What are you currently reading?

[Florestan]

Just its self referencing in Part 2. Don Quixote the character who only exists in the novel "Don Quixote"  reads "Don Quixote"

By this token, Mozart took post-modernism to the next level: Don Giovanni's Tafelmusik (an eminently Baroque genre) includes a Harmoniemusik arrangement (an eminently Classical Era genre) of Le Nozze di Figaro.

Now, of course, neither Cervantes nor Mozart has got anything to do with post-modernism and they both have got everything to do with their personal, individual, unrepeatable genius which transcends all classifications and categorizations.

[Mandryka]

By this token, Mozart took post-modernism to the next level: Don Giovanni's Tafelmusik (an eminently Baroque genre) includes a Harmoniemusik arrangement (an eminently Classical Era genre) of Le Nozze di Figaro.

 

Even that's not quite postmodern yet. You would need Don Giovanni to go to the opera and hear Don Giovanni, and maybe to comment "That ain't right. I get more women than he does!" 

[JBS]

By this token, Mozart took post-modernism to the next level: Don Giovanni's Tafelmusik (an eminently Baroque genre) includes a Harmoniemusik arrangement (an eminently Classical Era genre) of Le Nozze di Figaro.

Now, of course, neither Cervantes nor Mozart has got anything to do with post-modernism and they both have got everything to do with their personal, individual, unrepeatable genius which transcends all classifications and categorizations.

I don't have a copy of the libretto close by--but doesn't Don G or Leperello complain about the NdF music as boring or cliched or something and want the musicians to play something else?

[Florestan]

I don't have a copy of the libretto close by--but doesn't Don G or Leperello complain about the NdF music as boring or cliched or something and want the musicians to play something else?

More evidence for my thesis.

[ritter]

I don't have a copy of the libretto close by--but doesn't Don G or Leperello complain about the NdF music as boring or cliched or something and want the musicians to play something else?

What Leporello says is "Questa poi la conosco pur troppo" ("I know this one too well")...

And I still know parts of Don Giovanni by heart 

[JBS]

What Leporello says is "Questa poi la conosco pur troppo" ("I know this one too well")...

And I still know parts of Don Giovanni by heart 

Thanks. Probably the only thing from DG I ever knew by heart was the Catalog Aria.

[Mandryka]

I last read this when I was at school. What made me pick it up again was as follows: In the discussion of the dissonant opening of Mozart's K465 and Beethoven's op 59/3, Nancy November (Beethoven's Theatrical Quartets) argues that early audiences could have heard the music as the representation of Kantian ideas about the emergence of internal pre-consciousness and reverie, which were familiar not only from Rousseau's Rêveries (which I haven't read yet) but also from Austen's Persuasion.

I do think that these dissonant slow introductions to relatively conventional music --  there are other examples  too -- are so strange that they beg for an interpretation of some kind.

 

[Ganondorf]

Woolf has for the longest time been to me a writer that I more admire than love. But, quite honestly? This is the first work of hers that has gripped me from the very start and never let go so far.

[vers la flamme]

Woolf has for the longest time been to me a writer that I more admire than love. But, quite honestly? This is the first work of hers that has gripped me from the very start and never let go so far.

That was the first work of Woolf's that I read (two months ago; took me a while to get around to her), and I found it very gripping as well—more so than Mrs Dalloway which I read after.

I last read this when I was at school. What made me pick it up again was as follows: In the discussion of the dissonant opening of Mozart's K465 and Beethoven's op 59/3, Nancy November (Beethoven's Theatrical Quartets) argues that early audiences could have heard the music as the representation of Kantian ideas about the emergence of internal pre-consciousness and reverie, which were familiar not only from Rousseau's Rêveries (which I haven't read yet) but also from Austen's Persuasion.

I do think that these dissonant slow introductions to relatively conventional music --  there are other examples  too -- are so strange that they beg for an interpretation of some kind.

 

Is there a naval/military element to Persuasion? It's on my shelf but I haven't read it, and I'm wondering where they got that cover from.

[Mandryka]

That was the first work of Woolf's that I read (two months ago; took me a while to get around to her), and I found it very gripping as well—more so than Mrs Dalloway which I read after.

Is there a naval/military element to Persuasion? It's on my shelf but I haven't read it, and I'm wondering where they got that cover from.

Well, it's not exactly rum, sodomy and the lash.



Here Anne spoke—

"The navy, I think, who have done so much for us, have at least an equal claim with any other set of men, for all the comforts and all the privileges which any home can give. Sailors work hard enough for their comforts, we must all allow."
"Very true, very true. What Miss Anne says, is very true," was Mr Shepherd's rejoinder, and "Oh! certainly," was his daughter's; but Sir Walter's remark was, soon afterwards—
"The profession has its utility, but I should be sorry to see any friend of mine belonging to it."
"Indeed!" was the reply, and with a look of surprise.
"Yes; it is in two points offensive to me; I have two strong grounds of objection to it. First, as being the means of bringing persons of obscure birth into undue distinction, and raising men to honours which their fathers and grandfathers never dreamt of; and secondly, as it cuts up a man's youth and vigour most horribly; a sailor grows old sooner than any other man. I have observed it all my life. A man is in greater danger in the navy of being insulted by the rise of one whose father, his father might have disdained to speak to, and of becoming prematurely an object of disgust himself, than in any other line. One day last spring, in town, I was in company with two men, striking instances of what I am talking of; Lord St Ives, whose father we all know to have been a country curate, without bread to eat; I was to give place to Lord St Ives, and a certain Admiral Baldwin, the most deplorable-looking personage you can imagine; his face the colour of mahogany, rough and rugged to the last degree; all lines and wrinkles, nine grey hairs of a side, and nothing but a dab of powder at top. 'In the name of heaven, who is that old fellow?' said I to a friend of mine who was standing near, (Sir Basil Morley). 'Old fellow!' cried Sir Basil, 'it is Admiral Baldwin. What do you take his age to be?' 'Sixty,' said I, 'or perhaps sixty-two.' 'Forty,' replied Sir Basil, 'forty, and no more.' Picture to yourselves my amazement; I shall not easily forget Admiral Baldwin. I never saw quite so wretched an example of what a sea-faring life can do; but to a degree, I know it is the same with them all: they are all knocked about, and exposed to every climate, and every weather, till they are not fit to be seen. It is a pity they are not knocked on the head at once, before they reach Admiral Baldwin's age."
"Nay, Sir Walter," cried Mrs Clay, "this is being severe indeed. Have a little mercy on the poor men. We are not all born to be handsome. The sea is no beautifier, certainly; sailors do grow old betimes; I have observed it; they soon lose the look of youth. But then, is not it the same with many other professions, perhaps most other? Soldiers, in active service, are not at all better off: and even in the quieter professions, there is a toil and a labour of the mind, if not of the body, which seldom leaves a man's looks to the natural effect of time. The lawyer plods, quite care-worn; the physician is up at all hours, and travelling in all weather; and even the clergyman—" she stopt a moment to consider what might do for the clergyman;—"and even the clergyman, you know is obliged to go into infected rooms, and expose his health and looks to all the injury of a poisonous atmosphere. In fact, as I have long been convinced, though every profession is necessary and honourable in its turn, it is only the lot of those who are not obliged to follow any, who can live in a regular way, in the country, choosing their own hours, following their own pursuits, and living on their own property, without the torment of trying for more; it is only their lot, I say, to hold the blessings of health and a good appearance to the utmost: I know no other set of men but what lose something of their personableness when they cease to be quite young."
It seemed as if Mr Shepherd, in this anxiety to bespeak Sir Walter's good will towards a naval officer as tenant, had been gifted with foresight; for the very first application for the house was from an Admiral Croft, with whom he shortly afterwards fell into company in attending the quarter sessions at Taunton; and indeed, he had received a hint of the Admiral from a London correspondent. By the report which he hastened over to Kellynch to make, Admiral Croft was a native of Somersetshire, who having acquired a very handsome fortune, was wishing to settle in his own country, and had come down to Taunton in order to look at some advertised places in that immediate neighbourhood, which, however, had not suited him; that accidentally hearing—(it was just as he had foretold, Mr Shepherd observed, Sir Walter's concerns could not be kept a secret,)—accidentally hearing of the possibility of Kellynch Hall being to let, and understanding his (Mr Shepherd's) connection with the owner, he had introduced himself to him in order to make particular inquiries, and had, in the course of a pretty long conference, expressed as strong an inclination for the place as a man who knew it only by description could feel; and given Mr Shepherd, in his explicit account of himself, every proof of his being a most responsible, eligible tenant.
"And who is Admiral Croft?" was Sir Walter's cold suspicious inquiry.
Mr Shepherd answered for his being of a gentleman's family, and mentioned a place; and Anne, after the little pause which followed, added—
"He is a rear admiral of the white. He was in the Trafalgar action, and has been in the East Indies since; he was stationed there, I believe, several years."
"Then I take it for granted," observed Sir Walter, "that his face is about as orange as the cuffs and capes of my livery."
Mr Shepherd hastened to assure him, that Admiral Croft was a very hale, hearty, well-looking man, a little weather-beaten, to be sure, but not much, and quite the gentleman in all his notions and behaviour; not likely to make the smallest difficulty about terms, only wanted a comfortable home, and to get into it as soon as possible; knew he must pay for his convenience; knew what rent a ready-furnished house of that consequence might fetch; should not have been surprised if Sir Walter had asked more; had inquired about the manor; would be glad of the deputation, certainly, but made no great point of it; said he sometimes took out a gun, but never killed; quite the gentleman.
Mr Shepherd was eloquent on the subject; pointing out all the circumstances of the Admiral's family, which made him peculiarly desirable as a tenant. He was a married man, and without children; the very state to be wished for. A house was never taken good care of, Mr Shepherd observed, without a lady: he did not know, whether furniture might not be in danger of suffering as much where there was no lady, as where there were many children. A lady, without a family, was the very best preserver of furniture in the world. He had seen Mrs Croft, too; she was at Taunton with the admiral, and had been present almost all the time they were talking the matter over.

[vers la flamme]

  I ought to read it. I have yet to read anything from Austen, though I've been especially curious to after reading the aforementioned A Room of One's Own. Woolf seemed to find Austen to be one of the only female writers worth the paper she writes on, and that in spite of never having had "a room of her own".

[San Antone]

The Last Gentleman - Walker Percy



Will Barrett is a 25-year-old wanderer from the South living in New York City, detached from his roots and with no plans for the future—until the purchase of a telescope sets off a romance and changes his life forever.

[Mandryka]

I ought to read it. I have yet to read anything from Austen, though I've been especially curious to after reading the aforementioned A Room of One's Own. Woolf seemed to find Austen to be one of the only female writers worth the paper she writes on, and that in spite of never having had "a room of her own".

She's ironic and perceptive and funny and arguably feminist.


My favourite literary cartoon

[SimonNZ]

Starting:



I seem to remember someone here giving this the highest praise, but can't remember who it was now

[Brian]

I do think that these dissonant slow introductions to relatively conventional music --  there are other examples  too -- are so strange that they beg for an interpretation of some kind.

Erroll Garner's song introductions, too. They seem to come from such a completely different place than the rest of his playing.

Woolf has for the longest time been to me a writer that I more admire than love. But, quite honestly? This is the first work of hers that has gripped me from the very start and never let go so far.

Maybe I should try this next! After feeling rather left out by Dalloway and Lighthouse, I finally had my big falling-for-Woolf moment with, of all things, Orlando. It's a sheer delight.

I ought to read it. I have yet to read anything from Austen, though I've been especially curious to after reading the aforementioned A Room of One's Own. Woolf seemed to find Austen to be one of the only female writers worth the paper she writes on, and that in spite of never having had "a room of her own".

Oh, do give Austen a read! She's so far from the costume romance cliches that surround her in the popular image. She is a satirist of the first rank, a cuttingly funny analyst of human nature and human weakness, a politically aware and astute writer with layers of meaning around her priests, soldiers, gentry, and even slaveowners, and the creator of a narrator voice I find totally irresistible: omniscient and reliable but judgmental and prone to snarky asides. I like my Austen mean and fierce and full of narrative complexity...which is, truth be told, almost all of it. Emma is delightfully savage. Most people start of course with Pride & Prejudice, which is a delight as long as you know from the start to be looking out for satire, irony, and bad behavior, rather than dainty young lovers sipping tea with their quaint wholesome parents. 

[San Antone]

I would say that , as good as they are, the film adaptations of Jane Austin do not replace experiencing the books.  The movies do not capture the multi-layered and subtle manner of her style.

But I think this about most movie versions of novels, but I feel it is even more true concerning Austin.

[Mandryka]

I would say that , as good as they are, the film adaptations of Jane Austin do not replace experiencing the books.  The movies do not capture the multi-layered and subtle manner of her style.

But I think this about most movie versions of novels, but I feel it is even more true concerning Austin.

Someone told me that No Country for Old Men was better as a movie than a novel - I haven't seen it or read it, yet.