Recently, I picked up, from a lovely used bookstore in London, Ontario, a large selection of Tom Stoppard plays, including one I have had my eye on for some time - Travesties. Travesties, as I understand it, is a sort of historical fiction drama arising from the fact that Tristan Tzara, Vladimir Lenin, and James Joyce were all living in Zurich ( Read more... )

I picked up a copy of InStyle today in spite of the fact that I have moved away from purchasing magazines in the past few years, because the smart, funny, and gorgeous Mindy Kaling is on the cover of June's issue. However, imagine my disappointment when, turning to page 157 to read the article for which the promise "WE FOUND SWIMSUITS TO SOLVE ANY ( Read more... )

Recently I have been making my way through Humphrey Carpenter's beautiful biography of J. R. R. Tolkien. As I approach the end of the book, my pace seems to have slowed somewhat. Truth be told, I am a little in love. I don't want to say good-bye just yet. Anyhow, to come to my point, there is a bit that I wanted to share about how, in a rush to get ( Read more... )

'Is it morning already?' said Frodo yawning.
'Not yet, but night is drawing to an end, and the full moon is setting. Will you come and see it? Also there is a matter on which I desire your counsel. I am sorry to rouse you from sleep, but will you come?'
(P. 683, Tolkien, The Two Towers)

#samissojealous

I really like Faramir.

They all gazed at him. His hair was white as snow in the sunshine; and gleaming white was his robe; the eyes under his deep brows were bright, piercing as the rays of the sun; power was in his hand. Between wonder, joy, and fear they stood and found no words to say ( Read more... )

If I were to make a film version of Christopher Fry's The Lady's Not for Burning, this song would be on the soundtrack. It's kind of perfect.

Click to view

Who am I, in heaven's name, to decide ( Read more... )

In the biography I just finished reading (a life: e. e. cummings), the author, Susan Cheever, ends with an update on what Patchin Place, the Greenwich Village cul-de-sac where Cummings lived and wrote for many years, looks like today. She begins one then-and-now comparison with "The place where Dylan Thomas and Cummings sat and talked about ( Read more... )

WHY DIDN'T I KNOW ABOUT THIS?

It is a rainy morning; so I am indoors, and all work suspended. I feel cheerfully disposed, and therefore I write a little bluely. Would the Gin were here! If ever, my dear Hawthorne, in the eternal times that are to come, you and I shall sit down in Paradise, in some little shady corner by ourselves; and if we shall ( Read more... )

JENNET. I am interested ( Read more... )