Why Should You Read Haruki Murakami? An Animated Video on His “Epic Literary Puzzle” Kafka on the Shore Makes the Case

Haru­ki Murakami’s vast inter­na­tion­al fan base includes peo­ple ded­i­cat­ed to lit­er­a­ture. It also includes peo­ple who have bare­ly cracked any books in their lives — apart, that is, from Murakami’s nov­els with their dis­tinc­tive mix­ture of the light­heart­ed with the grim and the mun­dane with the uncan­ny. Since the pub­li­ca­tion of his first nov­el, Hear the Wind Sing, 40 years ago in his native Japan, Muraka­mi has become both a lit­er­ary phe­nom­e­non and an extra-lit­er­ary phe­nom­e­non, and dif­fer­ent read­ers endorse dif­fer­ent paths into his unique tex­tu­al realm.

The TED-Ed video above makes the case for one fan favorite in par­tic­u­lar: 2002’s Kaf­ka on the Shore, an “epic lit­er­ary puz­zle filled with time trav­el, hid­den his­to­ries, and mag­i­cal under­worlds. Read­ers delight in dis­cov­er­ing how the mind-bend­ing imagery, whim­si­cal char­ac­ters and eerie coin­ci­dences fit togeth­er.” So says the video’s nar­ra­tor, read­ing from a les­son writ­ten by lit­er­ary schol­ar Iseult Gille­spie (who has also made cas­es for Charles Dick­ens, Vir­ginia Woolf, and Ray Brad­bury).

Muraka­mi tells this sto­ry, and keeps it fresh through more than 500 pages, by alter­nat­ing between two point-of-view char­ac­ters: a teenag­er “des­per­ate to escape his tyran­ni­cal father and the fam­i­ly curse he feels doomed to repeat,” who “renames him­self Kaf­ka after his favorite author and runs away from home,” and an old man with “a mys­te­ri­ous knack for talk­ing to cats.”

When the lat­ter is com­mis­sioned to use his unusu­al skill to track down a lost pet, “he’s thrown onto a dan­ger­ous path that runs par­al­lel to Kafka’s.” Soon, “prophe­cies come true, por­tals to dif­fer­ent dimen­sions open up — and fish and leech­es begin rain­ing from the sky.” But it’s all of a piece with Murakami’s body of work, with its nov­els and sto­ries that “often forge fan­tas­tic con­nec­tions between per­son­al expe­ri­ence, super­nat­ur­al pos­si­bil­i­ties, and Japan­ese his­to­ry.” His “ref­er­ences to West­ern soci­ety and Japan­ese cus­toms tum­ble over each oth­er, from lit­er­a­ture and fash­ion to food and ghost sto­ries.”

All of it comes tied togeth­er with threads of music: “As the run­away Kaf­ka wan­ders the streets of a strange city, Led Zep­pelin and Prince keep him com­pa­ny,” and he lat­er befriends a librar­i­an who “intro­duces him to clas­si­cal music like Schu­bert.” Safe to say that such ref­er­ences put some dis­tance between Murakami’s work and that of his char­ac­ter Kafka’s favorite writer, to whom Muraka­mi him­self has been com­pared. Kaf­ka on the Shore show­cas­es Murakami’s sto­ry­telling sen­si­bil­i­ty, but is it in any sense Kafkaesque? You’ll have plen­ty more ques­tions after tak­ing the plunge into Murakami’s real­i­ty, but there’s anoth­er TED-Ed les­son that might at least help you answer that one.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Intro­duc­tion to the World of Haru­ki Muraka­mi Through Doc­u­men­taries, Sto­ries, Ani­ma­tion, Music Playlists & More

Read 6 Sto­ries By Haru­ki Muraka­mi Free Online

What Does “Kafkaesque” Real­ly Mean? A Short Ani­mat­ed Video Explains

Why Should We Read Charles Dick­ens? A TED-Ed Ani­ma­tion Makes the Case

Why Should We Read Ray Bradbury’s Fahren­heit 451? A New TED-Ed Ani­ma­tion Explains

Why Should We Read Vir­ginia Woolf? A TED-Ed Ani­ma­tion Makes the Case

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include 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.

Stream Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, a BBC Production Featuring Derek Jacobi (Free for a Limited Time)

A nice tip from Metafil­ter: “BBC Radio 4 is air­ing Mar­cel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time in 10 episodes run­ning to about nine hours in total. With a star­ry cast head­ed by Derek Jaco­bi as the Nar­ra­tor, the adap­ta­tion is writ­ten by U.S.-born, UK-based play­wright Tim­ber­lake Werten­bak­er.”

The entire audio col­lec­tion will remain stream­able for the next 28 days. Here are the indi­vid­ual episodes:

Episodes 1 and 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

Episode 9

Episode 10

Find more audio books in our col­lec­tion, 1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

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:

The First Known Footage of Mar­cel Proust Dis­cov­ered: Watch It Online

An Intro­duc­tion to the Lit­er­ary Phi­los­o­phy of Mar­cel Proust, Pre­sent­ed in a Mon­ty Python-Style Ani­ma­tion

When James Joyce & Mar­cel Proust Met in 1922, and Total­ly Bored Each Oth­er

16-Year-Old Mar­cel Proust Tells His Grand­fa­ther About His Mis­guid­ed Adven­tures at the Local Broth­el

Mar­cel Proust Fills Out a Ques­tion­naire in 1890: The Man­u­script of the ‘Proust Ques­tion­naire’

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

In 2001 or 2002, gui­tarist and singer David Gilmour of Pink Floyd record­ed a musi­cal inter­pre­ta­tion of William Shake­speare’s “Son­net 18″ at his home stu­dio aboard the his­toric, 90-foot house­boat the Asto­ria. This video of Gilmour singing the son­net was released as an extra on the 2002 DVD David Gilmour in Con­cert, but the song itself is con­nect­ed with When Love Speaks, a 2002 ben­e­fit album for Lon­don’s Roy­al Acad­e­my for the Dra­mat­ic Arts.

The project was orga­nized by the com­pos­er and con­duc­tor Michael Kamen, who died a lit­tle more than a year after the album was released. When Love Speaks fea­tures a mix­ture of dra­mat­ic and musi­cal per­for­mances of Shake­speare’s Son­nets and oth­er works, with artists rang­ing from John Giel­gud to Lady­smith Black Mam­bazo.

Kamen wrote much of the music for the project, includ­ing the arrange­ment for Son­net 18, which is sung on the album by Bryan Fer­ry. A spe­cial ben­e­fit con­cert to cel­e­brate the release of the album was held on Feb­ru­ary 10, 2002 at the Old Vic The­atre in Lon­don, but Fer­ry did not attend. Gilmour appeared and sang the son­net in his place. It was appar­ent­ly around that time that Gilmour record­ed his own vocal track for Kamen’s song.

“Son­net 18” is per­haps the most famous of Shake­speare’s 154 son­nets. It was writ­ten in about 1595, and most schol­ars now agree the poem is addressed to a man. The son­net is com­posed in iambic pen­tame­ter, with three rhymed qua­trains fol­lowed by a con­clud­ing cou­plet:

Shall I com­pare thee to a sum­mer’s day?
Thou art more love­ly and more tem­per­ate:
Rough winds do shake the dar­ling buds of May,
And sum­mer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Some­time too hot the eye of heav­en shines,
And often is his gold com­plex­ion dim­m’d;
And every fair from fair some­time declines,
By chance or nature’s chang­ing course untrim­m’d
But thy eter­nal sum­mer shall not fade,
Nor lose pos­ses­sion of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wan­der’st in his shade,
When in eter­nal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2013.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Pink Floyd Play Live Amidst the Ruins of Pom­peii in 1971 … and David Gilmour Does It Again in 2016

Shakespeare’s Satir­i­cal Son­net 130, As Read By Stephen Fry

A Sur­vey of Shakespeare’s Plays (Free Course)

What Shake­speare Sound­ed Like to Shake­speare: Recon­struct­ing the Bard’s Orig­i­nal Pro­nun­ci­a­tion

 

Philip K. Dick Tarot Cards: A Tarot Deck Modeled After the Visionary Sci-Fi Writer’s Inner World

What does Philip K. Dick have in com­mon with Jorge Luis Borges, Her­mann Hesse, and John Cage? Fans of all three twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry vision­ar­ies will have much to say on the mat­ter of what deep res­o­nances exist between their bod­ies of work and the world­views that pro­duced them. But they can’t over­look the fact that Dick, Borges, Hesse, and Cage all, at one time or anoth­er, enthu­si­as­ti­cal­ly con­sult­ed the ancient Chi­nese div­ina­tion text known as the I Ching. Also known as The Book of Changes, it became a must-have coun­ter­cul­tur­al vol­ume in the 1960s, and the words of guid­ance it pro­vid­ed, in all their open­ness to inter­pre­ta­tion, sure­ly influ­enced no small num­ber of deci­sions made in that era.

What the I Ching had to say cer­tain­ly influ­enced the deci­sions of Philip K. Dick, in life as well as in writ­ing. Not only did he use the book to write The Man in the High Cas­tle, his 1962 nov­el por­tray­ing a world in which the Axis pow­ers won World War II, he also includ­ed it as a plot ele­ment in the sto­ry itself.

And speak­ing of alter­nate his­to­ries, we might ask: could Dick have writ­ten The Man in the High Cas­tle with­out the I Ching? Or could he have writ­ten it using anoth­er div­ina­tion tool, per­haps one from the West rather than the East? What would the nov­el have looked like if writ­ten while har­ness­ing the per­cep­tive pow­er of tarot, the 15th-cen­tu­ry Euro­pean card game whose decks also have a long his­to­ry as win­dows onto human des­tiny?

Recent­ly the world of tarot, the world of the I Ching, and the world of Philip K. Dick col­lid­ed, result­ing in The Fool’s Jour­ney of Philip K. Dick, a tarot deck pub­lished by Wide Books. “PKD schol­ar Ted Hand and tarot artist Christo­pher Wilkey have brought togeth­er a new vision of tarot and the great works of Philip K. Dick,” says Wide Books’ site. “Ide­al for advanced stu­dents of tarot as well as novices to the I Ching,” the deck “takes the seek­er through an ini­ti­a­tion into the life and writ­ings of one of the great­est writ­ers of recent times.” In addi­tion to its 80 cards, each draw­ing from some ele­ment of Dick­’s body of work, the deck includes “four rule cards for two I Ching inspired card games and an eight-sided fold­ing book­let about tarot as Gnos­tic Alle­go­ry, with begin­ning exer­cis­es con­trast­ing tarot to the I Ching.”

Two of the games pay trib­ute to par­tic­u­lar Dick nov­els: A Maze of Death and its “domi­no-type game” that “famil­iar­izes play­ers with the tri­grams of which I Ching hexa­grams are com­posed,” and Ubik, which has “play­ers either hop­ing to avoid accu­mu­lat­ing entropy or try­ing to cap­ture all the ener­gy you can from the deck and oth­er play­ers to be the last stand­ing at the end of the game.” If that sounds like a good time to you, you’ll have to reg­is­ter your inter­est in order­ing a copy of The Fool’s Jour­ney of Philip K. Dick on Wide Books’ con­tact form, since the ini­tial run has sold out. That won’t come as a sur­prise to Dick­’s fans, who know the addic­tive pow­er of one glimpse into his inner world, with its rich mix­ture of the super­nat­ur­al, the sci­en­tif­ic, the para­nor­mal, and the para­noid. But what kind of books will they use his tarot deck to write?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Behold the Sola-Bus­ca Tarot Deck, the Ear­li­est Com­plete Set of Tarot Cards (1490)

H.R. Giger’s Tarot Cards: The Swiss Artist, Famous for His Design Work on Alien, Takes a Jour­ney into the Occult

The Tarot Card Deck Designed by Sal­vador Dalí

The Thoth Tarot Deck Designed by Famed Occultist Aleis­ter Crow­ley

Twin Peaks Tarot Cards Now Avail­able as 78-Card Deck

Robert Crumb Illus­trates Philip K. Dick’s Infa­mous, Hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry Meet­ing with God (1974)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include 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.

Take a Virtual Tour of Jane Austen’s Library

Jane Austen read vora­cious­ly and as wide­ly as she could in her cir­cum­scribed life. Even so, she told her niece Car­o­line, she wished she had “read more and writ­ten less” in her for­ma­tive years. Her nephew James Edward Austen-Leigh made clear that no mat­ter how much she read, her work was far more than the sum of her read­ing: “It was not,” he wrote in his 1870 biog­ra­phy, “what she knew, but what she was, that dis­tin­guished her from oth­ers.” What she was not, how­ev­er, was the own­er of a great library.

Mem­bers of Austen’s fam­i­ly were well-off, but she her­self lived on mod­est means and nev­er made enough from writ­ing to become finan­cial­ly inde­pen­dent. She owned books, of course, but not many. Books were expen­sive, and most peo­ple bor­rowed them from lend­ing libraries. Nonethe­less, schol­ars have been able to piece togeth­er an exten­sive list of books Austen sup­pos­ed­ly read—books men­tioned in her let­ters, nov­els, and an 1817 bio­graph­i­cal note writ­ten by her broth­er Hen­ry in her posthu­mous­ly pub­lished Northang­er Abbey.

Austen read con­tem­po­rary male and female nov­el­ists. She read his­to­ries, the poet­ry of Mil­ton, Wordsworth, Byron, Cow­per, and Sir Wal­ter Scott, and nov­els writ­ten by fam­i­ly mem­bers. She read Chaucer, Locke, Rousseau, Hume, Spencer, and Woll­stonecraft. She read ancients and mod­ern. “Despite her desire to have ‘read more” in her youth,” write Austen schol­ars Gillian Down and Katie Halsey, “recent schol­ar­ship has estab­lished that the range of Austen’s read­ing was far wider and deep­er than either Hen­ry or James Edward sug­gest.”

Austen may not have had a large library of her own, but she did have access to the hand­some col­lec­tion at God­mer­sham Park, the home of her broth­er Edward Austen Knight. “For a total of ten months spread over fif­teen years,” Rebec­ca Rego Bar­ry writes at Lapham’s Quar­ter­ly, “Austen vis­it­ed her broth­er at his Kent estate. The brim­ming book­shelves at God­mer­sham Park were a par­tic­u­lar draw for the nov­el­ist.” In the last eight years of her life, Jane lived with her moth­er and sis­ter Cas­san­dra at Edward’s Chaw­ton estate, in a vil­la that had its own library.

Recon­struct­ing these shelves show us the books Austen would have reg­u­lar­ly had in view, though schol­ars must use oth­er evi­dence to show which books she read. In 2009, Down and Halsey curat­ed an exhi­bi­tion focused on her read­ing at Chaw­ton. Ten years lat­er, we can see the library at God­mer­sham Park recre­at­ed in a vir­tu­al ver­sion made joint­ly by Chaw­ton House and McGill University’s Bur­ney Cen­ter.

Called “Read­ing with Austen,” the inter­ac­tive site lets us to nav­i­gate three book-lined walls of the library. “Users can hov­er over the shelves and click on any of the antique books,” writes Bar­ry, “sum­mon­ing bib­li­o­graph­ic data and avail­able pho­tos of per­ti­nent title pages, book­plates, and mar­gin­a­lia. Dig­ging deep­er, one can peruse a dig­i­tal copy of the book and deter­mine the where­abouts of the orig­i­nal.”

These vol­umes are what we might expect from an Eng­lish coun­try gen­tle­man: books of law and agri­cul­ture, his­tor­i­cal reg­is­ters, trav­el­ogues, polit­i­cal the­o­ry, and clas­si­cal Latin. There is also Shake­speare, Swift, and Voltaire, Austen’s own nov­els, and some of the con­tem­po­rary fic­tion she par­tic­u­lar­ly loved. The Bur­ney Cen­ter “tried,” says direc­tor Peter Sabor, “to imag­ine Jane Austen actu­al­ly walk­ing around the library…. We’re basi­cal­ly look­ing over her shoul­der as she looks at the book­shelf.” It’s not exact­ly quite like that at all, but the project can give us a sense of how much Austen trea­sured libraries.

She wrote about libraries as a sign of lux­u­ry. In an ear­ly unfin­ished nov­el, “Cather­ine,” she has a furi­ous char­ac­ter exclaim in reproach, “I gave you the key to my own Library, and bor­rowed a great many good books of my Neigh­bors for you.” Austen may have feared los­ing library and lend­ing access, and she longed for a king­dom of books all her own. Dur­ing her final vis­it to God­mer­sham Park in 1813, she wrote to her sis­ter, “I am now alone in the Library, Mis­tress of all I sur­vey.”

Try to imag­ine how she might have felt as you peruse the library’s hap­haz­ard­ly arranged con­tents. Con­sid­er which of these books she might have read and which she might have shelved and why. Enter the “Read­ing with Austen” library project here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Jane Austen Fic­tion Man­u­script Archive Is Online: Explore Hand­writ­ten Drafts of Per­sua­sion, The Wat­sons & More

Down­load the Major Works of Jane Austen as Free eBooks & Audio Books

15-Year-Old Jane Austen Writes a Satir­i­cal His­to­ry Of Eng­land: Read the Hand­writ­ten Man­u­script Online (1791)

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

Toni Morrison Deconstructs White Supremacy in America

Toni Mor­ri­son wrote against for­get­ting, against the insti­tu­tion­al­iza­tion of denial nec­es­sary for main­tain­ing racial hier­ar­chies in the Unit­ed States. But that denial is not suf­fi­cient, she also showed. Racism always falls back on bru­tal­i­ty when con­front­ed with change, no mat­ter that the past will not return except to haunt us. This real­i­ty has dri­ven a sig­nif­i­cant per­cent­age of Amer­i­cans (back) into the arms of white suprema­cist ide­ol­o­gy, espoused equal­ly by politi­cians and armed “lon­ers” in net­works on Face­book or YouTube or 8chan.

In a short essay for The New York­er after the 2016 elec­tion, Mor­ri­son dis­played lit­tle sur­prise at the turn of events. The lan­guage of white suprema­cy, she wrote, is a lan­guage of cow­ardice dis­guised as dom­i­nance. “These peo­ple are not so much angry as ter­ri­fied, with the kind of ter­ror that makes knees trem­ble.” A fear so great, it has brought back pub­lic lynch­ing, with high-capac­i­ty semi­au­to­mat­ic weapons.

What did Mor­ri­son think of the idea that racist mass shoot­ings are the acts of ran­dom men­tal­ly ill peo­ple? She did not offer a med­ical opin­ion, nor pre­sume to diag­nose par­tic­u­lar indi­vid­u­als. She did say that racism is seri­ous­ly dis­or­dered think­ing, and she sug­gest­ed that if racist killers are “crazy,” so are the mil­lions who tac­it­ly approve and sup­port racist vio­lence, or who spur it on by repeat­ing rhetoric that dehu­man­izes peo­ple.

In the clip above from a 2012 inter­view with Char­lie Rose, Mor­ri­son says “those who prac­tice racism are bereft. There is some­thing dis­tort­ed about the psy­che…. It’s like it’s a pro­found neu­ro­sis that nobody exam­ines for what it is. It feels crazy, it is crazy.” Some may rea­son­ably take issue with this as stig­ma­tiz­ing, but it seems she is nei­ther scape­goat­ing the men­tal­ly ill, nor absolv­ing racists of respon­si­bil­i­ty.

Mor­ri­son points out that despite (and because of) its lofty delu­sions, white suprema­cy makes things worse for every­one, white peo­ple very much includ­ed. It suc­ceeds because the belief in “white­ness” as a cat­e­go­ry of spe­cial­ness cov­ers up deep-seat­ed inse­cu­ri­ty and doubt. “What are you with­out racism?” she asks. “Are you any good? Are you still strong? Are you still smart? Do you still like your­self?”

In her mas­ter­ful way, Mor­ri­son showed us how to have empa­thy for peo­ple in the grip of hatred and fear with­out dilut­ing the con­se­quences of their actions. She pitied racists but nev­er gave an inch to racism. Trag­i­cal­ly, her 2016 essay, “Mourn­ing for White­ness,” is mak­ing the rounds for rea­sons oth­er than in trib­ute to its author, one of the coun­try’s great­est writ­ers and one of its most unflinch­ing­ly can­did.

In the days before her death yes­ter­day at age 88, Amer­i­cans were once again, “train­ing their guns on the unarmed, the inno­cent, the scared, on sub­jects who are run­ning away, expos­ing their unthreat­en­ing backs to bul­lets.” Mor­ri­son dares us to look away from this:

In order to lim­it the pos­si­bil­i­ty of this unten­able change, and restore white­ness to its for­mer sta­tus as a mark­er of nation­al iden­ti­ty, a num­ber of white Amer­i­cans are sac­ri­fic­ing them­selves. They have begun to do things they clear­ly don’t real­ly want to be doing, and, to do so, they are (1) aban­don­ing their sense of human dig­ni­ty and (2) risk­ing the appear­ance of cow­ardice. Much as they may hate their behav­ior, and know full well how craven it is, they are will­ing to kill small chil­dren attend­ing Sun­day school and slaugh­ter church­go­ers who invite a white boy to pray. 

End­ing with a ref­er­ence to William Faulkner’s Absa­lom, Absa­lom!, she summed up the state of the nation in one deft sen­tence: “Rather than lose its ‘white­ness’ (once again), the fam­i­ly choos­es mur­der.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Toni Mor­ri­son (RIP) Present Her Nobel Prize Accep­tance Speech on the Rad­i­cal Pow­er of Lan­guage (1993)

Toni Mor­ri­son Dis­pens­es Sound Writ­ing Advice: Tips You Can Apply to Your Own Work

Toni Mor­ris­son: For­get Writ­ing About What You Know; Write About What You Don’t Know

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

Joyce Carol Oates Teaches a New Online Course on the Art of the Short Story

How on Earth does Joyce Car­ol Oates do it? Since her debut 56 years ago she has put out 58 nov­els, not to men­tion her poet­ry, plays, non­fic­tion, diaries, and thou­sands — lit­er­al­ly thou­sands — of short sto­ries. (In recent years, she’s also writ­ten no small num­ber of tweets.) But though she’s spent decades with the adjec­tive pro­lif­ic attached to her name, none of us would know her name in the first place if her work had noth­ing more dis­tinc­tive about it than its sheer vol­ume. No mat­ter how much a writer writes, all is for naught if that writ­ing does­n’t make an impact. The ques­tion of how to make that impact, in sev­er­al sens­es of the word, lies at the heart of Oates’ new online course offered through Mas­ter­class.

“The most pow­er­ful writ­ing often comes from con­fronting taboos,” Oates says in the course’s trail­er above. “As a writer, if one can face the dark­est ele­ments in one­self, and the things that are secret, you have such a feel­ing of pow­er.” The truth of that comes through in any of Oates’ nov­els, but also in her short­er works of fic­tion, even the ear­ly sto­ries that make up her very first book, 1963’s col­lec­tion By the North Gate.

We might call her one of the writ­ers whose short sto­ries offer dis­til­la­tions of their sen­si­bil­i­ties, and so it makes sense that her Mas­ter­class focus­es on “the Art of the Short Sto­ry.” Its four­teen lessons cov­er such aspects of short-sto­ry writ­ing as draft­ing, revis­ing, and shar­ing; observ­ing the world with a jour­nal; and of course, “explor­ing taboo and dark­ness.”

Oates draws exam­ples from her own vast body of work, of course, includ­ing her much-reprint­ed short sto­ry “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” But she also exam­ines the writ­ing of such pre­de­ces­sors as Vir­ginia Woolf, William Car­los Williams, and Ernest Hem­ing­way, as well as sto­ries writ­ten by the two stu­dents who appear in the class videos. This is as close as most of us will ever get to being work­shopped by Joyce Car­ol Oates, and if that appeals to you, you can take her Mas­ter­class by sign­ing up for a All-Access pass to every course on the site (includ­ing cours­es taught by nov­el­ists like Mar­garet Atwood, Judy Blume, and Neil Gaiman). But be warned that, how­ev­er daunt­ing the prospect of tap­ping into one’s own dark mem­o­ries and for­bid­den thoughts, the ques­tion of how Oates does it has anoth­er, poten­tial­ly more fright­en­ing answer: eight hours a day.

You can sign up for Oates’ course here.

FYI: If you sign up for a Mas­ter­Class course by click­ing on the affil­i­ate links in this post, Open Cul­ture will receive a small fee that helps sup­port our oper­a­tion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Writ­ing Life of Joyce Car­ol Oates

Mar­garet Atwood Offers a New Online Class on Cre­ative Writ­ing

How to Write a Best­selling Page Turn­er: Learn from The Da Vin­ci Code Author Dan Brown’s New Mas­ter­class

Judy Blume Now Teach­ing an Online Course on Writ­ing

The Artists’ and Writ­ers’ Cook­book Col­lects Recipes From T.C. Boyle, Mari­na Abramović, Neil Gaiman, Joyce Car­ol Oates & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include 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, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Hear Toni Morrison (RIP) Present Her Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech on the Radical Power of Language (1993)

Note: We woke this morn­ing to the news that Toni Mor­ri­son, the Nobel Prize-win­ning author, has died at age 88. We will pay prop­er trib­ute to her in upcom­ing posts. Below find a favorite from our archive, a look inside her poet­ic 1993 Nobel Prize accep­tance speech.

Since her first nov­el, 1970’s The Bluest Eye, Toni Mor­ri­son has daz­zled read­ers with her com­mand­ing language—colloquial, mag­i­cal, mag­is­te­r­i­al, even fan­ci­ful at times, but held firm to the earth by a com­mit­ment to his­to­ry and an unspar­ing explo­ration of racism, sex­u­al abuse, and vio­lence. Read­ing Mor­ri­son can be an exhil­a­rat­ing expe­ri­ence, and a har­row­ing one. We nev­er know where she is going to take us. But the jour­ney for Mor­ri­son has nev­er been one of escapism or art for art’s sake. In a 1981 inter­view, she once said, “the books I want­ed to write could not be only, even mere­ly, lit­er­ary or I would defeat my pur­pos­es, defeat my audi­ence.” As she put it then, “my work bears wit­ness and sug­gests who the out­laws were, who sur­vived under what cir­cum­stances and why.”

She has sus­tained such a weighty mis­sion not only with a love of lan­guage, but also with a crit­i­cal under­stand­ing of its power—to seduce, to manip­u­late, con­found, wound, twist, and kill. Which brings us to the record­ed speech above, deliv­ered in 1993 at her accep­tance of the Nobel Prize for Lit­er­a­ture. After briefly thank­ing the Swedish Acad­e­my and her audi­ence, she begins, “Fic­tion has nev­er been enter­tain­ment for me.” Wind­ing her speech around a para­ble of “an old woman, blind but wise,” Mor­ri­son illus­trates the ways in which “oppres­sive lan­guage does more than rep­re­sent vio­lence; it is vio­lence; does more than rep­re­sent the lim­its of knowl­edge; it lim­its knowl­edge.”

Anoth­er kind of lan­guage takes flight, “surges toward knowl­edge, not its destruc­tion.” In the folk­tale at the cen­ter of her speech, lan­guage is a bird, and the blind seer to whom it is pre­sent­ed gives us a choice: “I don’t know whether the bird you are hold­ing is dead or alive, but what I do know is that it is in your hands. It is in your hands.”

Lan­guage, she sug­gests, is in fact our only human pow­er, and our respon­si­bil­i­ty. The con­se­quences of its mis­use we know all too well, and Mor­ri­son does not hes­i­tate to name them. But she ends with a chal­lenge for her audi­ence, and for all of us, to take our own mea­ger lit­er­ary resources and put them to use in heal­ing the dam­age done. You should lis­ten to, and read, her entire speech, with its maze-like turns and folds. Near its end, the dis­cur­sive­ness flow­ers into exhor­ta­tion, and—though she has said she dis­likes hav­ing her work described thus—poetry. “Make up a sto­ry,” she says, “Nar­ra­tive is rad­i­cal, cre­at­ing us at the very moment it is being cre­at­ed.”

We will not blame you if your reach exceeds your grasp; if love so ignites your words they go down in flames and noth­ing is left but their scald. Or if, with the ret­i­cence of a sur­geon’s hands, your words suture only the places where blood might flow. We know you can nev­er do it prop­er­ly — once and for all. Pas­sion is nev­er enough; nei­ther is skill. But try. For our sake and yours for­get your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and the light. Don’t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief’s wide skirt and the stitch that unrav­els fear’s caul. You, old woman, blessed with blind­ness, can speak the lan­guage that tells us what only lan­guage can: how to see with­out pic­tures. Lan­guage alone pro­tects us from the scari­ness of things with no names. Lan­guage alone is med­i­ta­tion

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

Toni Mor­ri­son Dis­pens­es Writ­ing Wis­dom in 1993 Paris Review Inter­view

7 Nobel Speech­es by 7 Great Writ­ers: Hem­ing­way, Faulkn­er, and More

Toni Mor­ri­son, Nora Ephron, and Dozens More Offer Advice in Free Cre­ative Writ­ing “Mas­ter Class”

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

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