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...often unimaginative book “Lucky Hans and Other Merz Fairy Tales,” newly translated by Jack Zipes, contains only two or three real “fairy tales.” The rest is a dark medley of fables, tall tales, parables, and even word games—all of them dark, most of them with unhappy endings.Fairy tales do not have to be lighthearted. In “Bluebeard,” one of the oldest and most famous fairy tales, a young woman discovers a secret room full of the corpses of her husband?...
...would stand up to defend the arguments as you present them. But to write that pleasure is the only reason to read literature? That there is, ultimately, no social good to be derived from it? That Harold Bloom’s cantankerous—I think you use the word “imperious”—nature, that he is a grumpy old man, proves that the routine of reading does not make one a better person? To thus write off the whole endeavor as merely a pleasurable exercise seems wholly precipitous, even ignorant. (Though, of course...
...simpler search box and expanded data breadth, according to Tracey D. Robinson, head of the Office for Information Systems in the University Library. The new version of the Harvard Online Library Information System—commonly known as HOLLIS—displays a color-coded “word cloud” that offers links to related search terms and a column that allows searchers to refine searches based on topic, format, language, and genre. “The Web search arena has been experiencing major changes,” said Robinson of the need for the modifications...
...space. We wanted the audience to feel the essence of the story,” says Odelia S. Younge ’11, one of the producers for the show. “It’s such a simple production; it’s really all in the words of the script. The stories speak for themselves. The play has a lot of power in that it is so simple.”Constructed from real interviews, case files, and public records, “The Exonerated” clearly explores the appalling consequences of false accusation. It appeals...
...Thermals and those bands is that feedback was less a symbiote than the sound of growing pains. By the band’s second album, “Fucking A,” the outfit was tighter, the choruses were clearer, and most importantly, you could hear every pseudoliterate word leader Hutch Harris had to wail about. Lyrics painted a vague portrait of self-righteous rage and apocalyptic rebellion; Harris’s was the language of inarticulate teen angst projected on a romantically nihilistic worldview. They could be embarrassing—and, to be sure, sometimes downright stupid?...