His moving and personal meditation on fatherhood is split into two stylistically separate sections. In the first, Auster reflects on the memories of his father who was a distant, undemonstrative, and cold man who died an untimely death. As he sifts through his Father’s things, Auster uncovers a sixty-year-old murder mystery that sheds light on his father’s elusive character. In the second section, the perspective shifts and Auster begins to reflect on his own identity as a father by adopting the voice of a narrator, “A.” Through a mosaic of images, coincidences, and associations “A,” contemplates his separation from his son, his dying grandfather, turning the story into a self-conscious reflection on the process of writing.

    Drawing on the stories and novels of writers from around the globe—Borges, Bierce, Céline, Cortázar, Faulkner, Kafka, Robbe-Grillet—he lays bare the inner workings of fiction, all the while urging young novelists not to lose touch with the elemental urge to create. Conversational, eloquent, and effortlessly erudite, this little book is destined to be read and re-read by young writers, old writers, would-be writers, and all those with a stake in the world of letters.

    This is a moving portrait of an enigmatic genius, replete with deep insight into Borges and the writers he most admired.Alberto Manguel is an internationally acclaimed anthologist, translator, essayist, novelist and editor, and is the author of several award-winning books including A Dictionary of Imaginary Places and A History of Reading.He was born in Buenos Aires, became a Canadian citizen in 1982 and now lives in France, where he was named Officier de l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres.

    ترجم الكتاب إلى العديد من اللغات العالمية.واسم الكتاب كاملاً طوق الحمامة في الألفة والأُلاف. ويحتوي الكتاب على مجموعة من أخبار وأشعار وقصص المحبين، ويتناول الكتاب بالبحث والدَّرس عاطفة الحب الإنسانية على قاعدة تعتمد على شيء من التحليل النفسي من خلال الملاحظة والتجربة. فيعالج ابن حزم في أسلوب قصصي هذه العاطفة من منظور إنساني تحليلي. والكتاب يُعد عملاً فريدًا في بابه.Ibn Hazm's Tawq al-Hamama ('The Ring of the Dove')The famous Arabic book on love and lovers, Tawq al-hamâma ('the Ring of the Dove'), is a splendid witness to the high age of Islamic culture in Spain. The book was written in or around 1022 CE in Játiva, south of Valencia, by Abu Muhammad `Ali Ibn Hazm al-Andalusi (Córdoba, 994-1064 CE). It is a youth work by this famous Andalusian poet, philosopher, jurist and scholar of comparative religion.In thirty chapters Ibn Hazm treats thirty moments or personages that are of relevance to love relationships, such as the signs of love, love at first sight, amorous allusions, correpondence between lovers, the messenger between the lovers, being together, fidelity and unfidelity, separation, death. Ibn Hazm alternates from theoritical observations to anecdotes of daily life and he ornates his essays with an abundance of appropriate poetry. The anecdotes are often very peronal and they give the reader a enthralling view on life and love in Islamic Córdoba. All poetry in the Ring of the Dove is Ibn Hazm's own.The Ring of the Dove has been preserved in only one manuscript, which is, since 1665, part of the Oriental collections of Leiden University Library (where it is registered as Or. 927). It was copied in 1338 CE, most probably in Egypt or Syria, from an original that is now lost. The manuscript was first acquired in Istanbul in the middle of the 17th century by the learned and bibliophile Dutch ambassador to the Sublime Porte, Levinus Warner (1619-1665). After his death his entire collection of books and manuscripts came to Leiden.The first edition of the Arabic text was made by the Russian D.K. Pétrof and was published in Leiden in 1914. Before that R.P.A. Dozy (1820-1883) had already published several fragments. All later editions and the numerous translations of the book are directly, or, mostly, indirectly based on the Leiden manuscript. Together they are proof to the fact that Ibn Hazm in his book on love and lovers treats themes that are for all humans in all times.

    He opens a window on his private life, from his boyhood dislike of school to his daughter’s precocious melancholy, from his successful struggle to quit smoking to his anxiety at the prospect of testifying against some clumsy muggers who fell upon him during a visit to New York City. From ordinary obligations such as applying for a passport or sharing a holiday meal with relatives, he takes extraordinary flights of imagination; in extreme moments, such as the terrifying days following a cataclysmic earthquake in Istanbul, he lays bare our most basic hopes and fears. Again and again Pamuk declares his faith in fiction, engaging the work of such predecessors as Laurence Sterne and Fyodor Dostoyevsky, sharing fragments from his notebooks, and commenting on his own novels. He contemplates his mysterious compulsion to sit alone at a desk and dream, always returning to the rich deliverance that is reading and writing.By turns witty, moving, playful, and provocative, Other Colors glows with the energy of a master at work and gives us the world through his eyes, assigning every radiant theme and shifting mood its precise shade in the spectrum of significance.

    Borges's writings are models of succinct power; by temperament and by artistic ambition, he was a minimalist, given to working his wonders on the smallest scale possible. A master of fiction, Borges never published a novel -- or even, it seems, felt the lure of attempting one. He professed a heartfelt conservative piety for the older literary forms, for the saga and epic, the lyric and tale, but he made radically inventive uses of the traditional forms in his own literary labors.Borges possessed an uncommon complement of gifts. He was capable of launching startling, even unnerving flights of cerebral fantasy or metaphor but owned a first-rate mind and a critical intelligence entirely at ease with the metaphysical abstractions of the philosophers and theologians. All the same, in his intellectual bearing Borges was a skeptic, critical of but not disparaging or cynical toward the truth claims of systematic philosophical or religious thought. He was at once a genuine artist and a judicious, sympathetic critic.The posthumous publication of This Craft of Verse, Borges's 1967 Norton Lectures, reacquaints us with his splendid critical faculties. The volume is a welcome gift, too, reminding us of Borges's generous insistence on identifying with his fellow readers, who are ever ready to be transported by their love for literature. (Harvard University Press scheduled release of the remastered recordings for the fall of 2000.) Enough cause, then, to celebrate the recent discovery of these long-stored and forgotten tape recordings of lectures delivered at Cambridge more than three decades ago. By the late 1960s, Borges was quite blind and incapable of consulting notes when delivering an address. The lectures transcribed and collected here -- with their frequent quotations from the European languages, both ancient and modern -- were delivered extemporaneously, performances made possible by Borges's own powers of recollection (which were, it need hardly be said, formidable).In life and in literary manner Borges was a cosmopolitan, his range of reference almost inexhaustibly wide. His reading embraced Homer and Virgil, the Icelandic sagas and Beowulf, Chaucer and Milton, Rabelais and Cervantes, Kafka and Joyce. This Craft of Verse addresses issues central to the art of poetry: essential metaphors, epic poetry, the origins of verse, and poetic meaning. The lectures conclude with a statement of Borges's own "poetic creed." This slim but profound volume, however, ranges much farther afield. Borges serves up intriguing asides on the novel, on literary criticism and history, and on theories of translation. Ultimately, his comments touch on the largest questions raised by literature and language and the thornier puzzles of human communication.The lectures convey Borges's evident delight in English and his eloquence and ease in the language, even when facing a distinguished audience of native English speakers. But perhaps that is not so surprising, after all, for Borges carried on a lifelong love affair with the English language and the literatures of the British Isles and North America. His parents, who were fluent in English, introduced Borges to the language when he was a young boy, and Borges was allowed the run of his father's extensive library of English classics. Among the bookshelves of his father's study he first encountered authors he would admiringly cite over a long literary life: Wells and Kipling and Chesterton and Shaw, to name only a few. And the study of Old English became a hobby to which Borges remained passionately devoted until his death. The English language he counted as his second (and perhaps even preferred) home.Since the 1960s, when the then relatively obscure Buenos Aires writer was first introduced to English-speaking readers in translations of the classic Ficciones and the anthology Labyrinths, it has been apparent that Borges survives the ordeal of translation without obvious loss. His power remains intact on the page. This he owes to the virtues of his prose style, to the elegant simplicity and naturalness that, as the transcribed Norton Lectures demonstrate, were indistinguishable from the man. Borges's style is classical: concise, understated, cleanly cadenced, strict in its devotion to the old-fashioned values of clarity and logical order. Whether in his native Spanish or in his adopted English, Borges is a writer and lecturer who impresses us with his singular intellectual wit, charm, and refinement.This Craft of Verse makes an exquisite addition to a distinguished series and offers, moreover, invaluable insights into the mind and work of a true modern master. Between its covers, this small book holds the pleasures of the modest, warm voice of a writer who stands unquestionably with the strongest literary talents of the 20th century.--Gregory Tietjen, Academic & Scholarly Editor

    A book of aphorisms, poems, and parables by the author of "The Prophet" - a philosopher at his window commenting on the scene passing below.

     After the birth of her first child in 2006, Turkish writer Elif Shafek suffered from postpartum depression that triggered a profound personal crisis. Infused with guilt, anxiety, and bewilderment about whether she could ever be a good mother, Shafak stopped writing and lost her faith in words altogether. In this elegantly written memoir, she retraces her journey from free-spirited, nomadic artist to dedicated but emotionally wrought mother. Identifying a constantly bickering harem of women who live inside of her, each with her own characteristics--the cynical intellectual, the goal-oriented go-getter, the practical-rational, the spiritual, the maternal, and the lustful--she craves harmony, or at least a unifying identity. As she intersperses her own experience with the lives of prominent authors such as Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Alice Walker, Ayn Rand, and Zelda Fitzgerald, Shafak looks for a solution to the inherent conflict between artistic creation and responsible parenting. With searing emotional honesty and an incisive examination of cultural mores within patriarchal societies, Shafak has rendered an important work about literature, motherhood, and spiritual well-being.

    Two of the stories—later revised for What We Talk About When We Talk About Love—are particularly notable in that between the first and the final versions, we see clearly the astounding process of Carver’s literary development.

    Kafka's Czech translator, she was uniquely able to recognize his complex genius and his even more complex character. For the thirty-six-year-old Kafka, she was "a living fire, such as I have never seen." It was to her that he revealed his most intimate self. It was to her that, after the end of the affair, he entrusted the safekeeping of his diaries.Newly translated, revised, and expanded, this edition contains material previously omitted because of its extreme sensitivity. Also included for the first time are letters and essays by Milena Jesenská, herself a talented writer as well as the recipient of these documents of Kafka's love, anxiety, and despair.

    By the time she was at Smith College, when this book begins, she had settled into a nearly daily routine with her journal, which was also a sourcebook for her writing. Plath once called her journal her “Sargasso,” her repository of imagination, “a litany of dreams, directives, and imperatives,” and in fact these pages contain the germs of most of her work. Plath’s ambitions as a writer were urgent and ultimately all-consuming, requiring of her a heat, a fantastic chaos, even a violence that burned straight through her. The intensity of this struggle is rendered in her journal with an unsparing clarity, revealing both the frequent desperation of her situation and the bravery with which she faced down her demons. Written in electrifying prose, The Journals of Sylvia Plath provide unique insight, and are essential reading for all those who have been moved and fascinated by Plath’s life and work.

    Underneath her mother's gentility and her father's roguish charm lay horrifying secrets, which eventually led to their only child's near destruction. The first time her father made an improper advance on Toni, she was six years old. When she finally built up the courage to tell her mother what had happened, her mother told her never to speak of the matter again. When the assaults grew worse her father warned her not to tell her mother, or anyone else, because they would blame her and wouldn't love her any more. It had to remain 'our secret.' At fourteen Toni fell pregnant by her father and for the first time shared her terrible secret. But just as her father predicted, everyone blamed her. Although he was eventually sent to prison, Toni continued to suffer, almost dying from a botched late abortion. She found herself judged and rejected by her family, teachers and friends, forced into a world of depression and madness with only herself to rely on if she ever hoped to build a happy life.

    The Curtain is a seven-part essay by Milan Kundera, along with The Art of the Novel and Testaments Betrayed composing a type of trilogy of book-length essays on the European novel.

    Now I am about to go to Ticino once again, to live for a while as a hermit in nature and in my work." In 1920, after settling in the Ticino mountain village of Montagnola, he published Wandering, a love letter to this magic-garden world that can be read as a meditation on his attempt to begin a new life. His pure prose, his heartfelt lyricism, and his love for the old earth, for its blessings that renew themselves, all sing in this serene book. The first German edition of Wandering included facsimiles of fourteen watercolor landscapes. Hesse's painting had blossomed in the southern countryside and he even toyed with the idea "that I might still succeed in escaping literature entirely and making a living at the more appealing trade of painter." Unfortunately, his original pictures for Wandering have disappeared; this edition reproduces in black-and-white the full-color reproductions of the 1920 edition.

    V. Belov and V. A. Tunimanov. They have carried Grossman’s work further by rearranging the manuscript into twelve broad chapters in chronological sequence, corresponding to the most important periods in the life of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s family. This necessitated some transposition of material to where it chronologically belonged, as well as the elimination of certain redundant episodes left in the Grossman edition. Belov and Tunimanov also added, as a first chapter, Anna Grigoryevna’s description of her childhood and youth and the milieu in which her extraordinary character was formed. In the book’s last chapter, “After Dostoevsky’s Death,” they retained Anna Grigoryevna’s “Answer to Strakhov” and added to it her description of her only meeting with Leo Tolstoy, not included in the Grossman edition. To this chapter the translator of the present edition has also restored the brief section “Memoirists,” omitted from the second Russian edition.