Quality

Because there can never be any absolute standards for literary quality, all literature can only be judged subjectively. Nevertheless, there appear to be some literary standards that are agreed upon by many people. These could be collected and used as the prevailing criteria for judging literature. What would some of these prevailing standards be?

Awaiting Salinger's Comeback

I recently learned that J.D. Salinger is not dead. And all of this time in reclusion he has been working on various stories. What a day it will (would) be when (if) Salinger publishes all of the work he has been creating. Or else he could destroy it all before he dies (or else order it destroyed in his will). I hope he decides to share it with us all because I enjoy his stories very much.

Literature

Why do we make literature? John Fowles once wrote that he did not liked to be labeled as a writer because he did not believe that writing could be a career; it was more like breathing, a vital act which had to be done in order to live. Indeed, creating literature seems to be more of a primal impulse than a hobby or vocation. Everybody feels the need to express his or herself at least once in his or her life. Amen.

DIdo Dies

Oh, Dido! Why did you have to kill yourself? You were so beautiful. I would have married you since Aeneas would not. You and I would have brought Carthage glory and dominion over the Mediterranean. We would have ruled the world! Aeneas is now playing games with his comrades in Sicily. What a dick. At least you cursed him as he left. I'm sure the curse will come to fruition once he reaches Italy.

Evocation of Maternal Warmth

Mothers! Mothers!
Oh, my mothers!

I call you now from far away,
to show me how you lived and died,
to see your joy and hear your cries,
and most of all to empathize.

Sing through me my Muses!

I see you now, my country mother;
a gentle wind blows through your hair.
You sing sweet songs of County Cork,
amid the sound of sizzling pork.

I see you now, my česká matka.
You dance the polka; you drink good beer.
Your bosom shakes as laughter roars
from your stocky frame and sweaty pores.

I see you now, meine Mutter der Preuße;
your cold blue eyes they scan the sea
to glimpse that spark of green and white,
which often lights Atlantic flights.

I see you now, my ancient Ma,
with stardust on your night black skin.
You fed me sunshine from your breast
and warmed me into existence.

Praise be to you, all my mothers!
Praise be to you, sweet maternal warmth!

Away from your embrace, the cold
of darkness drains my heat into
the depths of Death And No Return.
You leaving me is my greatest concern.

So hold me, hold me tight! And keep
me from that creeping night that draws
me to its lifeless realm. Preserve
me, mothers; warm me with your embrace!


-Me

El Labertino

No habra nunca una puerta. Estas dentro
y el alcazar abarca el universo
y no tiene ni anverso ni reverso
ni externo muro ni secreto centro.

No esperes que el rigor de tu camino,
que tercamente se bifurca en otro,
que tercamente se bifurca en otro,
tendra fin. Es de hierro tu destino

como tu juez. No aguardes la embestida
del toro que es un hombre y cuya extrana
forma plural da horror a la marana
de interminable piedra entretejida.

No existe. Nada esperes. Ni siquiera
en el negro crepusculo la fiera.

-Jorge Luis Borges

(Sorry for the lack of tildas and accents; I do not know how to access them in Blogger.)

Book Two: The Fall of Troy

"They all fell silent, gazing at Father Aeneas . . ." Aeneas now tells us about the fall of Troy. In his narrative he frequently labels the Greeks as treacherous, sneaky, and conniving. This stereotypical thinking occurs throughout the history of humankind; sadly, it will never leave us! The infamous Trojan Horse makes its entrance into the story as the Trojans are tricked by Sinon into believing that if they destroy the horse, they will be destroyed, and of they spare it, they will be spared. Consequently, they move the horse inside the city walls. The Greeks make a surprise attack and the battle rages into the night: "Everywhere there was fear, and death in many forms."