1. #readwomen2014 →

  2. “What happens, though, when it is all unsaid, is that you wake up one morning, no, it’s more like late one afternoon, and it’s not just unsaid, it’s gone. That’s all. Just gone. I remember this word, that look, that small inflection, after all this time. I used to hold them, trust them, read them like a rune. Like a sign that there was a house, a billet, a civilization where we were. I look back and I think I was just there all alone. Collecting wisps and signs. Like a spinster who did know a young man once and who imagines ever since that she lost a fiancé in the war.”

    — 

    —Renata Adler, Pitch Dark

    via BLOOM CITY

  3. 
Grandmother had had to be frugal all her life, and so she had a weakness for extravagance. She watched the basin and the barrels and every crevice in the granite fill with water and overflow. She looked at the mattresses out being aired and the dishes that were washing themselves. She sighed contentedly, and, absorbed in thought, she filled a coffee cup with precious drinking water and poured it over a daisy.
—Tove Jansson, The Summer Book

This reader-submitted photo was taken at what looks like Verb Café in Williamsburg—right next to the excellent Spoonbill & Sugartown Booksellers—in late October. She writes, that on the “last of the autumn Sundays … you gather close to your steaming mug and open book; the last pages of summer.”
Do you have a picture of one of our books with coffee or tea (hot or iced)? Send it to this address and we’ll post them here (making you an honorary member of the Classics and Coffee Club).

    Grandmother had had to be frugal all her life, and so she had a weakness for extravagance. She watched the basin and the barrels and every crevice in the granite fill with water and overflow. She looked at the mattresses out being aired and the dishes that were washing themselves. She sighed contentedly, and, absorbed in thought, she filled a coffee cup with precious drinking water and poured it over a daisy.

    —Tove Jansson, The Summer Book

    This reader-submitted photo was taken at what looks like Verb Café in Williamsburg—right next to the excellent Spoonbill & Sugartown Booksellers—in late October. She writes, that on the “last of the autumn Sundays … you gather close to your steaming mug and open book; the last pages of summer.”

    Do you have a picture of one of our books with coffee or tea (hot or iced)? Send it to this address and we’ll post them here (making you an honorary member of the Classics and Coffee Club).

  4. “The tragedy and evil of buying a ready-made suit”

    image

    From the BBC adaptation of Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky

    Now the tragedy and evil of buying a ready-made suit is this—that it ends, just like that, in “Yes. . . .” You think it would be a good idea if you bought a suit; you delightedly resolve to buy a suit; you work yourself up into a heavenly climax about a suit—and then suddenly it is all over and you are merely saying “Yes. . . .” You stare at it. You pat the pockets; you turn round and look at yourself sideways; you see what it would look like if it wasn’t buttoned. But whatever you do, there is nothing else to be said. “Yes. . . .” You look at the cuffs—but they’re no help to you—they’re excellent. You examine the lining—it couldn’t be better. Perhaps it is too tight under the arms. But it is not. It is no good. You are faced by the depressing fact that you are going to buy it.

    —Patrick Hamilton, Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky

  5. 
Household described himself as “a sort of bastard by Stevenson out of Conrad”, and the literary genealogy for Rogue Male seems clear enough. Robert Louis Stevenson’s Kidnapped (1886) began the “hunted-man” genre. John Buchan’s The Thirty-Nine Steps (1915) updated it for an age of geopolitics and aerial surveillance. Graham Greene’s A Gun for Sale (1936) extended its geographies and reversed the logic of pursuit, so the assassin became the quarry. From these writers Household learned the skill of pacing and the propulsive narrative power of the chase.
… .
I first read Rogue Male 20 years or so ago, rapidly and unreflectively, pulled onwards by its plot. It was only later, and on several rereadings, that the complexities of its patterns began to reveal themselves. This is a novel of elaborate design. There are paired concepts – “cover” and “open”, “surface” and “depth” – that repeat and weave. There are motifs – notably sunken tracks, tunnels, and skins/skinning – that recur dozens of times in different forms. And there is a sustained analogy between land and mind, whereby the narrator’s access to his buried emotions is enabled only by means of a literal digging into the Jurassic bedrock of south-west Dorset.
—Robert Macfarlane, from the introduction to his book (co-written with Stanley Donwood and Dan Richards) about Rogue Male, Holloway

The reader who sent in this entry into the Classics and Coffee Club notes that all the items in the photo were “bought in Seoul, KR.” The book itself was purchased at What the Book?, and English-language bookstore.

Do you have a picture of one of our books with coffee or tea (hot or iced)? Send it to this address and we’ll post them here (making you an honorary member of the Classics and Coffee Club).

    Household described himself as “a sort of bastard by Stevenson out of Conrad”, and the literary genealogy for Rogue Male seems clear enough. Robert Louis Stevenson’s Kidnapped (1886) began the “hunted-man” genre. John Buchan’s The Thirty-Nine Steps (1915) updated it for an age of geopolitics and aerial surveillance. Graham Greene’s A Gun for Sale (1936) extended its geographies and reversed the logic of pursuit, so the assassin became the quarry. From these writers Household learned the skill of pacing and the propulsive narrative power of the chase.

    … .

    I first read Rogue Male 20 years or so ago, rapidly and unreflectively, pulled onwards by its plot. It was only later, and on several rereadings, that the complexities of its patterns began to reveal themselves. This is a novel of elaborate design. There are paired concepts – “cover” and “open”, “surface” and “depth” – that repeat and weave. There are motifs – notably sunken tracks, tunnels, and skins/skinning – that recur dozens of times in different forms. And there is a sustained analogy between land and mind, whereby the narrator’s access to his buried emotions is enabled only by means of a literal digging into the Jurassic bedrock of south-west Dorset.

    —Robert Macfarlane, from the introduction to his book (co-written with Stanley Donwood and Dan Richards) about Rogue Male, Holloway

    The reader who sent in this entry into the Classics and Coffee Club notes that all the items in the photo were “bought in Seoul, KR.” The book itself was purchased at What the Book?, and English-language bookstore.

    Do you have a picture of one of our books with coffee or tea (hot or iced)? Send it to this address and we’ll post them here (making you an honorary member of the Classics and Coffee Club).

  6. nevver:

Tattoo You

Christine of Lindau (from Gotthelf’s Black Spider) IRL?

    nevver:

    Tattoo You

    Christine of Lindau (from Gotthelf’s Black Spider) IRL?

  7. “I’d recommend Turtle Diary to anyone who thinks zoos are depressing, those who like to plan imaginary crimes, and people interested in a good book who maybe don’t have a lot of reading time available.”

    — Turtle Diary by Russell Hoban, review at Outgoing Signals

  8. 
I sat there, full of petty worldly vanity, trying to memorize details of our conversation and thinking about my Moscow friends: soon I would be telling them how I drank coffee with Vazgen I, the Catholicos of all Armenians, and talked about Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy with him. 
—Vasily Grossman, An Armenian Sketchbook

Do you have a picture of one of our books with a cup of coffee or tea? Send it to this address and we’ll post them here (making you an honorary member of the Classics and Coffee Club).

    I sat there, full of petty worldly vanity, trying to memorize details of our conversation and thinking about my Moscow friends: soon I would be telling them how I drank coffee with Vazgen I, the Catholicos of all Armenians, and talked about Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy with him.

    —Vasily Grossman, An Armenian Sketchbook

    Do you have a picture of one of our books with a cup of coffee or tea? Send it to this address and we’ll post them here (making you an honorary member of the Classics and Coffee Club).

  9. AWP-goers: Come to our party!With: New Directions and ArchipelagoAt: Elliott Bay bookstore (only one of the best bookstores in the entire world).Saturday, March 1st, 4–5:30 pmRSVP on FB

    AWP-goers: Come to our party!
    With: New Directions and Archipelago
    At: Elliott Bay bookstore (only one of the best bookstores in the entire world).
    Saturday, March 1st, 4–5:30 pm
    RSVP on FB

  10. “The worst thing about new books is that they keep us from reading the old ones.”

    — Joseph Joubert (via observando)

  11. 
— Mmmm … ah … .— Slrrrp …— … . .— Aaah … .— … .— Slrrp …— … tea’s not bad.— Better than the coffee.— Yeah.— Aaah …— … … …— Slrrp …— … . .— … … . .— …— … slrrrp… .— … .— Look … slrrrp …— Fool …
—Vadimir Sorokin, The Queue

That’s not a flawed copy of The Queue in the photo above. The characters in Sorokin’s book are standing in line waiting for—what were they waiting for again?—and have fallen asleep, hence the blank pages (and the empty cup).
Do you have a picture of one of our books with coffee or tea (empty or full)? Send it to this address and we’ll post them here (making you an honorary member of the Classics and Coffee Club).

    — Mmmm … ah … .
    — Slrrrp …
    — … . .
    — Aaah … .
    — … .
    — Slrrp …
    — … tea’s not bad.
    — Better than the coffee.
    — Yeah.
    — Aaah …
    — … … …
    — Slrrp …
    — … . .
    — … … . .
    — …
    — … slrrrp… .
    — … .
    — Look … slrrrp …
    — Fool …

    —Vadimir Sorokin, The Queue

    That’s not a flawed copy of The Queue in the photo above. The characters in Sorokin’s book are standing in line waiting for—what were they waiting for again?—and have fallen asleep, hence the blank pages (and the empty cup).

    Do you have a picture of one of our books with coffee or tea (empty or full)? Send it to this address and we’ll post them here (making you an honorary member of the Classics and Coffee Club).

  12. We usually reformat title pages in the series design but this was too good.
Posted in honor of Warlock's 6th printing!
What is this font called, by the way?

    We usually reformat title pages in the series design but this was too good.

    Posted in honor of Warlock's 6th printing!

    What is this font called, by the way?

  13. An orange/maroon/blue + feet trend.
More cover themes here.

    An orange/maroon/blue + feet trend.

    More cover themes here.

  14. "Suddenly, things grew very bright…"

    A bitter winter evening grew a little brighter last night as we celebrated with a full house of Pierre Reverdy lovers at McNally Jackson in Soho. There were readings by Geoffrey O’Brien, Mark Polizzotti, Mary Ann Caws (pictured below) (and: psst, sorry that some of these photos aren’t of the highest quality!) …

    image

    …Ron Padgett…

    image

    …Richard Sieburth…

    image

    …as well as plenty of French wine…

    image

    Thank you, thank you to our translators for coming out to read and to all of you who braved the cold for the sake of poetry.

    [The quotation in the title of this post is from Reverdy’s poem, “Empty Numbers,” which Richard Sieburth translated and read at last night’s event.]

  15. Pierre Reverdy event tonight at McNally Jackson (7 pm)

    It Must in Fact Have Been Quite Cold

    There’s me
           And all the buzzers in the house went off at once
    Why have they brought so many bells and alarm clocks
           From the tapestry where my body flattens in profile
                 hands like a  platter asking for mercy I look 
                 at my life from which I’ve withdrawn myself
    Distances were done away with and yet everything
           stays in place
                  All that’s lacking is a little air
                  The harmony of their lines is enough to keep each
                        piece of furniture solid
    Yet sometimes they weren’t recognizable
           The visitor is in the sitting room or at the door
                  waiting after having rung the bell
    And all those who pass by hold their hats in their hands
        But I can no longer come down
        The tapestry is trembling
                  It’s too cold

    Unfortunately Paul Auster will not be able to make it to tonight’s event at McNally Jackson as previous listed. However, Mary Ann Caws, Geoffrey O’Brien, Ron Padgett, Mark Polizzotti, and Richard Sieburth will all still be there reading from their translations of Reverdy’s poem and discussing his work (plus wine). And for those concerned about the temperature, the poem above (translated by Marilyn Hacker) is for you.