kill plea­sure.” “I take too much of it and make it unplea­sur­able. Like too much cof­fee and you are mis­er­able.” “There is no plea­sure that I haven’t actu­al­ly made myself sick on.”  Wrestling with the con­cept, the actor tells Critchely that he found hap­pi­ness in one thing — the time he spent with his chil­dren, “When I see them enjoy each oth­er in front of me, and then they let me enjoy them in turn, that brings a feel­ing which I would say is hap­pi­ness.” But that feel­ing, as pow­er­ful as it is, proves ephemer­al. It does­n’t last. So when it comes around, don’t miss it.

You can watch the com­plete unan­i­mat­ed inter­view below:

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mihaly Czik­szent­mi­ha­lyi Explains Why the Source of Hap­pi­ness Lies in Cre­ativ­i­ty and Flow, Not Mon­ey

Hitch­cock on Hap­pi­ness

A Guide to Hap­pi­ness: Alain de Bot­ton Shows How Six Great Philoso­phers Can Change Your Life

Free: Download 30,000 Images from The Museum of New Zealand (All in High Resolution)

new zealand images

Last month, The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art announced some­thing we all wel­comed. They made more than 400,000 images of art in the Museum’s col­lec­tion free to down­load. Before that, we also wit­nessed oth­er major art muse­ums launch­ing their own open art ini­tia­tives: 87,000 images from the Get­ty in L.A., 125,000 Dutch mas­ter­pieces from the Rijksmu­se­um in the Nether­lands35,000 artis­tic images from the Nation­al Gallery in Wash­ing­ton, D.C., and 57,000 works of art put on vir­tu­al dis­play by Google Art Project

new zealand cats3

Now comes anoth­er 30,000 images from the Muse­um of New Zealand. On their blog, they write: “Today we are extreme­ly hap­py to let you know about our lat­est devel­op­ment; over 30,000 images down­load­able, for free, in the high­est res­o­lu­tion we have them.” “Over 14,000 images are avail­able under a Cre­ative Com­mons licence CC BY-NC-ND,” (which means you can make non-com­mer­cial use of these images, so long as you give attri­bu­tion to the artist.) “But even bet­ter are the 17,000 images that are down­load­able for any use, any use at all. These images have no known copy­right restric­tions.” Find more infor­ma­tion on this open art ini­tia­tive here. Or enter the col­lec­tions right here.

Up top, you will find the pho­to­graph called “Cleopa­tra in Domain Crick­et Ground,” tak­en in Auck­land, by Robert Wal­rond, in 1914.

The sec­ond image is from a series called “Five cats,” made in Chi­na dur­ing the late 18th cen­tu­ry, by an unknown artist.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free: The Guggen­heim Puts 99 Mod­ern Art Books Online

Down­load Hun­dreds of Free Art Cat­a­logs from The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

LA Coun­ty Muse­um Makes 20,000 Artis­tic Images Avail­able for Free Down­load

Dick Cavett’s Worst Show: Starring John Cassavetes, Peter Falk & Ben Gazzara (1970)

“Near­ly sev­en­teen min­utes into an episode of The Dick Cavett Show,” writes the New York­er’s Elon Green, “the host, who had walked off and then returned to the set, asked his guests — John Cas­savetes, Peter Falk, and Ben Gaz­zara — ‘Are you guys all smashed?’ The Sep­tem­ber 18, 1970 appear­ance by the Hus­bands direc­tor and his two actors — who had, in fact, been drinking—was excru­ci­at­ing. They were on hand to pro­mote their new movie, but for thir­ty-five min­utes they smoked, flopped around on the floor, and gen­er­al­ly tor­ment­ed Cavett, whose ques­tions they’d planned to ignore.” You can watch the infa­mous broad­cast at the top of the post and judge for your­self: embar­rass­ing tele­vi­sion talk-show deba­cle for the ages, or bril­liant piece of pro­mo­tion­al per­for­mance art by three of the bright­est dra­mat­ic lights of their gen­er­a­tion? If you’ve nev­er seen Hus­bands — or if you’ve seen and dis­liked it — you’ll lean toward the for­mer. But if, like many enthu­si­asts of Amer­i­can inde­pen­dent cin­e­ma, you hold the film and the rest of Cas­savetes’ direc­to­r­i­al oeu­vre in high regard, you may well find the lat­ter self-evi­dent.

Hus­bands tells the tale, in Cas­savetes’ harsh­ly real­is­tic and per­son­al fash­ion, of three men behav­ing quite bad­ly. The direc­tor stars along­side Falk and Gaz­zara as a trio of mid­dle-aged pro­fes­sion­al sub­ur­ban­ites shak­en by the sud­den death of their coterie’s for­mer fourth mem­ber. Plunged into a drunk­en lost week­end of irre­spon­si­bil­i­ty and self-destruc­tion, seri­ous even by the stan­dard of the clas­sic frus­trat­ed mid­cen­tu­ry male, they all three even­tu­al­ly find them­selves in Lon­don, try­ing hap­less­ly to bed down with girls they’ve picked up at a casi­no. This unre­lent­ing film still divides audi­ences and crit­ics alike: Pauline Kael thought it “infan­tile and offen­sive” and Roger Ebert said it “shows an impor­tant direc­tor not mere­ly fail­ing, but not even under­stand­ing why,” but Richard Brody now finds it a “for­mal­ly rad­i­cal, deeply per­son­al work [that] still packs plen­ty of sur­pris­es.” Cas­savetes, he writes, “built these char­ac­ters around the real-life ways of the actors who played them, filled the sto­ry with inci­dents from his own life, and wrote the dia­logue after impro­vis­ing with Gaz­zara and Falk.” You can learn more about this method in the BBC doc­u­men­tary on the mak­ing of Hus­bands just above. If I had to guess, I’d say the impro­vi­sa­tion did­n’t stop when pro­duc­tion wrapped.

via The New York­er

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Hair­cut: A Stu­dent Film Star­ring the Great John Cas­savetes (1982)

David Bowie Talks and Sings on The Dick Cavett Show (1974)

Watch John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Two Appear­ances on The Dick Cavett Show in 1971 and 72

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

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

Eudora Welty Writes a Quirky Letter Applying for a Job at The New Yorker (1933)

eudora welty

“Eudo­ra Wel­ty is one of the rea­sons that you thank God you know how to read,” writes an online review­er of her auto­bi­og­ra­phy One Writer’s Begin­nings. It’s a sen­ti­ment with which I could not agree more. Whether in mem­oir, short sto­ry, or nov­el, Wel­ty—win­ner of near­ly every lit­er­ary prize save the Nobel—speaks with the most high­ly indi­vid­ual of voic­es. (Wel­ty once told a Paris Review inter­view­er that she doesn’t read any­one for “kin­dred­ness.”) Her prose, so attuned to its own rhythms, so con­fi­dent­ly ven­tur­ing into new realms of thought, seems to sur­prise even her. Indeed, teach­ers of writ­ing could hard­ly do bet­ter than assign Wel­ty to illus­trate the elu­sive con­cept of “voice”—it’s a writer­ly qual­i­ty she mas­tered ear­ly, or per­haps always pos­sessed.

Take the 1933 let­ter below in which she intro­duces her­self, a young post­grad­u­ate of 23, to The New York­er in hopes of secur­ing a posi­tion doing… well, what­ev­er. She pro­pos­es “drum[ming] up opin­ions” on books and film, but only at the rate of “a lit­tle para­graph each morning—a lit­tle para­graph each night” (though she would “work like a slave” if asked). She also offers to replace car­toon­ist (and author of “The Secret Life of Wal­ter Mit­ty”) James Thurber “in case he goes off the deep end.” The let­ter brims with win­some self-con­fi­dence and breezy opti­mism, as well as the unself­con­scious self-aware­ness she makes look so easy: “That shows you how my mind works,” she writes, “quick, and away from the point.” The mag­a­zine staff, points out Shane Par­rish of Far­nam Street, “ignored her plea […] miss­ing the obvi­ous tal­ent,” though of course they would begin pub­lish­ing her sto­ries just a few years lat­er.

Read the let­ter in full below and mar­vel at how any­one could reject such a delight­ful­ly enthu­si­as­tic can­di­date (she would do just fine as a junior “pub­lic­i­ty agent” for the WPA).

March 15, 1933

Gen­tle­men,

I sup­pose you’d be more inter­est­ed in even a sleight‑o’-hand trick than you’d be in an appli­ca­tion for a posi­tion with your mag­a­zine, but as usu­al you can’t have the thing you want most.

I am 23 years old, six weeks on the loose in N.Y. How­ev­er, I was a New York­er for a whole year in 1930–31 while attend­ing adver­tis­ing class­es in Columbi­a’s School of Busi­ness. Actu­al­ly I am a south­ern­er, from Mis­sis­sip­pi, the nation’s most back­ward state. Ram­i­fi­ca­tions include Wal­ter H. Page, who, unluck­i­ly for me, is no longer con­nect­ed with Dou­ble­day-Page, which is no longer Dou­ble­day-Page, even. I have a B.A. (’29) from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Wis­con­sin, where I majored in Eng­lish with­out a care in the world. For the last eigh­teen months I was lan­guish­ing in my own office in a radio sta­tion in Jack­son, Miss., writ­ing con­ti­nu­ities, dra­mas, mule feed adver­tise­ments, san­ta claus talks, and life insur­ance playlets; now I have giv­en that up.

As to what I might do for you — I have seen an unto­ward amount of pic­ture gal­leries and 15¢ movies late­ly, and could review them with my old pros­per­ous detach­ment, I think; in fact, I recent­ly coined a gen­er­al word for Matis­se’s pic­tures after see­ing his lat­est at the Marie Har­ri­man: con­cu­bineap­ple. That shows you how my mind works — quick, and away from the point. I read sim­ply vora­cious­ly, and can drum up an opin­ion after­wards.

Since I have bought an India print, and a large num­ber of phono­graph records from a Mr. Nuss­baum who picks them up, and a Cezanne Bathers one inch long (that shows you I read e. e. cum­mings I hope), I am anx­ious to have an apart­ment, not to men­tion a small portable phono­graph. How I would like to work for you! A lit­tle para­graph each morn­ing — a lit­tle para­graph each night, if you can’t hire me from day­light to dark, although I would work like a slave. I can also draw like Mr. Thurber, in case he goes off the deep end. I have stud­ied flower paint­ing.

There is no telling where I may apply, if you turn me down; I real­ize this will not phase you, but con­sid­er my oth­er alter­na­tive: the U of N.C. offers for $12.00 to let me dance in Vachel Lind­say’s Con­go. I con­go on. I rest my case, repeat­ing that I am a hard work­er.

Tru­ly yours,

Eudo­ra Wel­ty

Welty’s let­ter appears along­side dozens more remark­able mis­sives in the beau­ti­ful new book, Let­ters of Note: An Eclec­tic Col­lec­tion of Cor­re­spon­dence Deserv­ing of a Wider Audi­ence.

via Far­nam Street/Brain Pick­ings

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ralph Wal­do Emer­son Writes a Job Rec­om­men­da­tion for Walt Whit­man (1863)

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

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

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

John Cheever Reads “The Swimmer,” His Famous Short Story, in Its Entirety (1977)

The Sto­ries of John Cheev­er, a col­lec­tion of 61 sto­ries chron­i­cling the lives of “the great­est gen­er­a­tion,” was first pub­lished in 1978 with much fan­fare. The crit­ics liked it. The weighty, 700-page book won the Pulitzer Prize for Fic­tion in 1979. The peo­ple liked it too. The Sto­ries of John Cheev­er, Michiko Kaku­tani wrote in Cheev­er’s 1982 obit, was “one of the few col­lec­tions of short fic­tion ever to make The New York Times best-sell­er list.”

The col­lec­tion fea­tures some of Cheev­er’s best-known sto­ries: “The Enor­mous Radio,” “Good­bye, My Broth­er,” “The Five-Forty-Eight,” and “The Coun­try Hus­band.” And also per­haps his most famous short piece of fic­tion, “The Swim­mer.”

First pub­lished in The New York­er in July, 1964, “The Swim­mer” was orig­i­nal­ly con­ceived as a nov­el and ran over some 150 pages, before the author pared it down to a taut eleven pages. Those eleven pages appar­ent­ly take some 25 min­utes to read. Above, you can hear Cheev­er read­ing “The Swim­mer,” in its entire­ty, at New York’s 92nd St. Y. The audio was record­ed on Decem­ber 19, 1977, and it’s oth­er­wise housed in our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

Bonus: you can also hear author Anne Enright read “The Swim­mer” over at The New York­er. This ver­sion was record­ed in 2011.

via The Paris Review

Relat­ed Con­tent:

92nd Street Y Launch­es a New Online Archive with 1,000 Record­ings of Lit­er­ary Read­ings, Musi­cal Per­for­mances & More

The New Yorker’s Fic­tion Pod­cast: Where Great Writ­ers Read Sto­ries by Great Writ­ers

Famous Authors Read Oth­er Famous Authors

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

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 1 ) |

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast