/lit/ - Literature

>>3144658
>The most surprising thing about reading Tolstoy is how easy it is to read. It lacks the stilted unfamiliarity of say, Austen or other English classic literature, perhaps because translation allows a more updated choice of words. (I'm aware Austen is nowhere near the same level as Tolstoy.)

Precisely. Tolstoy is *not* difficult.

"Rosh Hashanah", Aharon Shabtai, trans. Peter Cole


Even after the murder
of the child Muhammad on Rosh Hashanah,
the paper didn’t go black.
In the same water in which the snipers
wash their uniforms,
I prepare my pasta,
and over it pour
olive oil in which I’ve browned
pine nuts,
which I cooked for two minutes with dried tomatoes,
crushed garlic, and a tablespoon of basil.
As I eat, the learned minister of foreign affairs
and public security
appears on the screen,
and when he’s done
I write this poem.
For that’s how it’s always been –
the murderers murder,
the intellectuals make it palatable,
and the poet sings.

>>3132431

>old timey garbage

For some reason, shit like this trolls me every time.

>>3132422

Hobbes and Hume okay, but how can you possible confuse Hegel and Hume?

>>3132352

Whenever I'm reading about George Eliot and she is referred to as just "Eliot" my mind automatically assumes it's T. S. Eliot.

>>3132296

Genuinely lol'd.

>>3132266

>Could anyone direct me to some kind of 'essentials' I should read? Or at least reccomend some entry-level literature?

Gee, we have this thing called the sticky. Have you checked it?

Can't believe this hasn't been posted yet.

>>3132108

I had a look to see if it's online -- it doesn't seem to be, but I found this: http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/cou_article/item/2439

Triple-posting now so I'm just gonna polite sage.

>>3132102

You should also read Brodsky's essay on Cavafy; it's in a collection of essays called "Less Than One".

>>3132004

There's a nice commentary here:

>http://audiopoetry.wordpress.com/2007/11/24/the-god-forsakes-antony/

"To arrange words", Tukaram

To arrange words
In some order
Is not the same thing
As the inner poise
That’s poetry

The truth of poetry
Is the truth
Of being.
It’s an experience
Of truth.

No ornaments
Survive
A crucible.
Fire reveals
Only molten
Gold.

Says Tuka
We are here
To reveal.
We do not waste
Words.

"The God Forsakes Antony", Constantine Cavafy

When suddenly at the midnight hour
an invisible troupe is heard passing
with exquisite music, with shouts -
do not mourn in vain your fortune failing you now,
your works that have failed, the plans of your life
that have all turned out to be illusions.
As if long prepared for this, as if courageous,
bid her farewell, the Alexandria that is leaving.
Above all do not be fooled, do not tell yourself
it was only a dream, that your ears deceived you;
do not stoop to such vain hopes.
As if long prepared for this, as if courageous,
as it becomes you who are worthy of such a city;
approach the window with firm step,
and listen with emotion, but not
with the entreaties and complaints of the coward,
as a last enjoyment listen to the sounds,
the exquisite instruments of the mystical troupe,
and bid her farewell, the Alexandria you are losing.

An Anarchist FAQ, free online.

<--- this isn't by any means a seminal text but it's quite fun and the most important piece of contemporary anarchist literature

>>3131455

Haha, oh man. Back to /sci/ with you.

Polite sage because I don't want to grace this with bumps.

Verisimilitude

>>3131257

Well done OP! It's always nice to hear about "lit plebs", as you say, finding an author they really enjoy. Now, read Tolstoy, and find that there was someone, if only one person, who wrote even better than ol' Fyodor.

>>3131415

>all you need to know is

.. :|

We had one of these threads not too long ago. It was specifically about Russell's History of Western Philosophy, but it might still be of interest

>>3126875

From Paradise Lost (IV, 641-656)

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flow’r,
Glist’ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful Ev’ning mild, then silent Night
With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon,
And these the Gems of Heav’n, her starry train:
But neither breath of Morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest Bird, nor rising Sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flow’r
Glist’ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful Ev’ning mild, nor silent Night
With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon,
Or glittering Star-light without thee is sweet.

This has been a good thread so far. I don't want it to die.

"Bosnia Tune", Brodsky


As you pour yourself a scotch
Crush a roach or check your watch
As your hands adjust your tie
people die

In the towns with funny names
Hit by bullets, caught in flames
By and large not knowing why
people die

In small places you don't know
Yet big for having no
Chance to scream or say good-bye
people die

People die as you elect
New apostles of neglect,
Self restraint, etc. whereby
people die

Too far off to practice love
For thy neighbour, brother, Slav
Where your cherubs dread to fly
people die

While the statues disagree
Cain's version, history
For its fuel tends to buy
those who die

As you watch the athletes score
Check your latest statement or
Sing your child a lullaby
people die

Time, whose sharp, bloodthirsty quill
Parts the killed from those who kill
Will pronounce the latter tribe
As your tribe