/lit/ - Literature

>>12413993
I can't possibly believe Sartre was this based, this is a fake quote, right?

To The Nutcase

I don’t read much; I don’t have the time. So many years already lost in so much foolishness and prison! But people press me, abjure me, badger me. I must, it appears, read a kind of article, the “Portrait of an Anti-Semite’ by Jean-Baptiste Sartre (Temps Modernes, December 1945). I browse through this long homework assignment, glance at it, it’s neither good nor bad, it’s nothing at all, a pastiche...a kind of “Copycatwriters”... ....This little J.B.S. read “L’Étourdi,” “The Tulip Lover,” etc. He was caught up in them and can’t escape...Still in high school, this J.B.S.! Still with his pastiches, with his “copycatworks”... Céline’s style too... and many others...“Whores” etc... “Replacement heads”... “Maya.”.. Nothing too serious, of course. I have a few trailing behind my ass, these “Copycatwriters”... what can I do about it? Suffocating, hateful, half-baked, traitors, half-bloodsucker, half-tapeworm, they don’t do me any honor, I never speak of them, and that’s all. Children of the shadows. Decency! Oh, I don’t wish little J.B.S. any harm! There where he is his fate is cruel enough! Since we’re talking about a homework assignment I would give him a seven out of a possible twenty and let’s

not talk about it anymore... But on page 462 the little turd shocks me! The damned rotten asshole! What does he dare to write? “If Céline supported the socialist theses of the Nazis it’s because he was paid.” And I quote. Yes! This then is what this little dung-beetle wrote while I was in prison risking a hanging. Filthy little bastard full of shit, you come out from between my ass cheeks to soil me from outside! Cain anus ptooey! What are you hoping for? That they murder me! It’s obvious! Here! Let me squash you! Yes!... I see his photos, those bug eyes...that hook...that slobbering leech...he’s a cestode! What won’t he invent, this monster, so that they assassinate me! Barely out of my caca and he denounces me! What’s best is that on page 451 he has the venom to warn us: “A man who finds it natural to denounce men can’t have our notion of honor. He doesn’t even see those for whom he is a benefactor with our eyes; his generosity, his kindness is not like our kindness and generosity: it isn’t possible to localize passion.”

In my asshole where he can be found we can’t ask of J.B.S. too see clearly or to explain himself simply. J.B.S. it seems has nevertheless foreseen the solitude and obscurity of my anus...

>>12413993
>http://hiaw.org/defcon6/works/1862/letters/62_07_30a.html

The Jewish nigger Lassalle who, I’m glad to say, is leaving at the end of this week, has happily lost another 5,000 talers in an ill-judged speculation. The chap would sooner throw money down the drain than lend it to a ‘friend’, even though his interest and capital were guaranteed. In this he bases himself on the view that he ought to live the life of a Jewish baron, or Jew created a baron (no doubt by the countess). Just imagine! This fellow, knowing about the American affair, etc., and hence about the state of crisis I’m in, had the insolence to ask me whether I would be willing to hand over one of my daughters to la Hatzfeldt as a ‘companion’, and whether he himself should secure Gerstenberg’s (!) patronage for me! The fellow has wasted my time and, what is more, the dolt opined that, since I was not engaged upon any ‘business’ just now, but merely upon a ‘theoretical work’, I might just as well kill time with him! In order to keep up certain dehors vis-à-vis the fellow, my wife had to put in pawn everything that wasn’t actually nailed or bolted down!

Had I not been in this appalling position and vexed by the way this parvenu flaunted his money bags, he’d have amused me tremendously. Since I last saw him a year ago, he’s gone quite mad. His head has been completely turned by his stay in Zurich (with Rüstow, Herwegh, etc.) and the subsequent trip to Italy and, after that, by his Herr Julian Schmidt, etc. He is now indisputably, not only the greatest scholar, the profoundest thinker, the most brilliant man of science, and so forth, but also and in addition, Don Juan cum revolutionary Cardinal Richelieu. Add to this, the incessant chatter in a high, falsetto voice, the unaesthetic, histrionic gestures, the dogmatic tone!

As a profound secret, he told me and my wife that he had advised Garibaldi not to make Rome the target of his attack but instead proceed to Naples, there set himself up as dictator (without affronting Victor Emmanuel), and call out the people’s army for a campaign against Austria. Lassalle had him conjure 300,000 men out of thin air — with whom, of course, the Piedmontese army joined forces. And then, in accordance with a plan approved, so he says, by Mr Rüstow, a detached corps was to make, or rather set sail, for the Adriatic coast (Dalmatia) and incite Hungary to revolt, while, heedless of the Quadrilateral, the main body of the army under Garibaldi marched from Padua to Vienna, where the population instantly rebelled. All over in 6 weeks. The fulcrum of the action — Lassalle’s political influence, or his pen, in Berlin. And Rüstow at the head of a corps of German volunteers attached to Garibaldi. Bonaparte, on the other hand, was paralysed by this Lassallean coup d’éclat.

>>12414021
what

>>12414020
No, it's real

>>12413993
:For Sartre Nothingness is the /cataract/ of /God's/ amblyopia of /being/:

>>12414023
he looks like the writer in Stalker

>Hans Mayer, the great German-Jewish literary critic, writes in his autobiography Ein Deutscher auf Widerruf how he visited Musil at his home in Switzerland during their emigration. It was 1940, and there was a widespread fear that the Nazis might invade also Switzerland. Musil couldn’t get into the USA, and Mayer was suggesting the relative obtainability of Colombian visas as a pis aller.
>'Musil', he wrote, ‘looked at me askance and said: "Stefan Zweig’s in South America." It wasn’t a bon mot. The great ironist wasn’t a witty conversationalist. He meant it… If Zweig was living in South America somewhere, that took care of the continent for Musil.’ (quoted by Michael Hofmann: Vermicular Dither, London Review of Books, 28. January 2010)

*

>In the third volume of his autobiography, Elias Canetti describes how he after completion of the manuscript of Die Blendung (Auto-da-fe) in 1931 sent it as a parcel with an accompanying letter to Thomas Mann, hoping that Mann would read it (and possibly recommend it to a publisher). Alas, the parcel came back unopened with a polite letter by Mann, telling the unpublished author that he was not able to read the book due to his work schedule (Mann was working on his multi-volume Joseph novel at that time). The disappointed Canetti put the manuscript aside for a long time, until Hermann Broch arranged a few readings for him in Vienna. One of them was also attended by Musil who allegedly said to Broch: “He reads better than myself.” (Not surprisingly, Canetti was an extremely gifted stage performer in the mould of Karl Kraus.)

>Later on, when the novel was finally published in 1935, Canetti wrote again to Mann, who now – four years later! – congratulated Canetti and wrote also very positively about the novel (which in all probability he hadn’t read except for a few pages). With this letter in his pocket and beaming with self-confidence Canetti was running into Musil one day when Musil brought it about himself to also congratulate Canetti. Not knowing about Musil’s strong antipathy regarding Thomas Mann, Canetti blurted out: “Thank you, also Thomas Mann praises my book!” – to which Musil answered with a short “So…”, turning around and ignoring Canetti for the rest of his life.

>When Sartre wrote “Being and Nothingness,” with a title echoing Heidegger’s monumental “Being and Time,” Heidegger wrote to its author, “Your work is dominated by an immediate understanding of my philosophy the likes of which I have not previously encountered.” What he said privately, according to the American scholar Hubert Dreyfus, was, “How can I even begin to read this Dreck!”

https://www.nytimes.com/2016/03/03/books/review-in-sarah-bakewells-at-the-existentialist-cafe-nothingness-has-a-certain-something.html

>“There are two ways of disliking poetry; one way is to dislike it, the other is to read Pope.”
--Wilde on Pope

>>12413993
Stupid tankie

>>12413993
Joyce on Pushkin
>"I cannot understand how you can be entertained by such simple fare-- tales which might have
amused one's boyhood, of soldiers, and camps, villains, gallant heroes, and horses galloping over
the wide open spaces, and tucked away in a suitable corner a beautiful maiden of about
seventeen years of age to be rescued at a suitable moment... The Captain's Daughter... there was
not a pin's worth of intellect in it... Tolstoy... did much the same thing but on a grander scale...
[Pushkin] lived like a boy, wrote like a boy, and died like a boy... [Captain's Daughter] good for
its period... people have become more complicated nowadays."

>>12413993
Once there was a man stuck to a nose,
it was a nose more marvellous than weird,
it was a nearly living web of tubes,
it was a swordfish with an awful beard,

it was a sundial doomed to face the shade,
an elephant that looked up to the sky,
it was a nose of hangman and of scribe,
Ovidius Naso nostrilled all awry,

it was the bowsprit of a mighty ship,
like Egypt's pyramid it pierced the sky,
it was of noses all of the twelve tribes;

it was in noseness truly infinite,
an archnose shudder, and a frightening mask,
a monstrous chilblain, purpley and fried.

Francisco Quevedo to Luis Góngora

>>12415640
Funnily enough when I watched what he said during his monologue in the sand room it is very much something Celine would say. Never researched the movie, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that character was based on Celine

>Borges on Joyce

>>12415617
This is really praise of the highest order. Dostoyevsky presented Hemingway with writing that functioned in a way beyond his comprehension. Hemingway quite obviously had his own idea about what "good" writing looked like. Dostoyevsky was writing according to opposite principles of those that Hemingway held, yet still achieved the same depth of feeling. Dostoyevsky's work challenged Hemingway's identity as a writer, and therefore (in Hemingway's case) his identity as a Man. It takes something truly miraculous to force someone to do that.

>>12413993
Fake quote

>>12415640
Funnily enough they’re both very similar

>>12415617
Hemingway didn’t read Russian, so he has no idea what he’s talking about here. And since he read Garnett, I think it speaks to her more than anything.

>>12413993
>I'm a stupid moron with an ugly face and a big butt and my butt smells and I like to kiss my own butt

camus quoting satre

>>12415656
That's a bit mean-spirited, isn't it, to shit on him in private like that.

>>12415693
B A S E D

>>12415758
stupid liberal

>>12417316
You’ve taken the translation meme to heart. In any language Dostoyevsky is long winded which to Hemingway meant poor writing, it has nothing to do with translation.

>>12414023
Ready pilled

>>12415847
this makes me feel better about never having gotten into Pushkin

>>12417486
As if I were a damn liberal

>>12417621
t. Tranny

>>12415617
James Salter, on an interaction between the virgin Hemingway and the Chad Irwin Shaw

>The night of nights when his son was born—not in Paris, as imagination for a moment might conceive, but far uptown in New York—he’d gone into “21” and encountered Hemingway, who had taken to calling him the Brooklyn Tolstoy. It was an unambiguous remark, a slur. Brooklyn meant Jewish. Hemingway had other, festering reasons for disliking Shaw, who’d had an affair with Hemingway’s fourth wife before their marriage and in fact had introduced them. A man whose habit, both in writing and life, was not to pass up an insult, Hemingway had reportedly been telling people that he was going to punch Shaw in the nose when he saw him. In “21” that night he was at a table with Harold Ross, the editor of The New Yorker. Shaw walked over. “I hear you’d like to punch me in the nose,” he said, omitting a prologue, “I’ll be waiting over at the bar.” Hemingway, who under various conditions had been known to be violent, stayed at the table.

>>12415758
Faggot

>>12417621
Faggot

Thomas Carlyle on Goethe makes me want to encounter great literary minds I can have intellectual intercourse with. He speaks of him like he’s recalling a time where he had sex with a 27 year old Egyptian model while on a boating expedition through the Mediterranean.

>>12413993
Based

Ungaretti on Quasimodo:"A parrot a clown"

>>12417799
Carlyle on Goethe sounds like a ton of fun. Anything in particular I should read?