Saturday, July 19, 2008

One story, many editions

Not only do I like to collect a lot of books, in a few rare occasions, I like to acquire as many foreign language editions of a favorite tale as possible. Below are two photos of the eight editions of French author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's most famous tale. I've loved this story for years now and I buy it in languages that I want to someday learn, so...

Top-left: Italian edition, Il Piccolo Principe; Hungarian edition, A Kis Herceg

Bottom-left: French edition (original language), Le Petit Prince; Spanish edition, El Principito

Top-left: Serbian edition, Mali Princ (gift to me); English edition, The Little Prince

Bottom-left: Latin edition, Regulus: Vel Pueri Soli Sapiunt; German edition, Der Kleine Prinz: Mit Zeichnungen des Verfassers

Eventually, I hope to acquire Portuguese, Romanian, Russian, Urdu, and Farsi editions, but it'll take some budget planning, since many of these aren't available in the US for less than $50 each.

Any of you have collecting habits like this?

Friday, July 18, 2008

Cover art for two upcoming books

The first is via Jeff VanderMeer's blog and is in reference (among other things) to the November 2008 pirate-themed anthology, Fast Ships, Black Sails:


The second is from Tobias Buckell and is the cover art for the November release of Halo: The Cole Protocol:


Two more books for me to add to this list, it seems...

Forgotten Friday Spotlight: Thomas Disch, Camp Concentration


Two weeks ago, American author Thomas Disch took his life in his New York apartment. He was 68 years old. Although there were many obituaries written in the time that has followed, for quite a few of us in our thirties and younger, Disch and his best-regarded works, such as 1968's Camp Concentration, had become quite obscure. Although I had heard of him, I really didn't know much about him and kept putting off buying this book until after his tragic suicide. I am kicking myself for not having done so sooner, because this is a book that hits so many of my "sweet spots" as a reader.

This will not be a formal review, as I am not writing any of those until I finish with the one I agreed to write for another venue (soon, though, I'll be able!....I think). I will not elaborate on length how scary the milieu is, how easy it was for the governmental agencies to start influencing events, or how people were treated like guinea pigs and given a fatal drug that temporarily increased their mental capacities for concentration. Nor will I cite passages written in a first person PoV detailing Louis Sacchetti's thoughts and his progress throughout the novel. No, not this time, although this is a book that begs for such citations to be given out for others to be drawn to it. Neither will I spend much time elaborating on Disch's strengths as a prose writer and how darkly beautiful the prose was in places, as that would mean I would be breaking my promise to myself not to review a work at length before I finish this lengthy one I'm working on.

But suffice to say, if I had written all of this out, there would be many here who would want to read this book and to go out and buy it. Or perhaps they would re-read it. Nevertheless, I'm hoping I left just enough hints here for you to be curious enough to go out and read Camp Concentration in the very near future.

Interesting "easter eggs" in stories

I decided to read the introduction to Fernando Pessoa's The Book of Disquiet tonight before going to bed, because I wanted to know more about one of Portugal's greatest writers. What I quickly learned was that he used a multiplicity of pseudonyms, which he called "heteronyms," with each having its own distinct "personality."

One of those happened to be Ricardo Reis. Which of course reminded me of one of the few major books by José Saramago that I had yet to purchase/read, The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis. Now I'm certainly going to have to get that one soon, especially since I've just learned a bit more about the "real" 'Ricardo Reis.'

But what about you? What little things, or "easter eggs" as video gamers call the hidden surprises, have you discovered in reading a book that you thought made for an even more enjoyable experience or perhaps led to discovering a new author?

One final bit on the Sanders/Helix situation

Simon Owens of Bloggasm emailed me about an article he wrote that touches upon the issues involved, including an interview with Luke Jackson and Owens's attempt to get William Sanders, the Helix editor, to agree to an interview. For those who haven't seen the link yet, just click here.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

A question of authority

Yesterday, I attended new teacher orientation for the school district where I'll be teaching starting next month. One of the things that was brought up in passing was how times had changed (some, like myself, have more than 5 years experience, and can remember seeing changes from the late 1990s to the present) and how the authority of the teacher had changed. I remember thinking how easily this could be applied to so much else.

Recently, there have been a few posts here and there (too lazy to look up the exact links, but I believe Matt Staggs had a few of them in the past couple of weeks included in his daily links posts) about how people have come to view critics (namely, those who discuss books) differently over the past decade or so. I'm not concerned with discussing the in's and out's of how critics can appeal to a changing audience or even with the dynamics of such changes, but rather I am interested in the notion of what "authority" means.

Used to be "authority" was more than someone imposing his (and occasionally her, but usually "his" in the more patriarchal past) viewpoints upon others. For literary/artistic matters, "authority" was not so much a fiat from above, but rather the result of a complicit agreement among the readership that the person discussing X, Y, or Z had something of value to say. In many cases, it was due to a somewhat homogenized form of education, one in which erudition was highly valued. Not always, of course, lest those reading this start reaching for their knives to sharpen, but it was part of the arrangement.

But to a large degree, those days have passed. There is much more heterogeneity in people's educations, standards of life, etc. Not as many things are held in common. Factionalization and the increased division of elements of culture into "defined" groups has only hastened in the past few generations. There is no longer any pretense of there being a "general audience." We are all specialized audiences.

In such a situation, "authority" is going to be viewed quite differently. Since there wouldn't be such a complicit agreement, observers might be more inclined to "challenge" or even "disavow" any sort of "authority" that runs counter to their own tastes. This certainly can be seen in the classroom, as teachers who expect to impose their "authority" tend to learn quite quickly (or else burn out in a couple of years) that the classroom environment has changed and the teacher as authority figure model has to change with it, or else risk losing legitimacy in the eyes of students.

I suspect a similar case applies with book reviewing and "authority." Nowadays, with the proliferation of various media, there are no real "authorities" remaining; only influential members of various consistuencies. There are no more Olympian proclamations, only commentaries that may be tailored to whatever audience the erstwhile critic is addressing. In a way, I kind of miss the notion of "authority," of the idea that someone could be educated and thoughtful enough to say things that a good number of people would find worthwhile enough to consider, if not something with which to agree. While I don't miss the baggage that came with it (racism, chauvinism, etc.) on occasion, there is something to be said for a model in which the audience could take the critic's comments into account.

I just don't know if I'm comfortable with the notion of just anyone writing reviews or commentaries and having them being considered co-equal. I'm one of those who like to seek out those who excel at communicating their ideas and their understandings of texts and right now, it can be a real hassle. I'm also distrustful of unqualified praise and sometimes I miss the snarkiness that a Mencken could bring to the table. Perhaps it's just a nostalgic feeling, perhaps not. Just something I pondered briefly yesterday, while my mind started its shift back to thinking about lesson plans, projects, and how to communicate a love of world history to my incoming students. Three weeks to go.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

July 15-16 Book Porn: The Celebratory One

I have almost a dozen books here for this round, all but one of them purchases out of money given to me by family members for my birthday tomorrow (yes, I'll be 34 on Thursday and when I have the energy, I do have something planned about that which occurred to me today, but I'm a bit too exhausted now to do more than make a short post before crashing 5-6 hours earlier than normal). On with the photos now.

This first photo is of the books I bought yesterday in Nashville at Davis Kidd (my favorite physical bookstore) after taking care of a teaching-related matter. The three on top I bought from a remainder pile for classics at $3.99 each and since I do love my 18th and early 19th century writers/poets as much as ancient Greek ones...

Top-left: Lucian, Selected Dialogues; John Dryden, The Major Works; Robert Browning, The Major Works.

Bottom-left: Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin; Charles Stross, Halting State; Yasmina Traboulsi, Bahia Blues.

This second set of books consists of books bought today while attending a new teacher orientation in my new school district, ordered online, or is an Advance Review Copy. See if you can pick out the ARC here...

Top-left: Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet; Peter F. Hamilton, Misspent Youth; John Julius Norwich, A Short History of Byzantium.

Bottom-left: Orhan Pamuk, My Name is Red; Jeff VanderMeer, Secret Lives.

Hopefully, I'll have more to say on some of these books at least in the coming months. Now back to mourning my fading youth...
 
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