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Today in Literature

Is Blake the poet who wrote "Tiger, tiger, burning bright"?
BTW, Jean-Luke, I second Kimberly in saying I love trivia! Thanks...

Also, Will Rogers (“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”) died August 15, 1935 in a plane crash.

Growing up, I loved Five Children and It

Growing up, I loved Five Children and It"
I still do. :) E. Nesbit's wonderful.
Leslie wrote: "August 22, 1920 -- Ray Bradbury, author of Fahrenheit 451, was born"
I'm due for a re-read of this one. Thanks for the reminder.
I'm due for a re-read of this one. Thanks for the reminder.


Just discovered Bigger's Chan series last year - really fun series. It's a shame Biggers died with only 6 Chans under his belt - I would have loved to read more of them.



This is a great thread!! Thanks! I love it!

September 1, 1939
by W. H. Auden
I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.
Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.
Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.
Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.
The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.
From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
"I will be true to the wife,
I'll concentrate more on my work,"
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the deaf,
Who can speak for the dumb?
All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.
Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.



Very cool.


7 September 1889 - Start of Sherlock Holmes serial "Adventure of Engineer's Thumb"




"Something has spoken to me in the night,
burning the tapers of the waning year;
something has spoken in the night, and told me
I shall die, I know not where. . . ."

Is anyone reading these?

Thanks for the feedback! I will continue posting.

And speaking of Mr.King, I just heard that he's writing a sequel to The Shining.



Lovely poem to remind us that autumn has arrived. Thank you.



Never knew before how multi-talented he was. Thanks!

On this day (4 October) in 1937 Wallace Stevens published his fourth book of poetry, The Man with the Blue Guitar. Stevens was halfway through his poetry-writing career at this point -- halfway between the early complaints that his poems were "a glittering edifice of icicles," and the Pulitzer in 1955, the year of his death.


"Silence is death.
If you are silent you are dead,
And if you speak you are dead,
So speak and die."



(* - At least, the book was published in 1937...)

I think I'll now go bake an anniversary cake for the Wimseys!
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The Moonstone (other topics)
Ragtime (other topics)
Mickelsson's Ghosts (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
Agatha Christie (other topics)Mickey Spillane (other topics)
Wilkie Collins (other topics)
Edgar Allan Poe (other topics)
Dashiell Hammett (other topics)
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I love trivia