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Loading... Twenty-eight Artists and Two Saints: Essaysby Joan Acocella
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will love Sign up for LibraryThing to find out whether you'll like this book. To be honest, it was a little over my head. ( )From the flaps of the book: Acocella is a staff writer for The New Yorker, where she covers dance and books. She is one of our most admired cultural critics, a marvelous, canny writer. …thirty-one essays on some of the most influential artists of our times—writers, dancers, choreographers, sculptors, and two saints. From the chapter Quicksand on the author Stefan Zweig who wrote the novel Beware of Pity: In an epigraph to the book, Zweig writes that there are two kinds of pity: One, the weak and sentimental kind, which is really no more than the heart’s impatience to be rid as quickly as possible of the painful emotion aroused by the sight of another’s unhappiness…; and the other, the only kind that counts, the unsentimental but creative kind, which knows what it is about and is determined to hold out, in patience and forbearance, to the very limit of its strength and even beyond. Joan Acocella writes that “Zweig gives us a piercing analysis of the motives underlying pity… He enjoys the courtesies paid to him for his emotional services… Nor is it lost on him that his own sense of strength is magnified by Edith’s weakness and by his growing power over the family… Beyond the matter of power, however, he finds that the emotion of pity is a pleasure just in itself. It exalts him, takes him to a new place. Now he is a moral being, a soul.” In the novel Beware of Pity, Hofmiller is the husband who has married Edith who is crippled. Joan Acocella writes, “Zweig’s stories are in some measure case histories, textbook portraits of neurosis, Hofmiller’s indecision and Edith’s guilt-wielding being prime examples. To my mind, however, Edith’s character—her unlovability, even as she needs and demands to be loved—is a wonderfully bold stroke, opening up whole caverns of psychological meaning. The world’s wounded ‘desire with a more passionate, far more dangerous avidity than the happy,’ Hofmiller says. ‘They love with a fanatical, a baleful, a black love.’” 0.035 seconds to build listing no reviews | add a review
Amazon.com Product Description (ISBN 0375424164, Hardcover)From one of our most admired cultural critics (“A marvelous, canny writer”––Terry Castle, London Review of Books), thirty-one essays on some of the most influential artists of our time––writers, dancers, choreographers, sculptors––and two saints of all time, Joan of Arc and Mary Magdalene. Among the people discussed: Italo Svevo, Stefan Zweig, Simone de Beauvoir, Marguerite Yourcenar, Joseph Roth, Vaslav Nijinsky, Lincoln Kirstein, Jerome Robbins, Martha Graham, Bob Fosse, H. L. Mencken, Dorothy Parker, Susan Sontag, and Philip Roth.What unites the book is Acocella’s interest in the making of art and in the courage, perseverance, and, sometimes, dumb luck that it requires. Here is Acocella on Primo Levi, a chemist who, after the Nazis failed to kill him, wrote Survival in Auschwitz, the noblest of the camp memoirs, and followed it with twelve more books . . . Hilary Mantel, the aspiring young lawyer stuck on a couch with a chronic and debilitating illness, who asked herself, “What can one do on a couch?” (well, one could write) and went on to become one of England’s premier novelists . . . M. F. K. Fisher, who, numb with grief over her husband’s suicide, dictated to her sister the witty and classic How to Cook a Wolf . . . Marguerite Yourcenar, the victim of a ten-year writer’s block, who found in an old trunk a draft of a forgotten novel and finished the book: Memoirs of Hadrian . . . George Balanchine, who, after losing his family at age nine, survived the Russian Revolution, escaped from the Soviet Union at twenty, was for five years house choreographer for Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes, came to the United States with the promise that he could set up a ballet company, and had to wait another fifteen years before being able to establish his extraordinary New York City Ballet . . . And Acocella on Mary Magdalene and Joan of Arc reminds us that saints in the service of their visions–like artists in the creation of their art–draw power from the very blows of fortune that might be expected to defeat them. (retrieved from Amazon Fri, 24 Apr 2009 07:58:24 -0400) The first test round has been closed. Visit the Open Shelves Classification group for details. |
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