Covering the period 1830 to 1901, this is a treasure chest. It not only contains a huge sampling of both prose and poetry, but places them into an historical context.
The introduction to the book gives the reader a broad sweep of what was going on in those seventy odd years (such as the decline of Victorian values, industrialisation, suffrage), and several mini essays throughout provide introductions to the writers and their concerns.
The samples work well: a section from Hard Times convinced me to read the full novel, and I discovered a wonderful essay by George Eliot. Highly recommended.
I am currently experimenting with writing articles of exactly 100 words in length. This is one of them.
I’m familiar with a few of the stories in this volume, which features some well-known names such as Raymond Carver, George Saunders, Grace Paley, Ursula Le Guin and Susan Sontag.
I love the subtitle: A history of thinking on paper (my emphasis). I do think there’s much to be said for writing on paper, and there is no paucity of research showing the benefits of analogue over the digital approach.
A few months ago I wrote about Barnabees Books, in Westleton, Suffolk. It’s a lovely warm place, not only heat-wise but atmospherically, not least because of its delightful owner, Ty.
Since I read Northanger Abbey when I was in my twenties, I have to say that in the interim it has much improved. Clearly, Jane must have taken a creative writing course or two because it is now much funnier, more cutting and more modern, what with her stepping outside the story to comment on her characters and the novel form itself.
If your interest in the Oulipo goes beyond simply trying out their techniques, and you wish to learn about the context in which it was conceived and the developments in went through, you will find this book very useful.
A very timely publication. The first section is replete with anecdotes about trigger warnings and similar. Some of these are, in my opinion, ill-informed (such as the charges levelled against Jane Austen) while others are ridiculous (like the rewriting of parts of the Noddy books).
The Book at War is a fascinating study of how books and other reading matter have variously influenced politics, propaganda and history over time.
Elborough’s central premise is that artists’ travels have always influenced their art – albeit more obviously in some cases than others.
The shelves in libraries or bookshops labelled Science Fiction and Fantasy interest me only for the former, not the latter. Games like Dungeons and Dragons have never appealed to me, and much as I like maps and strange lands, the works of Tolkien leave me cold.
Who would have thought that a material as commonplace as paper could have such a rich history and profound effect on our lives?