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February 06, 2008

Comments

Levi Stahl

Thanks for pointing this out--a newly available Borges interview makes for a great day!

Rick

That is a very nice interview. Unfortunately, Borges' first claim on the relation between poetry and philosophy is poorly translated. A closer approximation to what Borges said would be something like this: “Sometime ago I said that philosophy is a branch of fiction,” or “of fantastic literature.” (Mostly he means, I believe, non-realist narrative)

Scott H Florance

I want to have my DNA taken to the far ends of the Milkyway. Someone should order small plastic vials from the manufacturer using the green Thomas industrial catolog at the public library, look up vials /plastic. Next have someone make a kids rubber helium party baloon that is 1 inch bigger when its inflated so it goes higher in the sky. Have it made with glow in the dark stuff that shines at night. It will take two rubber baloons tied together to carry up the plastic vial taped to one of the baloons. Proceed to get poke-em lancets from the drug store to prick your finger. Now Space-Aliens flying in invisible craft in Earths skies could retrieve a drop of your blood when you release the baloons over the desert or nature park. Go ahead and dab a drop of blood onto the surface of the baloon instead if you want, then only one baloon is needed. Your baloon might be recognized by the Aliens up there. Or you might find the whole idea a bad thing. Should people who believe there is Aliens visiting our solor system send out a spacecraft way past Pluto that has a supply of fruit tree, vegetable and berry seeds so the Extra-terrestial star travellers can take it home?

Scott H Florance


I want to have my DNA taken to the far ends of the Milkyway. Someone should order small plastic vials from the manufacturer using the green Thomas industrial catolog at the public library, look up vials /plastic. Next have someone make a kids rubber helium party baloon that is 1 inch bigger when its inflated so it goes higher in the sky. Have it made with glow in the dark stuff that shines at night. It will take two rubber baloons tied together to carry up the plastic vial taped to one of the baloons. Proceed to get poke-em lancets from the drug store to prick your finger. Now Space-Aliens flying in invisible craft in Earths skies could retrieve a drop of your blood when you release the baloons over the desert or nature park. Go ahead and dab a drop of blood onto the surface of the baloon instead if you want, then only one baloon is needed. Your baloon might be recognized by the Aliens up there. Or you might find the whole idea a bad thing. Should people who believe there is Aliens visiting our solor system send out a spacecraft way past Pluto that has a supply of fruit tree, vegetable and berry seeds so the Extra-terrestial star travellers can take it home?

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TEV DEFINED


  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

SECOND LOOK

  • The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

    Bs

    Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
  • The Rider by Tim Krabbe

    Rider_4

    Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."