700 Years of Persian Manuscripts Now Digitized and Available Online

Too often those in pow­er lump thou­sands of years of Mid­dle East­ern reli­gion and cul­ture into mono­lith­ic enti­ties to be feared or per­se­cut­ed. But at least one gov­ern­ment insti­tu­tion is doing exact­ly the oppo­site. For Nowruz, the Per­sian New Year, the Library of Con­gress has released a dig­i­tal col­lec­tion of its rare Per­sian-lan­guage man­u­scripts, an archive span­ning 700 years. This free resource opens win­dows on diverse reli­gious, nation­al, lin­guis­tic, and cul­tur­al tra­di­tions, most, but not all, Islam­ic, yet all dif­fer­ent from each oth­er in com­plex and strik­ing ways.

“We nowa­days are pro­grammed to think Per­sia equates with Iran, but when you look at this it is a mul­ti­re­gion­al col­lec­tion,” says a Library spe­cial­ist in its African and Mid­dle East­ern Divi­sion, Hirad Dinavari. “Many con­tributed to it. Some were Indi­an, some were Tur­kic, Cen­tral Asian.” The “deep, cos­mopoli­tan archive,” as Atlas Obscura’s Jonathan Carey writes, con­sists of a rel­a­tive­ly small num­ber of manuscripts—only 155. That may not seem par­tic­u­lar­ly sig­nif­i­cant giv­en the enor­mi­ty of some oth­er online col­lec­tions.

But its qual­i­ty and vari­ety mark it as espe­cial­ly valu­able, rep­re­sen­ta­tive of much larg­er bod­ies of work in the arts, sci­ences, reli­gion, and phi­los­o­phy, dat­ing back to the 13th cen­tu­ry and span­ning regions from India to Cen­tral Asia and the Cau­cus­es, “in addi­tion to the native Per­sian speak­ing lands of Iran, Afghanistan and Tajik­istan,” the LoC notes.

Promi­nent­ly rep­re­sent­ed are works like the epic poem of pre-Islam­ic Per­sia, the Shah­namah, “likened to the Ili­ad or the Odyssey,” writes Carey, as well as “writ­ten accounts of the life of Shah Jahan, the 17th-cen­tu­ry Mughal emper­or who over­saw con­struc­tion of the Taj Mahal.”

The Library points out the archive includes the “most beloved poems of the Per­sian poets Saa­di, Hafez, Rumi and Jami, along with the works of the poet Niza­mi Gan­javi.” Some read­ers might be sur­prised at the pic­to­r­i­al opu­lence of so many Islam­ic texts, with their col­or­ful, styl­ized bat­tle scenes and group­ings of human fig­ures.

Islam­ic art is typ­i­cal­ly thought of as icon­o­clas­tic, but as in Chris­t­ian Europe and North Amer­i­ca, cer­tain sects have fought oth­ers over this inter­pre­ta­tion (includ­ing over depic­tions of the Prophet Moham­mad). This is not to say that the icon­o­clasts deserve less atten­tion. Much medieval and ear­ly mod­ern Islam­ic art uses intri­cate pat­terns, designs, and cal­lig­ra­phy while scrupu­lous­ly avoid­ing like­ness­es of humans and ani­mals. It is deeply mov­ing in its own way, rig­or­ous­ly detailed and pas­sion­ate­ly exe­cut­ed, full of math­e­mat­i­cal and aes­thet­ic ideas about shape, pro­por­tion, col­or, and line that have inspired artists around the world for cen­turies.

The page from a lav­ish­ly illu­mi­nat­ed Qur’ān, above, cir­ca 1708, offers such an exam­ple, writ­ten in Ara­bic with an inter­lin­ear Per­sian trans­la­tion. There are reli­gious texts from oth­er faiths, like the Psalms in Hebrew with Per­sian trans­la­tion, there are sci­en­tif­ic texts and maps: the Rare Per­sian-Lan­guage Man­u­script Col­lec­tion cov­ers a lot of his­tor­i­cal ground, as has Per­sian lan­guage and cul­ture “from the 10th cen­tu­ry to the present,” the Library writes. Such a rich tra­di­tion deserves care­ful study and appre­ci­a­tion. Begin an edu­ca­tion in Per­sian man­u­script his­to­ry here.

via Atlas Obscu­ra

Relat­ed Con­tent:

15,000 Col­or­ful Images of Per­sian Man­u­scripts Now Online, Cour­tesy of the British Library

The Com­plex Geom­e­try of Islam­ic Art & Design: A Short Intro­duc­tion

800 Illu­mi­nat­ed Medieval Man­u­scripts Are Now Online: Browse & Down­load Them Cour­tesy of the British Library and Bib­lio­thèque Nationale de France

800+ Trea­sured Medieval Man­u­scripts to Be Dig­i­tized by Cam­bridge & Hei­del­berg Uni­ver­si­ties

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

The First American Picture Book, Wanda Gág’s Millions of Cats (1928)

For bet­ter (I’d say), or worse, the inter­net has turned cat peo­ple into what may be the world’s most pow­er­ful ani­mal lob­by. It has brought us fas­ci­nat­ing ani­mat­ed his­to­ries of cats and ani­mat­ed sto­ries about the cats of goth­ic genius and cat-lov­ing author and illus­tra­tor Edward Gorey; cats blithe­ly leav­ing inky paw­prints on medieval man­u­scripts and polite­ly but firm­ly refus­ing to be denied entry into a Japan­ese art muse­um. It has giv­en us no short­age of delight­ful pho­tos of artists with their cat famil­iars

Cat antics and awe have always been a very online phe­nom­e­non, but the mys­te­ri­ous and ridicu­lous, diminu­tive beasts of prey have also always been insep­a­ra­ble from art and cul­ture. As fur­ther evi­dence, we bring you Mil­lions of Cats, like­ly the “first tru­ly Amer­i­can pic­ture book done by an Amer­i­can author/artist,” explains a site devot­ed to it.

“Pri­or to its pub­li­ca­tion in 1928, there were only Eng­lish pic­ture books for the children’s perusal.” The book “sky rock­et­ed Wan­da Gág into instant fame and set in stone her rep­u­ta­tion as a children’s author and illus­tra­tor.”

It set a stan­dard for Calde­cott-win­ning children’s lit­er­a­ture for close to a hun­dred years since its appear­ance, though the award did not yet exist at the time. The book’s cre­ator was “a fierce ide­al­ist and did not believe in alter­ing her own aes­theti­cism just because she was pro­duc­ing work for chil­dren. She liked to use styl­ized human fig­ures, asym­met­ri­cal com­po­si­tions, strong lines and slight spa­tial dis­tor­tion.” She also loved cats, as befits an artist of her inde­pen­dent tem­pera­ment, one shared by the likes of oth­er cat-lov­ing artists like T.S. Eliot and Charles Dick­ens.

Mil­lions of Cats’ author and illus­tra­tor may not share in the fame of so many oth­er artists who took pic­tures with their cats, but she and her cat Noopy were as pho­to­genic as any oth­er feline/human artis­tic duo, and she was a peer to the best of them. The book’s edi­tor, Ernes­tine Evans, wrote in the Nation that Mil­lions of Cats “is as impor­tant as the librar­i­ans say it is. Not only does it bring to book-mak­ing one of the most tal­ent­ed and orig­i­nal of Amer­i­can lith­o­g­ra­phers… but it is a mar­riage of pic­ture and tale that is per­fect­ly bal­anced.”

Gág (rhymes with “jog”) was “a cel­e­brat­ed artist… in the Green­wich Vil­lage-cen­tic Mod­ernist art scene in the 1920s,” writes Lithub, “a free-think­ing, sex-pos­i­tive left­ist who also designed her own clothes and trans­lat­ed fairy tales.” She adapt­ed the text from “a sto­ry she had made up to enter­tain her friends’ chil­dren,” with the mil­lions of cats mod­eled on Noopy. Gág is the found­ing moth­er of children’s book dynas­ties like The Cat in the Hat and Pete the Cat, an artist whom mil­lions of cat lovers can dis­cov­er again or for the first time in a New­bery-win­ning 2006 collector’s edi­tion.

Read a sum­ma­ry of the charm­ing sto­ry of Mil­lions of Cats at Lithub and learn more about her, the tal­ent­ed Gág fam­i­ly of artists, and her charm­ing, very cat-friend­ly house here.

via LitHub

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Insane­ly Cute Cat Com­mer­cials from Stu­dio Ghi­b­li, Hayao Miyazaki’s Leg­endary Ani­ma­tion Shop

Enter an Archive of 6,000 His­tor­i­cal Children’s Books, All Dig­i­tized and Free to Read Online

A Dig­i­tal Archive of 1,800+ Children’s Books from UCLA

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

Isaac Asimov’s Guide to the Bible: A Witty, Erudite Atheist’s Guide to the World’s Most Famous Book

Paint­ing of Asi­mov on his throne by Rowe­na Morill, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Every­one should read the Bible, and—I’d argue—should read it with a sharply crit­i­cal eye and the guid­ance of rep­utable crit­ics and his­to­ri­ans, though this may be too much to ask for those steeped in lit­er­al belief. Yet few­er and few­er peo­ple do read it, includ­ing those who pro­fess faith in a sect of Chris­tian­i­ty. Even famous athe­ists like Christo­pher Hitchens, Richard Dawkins, and Melvyn Bragg have argued for teach­ing the Bible in schools—not in a faith-based con­text, obvi­ous­ly, but as an essen­tial his­tor­i­cal doc­u­ment, much of whose lan­guage, in the King James, at least, has made major con­tri­bu­tions to lit­er­ary cul­ture. (Curiously—or not—atheists and agnos­tics tend to score far high­er than believ­ers on sur­veys of reli­gious knowl­edge.)

There is a prac­ti­cal prob­lem of sep­a­rat­ing teach­ing from preach­ing in sec­u­lar schools, but the fact remains that so-called “bib­li­cal illit­er­a­cy” is a seri­ous prob­lem edu­ca­tors have sought to rem­e­dy for decades. Promi­nent Shake­speare schol­ar G.B. Har­ri­son lament­ed it in the intro­duc­tion to his 1964 edit­ed edi­tion, The Bible for Stu­dents of Lit­er­a­ture and Art. “Today most stu­dents of lit­er­a­ture lack this kind of edu­ca­tion,” he wrote, “and have only the hazi­est knowl­edge of the book or of its con­tents, with the result that they inevitably miss much of the mean­ing and sig­nif­i­cance of many works of past gen­er­a­tions. Sim­i­lar­ly, stu­dents of art will miss some of the mean­ing of the pic­tures and sculp­tures of the past.”

Though a devout Catholic him­self, Harrison’s aim was not to pros­e­ly­tize but to do right by his stu­dents. His edit­ed Bible is an excel­lent resource, but it’s not the only book of its kind out there. In fact, no less a lumi­nary, and no less a crit­ic of reli­gion, than sci­en­tist and sci-fi giant Isaac Asi­mov pub­lished his own guide to the Bible, writ­ing in his intro­duc­tion:

The most influ­en­tial, the most pub­lished, the most wide­ly read book in the his­to­ry of the world is the Bible. No oth­er book has been so stud­ied and so ana­lyzed and it is a trib­ute to the com­plex­i­ty of the Bible and eager­ness of its stu­dents that after thou­sands of years of study there are still end­less books that can be writ­ten about it.

Of those books, the vast major­i­ty are devo­tion­al or the­o­log­i­cal in nature. “Most peo­ple who read the Bible,” Asi­mov writes, “do so in order to get the ben­e­fit of its eth­i­cal and spir­i­tu­al teach­ings.” But the ancient col­lec­tion of texts “has a sec­u­lar side, too,” he says. It is a “his­to­ry book,” though not in the sense that we think of the term, since his­to­ry as an evi­dence-based aca­d­e­m­ic dis­ci­pline did not exist until rel­a­tive­ly mod­ern times. Ancient his­to­ry includ­ed all sorts of myths, won­ders, and mar­vels, side-by-side with leg­endary and apoc­ryphal events as well as the mun­dane and ver­i­fi­able.

Asimov’s Guide to the Bible, orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished in two vol­umes in 1968–69, then reprint­ed as one in 1981, seeks to demys­ti­fy the text. It also assumes a lev­el of famil­iar­i­ty that Har­ri­son did not expect from his read­ers (and did not find among his stu­dents). The Bible may not be as wide­ly-read as Asi­mov thought, even if sales sug­gest oth­er­wise. Yet he does not expect that his read­ers will know “ancient his­to­ry out­side the Bible,” the sort of crit­i­cal con­text nec­es­sary for under­stand­ing what its writ­ings meant to con­tem­po­rary read­ers, for whom the “places and peo­ple” men­tioned “were well known.”

“I am try­ing,” Asi­mov writes in his intro­duc­tion, “to bring in the out­side world, illu­mi­nate it in terms of the Bib­li­cal sto­ry and, in return, illu­mi­nate the events of the Bible by adding to it the non-Bib­li­cal aspects of his­to­ry, biog­ra­phy, and geog­ra­phy.” This describes the gen­er­al method­ol­o­gy of crit­i­cal Bib­li­cal schol­ars. Yet Asimov’s book has a dis­tinct advan­tage over most of those writ­ten by, and for, aca­d­e­mics. Its tone, as one read­er com­ments, is “quick and fun, chat­ty, non-aca­d­e­m­ic.” It’s approach­able and high­ly read­able, that is, yet still seri­ous and eru­dite.

Asimov’s approach in his guide is not hos­tile or “anti-reli­gious,” as anoth­er read­er observes, but he was not him­self friend­ly to reli­gious beliefs, or super­sti­tions, or irra­tional what-have-yous. In the inter­view above from 1988, he explains that while humans are inher­ent­ly irra­tional crea­tures, he nonethe­less felt a duty “to be a skep­tic, to insist on evi­dence, to want things to make sense.” It is, he says, akin to the call­ing believ­ers feel to “spread God’s word.” Part of that duty, for Asi­mov, includ­ed mak­ing the Bible make sense for those who appre­ci­ate how deeply embed­ded it is in world cul­ture and his­to­ry, but who may not be inter­est­ed in just tak­ing it on faith. Find an old copy of Asimov’s Guide to the Bible at Ama­zon.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Isaac Asi­mov Pre­dicts in 1983 What the World Will Look Like in 2019: Com­put­er­i­za­tion, Glob­al Co-oper­a­tion, Leisure Time & Moon Min­ing

Intro­duc­tion to the Old Tes­ta­ment: A Free Yale Course 

Chris­tian­i­ty Through Its Scrip­tures: A Free Course from Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty 

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

William S. Burroughs’ Manifesto for Overthrowing a Corrupt Government with Fake News and Other Prophetic Methods: It’s Now Published for the First Time

The Boy Scouts of Amer­i­ca have faced some deserved crit­i­cism, unde­served ridicule, and have been cru­el­ly used as props, but I think it’s safe to say that they still bear a pret­ty whole­some image for a major­i­ty of Amer­i­cans. That was prob­a­bly no less the case and per­haps a good deal more so in 1969, but the end of the six­ties was not by any stretch a sim­pler time. It was a peri­od, writes Scott McLemee, “when the My Lai Mas­sacre, the Man­son Fam­i­ly and the Weath­er Under­ground were all in the news.” The Zodi­ac Killer was on the loose, a gen­er­al air of bleak­ness pre­vailed.

William S. Bur­roughs respond­ed to this mad­ness with a counter-mad­ness of his own in “The Revised Boy Scout Man­u­al,” “an impas­sioned yet some­times inco­her­ent rebuke to ossi­fied polit­i­cal ide­olo­gies,” writes Kirkus. We can pre­sume Bur­roughs meant his instruc­tions for over­throw­ing cor­rupt gov­ern­ments to satir­i­cal­ly com­ment on the out­doorsy sta­tus quo youth cult. But we can also see the man­u­al tak­ing as its start­ing point cer­tain val­ues the Scouts cham­pi­on, at their best: obses­sive atten­tion to detail, Mac­Gyver-like inge­nu­ity, and good old Amer­i­can self-reliance.

Want to bring down the gov­ern­ment? You can do it your­self… with fake news.

Boing Boing quotes a long pas­sage from the book that shows Bur­roughs as a com­pre­hen­sive, if not quite whole­some, Scout advi­sor, describ­ing how one might use mass media’s meth­ods to dis­rupt its mes­sage, and to trans­mit mes­sages of your own. We might think he is fore­see­ing, even rec­om­mend­ing, tech­niques we now see used to a no-longer-shock­ing degree.

You have an advan­tage which your oppos­ing play­er does not have. He must con­ceal his manip­u­la­tions. You are under no such neces­si­ty. In fact you can adver­tise the fact that you are writ­ing news in advance and try­ing to make it hap­pen by tech­niques which any­body can use.

And that makes you NEWS. And a TV per­son­al­i­ty as well, if you play it right. 

You con­struct fake news broad­casts on video cam­era… And you scram­ble your fab­ri­cat­ed news in with actu­al news broad­casts.

We might read in Bur­roughs’ instruc­tions the meth­ods of YouTube pro­pa­gan­dists, social media manip­u­la­tors, and some of the most pow­er­ful peo­ple in the world. Bur­roughs does not rec­om­mend tak­ing over the media appa­ra­tus by seiz­ing its pow­er, but rather using tech­nol­o­gy to make “cut­up video tapes” and ham radio broad­casts fea­tur­ing doc­u­men­tary media spliced togeth­er with fab­ri­ca­tions. These “tech­niques could swamp the mass media with total illu­sion,” he writes. “It will be seen that the fal­si­fi­ca­tions in syl­lab­ic West­ern lan­guages are in point of fact actu­al virus mech­a­nisms.”

Bur­roughs is not sim­ply writ­ing a ref­er­ence for mak­ing fear­mon­ger­ing pro­pa­gan­da. Even when it comes to the sub­ject of fear, he some­times sounds as if he is revis­ing Sergei Eisenstein’s mon­tage the­o­ry for his own sim­i­lar­ly vio­lent times. “Let us say the mes­sage is fear. For this we take all the past fear shots of the sub­ject we can col­lect or evoke. We cut these in with fear words and pic­tures, with threats, etc. This is all act­ed out and would be upset­ting enough in any case. Now let’s try it scram­bled and see if we get an even stronger effect.”

What would this effect be? One “com­pa­ra­ble to post-hyp­not­ic sug­ges­tion”? Who is the audi­ence, and would they be, a la Clock­work Orange, a cap­tive one? Did Bur­roughs see peo­ple on street cor­ners screen­ing their cut-up videos, despite the fact that con­sumer-lev­el video tech­nol­o­gy did not yet exist? Is this a cin­e­mat­ic exper­i­ment, mass media-age occult rit­u­al, com­pendi­um of prac­ti­cal mag­ic for insid­er media adepts?

See what you can make of Bur­roughs’ “The Revised Boy Scout Man­u­al” (sub­ti­tled “an elec­tron­ic rev­o­lu­tion”). The book has been reis­sued by the Ohio State Press, with an after­word (read it here) by V. Vale, pub­lish­er of the leg­endary, rad­i­cal mag­a­zine RE/Search, who excerpt­ed a part of the “Revised Man­u­al” in the ear­ly 1980s and planned to pub­lish it in full before “a per­son­al rela­tion­ship blowup” put an end to the project.

McLemee titles his review of Burrough’s redis­cov­ered man­i­festo “Dis­tant Ear­ly Warn­ing,” and much of it does indeed sound eeri­ly prophet­ic. But we should also bear in mind the book is itself a coun­ter­cul­tur­al pas­tiche, designed to scram­ble minds for rea­sons only Bur­roughs tru­ly knew. He was a “prac­tic­ing Sci­en­tol­o­gist at the time” of the book’s com­po­si­tion, “albeit not for much longer,” and he does pre­scribe use of the e‑meter and makes scat­tered ref­er­ences to L. Ron Hub­bard. But as a prac­ti­tion­er of his own pre­cepts, Bur­roughs would not have writ­ten a mono­graph uncrit­i­cal­ly pro­mot­ing one belief sys­tem or anoth­er. (Well, maybe just the once.) He also quotes Hassan‑I Sab­bah, dis­cuss­es Mayan hiero­glyph­ics, and talks Gen­er­al Seman­tics.

“The Revised Boy Scout Man­u­al” “has ele­ments of lib­er­tar­i­an man­i­festo, para­mil­i­tary hand­book, revenge fan­ta­sy and dark satire,” McLemee writes, “and wher­ev­er the line between fic­tion and non­fic­tion may be, it’s nev­er clear for long.” In this, Bur­roughs only scram­bles ele­ments already in abun­dance at the end of the six­ties and in the ear­ly sev­en­ties, dur­ing which he revised and record­ed the work sev­er­al times as he tran­si­tioned him­self out of an orga­ni­za­tion that main­tained total con­trol through mass media. Like Mar­shall McLuhan, Noam Chom­sky and oth­ers, he was begin­ning to see this phe­nom­e­non every­where he looked. Bur­roughs’ most last­ing influ­ence may be that, like the late-60s Sit­u­a­tion­ists, he devised a cun­ning and effec­tive way to turn mass media in on itself, one with per­haps more sin­is­ter impli­ca­tions.

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How William S. Bur­roughs Embraced, Then Reject­ed Sci­en­tol­ogy, Forc­ing L. Ron Hub­bard to Come to Its Defense (1959–1970)

How William S. Bur­roughs Used the Cut-Up Tech­nique to Shut Down London’s First Espres­so Bar (1972)

When William S. Bur­roughs Appeared on Sat­ur­day Night Live: His First TV Appear­ance (1981)

5 Ani­ma­tions Intro­duce the Media The­o­ry of Noam Chom­sky, Roland Barthes, Mar­shall McLuhan, Edward Said & Stu­art Hall

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

An Archive of Animations/Cartoons of Ancient Greece & Rome: From the 1920s Through Today

Ancient Greece and Rome have pro­vid­ed fer­tile hunt­ing grounds for ani­mat­ed sub­ject mat­ter since the very incep­tion of the form.

So what if the results wind up doing lit­tle more than frol­ic in the pas­toral set­ting? Wit­ness 1930’s Play­ful Pan, above, which can basi­cal­ly be summed up as Sil­ly Sym­pho­ny in a toga (with a cute bear cub who looks a lot like Mick­ey Mouse and some flame play that pre­fig­ures The Sorcerer’s Appren­tice…)

Oth­ers are packed with his­to­ry, myth­ic nar­ra­tive, and peri­od details, though be fore­warned that not all are as visu­al­ly appeal­ing as Steve Simons’ Hoplites! Greeks at War, part of the Panoply Vase Ani­ma­tion Project.

Some series, such as the Aster­ix movies and Aesop and Sona sta­ple of The Rocky and Bull­win­kle Show from 1959 to 1962have been the gate­ways through which many his­to­ry lovers’ curios­i­ty was first roused.

(Russ­ian ani­ma­tor Ana­toly Petrov’s erot­ic shorts for Soyuz­mult­film may rouse oth­er, er, curiosi­ties, and are def­i­nite­ly NSFW.)

And then there are instant clas­sics like 2004’s It’s All Greek to Scoo­by in which “Shag­gy’s pur­chase of a mys­te­ri­ous amulet only serves to cause a pes­ter­ing archae­ol­o­gist and cen­taur to chase him.”  (Ye gods…)

Senior Lec­tur­er of Clas­si­cal and Mediter­ranean Stud­ies at Van­der­bilt, Chiara Sul­prizio, has col­lect­ed all of these and more on her blog, Ani­mat­ed Antiq­ui­ty.

Begin­ning with the 2‑minute frag­ment that’s all we have left of Win­sor McCay’s 1921 The Cen­taurs, Sul­prizio shares some of her favorite car­toon rep­re­sen­ta­tions of ancient Greece, Rome, and beyond. Her areas of pro­fes­sion­al spe­cial­iza­tiongen­der and sex­u­al­i­ty, Greek com­e­dy, and Roman satireare well suit­ed to her cho­sen hob­by, and her com­men­tary dou­bles down on his­tor­i­cal con­text to include the his­to­ry of ani­ma­tion.

The appear­ance of car­toon stars like Daffy Duck, Tom and Jer­ry, and Pop­eye fur­ther demon­strates this antique sub­ject matter’s stur­di­ness. TED-Ed and the BBC may view the genre as an excel­lent teach­ing tool, but there’s noth­ing stop­ping the ani­ma­tor from shoe­horn­ing some fab­ri­ca­tions in amongst the bux­om nymphs and buff glad­i­a­tors.

(Raise your hand if your moth­er ever sac­ri­ficed you on the altar to Spinachia, god­dess of spinach, in hopes that she might unleash a mush­room cloud of super-atom­ic pow­er in your puny bicep.)

You’ll find a num­ber of entries fea­tur­ing the work of Japan­ese and Russ­ian ani­ma­tors, includ­ing Ther­mae Romae, part of the jug­ger­naut that’s sprung from Mari Yamazaki’s pop­u­lar graph­ic nov­el series and Icarus and the Wise Men from the leg­endary Fyo­dor Khitruk, whose retelling of the myth sent a mes­sage about free­dom from the Sovi­et Union, cir­ca 1976.

Begin your decade-by-decade explo­rations of Chiara Sulprizio’s ani­mat­ed antiq­ui­ties here or sug­gest that a miss­ing favorite be added to the col­lec­tion. (We vote for this one!)

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Art on Ancient Greek Vas­es Come to Life with 21st Cen­tu­ry Ani­ma­tion

18 Clas­sic Myths Explained with Ani­ma­tion: Pandora’s Box, Sisy­phus & More

An Ani­mat­ed Recon­struc­tion of Ancient Rome: Take A 30-Minute Stroll Through the City’s Vir­tu­al­ly-Recre­at­ed Streets

25 Ani­ma­tions of Great Lit­er­ary Works: From Pla­to, Dos­to­evsky & Dick­in­son, to Kaf­ka, Hem­ing­way & Brad­bury

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

Behold the Anciente Mappe of Fairyland, a Fantastical 1917 Mashup of Tales from Homer’s Odyssey, King Arthur, the Brothers Grimm & More

For most of pub­lish­ing his­to­ry, books for chil­dren meant primers and preachy reli­gious texts, not myth­i­cal worlds invent­ed just for kids. It’s true that fairy tales may have been specif­i­cal­ly tar­get­ed to the young, but they were nev­er child­ish. (See the orig­i­nal Grimms’ tales.) By the 19th cen­tu­ry, how­ev­er, the sit­u­a­tion had dra­mat­i­cal­ly changed. And by the turn of the cen­tu­ry, child­like fairy sto­ries and fan­tasies enjoyed wide pop­u­lar­i­ty among grown-ups and chil­dren alike, just as they do today. Wit­ness the tremen­dous suc­cess of Peter Pan.

The char­ac­ter first appeared as a sev­en-day-old baby in a satir­i­cal 1902 fan­ta­sy nov­el by Scot­tish writer J.M. Bar­rie. The nov­el became a play. Pan was so beloved that Barrie’s pub­lish­er excerpt­ed his chap­ters and pub­lished them as Peter Pan in Kens­ing­ton Gar­dens.

Then fol­lowed Barrie’s 1904 play, Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up, in which baby Pan had grown up at least just a lit­tle. Only after this his­to­ry of Pan enter­tain­ments did Bar­rie write Peter and Wendy, the sto­ry we learned as chil­dren through Dis­ney adap­ta­tions or the 1911 orig­i­nal.

Pan’s influ­ence is wide and deep, and over a cen­tu­ry long. In 1917, one of the ear­ly adopters of Barrie’s Nev­er­land fan­ta­sy con­cept expand­ed on its world with a ver­sion called “Fairy­land,” described in an illus­trat­ed map of such a place. The artist, Bernard Sleigh, “begins with a stormy sea,” writes Jes­si­ca Leigh Hes­ter at Atlas Obscu­ra. (That is, if we read the map from left to right.) “There, waves lash the shore and tri­tons ride piscine steeds, while a wood­en ship and an unfor­tu­nate soul are half-sunk near­by, in a white whirlpool.” The influ­ence of J.M. Barrie’s descrip­tions is read­i­ly appar­ent.

The Anciente Mappe of Fairy­land (see the map in full here) “mash­es up dozens of sto­ries to make a com­pre­hen­sive geog­ra­phy of make-believe,” writes Slate’s Rebec­ca Onion: “Rapunzel’s tow­er, cheek by jowl with Belle’s palace from ‘Beau­ty and the Beast’; Hump­ty Dump­ty on a roof, over­look­ing Red Rid­ing Hood’s house; Ulysses’ ship, sail­ing past Gob­lin Land.” It’s a “Where’s Wal­do of Fan­ta­sy East­er Eggs,” by an Eng­lish land­scape painter “who wrote exten­sive­ly about fairies in Eng­land.” Sleigh was not only a fan­ta­sist, he was also a true believ­er.

Like Arthur Conan Doyle, Sleigh pro­mot­ed the exis­tence of fairies, and wrote an earnest work of fic­tion called The Gates of Horn: Being Sundry Records from the Pro­ceed­ings of the Soci­ety for the Inves­ti­ga­tion of Fairy Fact and Fal­la­cy in 1926. Like Doyle, he was a tal­ent­ed and pop­u­lar artist look­ing for mag­ic in a world of machin­ery. “The ancient map of Fairy­land,” with its visu­al anthol­o­gy of lit­er­a­ture, folk tale, and mythol­o­gy, “is said to have been his most famous work,” writes the David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion. It was designed “dur­ing the ‘Arts & Crafts’ move­ment, which was in reac­tion to the Indus­tri­al rev­o­lu­tion.”

Like J.R.R. Tolkien, anoth­er artist who found inspi­ra­tion in Barrie’s fan­ta­sy world, Sleigh worked against a back­drop of world war. Onion quotes his­to­ri­ans Tim Bryars and Tom Harper’s com­ment that “com­pared with the dev­as­tat­ed, bomb-blast­ed land­scape of north­ern France, this vision of a make-believe land may have seemed a seduc­tive escape for a Euro­pean soci­ety bear­ing the psy­cho­log­i­cal and phys­i­cal scars of mass con­flict.”

Unlike Tolkien, how­ev­er, or con­tem­po­rary inher­i­tors of the Peter Pan tra­di­tion like J.K. Rowl­ing a cen­tu­ry lat­er, or the ear­li­er Roman­tic lovers of mythol­o­gy and folk tale, Sleigh’s map invites a light reprieve from the hor­rors of war. “Any small amount of vio­lence or trau­ma you might find in ‘Fairy­land’ could eas­i­ly be evad­ed,” writes Onion, “by mov­ing on to the next area of the map, where a new set of sto­ries unfolds.”

Down­load high res­o­lu­tion scans of An Anciente Mappe of Fairy­land: new­ly dis­cov­ered and set forth from the Library of Con­gress and the David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion, where you can also pur­chase a print. (The map phys­i­cal­ly resides at the British Library.) Zoom into Fairy­land’s intri­cate fan­ta­sy land­scape and maybe take a break from the dark real­i­ties of yet anoth­er indus­tri­al rev­o­lu­tion and a world at war.

via Atlas Obscu­ra/The Vault

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Atlas of Lit­er­ary Maps Cre­at­ed by Great Authors: J.R.R Tolkien’s Mid­dle Earth, Robert Louis Stevenson’s Trea­sure Island & More

Map of Mid­dle-Earth Anno­tat­ed by Tolkien Found in a Copy of Lord of the Rings

A Dig­i­tal Archive of 1,800+ Children’s Books from UCLA

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

Virginia Woolf & Friends Name Their Favorite and Least Favorite Writers in a Newly Unearthed 1923 Survey

Celebri­ty Twit­ter can be fun… some­times…. Tabloids still have mass appeal, albeit main­ly on the web. But for those who want to see the intro­vert­ed and book­ish caught off-guard and off the cuff, times are a lit­tle tough. Writ­ers can more eas­i­ly con­trol their image than actors or pop stars, nat­u­ral­ly. Most aren’t near­ly as rec­og­niz­able and sub­ject to con­stant pop cul­ture sur­veil­lance. Lit­er­ary scan­dals rarely go beyond pla­gia­rism or pol­i­tics. Some­times one might wish—as in the days of mean drunks like Nor­man Mail­er, Ernest Hem­ing­way, or Hunter S. Thompson—for a good old-fash­ioned lit­er­ary brawl….

Or maybe not. After all, there’s that thing about pens and swords. The sharpest weapons, the tools that cut the deep­est, are wield­ed by wit, whether it’s the flash­ing of rhetor­i­cal steel or the fine needling of ele­vat­ed pet­ti­ness. No clum­sy vio­lence can stand up to the lit­er­ary put-downs we find in the cor­re­spon­dence of, say Flan­nery O’Connor—who wrote that Ayn Rand “makes Mick­ey Spillane look like Dostoevsky”—or Vir­ginia Woolf, who found Joyce “a bore… ulti­mate­ly nau­se­at­ing. When one can have cooked flesh, why have the raw?”

This is won­der­ful­ly nasty stuff: gut-lev­el low blows from the high road of a well-turned phrase. If it’s the kind of thing you enjoy, you’ll love the “bitchy lit­er­ary burn book,” reports Vox, “fea­tur­ing the unvar­nished opin­ions of Vir­ginia Woof, Mar­garet Kennedy, and oth­ers” which has recent­ly come to light. A col­lec­tion of answers to 39-ques­tions, “its yel­low and curl­ing title page” announces it as “’Real­ly and Tru­ly: A Book of Lit­er­ary Con­fes­sions,” notes William Mack­esy, grand­son and lit­er­ary execu­tor of nov­el­ist Kennedy.

It was passed around and filled in by hand by a group of ten writ­ers total, also includ­ing Rose Macaulay, Rebec­ca West, Hilaire Bel­loc, and Stel­la Ben­son, between 1923 and 1927. “Each con­tri­bu­tion was sealed up,” Mack­esy writes, “pre­sum­ably to await a dis­tant thriller-open­ing, which gave safe space for barbs and jokes at con­tem­po­raries’ expense.” With their sim­i­lar­i­ties to our own quick-take cul­tur­al prod­ucts, the ques­tion­naires are sure to be a hit on the inter­net.

These secret lit­er­ary con­fes­sions get prick­ly, thanks to “waspish” ques­tions like “the most over­rat­ed Eng­lish writer liv­ing” and “a deceased writer whose char­ac­ter you most dis­like.” Unsur­pris­ing­ly, Woolf’s answers are some of the sharpest. In answer to the lat­ter ques­tion, she wrote “I like all dead men of let­ters.” As for the liv­ing, one unnamed respon­dent “called T.S. Eliot the worst liv­ing Eng­lish poet as well as the worst liv­ing lit­er­ary crit­ic.”

Rebec­ca West dis­missed the whole thing as “sil­ly… it’s like being asked to select the best sun­set.” Nonethe­less, in answer to a ques­tion about which writer would still be read in 25 years, she sim­ply answered, “me.” Bel­loc did the same. Kennedy called Woolf the most over­rat­ed writer (but great­est liv­ing crit­ic), Woolf and West named Bel­loc most over­rat­ed. Joyce appears more than once in that cat­e­go­ry, as does D.H. Lawrence.

It’s all great fun, but maybe the “bitchy” head­line over­sells this aspect a lit­tle and under­sells the less sen­sa­tion­al but more infor­ma­tive parts of the exer­cise. For instance, all of the writ­ers except one (with one write-in for “I don’t know”) cast the same vote for great­est lit­er­ary genius (spoil­er: it’s Shake­speare). They revered James Boswell, Thomas Hardy, Max Beer­bohm, Pla­to, Jane Austen, Homer, Cat­ul­lus. They ignored many oth­ers. “There is no men­tion any­where,” Mack­esy points out, “of Vir­gil or Donne, and only one of Chaucer, Dick­ens, George Eliot and Hen­ry James.”

No mat­ter how for­ward-look­ing some of their work turned out to be, they were writ­ers of their time, with typ­i­cal atti­tudes, beliefs, and opin­ions when it came to lit­er­a­ture. That said, the casu­al nar­cis­sism and snark some of the ques­tions elic­it are time­less qual­i­ties. Learn more about the book, includ­ing its like ori­gins and mys­te­ri­ous prove­nance, from Mack­esy at the Inde­pen­dent.

via Men­tal Floss

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Flan­nery O’Connor Ren­ders Her Ver­dict on Ayn Rand’s Fic­tion: It’s As “Low As You Can Get”

Vir­ginia Woolf on James Joyce’s Ulysses, “Nev­er Did Any Book So Bore Me.” Shen Then Quit at Page 200

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

The Lou Reed Archive Opens at the New York Public Library: Get Your Own Lou Reed Library Card and Check It Out

This past Octo­ber marked the fifth anniver­sary of Lou Reed’s death. This month marks what would have been his 77th birth­day. It seems like as good a time as any to revis­it his lega­cy. As of this past Fri­day, any­one can do exact­ly that in per­son at the New York Pub­lic Library. And they can do so with their own spe­cial edi­tion NYPL Lou Reed library card. The NYPL has just opened to the pub­lic the Lou Reed Archive, “approx­i­mate­ly 300 lin­ear feet,” the library writes in a press release, “of paper records, elec­tron­ic records, and pho­tographs, and approx­i­mate­ly 3,600 audio and 1,300 video record­ings.”

These arti­facts span the musi­cian, writer, pho­tog­ra­ph­er, and “tai-chi student”’s life from his 1958 high school band The Shades to “his job as a staff song­writer for the bud­get music label, Pick­wick Records, and his rise to promi­nence through the Vel­vet Under­ground and sub­se­quent solo career, to his final per­for­mance in 2013.”

It is more than fit­ting that they should find a home at the New York insti­tu­tion, in the city where Lou Reed became Lou Reed, “the most lit­er­ary of rock stars,” writes Andrew Epstein for the Poet­ry Foun­da­tion, “one who aspired to make rock music that could stand on the same plane as works of lit­er­a­ture.” See a list of the Lou Reed Archive col­lec­tions below:

  • Orig­i­nal man­u­script, lyrics, poet­ry and hand­writ­ten tai-chi notes
  • Pho­tographs of Reed, includ­ing artist prints and inscrip­tions by the pho­tog­ra­phers
  • Tour itin­er­aries, agree­ments, road man­ag­er notes and paper­work
  • 600+ hours of live record­ings, demos, stu­dio record­ings and inter­views
  • Reed’s own exten­sive pho­tog­ra­phy work
  • Album, book, and tour art­work; mock-ups, proofs and match-prints
  • Lou Reed album and con­cert posters, hand­bills, pro­grams, and pro­mo­tion­al items
  • Lou Reed press for albums, tours, per­for­mances, books, and pho­tog­ra­phy exhibits
  • Fan mail
  • Per­son­al col­lec­tions of books, LPs and 45s

Reed left his first “last­ing lega­cy” at Syra­cuse Uni­ver­si­ty, as Syra­cuse itself affirmed after his death in 2013, as “a crim­i­nal, a dis­si­dent and a poet.” There, he stud­ied under his lit­er­ary hero, Del­more Schwartz, was report­ed­ly expelled from ROTC for hold­ing an unloaded gun to his superior’s head, and was sup­pos­ed­ly turned away from his grad­u­a­tion by police. Once in New York, how­ev­er, Reed not only pilot­ed the Vel­vet Under­ground into ever­last­ing cult infamy, jump­start­ing waves of punk, post-punk, new wave, and a few dozen oth­er sub­gen­res. He also car­ried forth the lega­cy of the New York poet­ry, Epstein argues.

He had “seri­ous con­nec­tions to the poet­ry world”—not only to Schwartz, but also to the Beats and the New York School—to poets who “played a sur­pris­ing­ly large role in the emer­gence of the Vel­vet Under­ground.” Like all great art, Reed’s best work was more than the sum of its “mul­ti­ple and com­plex influ­ences.” But it should be appre­ci­at­ed along­side mid-cen­tu­ry New York poets as much as jazz exper­i­men­tal­ists like Ornette Cole­man and Cecil Tay­lor who inspired his freeform approach. “Reed’s body of work,” writes Epstein, “rep­re­sents a cru­cial but over­looked instance of poetry’s rich back-and-forth dia­logue with pop­u­lar cul­ture.”

Sim­i­lar things might be said about Reed’s engage­ments with film, the­ater, the visu­al arts, and the New York avant-garde gen­er­al­ly, which he also trans­mut­ed and trans­lat­ed into his scuzzy brand of rock and roll. The NYPL archive doc­u­ments his rela­tion­ships with not only his band­mates and manager/patron Andy Warhol, but also Robert Quine, John Zorn, Robert Wil­son, Julian Schn­abel, and Lau­rie Ander­son. And yet, despite the many rivers he wad­ed into in his long career, immers­ing in some more deeply than oth­ers, it was the New York lit­er­ary world whom he most want­ed to embrace his work.

Accept­ing an award in 2007 from Syra­cuse, Reed said, “I hope, Del­more, if you’re lis­ten­ing you are final­ly proud as well. My name is final­ly linked to yours in the part of heav­en reserved for Brook­lyn poets.” Head over to The Library for the Per­form­ing Arts in Lin­coln Cen­ter to get your own Lou Reed library card. If you’re lucky enough to spend some time with this exten­sive col­lec­tion, maybe con­sid­er how all Reed’s work was, in some way or anoth­er, informed by a life­long devo­tion to New York poet­ry.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Lou Reed’s The Raven, a Trib­ute to Edgar Allan Poe Fea­tur­ing David Bowie, Ornette Cole­man, Willem Dafoe & More

Meet the Char­ac­ters Immor­tal­ized in Lou Reed’s “Walk on the Wild Side”: The Stars and Gay Rights Icons from Andy Warhol’s Fac­to­ry Scene

Lou Reed Sings “Sweet Jane” Live, Julian Schn­abel Films It (2006)

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

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