Jane Austen has been in the news a lot of late, and Salon explains “why a 200 year old author of only half a dozen nov­els” gets so much play and Newsweek tells us “why Austen and why now?” [Also, links to some of her works at the Online Lit­er­a­ture Net­work]

 

How do we know plas­tic bags take 500 years to break down in a land­fill? Juliet Lapi­dos explains (Slate Magazine).

Jun 272007
 

The Library of Amer­ica has recently released an anthol­ogy of Philip K. Dick’s work from the 60’s, and the Dave Itzkoff writes a gush­ing review of the book for the Times.

Jun 262007
 

Ars Tech­nica cov­ers the back­lash against Intel­li­gent Design in Europe. And (via Slash­dot), a British Gov­ern­ment announce­ment that Intel­li­gent Design has no place in science.

 

From the Time archives, we extract an old short story from peren­nial etcetera favorite Neal Stephen­son: The Great Simoleon Caper includes ele­ments that would later become a Stephen­son sta­ple — “encryp­tion, dig­i­tal cur­rency and dis­trib­uted republics”. [Related post]

 

A hilar­i­ous “digested” ver­sion of Tina Brown’s The Diana Chron­i­cles in the Guardian this week.

Jun 252007
 

A cou­ple of Haruki Murakami short sto­ries for today: New York Min­ing Dis­as­ter from his lat­est short story col­lec­tion (Blind Wil­low, Sleep­ing Woman), and On see­ing the 100% per­fect girl one beau­ti­ful April morn­ing from The Ele­phant Van­ishes, his first (and my favorite) col­lec­tion of short sto­ries. Read­ing Murakami’s short fic­tion is the clos­est one can get to read­ing poetry with­out actu­ally read­ing it.

Jun 252007
 

Jai Arjun Singh reviews Closely Watched Trains on Jab­ber­wock.

 

In a con­struc­tion project that will even­tu­ally reach across 2,050 miles, hun­dreds of rivers and long stretches of forests and fields, India has been qui­etly seal­ing itself off from Bangladesh, its much poorer neigh­bor. [India’s Bor­der Fence Encloses Bangladesh — Newsday.com]

 

A Woody Allen short story in the Tele­graph: “It is said Dos­toyevsky wrote for money to spon­sor his lust for the roulette tables of St Peters­burg. Faulkner and Fitzger­ald too leased their gifts to ex-schmatte moguls who stacked the Gar­den of Allah with scriven­ers brought west to spit­ball box-office rever­ies […]“

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