Poet Mary Ruefle will be at the Hill Center tonight. You should go. I am. I wish they’d review more poetry, but I guess that I’ll settle for New York Times review of a poet’s memoir (Tracy Smith in this case; I heard her read and she’s very good). Okay, okay. I get it. This looks fun. #Bookface. Just… read the article I guess. Easier than my trying to explain it. You missed out on your chance to live in a… above ground hobbit hole? Flintstones cosplay re-enactment set? Move-in ready mushroom? This New Yorker article struck a chord with me, as someone who enjoys reading nineteenth century literature. I have mentioned a couple of times that I am reading from Richard Burton’s translation of The Arabian Nights and some of the racial language goes well beyond cringe-worthy. Of course, this article was written by someone of Turkish descent and I never even thought of how often ‘turk’ was used as a sort of insult or shorthand for someone or something brutish in nineteenth century literature So… food for thought. Who cares about the Paris Commune? This… just because I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff. Rate this:Share this:Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading...