Classical
The King is Naked
That the publishing world is not transparent, that the little fish are devoured by the big ones, that the good ones, if not famous for other reasons, have no chance to be published and known, that some writers produce bullshit but sell millions of copies thanks to hype, that literary cases are assembled at the desk, that books are directly commissioned by publishers to prominent personalities and then written by ghost writers, by now we all know and those who do not know are not the least familiar with this reality and still live, lucky them, in the world of dreams.
By Patrizia Poli4 years ago in Fiction
George MacDonald, "At the Back of the North Wind"
George MacDonald, known for his fairy tales and his fantastic novels, moved into that pre-Raphaelite atmosphere of which William Morris was a part and entered the context of acquaintances that included Mary Shelley, John Ruskin, Charles Dickens, William Thackeray , Mark Twain (whom he was friends with) and CS Lewis.
By Patrizia Poli4 years ago in Fiction
Pinocchio
The Florentine Carlo Lorenzini (1826–1890), better known to the public of adults and children with the name of Collodi, borrowed from his mother’s town, was a patriot of the wars of Independence but also a bookseller, reviewer, publisher. He translated French fairy tales, including Perrault’s famous ones.
By Patrizia Poli4 years ago in Fiction
Louisa May Alcott, "Little Women"
The region around Boston was simple and genuine countryside. “There,” says Cunliff, “the aspiring writer could live on very little, cultivating a piece of land to get what he needed for his livelihood […] and making an occasional trip to Boston to borrow books, or meeting with a publisher. […] it was in that circle of cultured and intimately connected communities, around Boston, that the phenomenon of transcendentalism appeared, an imprecise term hardly attributable to any of the most important figures of the time. “
By Patrizia Poli4 years ago in Fiction
Joining the Jungvolk
The day was bound to come. Ever since Franz had left, it seemed there had been a mental countdown of the days before young Ernst should be forced to leave home. Each year left to remain was a treasure, each moral discussion a memory for a lifetime. As his father had hoped, Ernst held true to everything that was taught him, while under his father’s roof.
By Erica Nicolay4 years ago in Fiction
Wuthering Heights
At the age of three, Emily Brontë had already lost her mother and was growing up in memory of her two missing little sisters, Maria and Elisabeth. Her aunt raised her, Charlotte, Anne and Patrick (called Branwell from her maternal surname) with Wesleyan methodism, in family reunions a common theme was the account of uplifting deaths. The father was Irish, the mother from Cornwall, more than English they were Celts, and this legacy of myths and folklore, combined with the wild nature in which they grew up, enhanced the imagination of the siblings.
By Patrizia Poli4 years ago in Fiction
Shall We Be Nobody?
Had he not ventured into the garden at such a late time of night, could he have avoided such a horrible luxuriance? What practical reason did he truly have to leave his quarters? Was it curiosity or boredom that influenced his exodus from the dull gray of his residence? Perhaps it was both. Such feelings were so mundane individually, but had they always been so cruel together? He pondered these things silently, though they somehow surpassed the volume of his weeping.
By Sadie Gibson4 years ago in Fiction
Cyclical price to pay
News anchor “Good morning Queenboro city, it's seven thirty in the morning, with a mix of sun and clouds. We have no updates about the search for the missing forest four. Law enforcement, parents and volunteers are still working hard to locate the missing students.”
By The Healer 4 years ago in Fiction
The Witch in the Woods
One – Meet the inhabitants This is the day that I kill that witch. I really need to do this assignment to avenge my cubs by taking out this murderous witch. The humans’ ambitions have been getting out of control for a while now; they’ve broken several treaties with the inhabitants over the years that allowed for us to have relative peace. We had an agreed upon commons that allowed for some movement through the forest, but the problems really started when we discovered things on our land that could be beneficial for the humans.
By Toussaint Osborne4 years ago in Fiction
