鈥淏ut I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.鈥�]]>
鈥淏ut I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.鈥�
For many years interest focused on both Hamlet's inability to avenge his father's death, claiming that "the native hue of resolution / Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought", and, according to none other than Freud, his oedipal fixation with his mother. However, more recently critics have turned their attention to Hamlet's bold theatrical self-reflexivity (most famously reflected in the performance of "The Mousetrap"), its fascination with issues of theology and Renaissance humanism, and its dense, complex poetic language. What is so remarkable about the play is the way in which it tends to uncannily reflect the concerns of different epochs. As a result, Hamlet has been at different moments defined as a romantic rebel, an angst-ridden existentialist, a paralysed intellectual and an ambivalent New Man. Whatever subsequent generations make of Hamlet, they are unlikely to exhaust the possibilities of this most extraordinary play. --Jerry Brotton
]]>When Park鈥檚 keen shifter nose uncovers a body in the yard and Cooper鈥檚 father is the prime suspect, Cooper knows they鈥檙e on their own. Familial involvement means no sanctioned investigation. They鈥檒l need to go rogue and solve the mystery quietly or risk seeing Cooper鈥檚 dad put behind bars.
The case may be cold, but Park and Cooper鈥檚 relationship heats up as they work. And yet if Cooper can鈥檛 figure out what鈥檚 going on between them outside of the bedroom, he鈥檒l lose someone he鈥� Well, he can鈥檛 quite put into words how he feels about Park. He knows one thing for he鈥檚 not ready to say goodbye, though with the real killer inching ever closer鈥e may not have a choice.
]]>The art world had turned out to be like the stock market, a reflection of political trends and the persuasions of capitalism, fueled by greed and gossip and cocaine. I might as well have worked on Wall Street. Speculation and opinions drove not only the market but the products, sadly, the values of which were hinged not to the ineffable quality of art as a sacred human ritual鈥攁 value impossible to measure, anyway鈥攂ut to what a bunch of rich assholes thought would 鈥渆levate鈥� their portfolios and inspire jealousy and, delusional as they all were, respect. I was perfectly happy to wipe out all that garbage from my mind.
The art world had turned out to be like the stock market, a reflection of political trends and the persuasions of capitalism, fueled by greed and gossip and cocaine. I might as well have worked on Wall Street. Speculation and opinions drove not only the market but the products, sadly, the values of which were hinged not to the ineffable quality of art as a sacred human ritual鈥攁 value impossible to measure, anyway鈥攂ut to what a bunch of rich assholes thought would 鈥渆levate鈥� their portfolios and inspire jealousy and, delusional as they all were, respect. I was perfectly happy to wipe out all that garbage from my mind.
An extraordinary play, both for its dramatic economy and power as well as its remarkable language, from Othello's bombastic "traveller's history" to Desdemona's elegiac "willow song", the play raises uncomfortable questions about ongoing questions of not only racial identity but also sexuality, as Othello and Desdemona's sexual relationship becomes the voyeuristic site of Iago's attempt to destroy them. Particularly fascinated with the question of what it means to "see", Othello also contains one of the greatest tragic death scenes in all of Shakespeare, with Othello's final identification with "a malignant and a turbaned Turk". --Jerry Brotton
]]>Sth, I know that woman. She used to live with a 铿俹ck of birds on Lenox Avenue. Know her husband, too. He fell for an eighteen-year-old girl with one of those deepdown, spooky loves that made him so sad and happy he shot her just to keep the feeling going.
Sth, I know that woman. She used to live with a 铿俹ck of birds on Lenox Avenue. Know her husband, too. He fell for an eighteen-year-old girl with one of those deepdown, spooky loves that made him so sad and happy he shot her just to keep the feeling going.
Suivi de L'Histoire des voyages de Scarmentado et de Po猫me sur le d茅sastre de Lisbonne.
Candide nous conte les m茅saventures d'un voyageur philosophe qui affronte les horreurs de la guerre et les sanglants caprices de la Nature ; qui conna卯t les d茅sillusions de l'amour et d茅couvre les turpitudes de ses semblables, faisant 脿 l'occasion l'exp茅rience de leurs dangereuses fantaisies. Pourtant si l'homme est un bien m茅chant animal et si l'existence n'est qu'une cascade de catastrophes, est-ce une raison pour que le h茅ros perde sa s茅r茅nit茅 et le r茅cit son all茅gresse ? Sous la forme d'une ironique fiction, Candide propose une r茅flexion souriante sur l'omnipr茅sence de la d茅raison qui puise sa force aux sources vives d'une exp茅rience humaine, celle de l'auteur. Candide, on l'a dit, ce sont les 芦 Confessions 禄 de Voltaire, et c'est en cela qu'il nous 茅meut.
Mais ce 芦 roman d'apprentissage 禄 est aussi - et peut-锚tre surtout - un festival merveilleusement ordonn茅 de dr么lerie et de fantaisie sarcastique, ruisselant d'un immense savoir ma卯tris茅 qui ne d茅daigne jamais de porter le rire jusqu'au sublime. C'est en cela qu'il nous 茅blouit et qu'il nous charme.
Edition de Sylviane L茅oni.
听
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