Why You Should Read Crime and Punishment: An Animated Introduction to Dostoevsky’s Moral Thriller

A des­per­ate­ly poor law stu­dent kills a pawn­bro­ker. There we have the sto­ry, max­i­mal­ly dis­tilled, of Fyo­dor Dos­to­evsky’s Crime and Pun­ish­mentOr at least we have the cen­tral event, to which every­thing in Dos­to­evsky’s best-known nov­el leads and from which every­thing else fol­lows. But as with so many 19th-cen­tu­ry Russ­ian nov­els, there’s much more to it than that; some Dos­to­evsky enthu­si­asts see the book as not just the sto­ry of a mur­der’s med­i­ta­tion and after­math but an inci­sive por­tray­al of the eter­nal moral con­di­tion of human­i­ty. But since such grand-sound­ing claims no doubt put off as many read­ers as they bring in, we’d do bet­ter to ask a sim­pler ques­tion: Why should you read Crime and Pun­ish­ment?

The ani­mat­ed TED-Ed les­son by Alex Gendler above answers that ques­tion in four and a half ani­mat­ed min­utes. “Though the nov­el is some­times cit­ed as one of the first psy­cho­log­i­cal thrillers,” Gendler says, its scope reach­es far beyond the inner tur­moil of the stu­dent-turned-killer Raskol­nikov. “From dank tav­erns to dilap­i­dat­ed apart­ments and claus­tro­pho­bic police sta­tions, the under­bel­ly of 19th-cen­tu­ry Saint Peters­burg is brought to life by Dostoyevsky’s sear­ing prose.”

With its large cast of ful­ly real­ized and often not-quite-savory inhab­i­tants, this “bleak por­trait of Russ­ian soci­ety reflects the author’s own com­plex life expe­ri­ences and evolv­ing ideas” — expe­ri­ences that includ­ed four years in a Siber­ian labor camp as pun­ish­ment for his par­tic­i­pa­tion in intel­lec­tu­al dis­cus­sions of banned social­ist texts.

You might assume that such a back­ground would pro­duce a bit­ter writer con­cerned only with revenge against the state, but Dos­to­evsky’s social cri­tique, Gendler says, “cuts far deep­er. Raskol­nikov ratio­nal­izes that his own advance­ment at the cost of the exploita­tive pawnbroker’s death would be a net ben­e­fit to soci­ety,” which “echoes the doc­trines of ego­ism and util­i­tar­i­an­ism embraced by many of Dostoyevsky’s con­tem­po­rary intel­lec­tu­als.” And all of us, not just intel­lec­tu­als and polit­i­cal lead­ers, have the poten­tial to cut our­selves off from our own human­i­ty as Raskol­nikov does. Some of us face pun­ish­ment for the crimes we com­mit, but many of us don’t — or not offi­cial, exter­nal­ly applied pun­ish­ment, in any case, but “Dostoyevsky’s grip­ping account of social and psy­cho­log­i­cal tur­moil” still shows us how the harsh­est pun­ish­ment comes from with­in.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Dig­i­tal Dos­to­evsky: Down­load Free eBooks & Audio Books of the Russ­ian Novelist’s Major Works

Dos­to­evsky Draws Doo­dles of Raskol­nikov and Oth­er Char­ac­ters in the Man­u­script of Crime and Pun­ish­ment

Fyo­dor Dostoyevsky’s Life & Lit­er­a­ture Intro­duced in a Mon­ty Python-Style Ani­ma­tion

The Ani­mat­ed Dos­to­evsky: Two Fine­ly Craft­ed Short Films Bring the Russ­ian Novelist’s Work to Life

Bat­man Stars in an Unusu­al Car­toon Adap­ta­tion of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Pun­ish­ment

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.

Hunter S. Thompson’s Ballsy Job Application Letter (1958)

Image by RS79 , via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In 1958, Hunter S. Thomp­son applied for a job with the Van­cou­ver Sun. He was fresh out of the Air Force and strug­gling to make a liv­ing in New York City, though from the tone of the let­ter you wouldn’t know it.

Peo­ple who are experts in such things say that good cov­er let­ters should match the employer’s needs with the appli­can­t’s abil­i­ties, should be tai­lored specif­i­cal­ly to the job in ques­tion and should show some per­son­al­i­ty. By those yard­sticks, Thompson’s let­ter to the Van­cou­ver Sun is a mod­el to be fol­lowed. He lays out his eager­ness to work: “I can work 25 hours a day if nec­es­sary, live on any rea­son­able salary.” Any HR man­ag­er would be tick­led with lines like that. He suc­cinct­ly describes his work expe­ri­ence: “most of my expe­ri­ence has been in sports writ­ing, but I can write every­thing from war­mon­ger­ing pro­pa­gan­da to learned book reviews.” And for any oth­er fault you might find with the let­ter, it def­i­nite­ly does­n’t lack in per­son­al­i­ty.

Yet the let­ter some­how failed to charm his would-be employ­er; Thomp­son nev­er moved to Van­cou­ver. Per­haps they were giv­en pause by Thomp­son’s steady stream of insults direct­ed towards his for­mer edi­tor — “It was as if the Mar­quis De Sade had sud­den­ly found him­self work­ing for Bil­ly Gra­ham” — and towards jour­nal­ism in gen­er­al: “It’s a damned shame that a field as poten­tial­ly dynam­ic and vital as jour­nal­ism should be over­run with dullards, bums, and hacks, hag-rid­den with myopia, apa­thy, and com­pla­cence, and gen­er­al­ly stuck in a bog of stag­nant medi­oc­rity.” Or per­haps it was his inten­tion­al­ly off-putting arro­gance, “I’d rather offend you now than after I start­ed work­ing for you.” In any case, it’s a hoot to read. More peo­ple should write job appli­ca­tion let­ters like this.

Read the full let­ter below.

Van­cou­ver Sun
TO JACK SCOTT, VANCOUVER SUN
Octo­ber 1, 1958 57 Per­ry Street New York City

Sir,
I got a hell of a kick read­ing the piece Time mag­a­zine did this week on The Sun. In addi­tion to wish­ing you the best of luck, I’d also like to offer my ser­vices.

Since I haven’t seen a copy of the “new” Sun yet, I’ll have to make this a ten­ta­tive offer. I stepped into a dung-hole the last time I took a job with a paper I did­n’t know any­thing about (see enclosed clip­pings) and I’m not quite ready to go charg­ing up anoth­er blind alley.

By the time you get this let­ter, I’ll have got­ten hold of some of the recent issues of The Sun. Unless it looks total­ly worth­less, I’ll let my offer stand. And don’t think that my arro­gance is unin­ten­tion­al: it’s just that I’d rather offend you now than after I start­ed work­ing for you.

I did­n’t make myself clear to the last man I worked for until after I took the job. It was as if the Mar­quis de Sade had sud­den­ly found him­self work­ing for Bil­ly Gra­ham. The man despised me, of course, and I had noth­ing but con­tempt for him and every­thing he stood for. If you asked him, he’d tell you that I’m “not very lik­able, (that I) hate peo­ple, (that I) just want to be left alone, and (that I) feel too supe­ri­or to min­gle with the aver­age per­son.” (That’s a direct quote from a memo he sent to the pub­lish­er.)

Noth­ing beats hav­ing good ref­er­ences.

Of course if you asked some of the oth­er peo­ple I’ve worked for, you’d get a dif­fer­ent set of answers. If you’re inter­est­ed enough to answer this let­ter, I’ll be glad to fur­nish you with a list of ref­er­ences — includ­ing the lad I work for now.

The enclosed clip­pings should give you a rough idea of who I am. It’s a year old, how­ev­er, and I’ve changed a bit since it was writ­ten. I’ve tak­en some writ­ing cours­es from Colum­bia in my spare time, learned a hell of a lot about the news­pa­per busi­ness, and devel­oped a healthy con­tempt for jour­nal­ism as a pro­fes­sion.

As far as I’m con­cerned, it’s a damned shame that a field as poten­tial­ly dynam­ic and vital as jour­nal­ism should be over­run with dullards, bums, and hacks, hag-rid­den with myopia, apa­thy, and com­pla­cence, and gen­er­al­ly stuck in a bog of stag­nant medi­oc­rity. If this is what you’re try­ing to get The Sun away from, then I think I’d like to work for you.

Most of my expe­ri­ence has been in sports writ­ing, but I can write every­thing from war­mon­ger­ing pro­pa­gan­da to learned book reviews.

I can work 25 hours a day if nec­es­sary, live on any rea­son­able salary, and don’t give a black damn for job secu­ri­ty, office pol­i­tics, or adverse pub­lic rela­tions.
I would rather be on the dole than work for a paper I was ashamed of.
It’s a long way from here to British Colum­bia, but I think I’d enjoy the trip.

If you think you can use me, drop me a line.

If not, good luck any­way.

Sin­cere­ly,

Hunter S. Thomp­son

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in April 2015.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hunter S. Thomp­son Typed Out The Great Gats­by & A Farewell to Arms Word for Word: A Method for Learn­ing How to Write Like the Mas­ters

Hunter S. Thomp­son, Exis­ten­tial­ist Life Coach, Presents Tips for Find­ing Mean­ing in Life

Read 10 Free Arti­cles by Hunter S. Thomp­son That Span His Gonzo Jour­nal­ist Career (1965–2005)

Hunter S. Thomp­son Talks with Kei­th Richards in a Very Mem­o­rable and Mum­ble-Filled Inter­view (1993)

Hunter S. Thomp­son Gets Con­front­ed by The Hell’s Angels

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing lots of pic­tures of bad­gers and even more pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

When Dracula Author Bram Stoker Wrote a Gushing Fan Letter to Walt Whitman (1870)

Every artist starts out as a fan, and in gen­er­al we see the marks of ear­ly fan­dom on their mature work. The best, after all—as fig­ures from Igor Stravin­sky to William Faulkn­er have remarked—steal with­out com­punc­tion, tak­ing what they like from their heroes and mak­ing it their own. But what exact­ly, we might won­der, did Drac­u­la author Bram Stok­er steal from his lit­er­ary hero, Walt Whit­man? I leave it to you to read the 1897 Goth­ic nov­el that spawned innu­mer­able undead fran­chis­es and fan­doms next to Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, the book that most inspired Stok­er when it made its British debut in 1868.

First pub­lished in 1855, then rewrit­ten over the rest of Whitman’s life, the book of poet­ry bold­ly cel­e­brat­ed the same plea­sure and sen­su­al­i­ty that Stoker’s nov­el made so dan­ger­ous. But Drac­u­la was the work of a 50-year old writer. When Stok­er first read Whit­man, he was only 22, wide-eyed and roman­tic, and “grown from a sick­ly boy into a brawny ath­lete,” writes Mered­ith Hind­ley at the Nation­al Endow­ment for the Human­i­ties mag­a­zine.

Whitman—himself a cham­pi­on of robust mas­cu­line health (he once penned a man­u­al called “Man­ly Health & Train­ing”)—so appealed to the young Irish writer’s deep sen­si­bil­i­ties that he wrote the old­er poet a gush­ing let­ter two years lat­er in 1870.

Stoker’s fan let­ter cer­tain­ly shows the Whit­man­ian influ­ence, “a long stream of sen­ti­ment cas­cad­ing through var­i­ous emo­tions,” as Brain Pick­ings’ Maria Popo­va describes it, includ­ing “surg­ing con­fi­dence bor­der­ing on hubris, del­i­cate self-doubt, absolute artist-to-artist ado­ra­tion.” Whit­man, flat­tered and charmed, wrote a reply, but only after four years, dur­ing which Stok­er sat on his let­ter, ashamed to mail it. “For four years, it haunt­ed his desk, part muse and part gob­lin.” When he final­ly gath­ered the courage in 1876 to rewrite the emo­tion­al let­ter and put it in the mail, he was reward­ed with the kind of praise that must have absolute­ly thrilled him.

“You did so well to write to me,” Whit­man replied, “so uncon­ven­tion­al­ly, so fresh, so man­ly, and affec­tion­ate­ly too.” Thus began a lit­er­ary friend­ship that last­ed until Whitman’s death in 1892 and seems to have been as wel­come to Whit­man as to his biggest fan. A stroke had near­ly inca­pac­i­tat­ed the poet in 1873 and sapped his health and strength for the last two decades of his life, leav­ing him, as he wrote, with a physique “entire­ly shatter’d—doubtless permanently—from paral­y­sis and oth­er ail­ments.” But “I am up and dress’d,” he added, “and get out every day a lit­tle, live here quite lone­some, but hearty, and good spir­its.”

One also won­ders if Stok­er would have received such a warm response if he had mailed his orig­i­nal let­ter unchanged. The “pre­vi­ous­ly unsent effu­sion,” notes Popo­va, “opens with an abrupt direct­ness unguard­ed even by a form of address.” Put anoth­er way, it’s blunt, melo­dra­mat­ic, and over­ly famil­iar to the point of rude­ness: “If you are the man I take you to be,” he begins, “you will like to get this let­ter. If you are not I don’t care whether you like it or not and only ask that you put it in to the fire with­out read­ing any far­ther.” Con­trast this with the revised com­mu­ni­ca­tion, which begins with the respect­ful salu­ta­tion, “My dear Mr. Whit­man,” and con­tin­ues in rel­a­tive­ly for­mal, though still high­ly spir­it­ed, vein.

Stok­er had mel­lowed and matured, but he nev­er left behind his ado­ra­tion for Whit­man and Leaves of Grass. When he elo­quent­ly sums up the effect read­ing the book and its orig­i­nal 1855 pref­ace had on him—he echoes the feel­ings of mil­lions of fans through­out the ages who have found a voice that speaks to them from far away of feel­ings they know inti­mate­ly but can­not express at home:

Be assured of this Walt Whitman—that a man of less than half your own age, reared a con­ser­v­a­tive in a con­ser­v­a­tive coun­try, and who has always heard your name cried down by the great mass of peo­ple who men­tion it, here felt his heat leap towards you across the Atlantic and his soul swelling at the words or rather the thoughts.

Read Stoker’s orig­i­nal and revised let­ters and Whitman’s brief, touch­ing response at Brain Pick­ings.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Walt Whitman’s Unearthed Health Man­u­al, “Man­ly Health & Train­ing,” Urges Read­ers to Stand (Don’t Sit!) and Eat Plen­ty of Meat (1858)

Mark Twain Writes a Rap­tur­ous Let­ter to Walt Whit­man on the Poet’s 70th Birth­day (1889)

Hor­ror Leg­end Christo­pher Lee Reads Bram Stoker’s Drac­u­la

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

“Gonzo” Defined by Hunter S. Thompson’s Personal Copy of the Random House Dictionary

via The Hunter S. Thomp­son Face­book Page

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How Hunter S. Thomp­son Gave Birth to Gonzo Jour­nal­ism: Short Film Revis­its Thompson’s Sem­i­nal 1970 Piece on the Ken­tucky Der­by

Hunter S. Thomp­son, Exis­ten­tial­ist Life Coach, Presents Tips for Find­ing Mean­ing in Life

Read 10 Free Arti­cles by Hunter S. Thomp­son That Span His Gonzo Jour­nal­ist Career (1965–2005)

Hunter S. Thompson’s Deca­dent Dai­ly Break­fast: The “Psy­chic Anchor” of His Fre­net­ic Cre­ative Life

Hunter S. Thomp­son Chill­ing­ly Pre­dicts the Future, Telling Studs Terkel About the Com­ing Revenge of the Eco­nom­i­cal­ly & Tech­no­log­i­cal­ly “Obso­lete” (1967)

Venerable Female Artists, Musicians & Authors Give Advice to the Young: Patti Smith, Laurie Anderson & More

To the Louisiana Chan­nel and the Louisiana Muse­um of Mod­ern Art, on behalf of mature women every­where: Thank you. You have excel­lent taste.

We’ve weath­ered invis­i­bil­i­ty and Mom jeans jokes, as rep­re­sen­ta­tives from our demo­graph­ic are judged more harsh­ly in cat­e­gories that nev­er seem to apply to their male coun­ter­parts in pol­i­tics and the per­form­ing arts.

You’ll find plen­ty of cel­e­brat­ed male artists con­tribut­ing advice to emerg­ing artists in the Louisiana Project’s video series, but the Gueril­la Girls will be grat­i­fied to see how robust­ly rep­re­sent­ed these work­ing women are.

Noth­ing beats author­i­ty con­ferred by decades of pro­fes­sion­al expe­ri­ence.

And while young women are sure to be inspired by these ven­er­a­ble inter­vie­wees, let’s not sell any­one short.

We may have assem­bled a playlist titled Women Artists’ Advice to the Young (watch it from front to back at the bot­tom of the post), but let’s agree that their advice is good for emerg­ing artists of all gen­ders.

Author, poet, and God­moth­er of Punk Pat­ti Smith (born 1946) serves up her ver­sion of to thine own self be true.

Avant-garde com­pos­er and musi­cian Lau­rie Ander­son (born 1947) coun­sels against the sort of nar­row self-def­i­n­i­tion that dis­cour­ages artis­tic explo­ration. Be loose, like a goose.

Author Her­b­jørg Wass­mo (born 1942) wants young artists to pre­pare for the inevitable days of low moti­va­tion and self-doubt by resolv­ing to work regard­less.

Oth­er nota­bles include film­mak­er Shirin Neshat (born 1957), author Lydia Davis (born 1947), artist Joyce Pen­sato (born 1941), and per­for­mance artist Mari­na Abramović (born 1946).

The old­est inter­vie­wee in the col­lec­tion, artist Yay­oi Kusama (born 1929), refus­es to sad­dle up and come up with any teacher­ly  advice, but could cer­tain­ly be con­sid­ered a walk­ing exam­ple of what it means to be “liv­ing as an artist with a wish to cre­ate a beau­ti­ful world with human love.”

Enjoy the full playlist here:

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

74 Essen­tial Books for Your Per­son­al Library: A List Curat­ed by Female Cre­atives

A Space of Their Own, a New Online Data­base, Will Fea­ture Works by 600+ Over­looked Female Artists from the 15th-19th Cen­turies

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inkyzine.  Join her in New York City May 13 for the next install­ment of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her@AyunHalliday.

Trivial Pursuit: The Shakespeare Edition Has Just Been Released: Answer 600 Questions Based on the Life & Works of William Shakespeare

“The stan­dard thing to say is that each age makes a Shake­speare in its own image,” wrote The New York­er’s Adam Gop­nik on the the Bard’s 440th birth­day. But over the cen­turies, the bio­graph­i­cal and crit­i­cal por­tray­al of the play­wright of Ham­letRomeo and Juli­etOth­el­lo, and King Lear has remained remark­ably con­sis­tent: “He was a genius at com­e­dy, a free-flow­ing nat­ur­al who would do any­thing for a joke or a pun, and whom life and abil­i­ty bent toward tragedy.” He evolved “a match­less all-sid­ed­ness and neg­a­tive capa­bil­i­ty, which could probe two ideas at once and nev­er quite come down on the ‘side’ of either: he was a man in whom a tem­pera­men­tal timid­i­ty and cau­tion blos­somed artis­ti­cal­ly into the near­est thing we have to uni­ver­sal­i­ty.”

But today, on Shake­speare’s 455th birth­day, we might still won­der how uni­ver­sal his work real­ly is. As luck would have it, the Shake­speare Birth­day Trust has just come up with a kind of test of that propo­si­tion: an all-Shake­speare edi­tion of the pop­u­lar board game Triv­ial Pur­suit.

“Devised by the Shake­speare Birth­place Trust, the inde­pen­dent and self-sus­tain­ing char­i­ty that cares for the world’s great­est Shake­speare her­itage sites in his home town of Strat­ford-upon-Avon, in part­ner­ship with games com­pa­ny, Win­ning Moves,” Triv­ial Pur­suit: The Shake­speare Edi­tion (which you can buy on the Shake­speare Birth­day Trust’s online shop) offers “600 ques­tions across six cat­e­gories — Come­dies, His­to­ries, Tragedies, Char­ac­ters, Biog­ra­phy and Lega­cy,” all “care­ful­ly craft­ed by Shake­speare schol­ars Dr Nick Wal­ton and Dr Anj­na Chouhan.”

One might assume that Shake­speare buffs and schol­ars will dom­i­nate this game. No doubt they will, but per­haps not as often as expect­ed, since its ques­tions give any­one with gen­er­al cul­tur­al aware­ness a fight­ing chance: “As well as ques­tions about Shakespeare’s life and works, there are oth­ers that link him to pop­u­lar cul­ture such as the Har­ry Pot­ter film series, TV shows Dr. Who and Upstart Crow, as well as actors Sir Patrick Stew­art, Sir Lau­rence Olivi­er, and Keanu Reeves, and the Bard’s less­er known influ­ence on the likes of Elvis Pres­ley and even the clas­sic car­toon Pop­eye.” As Wal­ton puts it, “there are all sorts of paths to Shake­speare,” not least because of his work’s still-unchal­lenged place as the most drawn-upon texts, delib­er­ate­ly or inad­ver­tent­ly, in the whole of the Eng­lish lan­guage. As for Shake­speare him­self, he remains “the reign­ing poet of the lan­guage,” in Gop­nik’s words, as well as “the ordi­nary poet of our com­pa­ny” — and now we have a game to play to keep him in our com­pa­ny.

Pick up your copy of the game here.

via Men­tal Floss

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear 55 Hours of Shakespeare’s Plays: The Tragedies, Come­dies & His­to­ries Per­formed by Vanes­sa Red­grave, Sir John Giel­gud, Ralph Fiennes & Many More

30 Days of Shake­speare: One Read­ing of the Bard Per Day, by The New York Pub­lic Library, on the 400th Anniver­sary of His Death

Free Online Shake­speare Cours­es: Primers on the Bard from Oxford, Har­vard, Berke­ley & More

Read All of Shakespeare’s Plays Free Online, Cour­tesy of the Fol­ger Shake­speare Library

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

Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of Shakespeare’s Globe The­atre

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.

An Animated Introduction to H.P. Lovecraft and How He Invented a New Gothic Horror

Howard Phillips Love­craft died in obscu­ri­ty at the age of 46, but he left behind a body of work for­mi­da­ble enough that even today’s read­ers approach it only with great trep­i­da­tion. They do so not so much because of its size, though Love­craft did man­age to write a fair bit, but because of what it dares to con­tem­plate — or rather, because of its deep roots in the things mere humans dare not con­tem­plate. Born in 1890, Love­craft grew up on hor­ror of the Goth­ic vari­ety. But by the time he began writ­ing his own in the year 1919, “World War I had cast a long shad­ow over the arts. Peo­ple had seen real hor­rors, and were no longer fright­ened of fan­tas­ti­cal folk­lore. Love­craft sought to invent a new kind of ter­ror, one that respond­ed to the rapid sci­en­tif­ic progress of the era.”

Those words come from the TED-Ed les­son above, “Titan of Ter­ror: the Dark Imag­i­na­tion of H.P. Love­craft.” Writ­ten and nar­rat­ed by Sil­via Moreno-Gar­cía, a writer of sci­ence fic­tion and edi­tor of sev­er­al books on Love­craft’s work, the video offers a four-minute primer on how this “weird fic­tion” per­ma­nent­ly upped the ante for all writ­ers who sought to instill fear and dread into the hearts of their read­ers.

“Like then-recent dis­cov­er­ies of sub­atom­ic par­ti­cles or X‑rays,” Moreno-Gar­cía says, “the forces in Love­craft’s fic­tion were pow­er­ful, yet often invis­i­ble and inde­scrib­able. Rather than rec­og­niz­able mon­sters, graph­ic vio­lence, or star­tling shocks, the ter­ror or ‘Love­craft­ian’ hor­ror lies in what’s not direct­ly por­trayed — but instead left to the dark depths of our imag­i­na­tion.”

Hence the cast of unspeak­able “dark mas­ters” beneath the placid New Eng­land sur­face of Love­craft’s sto­ries. Yog-Sothoth, “who froths as pri­mal slime in nuclear chaos beyond the nether­most out­posts of space and time”; “the blind, idiot god Aza­thoth, whose destruc­tive impuls­es are stalled only by the ‘mad­den­ing beat­ing of vile drums and the thin monot­o­nous whine of accursed flutes’ ”; and of course Love­craft’s “infa­mous blend of drag­on and octo­pus, Cthul­hu”: even those who have nev­er read Love­craft may well have heard of them. And as any­one who has read Love­craft knows, we who have only heard of them, these beings “who exist beyond our con­cep­tions of real­i­ty, their true forms as inscrutable as their motives,” should count them­selves lucky — far luck­i­er, cer­tain­ly, than the humans Love­craft puts face-to-face with them.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

H.P. Lovecraft’s Clas­sic Hor­ror Sto­ries Free Online: Down­load Audio Books, eBooks & More

H.P. Lovecraft’s Mon­ster Draw­ings: Cthul­hu & Oth­er Crea­tures from the “Bound­less and Hideous Unknown”

H.P. Love­craft Gives Five Tips for Writ­ing a Hor­ror Sto­ry, or Any Piece of “Weird Fic­tion”

H.P. Love­craft High­lights the 20 “Types of Mis­takes” Young Writ­ers Make

H.P. Love­craft Writes “Waste Paper: A Poem of Pro­found Insignif­i­cance,” a Dev­as­tat­ing Par­o­dy of T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land” (1923)

Love­craft: Fear of the Unknown (Free Doc­u­men­tary)

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.

Hear J.R.R. Tolkien Read from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit in Vintage Recordings from the Early 1950s

J.R.R. Tolkien was not a big fan of his fan­dom. He had seri­ous doubts about whether any of the mil­lions of read­ers who adored The Hob­bit and The Lord of the Rings tril­o­gy under­stood any­thing about what he was try­ing to do. But none of them can be blamed, since he didn’t at first set out to write fic­tion at all—at least not when it came to The Lord of the Rings. The books, he said, were “an attempt to cre­ate a world in which a form of lan­guage agree­able to my per­son­al aes­thet­ic might seem real.”

The most famous fan­ta­sy series of all time began its life as a lin­guis­tic exper­i­ment, in oth­er words. “The inven­tion of lan­guages is the foun­da­tion,” said Tolkien. “The ‘sto­ries’ were made rather to pro­vide a world for the lan­guages than the reverse.” Of course, Tolkien fans know quite a bit about how per­son­al his sto­ries became, even as they incor­po­rat­ed more and more myth­i­cal ele­ments. How could we pos­si­bly under­stand these sto­ries the way Tolkien did?

Authors do not get to choose their read­ers, nor can they direct the inter­pre­ta­tions of their work. Still Tolkien may have been more mis­un­der­stood than oth­ers, and maybe more enti­tled to com­plain. The schol­ar­ly work of philol­o­gists like himself—academics who stud­ied the roots of lan­guages and mythologies—had been man­gled and mis­used by the Nazis. The fact caused Tolkien to con­fess to his son “a burn­ing pri­vate grudge against that rud­dy lit­tle igno­ra­mus Adolf Hitler” for “ruin­ing, per­vert­ing, mis­ap­ply­ing, and mak­ing for ever accursed” the his­to­ry Tolkien had made his life’s work. (He also penned a scathing reply to a Ger­man pub­lish­er who asked him for proof of his “Aryan” descent.)

He would also have been appalled that not long after his death, Mid­dle Earth became a “mer­chan­dis­ing jug­ger­naut,” as one stu­dent of his effect on pop­u­lar cul­ture puts it. Tolkien had stren­u­ous­ly resist­ed efforts by Dis­ney to buy the rights to his fic­tion, object­ing to what he saw as vul­gar, mer­ce­nary com­mer­cial­ism. The hun­dreds of mil­lions of dol­lars poured into the Hob­bit and Lord of the Rings films, and the empire of games, action fig­ures, t‑shirts, etc., might have seemed to him the very image of pow­er-mad wiz­ard Saruman’s designs for world dom­i­na­tion.

This isn’t to say we should hear Tolkien scold­ing us as we pick up our box set of spe­cial edi­tion books, Blu-Rays, and LOTR tchotchkes. He was no stranger to mar­ket­ing. And he pro­duced the inspi­ra­tion for some of the most beloved adap­ta­tions with his own cov­er art designs and over a hun­dred draw­ings and paint­ings of Mid­dle Earth and its Eng­lish ref­er­ents. But per­haps it would repay fans of the many LOTR-themed con­sum­ables to attend to the cre­ator of the now-self-exis­tent world of Mid­dle Earth every now and then—to get clos­er, if not to Tolkien’s inten­tions, then at least to his mind and voice, both record­ed in his let­ters and his own read­ings from his work.

In the clips here, you can lis­ten to Tolkien him­self read from The Lord of the Rings and The Hob­bit, includ­ing a record­ing at the top of him read­ing one of the fan­ta­sy lan­guages he invent­ed, then cre­at­ed an entire world around, the Elvish tongue Quenya in the poem “Namarie.” Some of these YouTube clips have received their own cin­e­mat­ic treat­ment, in a YouTube sort of way, like the video below with a mon­tage of Tolkien-inspired media and a dra­mat­ic score. This may or may not be to your lik­ing, but the ori­gin sto­ry of the record­ing deserves a men­tion.

Shown a tape recorder by a friend, whom Tolkien had vis­it­ed to pick up a man­u­script of The Lord of the Rings, the author decid­ed to sit down and record him­self. Delight­ed with the results, he agreed to read from The Hob­bit. He liked the tech­nol­o­gy enough that he con­tin­ued to record him­self read­ing from his own work. Tolkien may not have desired to see his books turned into spec­ta­cles, but as we lis­ten to him read, it’s hard to see how any­one could resist the temp­ta­tion to put his mag­nif­i­cent descrip­tions on the big screen. Hear the sec­ond part of that Hob­bit read­ing here, and more Tolkien read­ings in the many links below.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

J.R.R. Tolkien, Using a Tape Recorder for the First Time, Reads from The Hob­bit for 30 Min­utes (1952)

Lis­ten to J.R.R. Tolkien Read Poems from The Fel­low­ship of the Ring, in Elvish and Eng­lish (1952)

J.R.R. Tolkien Reads From The Two Tow­ers, the Sec­ond Book of The Lord of the Rings Tril­o­gy

Hear J.R.R. Tolkien Read From The Lord of the Rings and The Hob­bit

J.R.R. Tolkien Expressed a “Heart­felt Loathing” for Walt Dis­ney and Refused to Let Dis­ney Stu­dios Adapt His Work

J.R.R. Tolkien Snubs a Ger­man Pub­lish­er Ask­ing for Proof of His “Aryan Descent” (1938)

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

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