Novelist Michael Chabon Digitally Re-Creates the Science Fiction & Fantasy Section of His Favorite 1970s Bookstore

Michael Chabon was born in 1963, which placed him well to be influ­enced by the unpre­dictable, indis­crim­i­nate, and often lurid cul­tur­al cross-cur­rents of the nine­teen-sev­en­ties. He seemed to have received much of that influ­ence at Page One, the local book­store in his home­town of Colum­bia, Mary­land — and it was to Page One that his imag­i­na­tion drift­ed dur­ing the long days of the COVID-19 pan­dem­ic spent in his per­son­al library. “As I sat around com­muning with my tat­tered old friends,” he writes, “I dis­cov­ered that I retained a sharp rec­ol­lec­tion — title, author, cov­er design — of what felt like every sin­gle book that had ever appeared on those tall shelves along the left wall of Page One, toward the back, between 1972 and 1980.”

That was the store’s “Sci­ence Fic­tion & Fan­ta­sy” sec­tion, which in that peri­od was well-stocked with titles by such stars of those gen­res as Ray Brad­bury, Ursu­la K. LeGuin, Arthur C. Clarke, J. G. Bal­lard, C. J. Cher­ryh, Michael Moor­cock, and Philip K. Dick.

Or at least it did if Chabon’s dig­i­tal re-cre­ation “The Shelves of Time” is any­thing to go by. Down­load­able here in “small” (96 MB), “large” (283 MB) and “very large” (950 MB) for­mats, the lav­ish image func­tions as what Chabon calls a “time tele­scope,” offer­ing “a look back at the visu­als that embod­ied and accom­pa­nied my ear­ly aspi­ra­tions as a writer, and at the mass-mar­ket splen­dor of paper­back sf and fan­ta­sy in those days.”

“I’m the same age as Chabon, and I was also a book­store rat, star­ing at these exact same cov­ers and ago­niz­ing over which one I’d lay down my $1.25 for,” writes Ruben Bolling at Boing Boing. “Just look at those beau­ti­ful John Carter of Mars cov­ers. I col­lect­ed and cher­ished these, and the Tarzan series.” Bolling also high­lights the adap­ta­tions Chabon includes on these re-imag­ined shelves: there’s “the James Blish Star Trek series, just as I remem­ber it,” and also the nov­el­iza­tion of Star Wars, which he read before the open­ing of the film itself.  “So instead of expe­ri­enc­ing the movie as it should have been — as campy movie fun — I expe­ri­enced it as an adap­ta­tion of a lit­er­ary work.”

Despite being a cou­ple of decades younger, I, too, remem­ber these cov­ers vivid­ly. My own sci-fi-and-fan­ta­sy peri­od occurred in the late nineties, by which time these very same mass-mar­ket paper­backs from the sev­en­ties were turn­ing up in quan­ti­ty at used book­stores. For me, few images from these gen­res of that era could trig­ger read­ing mem­o­ries as rich as those Bal­lan­tine cov­ers of The Sheep Look Up, The Shock­wave Rid­er, and Stand on Zanz­ibar by John Brun­ner, a British spe­cial­ist in social and envi­ron­men­tal cat­a­stro­phe. Like many read­ers, I put this sort of thing aside after a few years, but Chabon has proven infi­nite­ly more ded­i­cat­ed: half a cen­tu­ry after his days haunt­ing Page One, his mis­sion to “drag the decay­ing corpse of genre fic­tion out of the shal­low grave where writ­ers of seri­ous lit­er­a­ture aban­doned it,” as crit­ic Ruth Franklin once described it, con­tin­ues apace.

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Art of Sci-Fi Book Cov­ers: From the Fan­tas­ti­cal 1920s to the Psy­che­del­ic 1960s & Beyond

Nov­el­ist Michael Chabon Sang in a Punk Band Dur­ing the ’80s: New­ly Released Audio Gives Proof

600+ Cov­ers of Philip K. Dick Nov­els from Around the World: Greece, Japan, Poland & Beyond

The Dune Ency­clo­pe­dia: The Con­tro­ver­sial, Defin­i­tive Guide to the World of Frank Herbert’s Sci-Fi Mas­ter­piece (1984)

The Amaz­ing Adven­tures of Kava­lier and Clay: Ani­ma­tion Con­cepts

The Ency­clo­pe­dia of Sci­ence Fic­tion: 17,500 Entries on All Things Sci-Fi Are Now Free Online

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Watch Oppenheimer: The Decision to Drop the Bomb, a 1965 Documentary Featuring J. Robert Oppenheimer

If you’ve seen Christo­pher Nolan’s new Oppen­heimer film, you may want to turn your atten­tion to anoth­er film, the 1965 doc­u­men­tary called Oppen­heimer: The Deci­sion to Drop the Bomb. With it, you can hear direct­ly from J. Robert Oppen­heimer and oth­er archi­tects of the first atom­ic bomb. Released on NBC News’ offi­cial YouTube chan­nel, the film cap­tures their reflec­tions two decades after the bomb­ing of Hiroshi­ma and Nagasa­ki. It also fea­tures a coda by pres­i­den­tial his­to­ri­an Michael Beschloss. As one YouTube com­menter put it, “This is some­thing every­one should see. I was total­ly engrossed and cap­ti­vat­ed. His­to­ry brought to life by the very peo­ple that were involved. Thank you NBC archives.” You can watch it above…

Oppen­heimer: The Deci­sion to Drop the Bomb will be added to our list of Free Doc­u­men­taries, a sub­set of our col­lec­tion: 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

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Behold a Digitization of “The Most Beautiful of All Printed Books,” The Kelmscott Chaucer

The his­to­ry of the print­ed book stretch­es back well over a mil­len­ni­um, the title of the old­est known book cur­rent­ly being held by a Tang Dynasty work of the Dia­mond Sutra. But what about the most beau­ti­ful book? As a con­tender for that spot, Michael Good­man (pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture for his projects on the illus­tra­tions of Shake­speare and Dick­ens) has put forth the Kelm­scott Chaucer, includ­ing the tes­ti­mo­ny of no less a lit­er­ary fig­ure than W.B. Yeats, who called it “the most beau­ti­ful of all print­ed books.” Good­man has also made the book freely avail­able for our perusal on his new web site, The Kelm­scott Chaucer Online.

“William Mor­ris, the nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry design­er, social reformer and writer, found­ed the Kelm­scott Press towards the end of his life,” says the web site of the British Library. “He want­ed to revive the skills of hand print­ing, which mech­a­niza­tion had destroyed, and restore the qual­i­ty achieved by the pio­neers of print­ing in the 15th cen­tu­ry.”

Pub­lished in 1896, the Kelm­scott Chaucer, ful­ly titled The Works of Geof­frey Chaucer now new­ly imprint­ed, “is the tri­umph of the press. Its 87 wood-cut illus­tra­tions are by Edward Burne-Jones, the cel­e­brat­ed Vic­to­ri­an painter, who was a life-long friend of Mor­ris. The illus­tra­tions were engraved by William Har­court Hoop­er and print­ed in black, with shoul­der and side titles.”

You can view all these ele­ments and more, dig­i­tized in detail and entire­ly down­load­able, on Good­man’s site, orga­nized into sep­a­rate sec­tions ded­i­cat­ed to its illus­tra­tions, full pages, bor­ders, frames, and even its dec­o­rat­ed words — the likes of which we sel­dom, if ever, see in the print­ed books of our own, infi­nite­ly high­er-tech cen­tu­ry. “The edi­tion I have used for this project is a fac­sim­i­le from the 1950s that has sat on my shelf for many years,” Good­man notes. Giv­en how few copies of the Kelm­scott Chaucer were orig­i­nal­ly pro­duced, thir­teen copies on vel­lum, and anoth­er 58 on pig’s skin, “any spe­cial col­lec­tion’s library who are lucky enough to own an orig­i­nal copy are like­ly to be very reluc­tant to embark upon any form of dig­i­ti­za­tion due to the sig­nif­i­cant risk of dam­age that the process could inflict upon the book.”

If you’d like a clos­er look at the gen­uine arti­cle, which is much larg­er than the dig­i­ti­za­tion may let on, you can get one in the video just above, host­ed by Lon­don rare book deal­er Adam Dou­glas. “It’s obvi­ous as soon as we open to the begin­ning how much care and atten­tion has been lav­ished on this book,” he says, high­light­ing the “beau­ti­ful designs in the pre-Raphaelite man­ner,” the wood­cut ini­tials through­out (no two of which are alike), and the “won­der­ful pro­por­tions” that match the Gold­en Ratio. It takes a cer­tain sophis­ti­ca­tion, or at least knowl­edge of the his­to­ry of print­ing and book design, to ful­ly appre­ci­ate the Kelm­scott Chaucer. But thanks to Good­man, younger read­ers — even much younger read­ers — can enjoy it in col­or­ing-book form.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Ter­ry Jones, the Late Mon­ty Python Actor, Helped Turn Chaucer’s Can­ter­bury Tales Into a Free App: Explore It Online

Dis­cov­er the First Illus­trat­ed Book Print­ed in Eng­lish, William Caxton’s Mir­ror of the World (1481)

3,000 Illus­tra­tions of Shakespeare’s Com­plete Works from Vic­to­ri­an Eng­land, Neat­ly Pre­sent­ed in a New Dig­i­tal Archive

The Charles Dick­ens Illus­trat­ed Gallery: A New Online Col­lec­tion Presents All of the Orig­i­nal Illus­tra­tions from Charles Dick­ens’ Nov­els

Down­load Free Col­or­ing Books from Near­ly 100 Muse­ums & Libraries

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Sinéad O’Connor’s Raw Isolated Vocals for “Nothing Compares 2 U”

Prince first record­ed a demo of “Noth­ing Com­pares 2 U” in 1984. Then Sinéad O’Con­nor made the song her own … and made it famous. Chris Bir­kett, who co-pro­duced and engi­neered the 1990 track, remem­bers the cir­cum­stances behind the record­ing: Speak­ing to Sound on Sound, he recalls: “I think the inten­si­ty of Sinéad’s per­for­mance came from the breakup of her lat­est rela­tion­ship.” “She had been dat­ing her man­ag­er, Facht­na O’Ceal­laigh, who’s a real­ly good guy and had been instru­men­tal in get­ting her deal with Ensign Records. How­ev­er, their rela­tion­ship had gone pear-shaped and they were in the process of break­ing up when we record­ed ‘Noth­ing Com­pares 2 U’, so that’s prob­a­bly why she did such a good vocal. She came into the stu­dio, did it in one take, dou­ble-tracked it straight away and it was per­fect because she was total­ly into the song. It mir­rored her sit­u­a­tion.” In the iso­lat­ed track above, you can hear all of the raw­ness of the moment, cap­tured just as Bir­kett heard it that day.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Sinéad O’Connor Makes Her First US Tele­vi­sion Appear­ance: Watch Her Sing “Mandin­ka” on Late Night with David Let­ter­man (1988)

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

Hear a 19-Year-Old Prince Crush­ing It on Every Instru­ment in an Ear­ly Jam Ses­sion (1977)

 

Pakistani Musicians Play a Wonderful Version of Dave Brubeck’s Jazz Classic, “Take Five”

How’s this for fusion? Here we have The Sachal Stu­dios Orches­tra, based in Lahore, Pak­istan, play­ing an inno­v­a­tive cov­er of “Take Five,” the jazz stan­dard writ­ten by Paul Desmond and per­formed by The Dave Brubeck Quar­tet in 1959. (Watch them per­form it here.) Before he died in 2012, Brubeck called it the “most inter­est­ing” ver­sion he had ever heard. Once you watch the per­for­mance above, you’ll know why.

Accord­ing to The Guardian, The Sachal Stu­dios Orches­tra was cre­at­ed by Izzat Majeed, a phil­an­thropist based in Lon­don. When Pak­istan fell under the dic­ta­tor­ship of Gen­er­al Zia-ul-Haq dur­ing the 1980s, Pakistan’s clas­si­cal music scene fell on hard times. Many musi­cians were forced into pro­fes­sions they had nev­er imag­ined — sell­ing clothes, elec­tri­cal parts, veg­eta­bles, etc. What­ev­er was nec­es­sary to get by. Today, many of these musi­cians have come togeth­er in a 60-per­son orches­tra that plays in a state-of-the-art stu­dio, designed part­ly by Abbey Road sound engi­neers.

You can pur­chase their album, Sachal Jazz: Inter­pre­ta­tions of Jazz Stan­dards & Bossa Nova, on Ama­zon. It includes ver­sions of “Take Five” and “The Girl from Ipane­ma.”

Note: This post orig­i­nal­ly appeared on our site over a decade ago. For obvi­ous rea­sons, we’re bring­ing it back.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Dave Brubeck’s Time Out Changed Jazz Music

Watch an Incred­i­ble Per­for­mance of “Take Five” by the Dave Brubeck Quar­tet (1964)

An Uplift­ing Musi­cal Sur­prise for Dave Brubeck in Moscow (1997)

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Why Einstein Was a “Peerless” Genius, and Hawking Was an “Ordinary” Genius: A Scientist Explains

Genius sells. Pub­lish­ers of biogra­phies and stu­dios behind Oscar-win­ning dra­mas can tell you that. So can net­work sci­en­tist Albert-Lás­zló Barabási, who has actu­al­ly con­duct­ed research into the nature of genius. “What real­ly deter­mines the ‘genius’ label?” he asks in the Big Think video above. When he and his col­lab­o­ra­tors “com­pared all genius­es to their sci­en­tif­ic peers, we real­ized that there are real­ly two very dif­fer­ent class­es: ordi­nary genius and peer­less genius.” Con­sid­er­ing the lat­ter, Barabási points to the per­haps unsur­pris­ing exam­ple of Albert Ein­stein.

“When we looked at the sci­en­tists work­ing at the same time, rough­ly in the same areas of physics that he did,” Barabási explains, “there was no one who would have a com­pa­ra­ble pro­duc­tiv­i­ty or sci­en­tif­ic impact to him. He was tru­ly alone.” Illus­trat­ing the class of “ordi­nary genius” is a fig­ure almost as well-known as Ein­stein: Stephen Hawk­ing. “To our sur­prise, we real­ized, there were about six oth­er sci­en­tists who worked in rough­ly the same area, and had com­pa­ra­ble, often big­ger impacts than Stephen Hawk­ing had” — and yet only he was pub­licly labeled a “genius.”

“The ‘genius’ label is a con­struct that soci­ety assigns to excep­tion­al accom­plish­ment, but excep­tion­al accom­plish­ment is not suf­fi­cient to get the genius label.” Through­out his­to­ry, “remark­able indi­vid­u­als were always born in the vicin­i­ty of big cul­tur­al cen­ters, and every­thing that is out­side of the cul­tur­al cen­ters was typ­i­cal­ly a desert of excep­tion­al accom­plish­ments.” Today, as ven­ture cap­i­tal­ist and essay­ist Paul Gra­ham once wrote, “a thou­sand Leonar­dos and a thou­sand Michelan­ge­los walk among us. If DNA ruled, we should be greet­ed dai­ly by artis­tic mar­vels. We aren’t, and the rea­son is that to make Leonar­do you need more than his innate abil­i­ty. You also need Flo­rence in 1450.”

What would it take to dis­cov­er the “hid­den genius­es” who may have been born into unpro­pi­tious cir­cum­stances? This is one con­cern behind Barabási’s inquiry into the nature of sci­en­tif­ic promi­nence. The ques­tion of “how does the qual­i­ty of the idea that I picked, and the ulti­mate suc­cess, and my abil­i­ty as a sci­en­tist con­nect to each oth­er” led him to devel­op the “Q fac­tor,” the mea­sure of “our abil­i­ty to turn ideas into dis­cov­er­ies.” His analy­sis of the data shows that, through­out a sci­en­tist’s career, the Q fac­tor remains more or less sta­ble. Apply­ing it to big data “could help us to dis­cov­er those that real­ly had the accom­plish­ment and deserve the genius label and put them in the right place.” If he’s cor­rect, we can expect a bumper crop of books and movies on a whole new wave of genius­es in the years to come.

Relat­ed con­tent:

What Char­ac­ter Traits Do Genius­es Share in Com­mon?: From Isaac New­ton to Richard Feyn­man

“The Most Intel­li­gent Pho­to Ever Tak­en”: The 1927 Solvay Coun­cil Con­fer­ence, Fea­tur­ing Ein­stein, Bohr, Curie, Heisen­berg, Schrödinger & More

This is What Richard Feynman’s PhD The­sis Looks Like: A Video Intro­duc­tion

Neil deGrasse Tyson on the Stag­ger­ing Genius of Isaac New­ton

Explore the Largest Online Archive Explor­ing the Genius of Leonard da Vin­ci

“The Matil­da Effect”: How Pio­neer­ing Women Sci­en­tists Have Been Denied Recog­ni­tion and Writ­ten Out of Sci­ence His­to­ry

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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