jdn1 New York 2

 *jdn 1. New York 2

 

New York has been familiar to your grandfather since his adolescence

through the novels of O Henry and Washington Irving  whom he loved. 

So was to him Manhatten andBrooklin in the city ,

the  stages of the novels by the former writer

And he visited the city in his fifties for the first time. 

 

 

그 도시의 허드슨강 강류의

캐츠킬 산이나 맨허탄의 매디슨 스퀘어, 그리니치빌리지 등은 내 귀에 익은 지명들이고,

립판윙클이나 오 헨리 소설 속의 건달 소피나 베어먼 영감 등은 내게 친숙한 이름들이다.

 뉴욕 타임즈 신문사가 위치하고잇는 타임스퀘어 주변이나 센트랄 파크는 비교적

오래전부터 내가 상상으로 기웃거린 곳들이다. 내가 읽은 글속의 지명들이기 때문이다.

 

이 도시 외곽의 캐츠킬 산이 청년기 이래 내 마음을 사로잡은 것은 워싱턴 어빙의 소설

립반윙클로 인해서 이다. 그 산속엔 어떤 난쟁이 고산족들이 살고있으며,

그들은 외지인들이 마시면 수십년이나 잠드는 신비로운 술을 마신다는

어빙의 이야기에 일찍부터 그 곳에 마음이 쏠려 있었다.

 

그 이야기는 요약하면 이렇다:

New York as a starting point

Deep song on page 56:

New York City long before me was a familiar Cam4 there. As Hudson River in the city of bran granulated

Madison Square Catskill mountains or vanity top, Greenwich Village, etc. deulyigo my familiar nomination,

Rippan Wrinkle fictional gangster or O. Henry, Sophie and bear such a distant inspiration to me are the familiar names.

 The New York Times newspaper is located near Times Square and Central Park connects a relatively

I wandered for a long time are the place to imagine throw away.

The Catskill mountains in the outskirts of the city caught my heart of Washington Irving story

Wrinkle is due to ripban. Hill tribes in the mountains yen dwarf felt that their lives,

They drink alcohol mysterious outsiders have taken decades or fall asleep when you are drunk

Early on in the story of Irving, where he was the heart ssolryeo.

One piece of the story?

The story yireotda summary:

 

이야기속의 인물 립반윙클은 어느날 소일삼아 자신의 개 울프를 앞세우고 캣츠길 산에 오른다.

산속 어던ㄱ가 높은 곳에서 들려오는 이상한 드럼소리에 이끌려 걸음을 점점 더 높이 오른다.

급기야 그림이 아래에 머무는 산 정상에 올라 그 곳의 한 곳에서 이상한 난쟁이들이 술마시며

춤추는 장면을 몰래 지켜보게 된다.

Wrinkle is a one day story figures ripban soil Sanya apsewoogo his dog Wolf mountain road climbs to the Cats.

B eodeon coming from the high mountains climb higher up the pace gradually led to a strange drums.

Finally figure this strange dwarf in one of the places they stay up on the mountain top under drinking

It is secretly watching to see the dancing scene. //

 

Rip Van Winkle

Like many of Washington Irving's other famous stories, 'Rip Van Winkle' was inspired by German folklore. The general plot of the story, a man who mysteriously sleeps for 20 years to find himself in a changed world, is easy enough even for children to understand, which is probably why its story line has often been adapted in other works and forms of entertainment. Even my personal first encounter with the story was an old Pac Man cartoon version called 'Pac Van Winkle.' And there's a reason this story is still so fun to read. It has all the fixings of a great story: a nagging wife, dogs, guns, ghosts, liquor and of course, long, gray beards.

Characters

Rip Van Winkle is depicted as a henpecked husband.

The story starts before the American Revolution, when King George is ruling the colonies. Right away, Irving explains that Rip is a pretty good man. He is friendly, and people in town tend to like him. If someone needs an extra hand, Rip is always ready to lend one. He is often flocked by children and has a loyal dog companion named Wolf.

Rip's problem, we quickly learn, is that he isn't terribly motivated to do much work around his house or even enough to really take care of his family. As a result, his wife Dame Van Winkle, isn't exactly his biggest fan. Here, Irving paints Rip as the henpecked husband, a man who is constantly being nagged by his wife.

Rip's Twenty-Year Sleep

In order to escape his wife's constant harassment one autumn day, Rip decides to go out into the Kaatskill Mountains with his dog. He takes his gun and heads out for some peace. once he's secluded, he hears someone calling his name and sees a man wearing old Dutch clothing carrying a keg. Yes, a keg. The poor guy obviously needs some help, so without saying anything, Rip helps the guy carry his keg to an amphitheater in the woods. Here he finds more men dressed in old Dutch frocks playing a game of skittles, or nine-pins, which is like bowling. The racket of the game makes a thunderous sound, and no one is speaking, so Rip says nothing and begins to drink some of the liquor from the keg. Next thing you know, he's getting a bit drowsy.

Rip awakes in the morning to find that his dog is gone, his gun is rusted and he's had an abnormal amount of beard-growth over night. He remembers the men playing nine-pins and is worried about Dame Van Winkle's reaction to his late return.

But when he enters town, things are different. There is a picture of George Washington at the inn, and all of the townspeople look different. After pledging his loyalty to the King (which doesn't go over so well in the post-Revolution state) and meeting another man by the name of Rip Van Winkle (who turns out to be his son), Rip is assisted by the crowd that has since grown around him and learns that he has been missing for 20 years. He is also told of the legend that Henry Hudson and his ghosts revisit the Hudson Valley every 20 years and many believe that Rip has been away with Hudson and his men in that time.

It is then decided that Rip will live with his now-grown daughter and continue to live the life that he lived before, only he has escaped having to face a war and even worse, his hen-pecking wife.

Analysis: Romantic Characteristics

Before any reader can really enjoy this story, they have to buy into the idea that a man can sleep for 20 years - and through a war at that. The Romantic element of the supernatural is the basic essence of this story; without it, there is nothing to tell. once we buy into the idea that Rip does sleep for 20 years, we can look at other mystical elements. The presence of what seems to be the Hudson clan playing nine-pins provides us with ghosts, a sleeping potion and one seriously awkward party. We can also see that the tale alone of Hudson's return every 20 years is in-and-of-itself supernatural - if we choose to believe it.

Mann's real masterpiece is his sprawling snowbound epic of 1924, The Magic Mountain. Set in a tuberculosis sanatorium during the years immediately prior to the Great War, this book is many things: a modernist classic, a traditional bildungsroman, a comedy of manners, an allegory of pre-war bourgeois Europe, and – perhaps most importantly this time of year – the ideal book to keep you company on the long winter nights, when whichever flu bug is doing the rounds has gained the upper hand and forced you into a sneezing retreat to your sickbed.

Magic Mountain

When Castorp finds the patient who keeps irritating him by slamming doors in the dining hall, he is surprised at her attractiveness and, above all, by her slanted eyes, protruding cheek bones, and the delicate, girlish hand that pats her hair: "A vague memory of something, of somebody, stirred him slightly and fleetingly as he looked." Clavdia Chauchat's Asiatic features captivate him. Little does Hans know that from now on his life is going to be increasingly influenced by her presence. The fact that she is Russian and returns to the Caucasus every once in a while to visit her husband accounts for her sloppy behavior, an indication of her pronounced passivity, sensuality, and irrationality in Mann's "system" of ethnic characteristics.

The strange fascination Clavdia Chauchat exerts on Castorp leads to the latter's mounting confusion. Her effect on him is such that at one point he cannot even muster up enough strength to look at the blood he coughed up — a clear symbol of the decay she spreads. Clavdia is like a scintillating and pungent carnivorous plant, enticing her prey by dulling its senses rather than by striking out herself. She is not even aware of her devastating influence on Castorp, this fact underlines her passivity. The implications of her sensual and irrational character are eminently political, as are the Russian couple who keeps offending Castorp by promiscuously giggling and panting in the room next to his. Feeling and irrationality (in the form of passivity and tyranny) are "Eastern" characteristics; submissiveness and hierarchial order their political ｅxpression.

For The Magic Mountain is a work of sick-lit par excellence: a novel that convincingly portrays illness as a state of mind as well as of body (though Mann does not shy away from the more visceral aspects of the latter). This is a novel mystifyingly overlooked by Virginia Woolf in her 1926 essay On Being Ill, in which she bemoans literature's failure to make illness one of its "prime themes" alongside "love and battle and jealousy." Well, here illness is decidedly centre-stage, and the plot – what there is of it – almost incidental: Hans Castorp, a naive young engineer, travels to the International Sanatorium Berghof high up in the Swiss Alps to visit his ailing cousin, Joachim Ziemssen. What was intended as a stay of a few weeks stretches into months, and then years, as Hans himself is diagnosed tubercular and dutifully takes his place among the cast of coughing consumptives. There is a chilling ambiguity as to just how much of Hans's illness is genuine and how much the result of "going native". Indeed, Hans positively revels in his status as one of the "horizontal":

Hans Castorp stayed out on his balcony, looking down on the bewitched valley until late into the night… His splendid lounge chair with its three cushions and neck roll had been pulled up close to the wooden railing, topped along its full length by a little pillow of snow; on the white table at his side stood a lighted electric lamp, a pile of books, and a glass of creamy milk, the "evening milk" that was served to all the residents of the Berghof in their rooms each night and into which Hans Castorp would pour a shot of cognac to make it more palatable.

Ensconced in his lounge chair, miles away from the cut and thrust of life on the "flat lands", Hans finds himself questioning long-held notions of honour and mortality. Up here, the snow is "eternal", and time itself becomes slippery and can no longer be trusted to behave as one would expect. This is indeed another world: of never-ending soup and ritualised – almost fetishised – thermometer readings; of rest cures and lectures on love-as-a-disease; of petty rivalries and giddy flirtations (after all, these are individuals "feverish, with accelerated metabolism"); where death is the elephant in every room and only ever happens "behind the scenes". This gives the novel a lovely feeling of the sublime and the uncanny. Indeed, at times it almost slips into the realms of the supernatural. An x-ray machine, a visit to the cinema and a gramophone player are all treated with suspicious wonder; a central chapter, entitled "Snow", concerns its 50-odd pages with Hans's near-fatal expedition into the snowy wasteland surrounding the sanatorium, an expedition that culminates in a horrific hallucination which could have come straight out of the pages of HP Lovecraft. There is even a séance scene. (And I assume we're all in agreement here that any self-respecting Winter Read should have at least one séance scene?) All the while, unbeknownst to the inhabitants of the clinic, Europe inches towards a war that will destroy this rarefied way of life for ever.

If this all sounds a little grim, it is worth reiterating that The Magic Mountain is essentially a comic novel – albeit a comic novel dealing with the darkest of subjects. The entire work is suffused with a sly and gentle humour, making it an absolute delight to read. And, if you want to make the experience more delightful still, be sure to invest in the superior John E Woods translation, published – in hardback only, unfortunately – by Everyman's Library. What it loses in the beautiful cover artwork of the paperback it gains in lucid prose-style and readability. A book I return to every couple of years, The Magic Mountain is simply one of the greatest novels ever written. And an essential purchase for every sickbed this winter…

---

 

 

Summary

At the age of thirty, Zarathustra goes into the wilderness and so enjoys his spirit and his solitude there that he stays for ten years. Finally, he decides to return among people, and share with them his over-brimming wisdom. Like the setting sun, he must descend from the mountain and "go under."

On his way, he encounters a saint living alone in the forest. This saint once loved mankind, but grew sick of their imperfections and now loves only God. He tells Zarathustra that mankind doesn't need the gift he brings, but rather help: they need someone to lighten their load and give them alms. Taking his leave of the saint, Zarathustra registers with surprise that the old man has not heard that "God is dead!"

Upon arriving in the town, Zarathustra begins to preach, proclaiming the overman. Man is a rope between beast and overman and must be overcome. The way across is dangerous, but it must not be abandoned for otherworldly hopes. Zarathustra urges the people to remain faithful to this world and this life, and to feel contempt for their all-too-human happiness, reason, virtue, justice, and pity. All this will prepare the way for the overman, who will be the meaning of the earth.

On hearing this, the people laugh at Zarathustra. Zarathustra suggests that while it is still possible to breed the overman, humanity is becoming increasingly tame and domesticated, and will soon be able to breed only the last man. The last men will be all alike, like herd animals, enjoying simple pleasures and mediocrity, afraid of anything too dangerous or extreme. Zarathustra says, "'We have invented happiness,' say the last men, and they blink." The people cheer, and ask Zarathustra to turn them into these last men.

Just then, a tightrope walker begins walking between two towers in the town. A jester comes out behind him, following him, and mocking him for being so awkward and moving so slowly. Suddenly, the jester jumps right over the tightrope walker, upsetting him and making him fall to the ground. Zarathustra approaches the dying man, and allays his fear of damnation by explaining that there is no devil and no hell. But then, the tightrope walker suggests that his life has been meaningless and that he has been a mere beast. Not at all, Zarathustra suggests to the dying man: "You have made danger your vocation; there is nothing contemptible in that."

That night, Zarathustra leaves town with the dead tightrope walker to bury him in the countryside. A poor day of fishing, he muses metaphorically: he has caught no men, but only a corpse. on his way out, the jester approaches him and warns him to leave. The jester says that Zarathustra is disliked here by the good and the just, and by the believers in the true faith. only because Zarathustra isn't taken seriously is he allowed to live.//

A Dissertation Upon Roast Pig is a collection of food-related essays from the early 19th century, with a humorous bent. They're but a few pages each - a light read to bring a smile to your face, then on to the next little foodie treat.

Charles Lamb's writing is playful and amusing. He'll have you chuckling away at his creation myth for the titular roast pig, then set your mouth watering with an enticing description of its succulence. It's not quite all-out food porn, but I would quite like some crackling, even though I'm full right now. Food might be the broad umbrella under which all his essays find themselves, but there's nothing samey about any of the offerings, whether it be the hungry chimney sweeps, metaphors of London fogs as food, or a pun-heavy conceit of the days of the year all coming to a feast.

The only possible criticism is one that often applies to collections of essays or short stories: that it's all very well done and a pleasant read, but it's never quite substantial enough to really get your teeth into. Each piece does everything they set out to do - they're clever, engaging and evocative - but they're not so roaringly funny that you'll grab the nearest person and insist they read it, or delve into deep deep food fantasies. There's a sense of Very good. Next? Wonderful as a light snack, but lacking slightly as a main meal.

Beyond the format (and that's not something that you'd want to change anyway), there's nothing to knock in 'A Dissertation Upon Roast Pig. It speaks to a modern audience as much as it did to its 19th century audience. Such is the quality of the writing that there's little to date it; it's as sparkling as it ever was. Timeless humour is particularly difficult to achieve, and this is greatly to Lamb's credit.

If you're looking for a high quality yet relaxed read, with humour and food woven together, then A Dissertation Upon Roast Pig is an excellent choice. You might not head back for leftovers the next day, but that's by no means the end of the world. Warmly recommended.

My thanks to the publishers for sending it to Bookbag