The Real Alice in Wonderland Circa 1862, and Our Favorite Culture Links on the Web

Over at The Retro­naut they’re fea­tur­ing a gallery of images of Alice Lid­dell cir­ca 1862. Who is that you may ask? Well, it’s only the young girl who inspired Lewis Car­rol­l’s clas­sic sto­ry Alice’s Adven­tures in Won­der­land (a text that you can down­load from our col­lec­tions of Free eBooks and Free Audio Books). If the men­tion of the great children’s tale warms your heart, we’d encour­age you to re-vis­it Maria Popo­va’s guest-authored post, Alice in Open­land, which has all kinds of great relat­ed mate­r­i­al — read­ings of Alice by Cory Doc­torow, film adap­ta­tions of the sto­ry from 1903 and 1915, and much more.

Bob Dylan’s Historic Newport Folk Festival Performances, 1963–1965

“You know him, he’s yours: Bob Dylan.” It’s hard to imag­ine a more iron­ic intro­duc­tion, but those were the words used by Ron­nie Gilbert of The Weavers to intro­duce Dylan at the 1964 New­port Folk Fes­ti­val. “What a crazy thing to say!” Dylan wrote in his mem­oir, Chron­i­cles. “Screw that. As far as I knew, I did­n’t belong to any­body then or now.” A year lat­er at New­port he made his point loud and clear. They did­n’t know him, and he was­n’t theirs.

On July 25, 1965 Dylan shocked the folk purists at New­port by plug­ging his Fend­er Stra­to­cast­er into an ampli­fi­er and join­ing gui­tarist Mike Bloom­field and oth­ers from the But­ter­field Blues Band in a blis­ter­ing ren­di­tion of “Mag­gie’s Farm,” a song often inter­pret­ed as Dylan’s protest song against the expec­ta­tion of singing protest songs. (The farm in the title is viewed as a pun on Silas McGee’s farm in Mis­sis­sip­pi, where Dylan made his famous appear­ance dur­ing a civ­il rights ral­ly.) Many in the audi­ence took it as a slap in the face. Boos rose up amid the cheer­ing, and the boo­ing con­tin­ued into Dylan’s next song, the now-clas­sic “Like a Rolling Stone.” Music writer Greil Mar­cus described the scene:

There was anger, there was fury, there was applause, there was stunned silence, but there was a great sense of betray­al. As if some­thing pre­cious and del­i­cate was being dashed to the ground and stomped. As if the del­i­cate flower of folk music, the price­less her­itage of impov­er­ished black farm­ers and des­ti­tute white min­ers, was being mocked by a dandy, with a gar­ish noisy elec­tric gui­tar, who was going to make huge amounts of mon­ey as a pop star by exploit­ing what he found from these poor peo­ple.

The con­tro­ver­sial “elec­tric” per­for­mance was the last of three Dylan appear­ances at the New­port fes­ti­val. His first time there was in 1963, when he was an obscure young singer, lit­tle known out­side of Green­wich Vil­lage. He appeared at the fes­ti­val as a guest of Joan Baez, who was far bet­ter known and had recent­ly appeared on the cov­er of Time mag­a­zine. Baez intro­duced Dylan to audi­ences around the coun­try and encour­aged him to write polit­i­cal­ly com­mit­ted folk songs. But by the 1964 fes­ti­val Dylan had already caught up to Baez, in terms of fame, and by 1965 he was break­ing free of Baez and her expec­ta­tions, and of folk music in gen­er­al.

Mur­ray Lern­er’s The Oth­er Side of the Mir­ror: Bob Dylan Live at the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val 1963–1965 (above) cap­tures Dylan’s evo­lu­tion over those three years. The footage was orig­i­nal­ly shot for Lern­er’s clas­sic 1967 doc­u­men­tary, Fes­ti­val!, and was even­tu­al­ly acquired by Dylan, whose man­ag­er agreed to let Lern­er assem­ble it into a film–but only after the release of Mar­tin Scors­ese’s No Direc­tion Home, which uses some of the mate­r­i­al. The Oth­er Side of the Mir­ror was released in 2007. The doc­u­men­tary was shot on Kodak Plus‑X and Tri‑X film with a three-per­son crew. As Lern­er lat­er explained in an inter­view, his inten­tion was to let Dylan’s evolv­ing music speak for itself:

We decid­ed on no nar­ra­tion, no pun­dit inter­views, no inter­views with Dylan. noth­ing except the expe­ri­ence of see­ing him. That to me is excit­ing. Just the clear expe­ri­ence gives you every­thing you need. I felt that when screened the music of The Oth­er Side of the Mir­ror, because he’s tout­ed metaphor­i­cal­ly as the mir­ror of his gen­er­a­tion, and I thought no, he’s beyond that. He always takes the gen­er­a­tion beyond that, and he’s like on the oth­er side of the mir­ror. But I also felt the won­drous qual­i­ty of his imag­i­na­tion took us like Alice to a new world on the oth­er side of the mir­ror.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Bob Dylan’s (In)Famous Elec­tric Gui­tar From the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val Dis­cov­ered?

The Times They Are a‑Changin’: 1964 Broad­cast Gives a Rare Glimpse of the Ear­ly Bob Dylan

 

Metamorphose: 1999 Documentary Reveals the Life & Work of Artist M.C. Escher

Made in 1999 by Dutch direc­tor Jan Bos­driesz, the doc­u­men­tary Meta­mor­phose: M.C. Esch­er, 1898–1972 takes its title from one of Escher’s more well-known prints in which the word “meta­mor­phose” trans­forms itself into pat­terns of abstract shapes and ani­mals. It’s one of those col­lege-dorm prints one thinks of when one thinks of M.C. Esch­er, and it’s won­der­ful in its own way. But the doc­u­men­tary reveals oth­er sides of the artist—his art-school days, his sojourn in Italy—that pro­duced a very dif­fer­ent kind of work. Esch­er began as a stu­dent of archi­tec­ture, enrolled in the School for Archi­tec­ture and Dec­o­ra­tive arts in Haar­lem by his par­ents, who strug­gled to help him find his way after he failed his high school exams.

Once in Haar­lem, the lone­ly and some­what morose Esch­er finds him­self drawn to graph­ic art instead. One of his teach­ers, accom­plished Dutch artist Samuel Jes­su­run de Mesqui­ta, whose influ­ence is evi­dent in Escher’s work and life, sees some of Escher’s linocuts and likes them. In archival footage of an inter­view with Esch­er, the artist says that Jes­su­run de Mesqui­ta asked him, “Wouldn’t you rather be a graph­ic artist instead of an archi­tect?”

Esch­er admits, “I wasn’t all that inter­est­ed in archi­tec­ture.” It’s a lit­tle bit of a sur­pris­ing admis­sion giv­en Escher’s wild archi­tec­tur­al imag­i­na­tion, but per­haps what he meant was that he wasn’t inter­est­ed in the con­ven­tion­al, but rather in the archi­tec­ture of the fan­tas­tic, the impos­si­ble spaces he imag­ined in much of his work.

We learn oth­er things about Esch­er: One of his wood­cuts from this peri­od is titled “Nev­er Think before You Begin,” show­ing a lone­ly fig­ure on a dark and treach­er­ous path with only a tiny light to guide him, a rep­re­sen­ta­tion of Escher’s deci­sion to pur­sue graph­ic art. The nar­ra­tor informs us that “it took more than thir­ty years for him to earn enough from his work to live on.” Luck­i­ly, as with many artists who strug­gle for years, Esch­er had rich par­ents. We can thank them for their patron­age.  To give you some idea of Escher’s mor­bid char­ac­ter, we learn that he chose the top­ic “Dance of Death” for a three-hour lec­ture to his fel­low art stu­dents in Haar­lem. Esch­er told them, “The dance of death and life are two expres­sions with the same mean­ing. What else do we do oth­er than dance death into our souls?”

Meta­mor­phose is an impres­sive doc­u­men­tary, beau­ti­ful­ly shot and edit­ed, with a bal­ance of stock footage of the peri­od, inter­views with the artist him­self, and long, lin­ger­ing shots of his work. The film cov­ers Escher’s entire artis­tic life, end­ing with footage of the artist at work. These “last images” of Esch­er, the nar­ra­tor says, “are not gloomy. We see an artist in his stu­dio, doing the things he enjoys,” a man “proud of his suc­cess.” At the end of his life, he still hon­ored his teacher, de Mesqui­ta, and the South Ital­ian coast that shel­tered him dur­ing his for­ma­tive years.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Math­e­mat­ics Made Vis­i­ble: The Extra­or­di­nary Art of M.C. Esch­er

Inspi­ra­tions: A Short Film Cel­e­brat­ing the Math­e­mat­i­cal Art of M.C. Esch­er

Josh Jones is a doc­tor­al can­di­date in Eng­lish at Ford­ham Uni­ver­si­ty and a co-founder and for­mer man­ag­ing edi­tor of Guer­ni­ca / A Mag­a­zine of Arts and Pol­i­tics.

Hundreds of Fans Collectively Remade Star Wars; Now They Remake The Empire Strikes Back

For­get grav­i­ty. For­get even irony. The uni­verse knows no greater force, as it were, than the col­lec­tive enthu­si­asm of Star Wars fans. 35 years after the first of them came out, the films’ pow­er to inspire remains unset­tling­ly imme­di­ate and wide­spread. Or at least that goes for the orig­i­nal tril­o­gy of Star Wars movies, the first of which, A New Hope, under­went a pop­u­lar fan-made remake in 2009. The result, Star Wars Uncut, did­n’t come as the project of a sin­gle enter­pris­ing afi­ciona­do plop­ping him­self into the George Lucas seat, but as a ful­ly “crowd-sourced” motion pic­ture assem­bled out of fif­teen-sec­ond clips shot by con­trib­u­tors called to action by one Casey Pugh. The hyp­not­ic result, whose final cut first screened ear­li­er this year and which you can watch above, offers Star Wars as patch­work quilt, the con­struc­tion of its squares rang­ing from delib­er­ate­ly lo-fi (not to men­tion non-delib­er­ate­ly lo-fi) to sur­pris­ing­ly cred­i­ble.

With one down, the next two of those beloved movies await. The Empire Strikes Back Uncut, whose trail­er appears just above, has now offi­cial­ly opened to con­trib­u­tors, who can claim a fif­teen-sec­ond seg­ment of their own to re-cre­ate. They get thir­ty days to sub­mit the fruit of their cin­e­mat­ic labors, and then the entire film re-opens to accept anoth­er round of sub­mis­sions. This might seem like the kind of irrev­er­ent homage that would irk the cre­ator of the orig­i­nal, but Lucas­film has actu­al­ly endorsed the project this time around. Will their involve­ment extin­guish the under­ground scrap­pi­ness of the ear­li­er effort? Will fans choke under the awe­some respon­si­bil­i­ty of rein­ter­pret­ing The Empire Strikes Back, that most respect­ed of all Star Wars prop­er­ties? They’re ques­tions of import to a true believ­er, though that believ­er might take solace in the top-vot­ed reac­tion in Star Wars Uncut’s YouTube com­ments: “Still bet­ter than The Phan­tom Men­ace.”

via MetaFil­ter

Relat­ed con­tent:

Star Wars as Silent Film

Star Wars is a Remix

Star Wars Retold with Paper Ani­ma­tion

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Art Lovers Rejoice! New Goya and Rembrandt Databases Now Online

Two of the the tow­er­ing fig­ures of West­ern art–Fran­cis­co de Goya and Rem­brandt van Rijn–have just become more acces­si­ble to peo­ple around the world with the intro­duc­tion of a pair of new online data­bas­es.

The Museo del Pra­do in Madrid has just launched a Web site, Goya en el Pra­do, which makes over 1,000 works by the late 18th- and ear­ly 19th-cen­tu­ry Span­ish mas­ter avail­able for online view­ing, along with his cor­re­spon­dence and oth­er doc­u­ments. Although the site is cur­rent­ly avail­able only in Span­ish (tip: view the site with Google Chrome and it will trans­late things for you!) the pic­to­r­i­al con­tents are easy to explore for peo­ple who are not flu­ent in the lan­guage. They fall under three cat­e­gories: paint­ings (pin­turas), draw­ings (dibu­jos) and prints (estam­pas). More than half of Goy­a’s sur­viv­ing works–from his mas­ter­pieces to obscure sketches–are housed at the Pra­da and are now avail­able for brows­ing by schol­ars and the gen­er­al pub­lic alike. Many of the works are rarely seen. “Notable fea­tures with­in this excep­tion­al­ly impor­tant and inter­est­ing project,” writes artdaily.org, “include the option to access online the unique col­lec­tion of works on paper by Goya in the Muse­um, which is not nor­mal­ly on dis­play for con­ser­va­tion rea­sons.” Here’s the link: Goya en el Pra­do.

Two ven­er­a­ble Dutch art institutions–the Nether­lands Insti­tute for Art His­to­ry (RKD) and the Roy­al Pic­ture Gallery Mau­rit­shuis have joined forces to cre­ate The Rem­brandt Data­base, a resource that brings togeth­er mate­ri­als from research insti­tu­tions around the world, includ­ing the Nation­al Gallery of Lon­don and the Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art. Unlike the Prado’s Goya project, which is intend­ed for a wide audi­ence, the Rem­brandt site is designed specif­i­cal­ly for art schol­ars. “The Rem­brandt Data­base aims to become the first port of call for research on Rem­brandt’s paint­ings,” accord­ing to a state­ment on the site. “Our objec­tive is not to present a final set of data, but to devel­op and grow con­tin­u­al­ly, espe­cial­ly as more doc­u­men­ta­tion becomes avail­able through new research and col­lab­o­ra­tion with new part­ners.” By 2014 the orga­niz­ers hope to have mate­r­i­al from 20 muse­ums. At present there are only a dozen Rem­brandt paint­ings in the data­base, but some of the entries are sup­port­ed by exten­sive doc­u­men­ta­tion, includ­ing infrared and X‑ray imagery. Here’s the link: The Rem­brandt Data­base.

via Metafil­ter/The Art Tri­bune

Read Joyce’s Ulysses Line by Line, for the Next 22 Years, with Frank Delaney’s Podcast

If you need some­one to host a mul­ti-decade pod­cast on James Joyce’s Ulysses, then why set­tle for less than the most elo­quent man in the world? Vis­it Frank Delaney’s site, and you’ll find it less than shy about pro­claim­ing that Nation­al Pub­lic Radio once dubbed him just that. A pro­lif­ic man of let­ters, Delaney has in his 42-year-long career logged time as a news­read­er, book jour­nal­ist, inter­view­er, Edin­burgh Fes­ti­val Lit­er­a­ture Direc­tor, talk show host, Man Book­er Prize judge, radio broad­cast­er, nov­el­ist, and his­to­ri­an. In 1981, his book James Joyce’s Odyssey brought his sur­pass­ing enthu­si­asm for Joyce schol­ar­ship to pub­lic atten­tion, and it took a whole new form on, appro­pri­ate­ly enough, Blooms­day 2010, when Delaney added the title of pod­cast­er to his résumé by launch­ing Re: Joyce (iTunes — RSS). The show oper­ates on a sim­ple con­cept: each Wednes­day, Delaney decon­structs a piece of Ulysses, usu­al­ly for four to fif­teen min­utes. This will run, so the plan goes, for the next twen­ty-two years.

An ambi­tious project, cer­tain­ly, but I find that pod­cast­ing, espe­cial­ly lit­er­ary pod­cast­ing, could always use a lit­tle more ambi­tion. “Why?” Delaney asks of the show on its debut episode. “Well, why not? You could say, ‘Why both­er?’ And I would say, for the sheer fun of it. Because this is a book that has engrossed and delight­ed me for most of my adult life, and I know the enjoy­ment to be had from it. And I also know that such enjoy­ment has been denied to many, many peo­ple who would read Ulysses if they weren’t so daunt­ed by it, and indeed, who tried to read it but had to give up. How do I know this? Because I was one of them.” If this sounds a lit­tle like the script of an infomer­cial, Delaney embraces the sen­si­bil­i­ty, label­ing Re: Joyce his “infomer­cial for Ulysses.” As far as elo­quence — and eru­di­tion, not to men­tion rich­ness of sub­ject mat­ter — he’s cer­tain­ly sur­passed Ron Popeil.

You can down­load the pod­cast from iTunes for free or fol­low the RSS feed here. Copies of Joyce’s Ulysses can be found in our col­lec­tions of Free eBooks and Free Audio Books. The first episode of Re:Joyce appears below:

Relat­ed con­tent:

James Joyce Man­u­scripts Online, Free Cour­tesy of The Nation­al Library of Ire­land

Stephen Fry Explains His Love for James Joyce’s Ulysses

James Joyce’s Ulysses: Down­load the Free Audio Book

Hen­ri Matisse Illus­trates 1935 Edi­tion of James Joyce’s Ulysses

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Dizzy Gillespie Runs for US President, 1964. Promises to Make Miles Davis Head of the CIA

There comes a point in every nation­al elec­tion year when I reach total sat­u­ra­tion and have to tune it all out to stay sane—the non­stop streams of vit­ri­ol, the spec­ta­cles of elec­toral dys­func­tion, the ads, the ads, the ads. I’m sure I’m not alone in this. But imag­ine how dif­fer­ent­ly we could feel about pres­i­den­tial elec­tions if peo­ple like, I don’t know, Dizzy Gille­spie could get on a major tick­et? That’s what might have hap­pened in 1964 if “a lit­tle-known pres­i­den­tial cam­paign… had been able to vault the mil­lion­aires-only hur­dle.” What began as one of Dizzy’s famous prac­ti­cal jokes, and a way to raise mon­ey for CORE (Con­gress for Racial Equal­i­ty) and oth­er civ­il rights orga­ni­za­tions became some­thing more, a way for Dizzy’s fans to imag­ine an alter­na­tive to the “millionaire’s‑only” club rep­re­sent­ed by Lyn­don John­son and Bar­ry Gold­wa­ter.

dizzy for president

Gillespie’s cam­paign had “Dizzy Gille­spie for Pres­i­dent” but­tons, now collector’s items, and “Dizzy for Pres­i­dent” became the title of an album record­ed live at the Mon­terey Jazz Fes­ti­val in 1963.

A take on his trade­mark tune “Salt Peanuts,” “Vote Dizzy” was Gillespie’s offi­cial cam­paign song and includes lyrics like:

Your pol­i­tics ought to be a groovi­er thing
Vote Dizzy! Vote Dizzy!
So get a good pres­i­dent who’s will­ing to swing
Vote Dizzy! Vote Dizzy!

It’s def­i­nite­ly groovi­er than either one of our cur­rent cam­paigns. Dizzy “believed in civ­il rights, with­draw­ing from Viet­nam and rec­og­niz­ing com­mu­nist Chi­na,” and he want­ed to make Miles Davis head of the CIA, a role I think would have suit­ed Miles per­fect­ly. Although Dizzy’s cam­paign was some­thing of a pub­lic­i­ty stunt for his pol­i­tics and his per­sona, it’s not unheard of for pop­u­lar musi­cians to run for pres­i­dent in earnest. In 1979, rev­o­lu­tion­ary Niger­ian Afrobeat star Fela Kuti put him­self for­ward as a can­di­date in his coun­try, but was reject­ed. More recent­ly, Hait­ian musi­cian and for­mer Fugee Wyclef Jean attempt­ed a sin­cere run at the Hait­ian pres­i­den­cy, but was dis­qual­i­fied for rea­sons of res­i­den­cy. It’s a lit­tle hard to imag­ine a pop­u­lar musi­cian mount­ing a seri­ous pres­i­den­tial cam­paign in the U.S., but then again, the 80s were dom­i­nat­ed by the strange real­i­ty of a for­mer actor in the White House, so why not? In any case, revis­it­ing Dizzy Gille­spie’s mid-cen­tu­ry polit­i­cal the­ater may pro­vide a need­ed respite from the onslaught of the cur­rent U.S. cam­paign sea­son.

Josh Jones is a doc­tor­al can­di­date in Eng­lish at Ford­ham Uni­ver­si­ty and a co-founder and for­mer man­ag­ing edi­tor of Guer­ni­ca / A Mag­a­zine of Arts and Pol­i­tics.

Election 2012: Your Free Ticket to a Popular Stanford Course

Last Tues­day night, Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty kicked off a big course on the 2012 Elec­tion. 600 stu­dents packed into a crowd­ed audi­to­ri­um, fill­ing every seat, wait­ing for the course to begin. Led by David Kennedy (Pulitzer Prize-win­ning his­to­ri­an), Rob Reich (Polit­i­cal Sci­ence, Stan­ford), and James Stey­er (CEO, Com­mon Sense Media), the course brings togeth­er “experts from Stanford’s fac­ul­ty, along with dis­tin­guished par­tic­i­pants in and ana­lysts of Amer­i­can pol­i­tics.” And, togeth­er, they’re exam­in­ing major issues at stake in the elec­tion — for­eign pol­i­cy, the econ­o­my, the Supreme Court, cam­paign financ­ing, cam­paign strat­e­gy, etc.

The first week fea­tured con­ver­sa­tions with two sea­soned cam­paign strate­gists — Mark McK­in­non and Chris Lehane — who put away their dag­gers and had an unusu­al­ly civ­il con­ver­sa­tion about the Oba­ma-Rom­ney con­test, and the state of Amer­i­can pol­i­tics more gen­er­al­ly. Also join­ing the con­ver­sa­tion was Gary Segu­ra, a Stan­ford expert in polling, who offered up some firm pre­dic­tions about the elec­tion.

Although the course is filled to capac­i­ty, you can attend the course vir­tu­al­ly on iTunes and YouTube for free. (It will be added to our col­lec­tion of 500 Free Cours­es Online.) A com­plete list of upcom­ing speak­ers can be found here.

Full dis­clo­sure: This course was part­ly orga­nized by Stan­ford Con­tin­u­ing Stud­ies where I hap­pi­ly spend my work­ing days. If you live in the San Fran­cis­co Bay Area, you should check out our amaz­ing pro­gram.

 

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N Is a Number: A Portrait of Paul Erdős, the Most Prolific Mathematician of the 20th Century

For any­one who enjoyed Dan­ger­ous Knowl­edge (the BBC’s 90-minute doc­u­men­tary that takes a close look at four math­e­mati­cians – Georg Can­tor, Lud­wig Boltz­mann, Kurt Gödel and Alan Tur­ing), we bring you this — N Is a Num­ber: A Por­trait of Paul Erdős. Filmed in 1993 by direc­tor George Paul Csic­sery, the doc­u­men­tary revis­its the intel­lec­tu­al con­tri­bu­tions of Paul Erdös (1913–1996), per­haps the most pro­lif­ic math­e­mati­cian of the last cen­tu­ry. The Hun­gar­i­an-born thinker appar­ent­ly pub­lished more papers than any oth­er math­e­mati­cian in record­ed his­to­ry and solved seem­ing­ly unsolv­able prob­lems in graph the­o­ry and num­ber the­o­ry. Run time is 57 min­utes. You can pur­chase a copy online here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Break­ing the Code, Fea­tur­ing Derek Jaco­bi as Alan Tur­ing

Math­e­mat­ics in Movies: Har­vard Prof Curates 150+ Scenes

William Faulkner Quits His Post Office Job in Splendid Fashion with a 1924 Resignation Letter

Long before William Faulkn­er got his big break in lit­er­a­ture, he, like many of us, had a good old-fash­ioned day job. Faulkn­er had a series of odd jobs in fact. But, most famous­ly, he worked from 1921 to 1924 as the post­mas­ter at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Mis­sis­sip­pi, where, accord­ing to leg­end, he did the fol­low­ing: some­times threw mail in the garbage, oth­er times read mag­a­zines before bring­ing them to peo­ple’s homes, often played cards and wrote fic­tion dur­ing work­ing hours, occa­sion­al­ly went golf­ing instead of deliv­er­ing mail, and gen­er­al­ly ignored his col­leagues and cus­tomers. But, who could blame him? Espe­cial­ly when he earned $20,000 in today’s mon­ey and had great lit­er­ary ambi­tions to pur­sue. Even­tu­al­ly, when a postal inspec­tor came to inves­ti­gate, Faulkn­er resigned. The res­ig­na­tion let­ter, recent­ly high­light­ed by Let­ters of Note, is short (a mere 56 words) and cut­ting. But, scathing as it was, it did­n’t stop the US postal sys­tem from issu­ing a com­mem­o­ra­tive Faulkn­er stamp in 1987.

Octo­ber, 1924

As long as I live under the cap­i­tal­is­tic sys­tem, I expect to have my life influ­enced by the demands of mon­eyed peo­ple. But I will be damned if I pro­pose to be at the beck and call of every itin­er­ant scoundrel who has two cents to invest in a postage stamp.

This, sir, is my res­ig­na­tion.

(Signed by Faulkn­er)

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Drink­ing with William Faulkn­er

William Faulkn­er Audio Archive Goes Online

William Faulkn­er Reads from As I Lay Dying

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Sean Connery Reads C.P. Cavafy’s Epic Poem “Ithaca,” Set to the Music of Vangelis

This video com­bines three things that make me hap­py: the voice of Sean Con­nery, the music of Van­ge­lis (Blade Run­ner, Char­i­ots of Fire), and the poet­ry of C.P. Cavafy. Put them all togeth­er and you get a bliss­ful sound­scape of rolling synth lines, rolling Scot­tish R’s, and a suc­ces­sion of Home­r­ic images and anaphor­ic lines. And the video’s quite nice as well.

Cavafy, whose work, I’m told, is real­ly untrans­lat­able from the orig­i­nal Greek, always seems to come out pret­ty well to me in Eng­lish. “Itha­ca,” one of his most pop­u­lar poems, express­es what in less­er hands might be a banal sen­ti­ment akin to “it’s the jour­ney, not the des­ti­na­tion.” But in Cavafy’s poem, the jour­ney is both Odysseus’s and ours; it’s epic where our lives seem small, and it trans­lates our minor wan­der­ings to the realm of myth­ic his­to­ry.

Any­way, it seems rude to say much more and drown the poem in com­men­tary. So, fol­low along with Sean Con­nery and enjoy… hap­py Fri­day.

Find the text of the poem after the jump. (more…)


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