25.6.14

Djuna Barnes's Nightwood: The World and the Politics of Peace

A new publication from Bloomsbury
Bonnie Roos, Djuna Barnes's Nightwood: The World and the Politics of Peace
Bloomsbury publishes a new title by Bonnie Roos:
Ranging over depression-era politics, the failures of the League of Nations, popular journalism and the Modernist culture exemplified by such writers as James Joyce and T.S. Eliot, this is a comprehensive exploration of the historical contexts of Djuna Barnes's masterpiece, Nightwood.

In Djuna Barnes's Nightwood: 'The World' and the Politics of Peace, Bonnie Roos reads Barnes's novel against the backdrop of Herbert Bayard Swope's popular New York newspaper The World to demonstrate the ways in which the novel wrestles with such contemporaneous issues as the Great Depression and its political fallout, the failures of the League of Nations and the collapse of peace between the two World Wars. Roos argues that Nightwood allegorizes the role of liberal newspapers - epitomised by the sensationalism of The World - in driving a US policy that hastened the arrival of war. [Read More]

Find on Amazon: US | UK

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
23.2.14

Samuel Beckett: Roughs

25 February - 1 March 2014 · Secret Location, Cambridge

Roughs
by Samuel Beckett
11pm, Tuesday 25 February – Saturday 1 March
At a Secret Central Cambridge Location:
Visit www.adcticketing.com for details.

Produced by Cambridge University’s Heywood Society, with the support of the Lady Margaret Players. Direct event link: http://www.adcticketing.com/whats-on/drama/roughs.aspx

The Production:

‘Roughs’ is an immersive staged reading of Samuel Beckett’s Roughs for Radio 1 & 2, taking place in Cambridge later this month. After extensive research, the Heywood Society can say that this is the first time these plays have been staged in Britain.

About Beckett's Radio Plays

Samuel Beckett is best known for his stage plays (Waiting for Godot, Endgame, Happy Days) and his novels (Murphy, Malone Dies), but he was also fascinated by radio. Between 1956 and 1963, Beckett wrote seven radio plays (six original scripts, and an Irish-flavoured reimagining of Robert Pinget’s play, La Manivelle). In his words, these are plays written “to come out of the dark.”

Beckett’s radio plays are not comfortable listening. Following the broadcast of Beckett’s first radio play, All That Fall, a BBC audience survey described how this “effective, if rather frightening” play confused and unsettled the listeners.

Most people have never heard a Beckett radio play. Beckett was adamant that his radio plays were only for radio, and refused to have them staged. After the success of All That Fall, he famously wrote to his publisher:

“All That Fall is a specifically radio play, or rather radio text, for voices, not bodies. I have already refused to have it ‘staged’ and I cannot think of it in such terms... It is no more theatre than End-Game [sic.] is radio and to ‘act’ it is to kill it. Even the reduced visual dimension it will receive from the simplest and most static of readings... will be destructive of whatever quality it may have and which depends on the whole thing’s coming out of the dark.”

Beckett maintained these views fiercely. As a result, the Beckett Estate normally refuses to allow stagings of Beckett’s radio plays, and only very rarely makes an exception to this rule.

One high-profile exception took place in 2012, when Sir Trevor Nunn directed Sir Michael Gambon and Dame Eileen Atkins in a sell-out West End production of All That Fall – the first ever UK staging of this play. To avoid ‘killing’ Beckett’s radio-text, Nunn built a 1950s-style radio studio onstage. The actors read from scripts into radio microphones, while sound-effects were created around them. More recently, Irish theatre company Pan Pan took productions of Embers and All That Fall to the 2013 Edinburgh International Festival, in which the actors were hidden from the audience. Any director who plans to direct a live performance of the radio plays must find a similarly cunning solution.

About Roughs For Radio I & II

To many critics, the radio plays are the quintessential Beckett. As his career progressed, Beckett’s writing became more intimate and experimental, filled with internal monologues and unseen ghostly voices. Several of these later plays have been nicknamed ‘skullscapes’ by critics. Rough for Radio I & II are two of his finest works in this style.

Rough for Radio I is an adventurous and experimental sketch – an ‘experience’, rather than a conventional drama. This dreamlike, abstract play weaves together music, words and unsettling sound effects as it builds towards a tense climax. In the upcoming Cambridge production, Rough for Radio I will be set to an original score by Jeff Carpenter.

Rough for Radio I is the only Beckett radio play never to be produced by the BBC. Beckett wrote this haunting sketch in French in 1961. He left it untouched for years before translating it into English, and publishing it in Stereo Headphones magazine in 1976 as ‘Sketch for Radio Play’. As it never received a BBC production, few people have had the chance to hear the play. A production was broadcast on Irish radio-station RTE for Beckett’s centenary in 2006, and has been recorded live in America, but the play has never been produced in Britain.

Despite exhaustive research, The Heywood Society have been unable to find any records of a theatrical staging of Rough for Radio, making this staged rehearsed reading a world first.

Rough for Radio II is more plot-driven than Rough for Radio I. It is a darkly comic nightmare, laced with poetic imagery and grim innuendo. Two shadowy figures – self-indulgent Animator (Sam Clayton) and pedantic Stenographer (Ally Cussons) – torture and interrogate Fox (Ben Hawkins), an enigmatic subhuman creature cursed with the gift of language.

This is the first time Rough for Radio II has been staged in the UK, and only the second production of it to be staged in Europe.

About the Production Companies

The Heywood Society is the theatrical society of Cambridge's oldest college, Peterhouse. Named after the seventeenth-century dramatist and Petrean, Thomas Heywood. The Society is run by a committee of College members. The society has produced shows at the ADC Theatre and Corpus Playroom as well as Peterhouse. In 2012 the society took a touring production of T.S. Eliot’s The Cocktail Party to France. Roughs is a Heywood Society production.

The Lady Margaret Players is the theatrical society of St John’s College, Cambridge. They traditionally stage productions in the 800-year-old School of Pythagoras, but more recently have staged plays at a wider range of venues. The Lady Margaret Players have lent their support to Roughs.

The Music of Rough for Radio I

In Beckett’s plays, music can be a character. In Words and Music an entire symphony orchestra plays the role of a slave called Bob. Given this, it’s unsurprising that the music of Rough for Radio I has a personality. On one level, it is only the noise of a radio. On another level, it’s a living, organic creature. To capture this ‘living’ quality, the show’s musicians are encouraged to improvise around the score every night.

For its Cambridge run, Rough for Radio I will be set to original music by Jeff Carpenter. A recent Cambridge graduate and a virtuoso composer, Carpenter was involved in 28 productions at Cambridge; amongst other projects, he produced an updated version of Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas, composed music for the Footlights Pantomime and Footlights Spring Review, and wrote several critically acclaimed original musicals. Jeff Carpenter’s Bereavement: The Musical was nominated for Best New Musical and Best New Lyrics in the 2012 Musical Theatre Matters Awards

Beckett’s script is a challenge. He provides no music, and offers only laconic stage-directions for the eleven snatches of sound produced by ‘Music’ and ‘Voice’ (eg. “Faint... brief... breaking off and resuming together”). Jeff Carpenter has taken this challenge full-on, producing an original score that follows Beckett’s directions to the letter. Throughout Rough for Radio I, Music and Voice slowly shudder towards death, only coming together for their “last gasps.”

For this production, the words that Voice sings have been taken from Fox’s speeches in Rough for Radio II. Voice and Fox are similar characters; they are both suffering creatures, who are coaxed into speech only with difficulty. Both represent aspects of the creative process, and the difficulty of summoning something out of nothing. In producing the score, Jeff Carpenter was aided by Rosie Hayes, a Cambridge graduate and classically-trained musician who has produced academic research on music in Beckett’s writing.

Director's Notes (Tristram Fane Saunders):

“It’s amazing that this hasn’t happened already. I spoke to the Beckett Estate’s representative at Curtis Brown, and although they couldn’t confirm the full performance history for both of these plays, they couldn’t find any records of any previous UK stagings.”

“I wanted people to experience these strange, beautiful plays in their intended medium – sound. I read Beckett’s comments about how any sight would be too much, and took them to heart. A conventional production would “kill” these plays – if you can see Fox in Rough II, or put a face to the voice in Rough I, something would be lost. “So the solution we came up with is unusual, but perfectly in keeping with Beckett’s wishes: the audience are all blindfolded. They arrive at a designated meeting point, then are led by the stage-crew to the door of the venue. Outside the door, they are blindfolded and led inside. They will hear music and voices coming out the darkness around them, but see nothing. It’s going to be unique.

“The rehearsal process has been intense. This is a rehearsed reading, not a stage-play, and the actors will all have scripts on the night, but they know the plays so well that scripts are hardly necessary.

“One of our actors, Luke Sumner, is also very active in the Cambridge Footlights, and has been struggling to juggle rehearsals. But I’m lucky to be working with a fantastically talented cast, who are all dedicated to the show. We’re playing to an audience who almost certainly haven’t heard these plays, and may never hear them again, so it’s vital that we get it right.

“Radio and theatre are both huge parts of my life, so it’s fantastic to be able to combine them in this way. I work as a freelance radio critic for Radio Times, and I wrote my undergraduate dissertation on how Tom Stoppard’s radio plays have been influenced by Beckett. I’ve acted in Cambridge before (I’ve played Richard in Richard III, Mephistopheles in Doctor Faustus and Valentine in Arcadia), but this is my first time directing. It’s exciting and terrifying at the same time.” [Read More]

Find Samuel Beckett on Amazon: US | UK

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
15.1.14

Dylan Thomas reads Djuna Barnes' Nightwood

Excerpt from a series of 1950s recordings

From Cathryn Setz:
From Dylan Thomas's Caedmon Collection, produced as LPs in the early 1950s. With his sultry molasses-and-mahogany voice, the Welsh poet took very well to performances like this--though mainly of his own works.

Here he reads an extended (slightly abridged) passage from the 'Watchman, what of the night?' chapter of Djuna Barnes's modernist novel, Nightwood (1936). The Doctor is a central narrator character, verbose yet inscrutable, and Nora is visiting him in the dead of night. She is trying to ask him how to cope with her broken heart. This, his reply, is far from comforting.

Nightwood is a novel Thomas himself referred to as "one of the three great prose books ever written by a woman." William S. Burroughs called it "one of the great books of the twentieth century." T. S. Eliot's introduction even employed some inadvertent reverse psychology, telling readers "not" to approach the novel as a sideshow of freaks.

Yet the novel is not well known. Hear some of its melody and strangeness, and the poet's great and Thespian delivery. Then go and read the book. [Read More]

Find on Amazon: US | UK

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
10.10.13

The Waste Land Project

An online exhibit/performance project devised by Christopher Domig and Daniel Domig

From The Waste Land Project (thank you to Cecilia Kohlman for the link):
“The Waste Land”, an exhibit/performance project, is a collaboration between artist Daniel Domig and actor Christopher Domig. T.S. Eliot’s work has been an inspiration for both artists over the years in their individual disciplines. This current collaboration will create an experience that is both a fully realized exhibit during the day and a complete theatrical performance at night, occupying the same space.

Eliot’s ‘The Waste Land” lends itself ideally for this endeavor, as it was written as a poem (neither an actor’s script, nor an artist’s playground). It is precisely due to its poetic form that other disciplines have, and continue to approach it with the same degree of alienation and familiarity, a dynamic that has been the catalyst to new work ever since it was published in 1922.

“The Waste Land” will be exhibited and performed in a neutral space (neither the artist’s white box, nor the actor’s black box). The space will be large enough for visitors to walk among the installation during the day as well as move around the space during the performance. The ability to move freely throughout the experience mirrors the poem’s inherent fragmentation (a literary, artistic and theatrical device mainly familiar to us due to Eliot’s use of it in his poem) [Read More]

Follow The Waste Land Project on Facebook and Tumblr.

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
21.8.13

Laura Frost, The Problem with Pleasure: Modernism and Its Discontents

A new title from Columbia University Press
Laura Frost, The Problem with Pleasure: Modernism and Its Discontents
From Columbia University Press:
Aldous Huxley decried “the horrors of modern ‘pleasure,’” or the proliferation of mass produced, widely accessible entertainment that could degrade or dull the mind. He and his contemporaries, including James Joyce, T. S. Eliot, Gertrude Stein, D. H. Lawrence, and Jean Rhys, sought to radically redefine pleasure, constructing arduous and indirect paths to delight through their notoriously daunting work. Laura Frost follows these experiments in the art of unpleasure, connecting modernism’s signature characteristics, such as irony, allusiveness, and obscurity, to an ambitious attempt to reconfigure bliss.

In The Problem with Pleasure, Frost draws upon a wide variety of materials, linking interwar amusements, such as the talkies, romance novels, the Parisian fragrance Chanel no. 5, and the exotic confection Turkish Delight, to the artistic play of Joyce, Lawrence, Stein, Rhys, and others. She considers pop cultural phenomena and the rise of celebrities such as Rudolph Valentino and Gypsy Rose Lee against contemporary sociological, scientific, and philosophical writings on leisure and desire.

Throughout her study, Frost incorporates recent scholarship on material and visual culture and vernacular modernism, recasting the period’s high/low, elite/popular divides and formal strategies as efforts to regulate sensual and cerebral experience. Capturing the challenging tensions between these artists’ commitment to innovation and the stimulating amusements they denounced yet deployed in their writing, Frost calls attention to the central role of pleasure in shaping interwar culture. [Read More]

Find on Amazon: US | UK

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
21.7.13

Christopher Ricks on Lydia Davis

From an article in the Times Literary Supplement
Lydia Davis (Source)
From Christopher Ricks (TLS):
Lydia Davis was born in 1947 in Northampton, Massachusetts. Among her volumes of fiction there is a novel, The End of the Story (1995). The beginning of the story – of the stories – is now taken by her and her publishers to be Break It Down (1986), followed by Almost No Memory (1997), Samuel Johnson Is Indignant (2001), and Varieties of Disturbance (2007). These constitute The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis, more than 700 pages, 200 writings, the shortest a sentence or even less, the longest about forty pages. Writings, because just how to characterize them is to the point (at first, anyway), and has its power to intrigue. They fling their lithe arms wide to embrace many a kind. Should we simply concur with the official title and dub them stories? Or perhaps miniatures? Anecdotes? Essays? Jokes? Parables? Fables? Texts, or in the Beckett idiom, textes? Aphorisms, or even apophthegms? Prayers, or perhaps wisdom literature? Or might we settle for observations? This last, in the double sense of T. S. Eliot’s first book, Prufrock and Other Observations, where “observations” are the claims both of the perceptive eye and of the wise mind, both the remarkings and the remarks. Lydia Davis herself, in an interview: “I am very curious about strangers I observe – as in a bus line”. [Read More]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
3.6.13

T. S. Eliot's widow's art to be auctioned

Artworks include pieces by Constable, Freud and Bacon
TS Eliot and his wife Valerie's apartment in London. Photograph: AP.
From Maev Kennedy (The Guardian):
Years after the death of TS Eliot, when the cunning, treacherous, and sometimes criminal felines of his Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats were transformed into the spectacularly successful musical Cats, the royalties allowed the poet's widow, Valerie, to amass a collection of art and antiques that could have graced a museum.

She collected works by John Constable and Thomas Gainsborough, Stanley Spencer and LS Lowry, Lucian Freud and Francis Bacon, along with jewellery and furniture, portrait miniatures, and a flattering view by Winston Churchill of his host's front garden.

Valerie Eliot died last year, aged 86, and at her request her treasures – described as "one of the finest collections of British art to come to the market in generations" – are to be auctioned at Christie's in November. Proceeds from the sale, estimated at £5m, will be used to continue her work of encouraging young poets and artists through her charity, Old Possum's Practical Trust. [Read More]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
29.5.13

Was Virginia Woolf Anorexic?

Woolf's niece speculates on the writer's health in UK tabloid
Vanessa Bell, Portrait of Virginia Woolf
From Alison Flood (The Guardian): ‘Virginia Woolf's great niece has suggested that her great aunt suffered from anorexia nervosa. Emma Woolf, who has written a memoir of her own recovery from the eating disorder, says she experienced a "painful moment of recognition" when she saw a photograph of Virginia Woolf in 1932, standing between TS Eliot and his wife Vivienne. "The image of Virginia is of someone suffering from anorexia," she wrote in tƍhe Mail on Sunday.’ [Read More]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
19.5.13

T. S. Eliot, The Ariel Poems (Numbers 1-8)

'The Ariel Poems were an important component in the establishment of Faber’s reputation'

From Faber and Faber's blog, The Thought Fox: ‘The ‘Ariel Poems’ of T. S. Eliot – Journey of the Magi, A Song for Simeon, Animula, Marina and Triumphal March – are a much-loved feature of his poetic oeuvre. Yet the story of how and why they were written is not widely known: for they were commissioned by one of Eliot’s fellow directors at Faber, as part of a bigger series of separate little illustrated poetry pamphlets (price, 1s) for the Christmas ‘gift’ market from 1927 to 1931. Each consisted of just one previously unpublished poem by a major writer of the time, with ‘decorations’ on the cover, and an appropriate illustration (printed in three colours) by a well-known or especially talented younger artist. Collectively known as the Ariel Poems it was intended that they could also be sent as Christmas cards (and indeed Eliot sent copies of his as Christmas presents to Marianne Moore and other poets).' [Read More]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
27.4.13

GisĆØle Freund: Writer Portraits

An online gallery of prominent twentieth-century authors and poets
Hermann Hesse, Montagnlia, 1962
James Joyce with grandson, Paris, 1938.
Walter Benjamin, Paris, 1938
Virginia Woolf smoking, London, 1939
T. S. Eliot, London, 1939
Victoria Ocampo, Paris, 1939
Stefan Zweig, 1939
Samuel Beckett, Paris, 1964
Iris Murdoch, Oxford, 1959
Marcel Duchamp, Paris, 1939
Marguerite Duras, Paris, 1965
AndrƩ Malraux, Paris, 1935
Paul Celan, 1970
Sylvia Beach, Paris, 1938
You can find more writer portraits on GisĆØle Freund's official website [See More]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
8.3.13

W. H. Auden's University Syllabus

Over 6,000 words of required reading over one semester
W. H. Auden's course syllabus
From New York Daily News: ‘Poet W. H. Auden was a professor at the University of Michigan during the 1941-42 academic year, teaching "Fate and the Individual in European Literature." His syllabus required over 6,000 pages of reading including Dante's "The Divine Comedy," Dostoevsky's "The Brother's Karamazov" and Melville's "Moby-Dick."’ [Read More]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
4.3.13

Editing Beckett's Letters: An Interview with Dan Gunn

A lengthy and detailed interview published in The Quarterly Conversation
Dan Gunn
An extract from my interview with Dan Gunn, one of the editors of the Samuel Beckett Letters project, published in The Quarterly Conversation:

When Cambridge University Press published the first volume of Samuel Beckett’s letters back in 2009, it broke a long and enigmatic silence. Letters by the writer had been published before, scattered here and there, but were often of largely academic interest, and focused explicitly on some aspect of his work. With the first volume, readers were granted access to a wider range of correspondence that follows a young Beckett from Ireland to London, and ultimately to Paris. While popular with many critics and academics, the collection offered the general public a privileged peek into the writer’s day-to-day life.

The second volume (of a projected four) finds Beckett in Europe in the aftermath of the Second World War. The letters provide a rare glimpse of Parisian life during a period of rapid cultural and historical change. We gain a sense of the books he read, the music he listened to, and the galleries he visited. There are intimate exchanges with colleagues and friends that suggest what was going on in the mind of the writer during this time. But, perhaps most significantly of all, the letters allow us to look over his shoulder as he writes some of his best-known works: The Trilogy (Molloy, Malone Dies, The Unnamable) and Waiting for Godot.

Dan Gunn, one of the editors of the letters, sheds light on the process that brought the collection into the public eye. The conversation touches upon the crucial role that letters often play in the lives of writers and poets, and how technology is changing the way we access and understand them. Gunn shares the difficulties and rewards of working on such a large project, expands on the cultural and artistic climate of post-war Paris, and the role that one friend played in Beckett’s development as a writer.

Questions/Topics
  • How did you become involved in the publication of Samuel Beckett’s Letters?
  • Beckett’s letters are addressed to recipients all over the world, and form correspondences across several languages. What kind of challenges has this posed to the editorial team?
  • Over the course of such a massive project, what is it about Beckett’s correspondence that has kept you motivated?
  • Beckett’s work can be read alongside works by other writers living in Europe during the same period, but he remains a strangely elusive, even removed figure. What do the letters suggest about his engagement with the intellectual and artistic communities of post-war Paris?
  • If the poet Thomas MacGreevy was Beckett’s chief correspondent throughout the first volume, Georges Duthuit appears to dominate the second. Why was his friendship so important to Beckett during this period? (And what prompts your own personal attachment to their exchanges?)
  • It can be surprising to see how expressive and affectionate Beckett appears towards Duthuit, when letters to other friends and colleagues seem, by contrast, more reserved. Why do you think Beckett opened up to Duthuit in the way that he did?
  • There comes a point where Beckett’s relationship to Duthuit becomes strained. Why did they drift apart?
  • What will Volume III tell us about Beckett the novelist as against Beckett the playwright?
  • Multi-volume editions of letters by Beckett and T. S. Eliot have recently drawn much public and critical appreciation. As technology changes the way writers work and communicate, do you have any thoughts on future publications of this kind?
  • What might readers expect to see in the next volume of the series?
  • Finally, in an age in which letters play so diminished a role, how does working on letters make you feel? 
[Read the Full Interview]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
19.2.13

The Unread and the Unreadable

From Andrew Gallix's 'In Theory' column
Monument of James Joyce in Trieste. (Source.)
Andrew Gallix (The Guardian) (thanks to Lucy Menon for the link):
There was a time when a learned fellow (literally, a Renaissance man) could read all the major extant works published in the western world. Information overload soon put paid to that. Since there is "no end" to "making many books" – as the Old Testament book Ecclesiastes prophesied, anticipating our digital age – the realm of the unread has spread like a spilt bottle of correction fluid. The librarian in Robert Musil's The Man Without Qualities only scans titles and tables of contents: his library symbolises the impossibility of reading everything today. The proliferation of lists of novels that you must, allegedly, have perused in your lifetime, reflects this problem while compounding it. On a recent visit to a high street bookshop, I ogled a well-stacked display table devoted to "great" novels "you always meant to read". We measure out our lives with unread books, as well as coffee spoons. [Read More]
Also at A Piece of Monologue:

Talk About Nothing: Simon Critchley and Fiona Shaw

An event hosted by the Rubin Museum of Art

From the Rubin Museum of Art:
The Rubin Museum of Art presents the conversation series "Talk About Nothing." In this episode, actress Fiona Shaw and philosopher Simon Critchley discuss "nothingness" in the works of Ibsen, Beckett, and T.S. Eliot.

"Talk About Nothing" was presented in association with the exhibition "Grain of Emptiness: Buddhism-Inspired Contemporary Art" at the Rubin Museum of Art, in New York City.

For information about current exhibitions and events, please visit www.rmanyc.org. [Read More]
Also at A Piece of Monologue:
16.11.12

Valerie Eliot 1926-2012

Writers and friends pay tribute to T. S. Eliot's late wife
W. H. Auden speaking to T. S. Eliot and Valerie Eliot
Sadie Stein (The Paris Review) pays tribute to Valerie Eliot, the wife of the great twentieth century poet T. S. Eliot, who passed away on 9 November: 'She said that their relationship was a quiet one, involving much Scrabble-playing and cheese-eating. As she said in a rare interview, “He obviously needed a happy marriage. He wouldn’t die until he’d had it.”' [Read More]

David Morley (The Guardian) has also shares his thoughts, suggesting that the loss of Valerie Eliot 'deprives poetry of its strongest advocate': 'Let all poets honour her. Let all poets celebrate her. Let them raise glasses of wine to her memory.' [Read More]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
30.8.12

Teju Cole on Sebald's Poetry

A review in the New Yorker
W. G. Sebald
Teju Cole, author of Open City, looks over W. G. Sebald's poetry: 'Throughout his career, W. G. Sebald wrote poems that were strikingly similar to his prose. His tone, in both genres, was always understated but possessed of a mournful grandeur. To this he added a willful blurring of literary boundaries and, in fact, almost all his writing, and not just the poetry and prose, comprised history, memoir, biography, autobiography, art criticism, scholarly arcana, and invention. This expert mixing of forms owed a great deal to his reading of the seventeenth-century melancholics Robert Burton and Thomas Browne, and Sebald’s looping sentences were an intentional homage to nineteenth-century German-language writers like Adalbert Stifter and Gottfried Keller. But so strongly has the style come to be associated with Sebald’s own work that even books that preceded his, such as those by Robert Walser and Thomas Bernhard, can seem, from our perspective as readers of English translations, simply “Sebaldian.”' [Read More]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
21.8.12

BBC Arena Documentary: T. S. Eliot

A 2009 documentary detailing Eliot's life and work











Also at A Piece of Monologue:
8.3.12

George Craig on Samuel Beckett's Letters

Translator discusses the second volume of Beckett's correspondence
Mark Thwaite (Ready Steady Book) interviews translator George Craig about his involvement in the publication of Samuel Beckett's Letters:
What have you learnt about yourself, Beckett and his writing as you've been working on this project? What do we, as readers of Beckett, know more clearly now these two volumes of Letters have been published?

That I am one of the luckiest people alive, having been given the chance to work on these letters. Readers of Volume II, especially those who know only the Beckett of legend (cold, austere, unwelcoming) will discover a passionate searcher and a man of great kindness.

What did you want to achieve with your own book (Writing Beckett's Letters)?

I wanted above all to get away from the notion of translation as pure process buttressed by this or that theory, to give instead some sense of the intimate wrestle that it was in my experience: an urgent conversation with an admired dead friend.

I wanted to make clear that translating Beckett's words required nothing less than a total personal engagement, with the full range of feeling that implies: swings between hope and despair, intuition and bafflement, and the fear of never catching up. The fragmentary form seemed right for that.

What were your reading highlights in 2011, and what are you currently reading and/or looking forward to in 2012?

There wasn't much time for new reading (a couple of oustanding memoirs (Michael Frayn and Jeannette Winterson), and much re-reading: the Odyssey, Dante, Calvino, Borges, Eliot). [Read More]
Also at A Piece of Monologue:
8.2.12

The Letters of T. S. Eliot (Volume 2: 1923-1925)

Lisa Levy reviews the second volume of the poet's correspondence
T. S. Eliot
Lisa Levy of The Rumpus reviews the second volume of T. S. Eliot's Letters, spanning the years 1923-5: 'From 1917 until 1925, T.S. Eliot worked in a bank. A simple, declarative sentence, a biographical fact. Not the subject of dissertations or the reason two hefty volumes of The Letters of T.S. Eliot (Volume 1: 1898-1922; Volume 2: 1923-5) have just been published, but along with his disastrous and draining marriage to Vivien Haigh-Wood, Eliot’s employment at Lloyd’s Bank of London was the driving force of his life in the years of these letters, until he left Lloyd’s in October 1925 for a position as an editor at the publishing house Faber & Gwyer (later to be Faber & Faber).' [Read More]

Also at A Piece of Monologue:
4.1.12

Do Books have a Future? An Interview with Robert Darnton

On academia, Google Book Search and the future of electronic publishing
Professor Robert Darnton at Harvard University
The following is an extract from an interview I conducted with Professor Robert Darnton on 5 December 2011. Darnton is the Carl H. Pforzheimer University Professor at Harvard and Director of the Harvard University Library. In 1999, he served as President of the American Historical Association, and he remains a trustee of the New York Public Library. He is also the author of numerous academic works, including The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History, and The Case for Books: Past, Present, and Future. We met to discuss the way technological developments are changing academia, the problems surrounding Google Book Search, and what the future of electronic publishing might bring:
The expression ‘Open Access’ is often used by software developers in relation to emergent technologies, and confers certain ideals of accessibility and cooperation. You have suggested that the idea can allow us to rethink the boundaries of the academic institution. How can Open access change the way we think about technology in higher education?

Well, I’m not sure it has, actually. I hope it has, but Open Access is far from a fait accompli, I mean most accessed is closed. In fact, it’s astonishing how restrained and closed academic exchange is. There are severe laws, copyright laws, that prevent me making available to my students all kinds of digital texts which they could use with profit. So, it’s not as if Open Access can declare victory, as if it has transformed academic life or the whole world of knowledge. I think that’s its ambition. Put simply, you could say its ambition is to democratise access to knowledge. I see a danger of the opposite happening: that access to knowledge could be restricted through commercialisation. And so, I see, for example, the spiralling cost of periodicals as a threat to knowledge, even though the publishers of the academic periodicals would say, on the contrary, we are communicating knowledge! Well, you’re not, if you’re making it so expensive that libraries have to cut back on their purchases of monographs and other periodicals. We are reaching a point in which the inflation of costs of periodical literature is a real endangerment to access to knowledge.

In the case of books, the obvious example is Google Book Search. I feel that Google Book Search, which was going to commercialise access to a database of books, was a real threat to the communication of knowledge, even though it looks like a great leap forward. And, therefore, we are trying to create what we call the Digital Public Library of America: an Open Access digital library that will be available to everyone, not just everyone in the United States, but everyone in the world. This is a long answer to your question, but what I’m trying to explain is that Open Access is at an early stage. It’s the beginning of something that I think will be a process of democratisation, but we’re very far from being there yet, even in developed countries in the West. But when you think of countries on the other side of the so-called ‘digital divide’, their access is very far from being open at all. So there’s a long way to go before the whole globe is united in some kind of digital network in which everyone has immediate access to our entire cultural heritage.

You’ve written that Google Book Search has started ‘a monopoly of a new kind’, that despite its goal to ‘organise the world’s information and make it universally accessible and useful’, it presents obstacles to the proliferation of knowledge. You’ve already touched upon this a little bit in your previous response, but could you expand on why do you feel this is the case? How is Google a threat to the spread of knowledge or information?

First of all, I should say that I admire Google in many ways. If you’ve ever met any of the Google engineers, first of all, they’re very young, they’re even younger than you are, they’re full of energy and ideas, and there is a kind of ‘can do’ spirit about them—it’s exhilarating. And the atmosphere in the world of Google is quite something, it’s electric, and I admire this. I admire their sheer hutzpah, as we put it, their ability to take a problem and wrestle it to the ground and do something with it. This is all wonderful.

I would use the word ‘threat’ cautiously. I saw a threat in Google Book Search, which was a very precise plan that emerged from a lawsuit. So Google was sued by the authors and the publishers in the United States for alleged infringement of their copyrights. And in trying to negotiate a settlement to that lawsuit, Google transformed what was originally a search operation into something entirely different: a commercial library. So the entire database of digitised books, fifteen million books or so, would be made available, but at a price. And that price would be set by Google and the plaintiffs that had now become its partners. Well, that incipiently is a great danger to knowledge, it’s making knowledge available to those who could afford it. The reply to my argument is: ‘don’t be naive, nothing is free, it’s normal that you should have to pay for access to knowledge because all of this costs money.’ And, my reply to the reply is that knowledge is a public good, and public goods—of course—cost money, nothing is free, but they should be made available free, through whatever devices we can come up with. State action, or in the case of the Digital Public Library of America, a coalition of foundations who are providing the money and a coalition of research libraries who are providing the books. So there are solutions, but if you care about public goods, if you feel that everyone, ordinary citizens ought to have equal access to knowledge, then its important to establish the rules of the game. I think we’re at a very interesting moment in the history of communication, in which those rules are being established. One of the interesting points is the way they’re being established. You might find it extraordinary, here in Europe, that the rules of the game in the US are being determined by lawsuits, by court action, not by the legislature. And that is in fact the case. Of course, the legislature has a role to play as well, it votes copyright laws, in fact it’s voted eleven copyright laws in the last fifty years. But I think these copyright laws are becoming a hindrance to open communication, and I feel that they ought to be modified, but I have very little confidence in Congress’ ability to modify them for the public good, because there are so many lobbies that descend on Congress and that determine copyright. So, copyright is a very complex subject which has evolved, as you know, over a long period of time, and right now I think we are copyrighting ourselves into a corner. It’s a very grave problem, and how we can get out of this corner I don’t know. That’s part of what Open Access is all about.

[...]

When developing the Gutenberg-e project, you attempted to realise the potential of the e-book in a new kind of academic monograph. Could you say a little more about this potential, and what you mean by a pyramid structure?

The Gutenberg-e project was an attempt to create and legitimise a new kind of publishing. One that would be especially important for young scholars, for people who were trying to convert dissertations into monographs, and, at the same time, one that open up new possibilities of scholarly communication. As you know, e-books can do wonderful things. They can have film, they can have sounds, they are multimedia by their very nature. They can also have documentation that extends indefinitely into the depths of cyberspace. So the potential is there for a new form of scholarly communication. It’s really thrilling. But practice is something else entirely.

I’m an historian, and when I created Gutenberg-e, I was President of the American Historical Association. The Association tried to use electronic media as a way to help younger people develop as scholars, develop careers, by making the most of the new technology. However, a lot of the older scholars said ‘Well, these e-books aren’t books at all. Books are things that appear with print on paper.’ And part of the struggle was, therefore, legitimation. I forget the exact number of e-books we published, I think it was 17, and it was quite a list. And I found myself writing letters to chairs of history departments saying ‘Look, these are books! They are real books. In fact, they’re better than most printed books.’ And they are. They’re terrific books. In that respect, I think Gutenberg-e was a success. I think we did help to breakdown this barrier to the notion that electronic communication isn’t ‘real’ communication.

Where it was less successful was as a business. We had a business plan, it was working quite well, by the end (after seven years) we managed to cover costs. But only barely. Just as we were emerging from red ink into black ink an economic crisis hit. And the publisher who was managing all of this, Columbia University Press, decided this was too risky an enterprise to continue. So that’s why Gutenberg-e was discontinued. It still exists, it’s available online and elsewhere, but I can’t herald it as an unambiguous success. It was a first attempt to do these things. But now there are lots of e-books, and lots of scholarly e-books . In fact I’ve published one myself, a hybrid book which I think is now rather typical. I’m still not answering your question about the pyramid structure, though, so maybe you could put that question to me again if you want?

Okay. Well, the pyramid structure of the e-book was been adopted by a number of commercial publishers. Faber and Faber have released an iPad edition of T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, which includes access to audio and visual performances, alongside documentary features. While Penguin have released an ‘amplified’ edition of Jack Kerouac’s novel On the Road, allowing readers to browse manuscript materials, access documentary material, and follow events in the narrative on an interactive map of America. Do you think devices like the Apple iPad or Amazon’s Kindle will change the way we read long-term? And if so, how?

The short answer would be ‘Yes’, but then you could say ‘How?’, as you just did, and I don’t have an answer to that one. But the examples you cite, which I actually haven’t looked at myself, sound terrific. I think it’s thrilling that the reader, or user, can experience these texts in multi-dimensions. You can take texts in through your ears as well as your eyes, and for me that’s a huge advance. It will help place someone like Kerouac into a context in a way that you can’t simply by asserting that he was travelling through this rather strange landscape. So, yes, I feel that this is a very significant advance.

But how will it change reading? I honestly don’t know, but I’m often told ‘Don’t be naive, there are losses today in the way people read, especially when they read online’. The cover-to-cover deep reading that was typical of my generation when we were students is now almost extinct, and instead you’ve got superficial reading: reading snippets and tweets and cutting texts up into tiny units that really prevent any appreciation of the whole sweep of a text. I have one half-answer to that, which isn’t adequate but I think deserves consideration. And that is, first of all, that this cover-to-cover deep reading shouldn’t be exaggerated as something that occurred in the past. We have learned a lot about the history of reading, which is one of the aspects of the history of books that we’re trying to develop, and one thing we have learned is that, for example, sixteenth-century humanists rarely read a book from cover to cover. They were reading what we today would call ‘snippets’, or even ‘tweets’, they were taking -

As in the Commonplace Books?

That’s right. They were taking short passages out, copying them into Commonplace Books, and using those passages for various purposes, often rhetorical battles at court by their patrons, or what ever it was. But this was not reading in the way that we like to imagine it. Now, of course, deep reading also did take place. I’m not denying that for a minute. But I’m not sure that we can assume that it was typical.

Has deep reading become extinct today? Well, I assign my students books, often printed books, and when we have discussions of these books, I have the impression that they’ve mastered the basic arguments, and that they have learnt to read critically. Perhaps the big difference is this: when I teach courses on the history of books, I try to sensitise students to the physical aspects of books, and how those physical aspects convey meaning. It’s not just erudition for the bibliographical sake of erudition, but rather, a question of how paratextual elements and so on shape the message that is being conveyed in the text, and the way the reader makes sense of that message. So, I do find that students who are, so-to-speak, ‘digital natives’ and are used to electronic communication are very excited about this new way of looking at old books. Their reactions are much more energising than those of students, say, twenty years ago who saw the world of print as the established world: one that had existed since Gutenberg and was never going to change.

[...]

You’ve talked about how libraries are under pressure to ‘advance on both fronts’: the analogue and the digital. Could you elaborate on some of the dangers of relying on electronic texts, including texts that are ‘born digital’?

Well, is it a problem that the focus is so heavily among publishers on digital books? Frankly, I don’t think there’s enough focus. I can understand that publishers are perplexed and fearful about the digital future, because they have to cover costs and make a profit. It’s a serious industry. And they are also committed to the higher things such as the spread of knowledge and the creation of art. So I’m not in any sense minimising the problems faced by publishers.

But I think many publishers are very cautious about how to deal with this future that they can vaguely see but which is very blurred. Not that they’re opposed to digital books, but they don’t want to risk enormous losses. Every publisher is trying to develop a business plan of some kind or other. I shouldn’t speak as if I’m an authority on current publishing so you should discount a little bit of what I have to say. But I think that one of the issues every publisher faces is what to do with the backlist. The so-called ‘long tail’ of books which they can monetize through digitisation.

You could say that today, to use the phrase ‘in print’ or ‘out of print’ is quite misleading. Because, potentially, every book is in print. You’ve got a digital version of it as part of your backlist, and so any consumer should be able to order any book. And we’re very close to that now. It’s true that not every publisher has digitised all of their backlist, but even then, the publisher could, at the order of a reader, digitise a book, scan it very cheaply and make it available through print-on-demand.

We have these new Espresso Book Machines [EBM]. You, the consumer, go into a bookshop and you find a computer, you order a text, the order is transmitted to a database, the text is transmitted instantly to a not-terribly-large machine (about half the size of a bed). The machine is encased in glass, so you can watch it all happen. The text is printed on paper, the paper is trimmed, a paperback cover—in colour—is attached to it. All of this within four minutes, and often at a very cheap price. That is to say, in the US, the price is in many cases eight dollars for a custom-made paperback. In less than four minutes! So, what’s happening is the new technology is reinforcing the old-fashioned printed codex. And believe me, the products of these machines are excellent. Not fancy, but several times I’ve seen the machine produce copies of my own books which look every bit as good as the original paperback. Not the hardcover version, but a very acceptable example. So that’s a way in which the backlist of a publisher is a source of enormous potential profit, thanks to the new technology. It’s not a kind of technology that is simply going to wipe out the codex, but it could reinforce the printed codex.

You mentioned this earlier in our discussion, but I wonder whether you could tell me more about the Digital Library of America project? And how does it compare with your idea of a Digital Republic of Learning?

The Digital Public Library of America is more than a gleam in my eye, or anyone else’s eye, it’s a reality that is now coming into existence. It began a year ago at a conference at Harvard, where we debated it as a general idea. And the general idea is to make available, free of charge, the cultural heritage of our great research libraries. So, in that respect it was like Google Book Search except that it would be non-commercial.

Was this simply a utopian dream? Well, we said no. First of all, because we can find the money. All the major foundations of the United States are enthusiastically supporting this idea. If they will chip in the money, we can fund it. And they will chip in the money. Secondly, comes the question: ‘Is this technologically feasible?’ Well, Google proved that it is technologically feasible. Maybe it wasn’t quite as good as it ought to have been, but it’s still remarkable. And we’ve now dealt extensively with computer scientists and they all say this is not even difficult, they can design the infrastructure for this new library.

It will be a distributed system, so you shouldn’t imagine some magnificent building sitting on top of a gigantic database. It will link databases scattered all over the United States in a way to make them perfectly compatible: the user won’t even know where the book, or the pamphlet or the manuscript is located. The user will just have instant access to the text. (I mean, there will be metadata explaining where the text is, but it will be very user-friendly.)

We will have this new kind of library up and running in April 2013. That’s seventeen months from now. Of course, it will be up and running in a preliminary way, because we have the problem of copyright. We are not going to infringe copyright, we will respect copyright. But we can make available two million public domain books, and all kinds of works from special collections. The research libraries in the US has fabulous special collections, as you do in your great Rare Book Library here at Cardiff University. And many of them have been digitised or partially digitised. This is a huge amount of natural that will be part of the Digital Public Library of America. And then we will build it incrementally.

That is, we will move into the world of copyright, but we won’t break the law. But how will we do it? That is a difficult question. We have groups working on this, we have the best law school professors devising legal strategies to do it, et cetera. And we don’t have a clear answer to it. I could go into some of the details, but they would probably sound too esoteric for the people on your blog. But there are possibilities of making at least some of these copyrighted books available. These, on the whole, will be books that are ‘out of print’, but not commercially available books, not books currently on the market, but that are still covered by copyright. These works we can make available, I think, but we have to do so by some kind of agreement with the authors and the publishers, and that kind of agreement has yet to be determined. It’s not easy, but it’s something I think we will do little by little over the course of the next decade. So, in ten years, we will have a library greater than the Library of Congress, which is the largest library in the world, available free of charge to everyone.
A full transcript is available at the Cardiff University blog, Cardiff Book History.

Also at A Piece of Monologue: