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Posts Tagged: Emily Dickinson

Read Emily Dickinson’s Poetry in Her Own Handwriting

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Do you ever jot down lines of poetry on the back of an envelope?

So did Emily Dickinson, as you might see if you look through the Emily Dickinson Archive.

Launched yesterday, the site hosts “high-resolution images of Dickinson’s surviving manuscripts available in open access” for readers who don’t have the time to travel to special-collections libraries in New England.

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Less Face, More Book for These Reclusive Authors

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Though it can be hard to remember between tweeting at your favorite writer and joining a Facebook event page for a reading, there was a time when many authors led reclusive lives with minimal self-promotion.

Bookish has rounded up a list of some of the most private (Salinger, Pynchon)—and their modern-day, super-public opposites (John Green, Susan Orlean).

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Emily Dickinson: Karaoke Queen?

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For Bookish, music writer and self-described “karaoke ho” Rob Sheffield lists which songs famous authors of the past would have belted out on karaoke night.

He’s unquestionably right about Oscar Wilde crooning something from The Smiths, though it seems a missed opportunity not to have given James Joyce “Baby Got Back.”

Which tunes do you think your favorite writers would have favored?

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Emily Dickinson Reader

The Emily Dickinson Reader by Paul Legault

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At their best, love and translation share some contradictions, including selfishness and generosity. Translation is impossible, or at least not very good, without a passionate desire to own the material and leave one’s mark on it. At the same time, few translators want to “hide the light” of their translations “under a bushel.” The translations they undertake and complete belong to them, are marked by them, and yet they are without much value unless shared.

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Snapshot 2012-09-27 12-23-47

Sister

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It is as if a great house has fallen―sunk into the mire which seethes around the ancestral manor, amid an unrecognizable, Martian landscape. The narrator of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher” has no name, no real structural substance beyond his vague association with this other guy, an old friend of his.

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“It’s a long time since I drank champagne.”

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These are Anton Chekhov’s last words, and the Guardian has a slideshow of some sometimes funny, sometimes chilling last words of quite a few literary figures.

(And while we’re talking about slideshows, I’d actually recommend the Jacket Copy write-up instead of the Guardian’s, because slideshows drive me freakin’ bonkers.

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