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editor
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 Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 11:59 am Post subject: PokerPulse Gambler's Guide to Children's Literature |
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| Quote: | WELCOME!
PokerPulse Gambler's Guide to Children's Literature |
| Quote: | ATTENTION ESL students: Kids' stories and poems - they're short, entertaining and they contain few of what Hemingway called 'five-dollar words.' It works for kids! Why not you, too? Yes, and DON'T MISS the PokerPulse Gambler's Guide to Poetry - the ultimate key to language in every culture!
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The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More
Hardcover
By British novelist Roald Dahl
| Quote: | Henry shut the front door and went back into his flt. All at once, he felt a powerful excitement stirring in his belly. He started pacing up and down, ticking off the points that would make his marvellous idea possible.
"One," he said, "I can get hold of a very large sum of money each day of my life.
"Two. I must not go to the same casino more than once every twelve months.
"Three. I must not win too much from any one casino or somebody will get suspicious. I suggest I keep it down to twenty thousand pounds a night.
"Four. Twenty thousand pounds a night for three hundred and sixty-five days in the year comes to how much?"
Henry took a pencil and paper and worked this one out.
"It comes to seven million, three hundred thousand pounds," he said aloud.
"Very well. Point number five. I shall have to keep moving. No more than two or three nights at a stretch in any one city or the word will get around. Go from London to Monte Carlo. Then to Cannes. To Biarritz. To Deauville. To Las Vegas. To Mexico City. To Buenos Aires. To Nassau. And so on.
"Six. With the money I make, I will set up an absolutely first-class orphanage in every country I visit. I will become a Robin Hood. I will take money from the bookmakers and the gambling proprietors and give it to the children. Does that sound corny and sentimental? As a dream, it does. But as a reality, if I can really make it work, it won't be corny at all, or sentimental. It would be rather tremendous.
"Seven. I will need somebody to help me, a man who will sit at home and take care of all that money and buy the houses and organize the whole thing. A money man. Someone I can trust. What about John Winston?" (-- pgs. 184-185) |
Listen:
The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar
CD Audio
Narrated very nicely by British actor Martin Jarvis
| Quote: | | Jarvis is no hell on P.G. Wodehouse but he's more than adequate here, in our view. |
The New Yorker
Magazine Subscription
The Candy Man
What children see in Roald Dahl
By Margaret Talbot
July 11 & 18/05
| Quote: | ... Dahl’s books regularly show up on the American Library Association’s list of titles that patrons ask to be restricted from young children or removed from the shelves. In 1995, a mother attempting to expunge Dahl from elementary-school libraries in Virginia told the Washington Post that in his books “children misbehave and take retribution on adults, and there’s never, ever a consequence for their actions.” According to this surprisingly common critique of Dahl, to defy one adult—no matter how bad a person—is to defy us all.
In 1972, the Horn Book, a journal of children’s literature, published a screed against Dahl by Eleanor Cameron, a children’s-book author. “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” she charged, was “one of the most tasteless books ever written for children.” The book was not just about candy; it was candy, “in that it is delectable and soothing while we are undergoing the brief sensory pleasure it affords but leaves us poorly nourished with our taste dulled for better fare.” Dahl reviled television, but his book provided the same easy satisfactions: it was a fast-paced, plot-driven celebration of empty calories. The science-fiction author Ursula K. LeGuin wrote in to second Cameron’s criticism, though she had to admit that “children between eight and eleven seem to be truly fascinated” by Dahl’s books. Indeed, one of her own children, she regretted to say, “used to finish ‘Charlie’ and then start right over from the beginning (she was subject to these fits for about two months at age eleven). She was like one possessed while reading it, and for a while after reading she was, for a usually amiable child, quite nasty.” The books, LeGuin concluded, “provide a genuine escape experience, a tiny psychological fugue, very like that provided by comic books.”
In the nineteen-eighties, feminists lambasted Dahl for his supposed misogyny, focussing on The Witches (1983). In 1985, one critic called the book “a dangerous publication,” which bore a “striking similarity” to the “misogynistic” fifteenth-century witch-hunting text “Malleus Maleficarum.” It was a bizarre comparison. Dahl does write in “The Witches” that a “witch is always a woman”—but not that a woman is always a witch. The strongest, most appealing character in the book is the boy narrator’s cigar-smoking, tough-minded, and immensely loving grandmother.
Anti-Dahlism has been further fuelled by a 1994 unauthorized biography, by the British writer Jeremy Treglown, which presents a complicated, domineering, and sometimes disagreeable man. Dahl was “a war hero, a connoisseur, a philanthropist and a devoted family man who had to confront an appalling succession of tragedies,” Treglown writes. “He was also . . . a fantasist, an anti-Semite, a bully and a self-publicizing trouble-maker.” When his first wife, the actress Patricia Neal, suffered a severe stroke at the age of thirty-nine, he adopted a cruel-to-be-kind strategy—bullying, goading, and sometimes humiliating her into acting again. He was prone to eruptions of pique. In 1981, Robert Gottlieb, who was at the time the editorial director of Knopf, Dahl’s American publisher, severed ties with Dahl, citing his “abusiveness” to the staff. More than once, Dahl offered up anti-Semitic remarks; in 1983, he told a journalist that “there’s a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity . . . I mean there is always a reason why anti-anything crops up anywhere; even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.” (Such noxious sentiments, it must be said, cannot be found in his work for children.) And, in 1989, Dahl, who had no trouble waxing indignant about attempts to ban his own work, denounced Salman Rushdie as “a dangerous opportunist” after the fatwa was issued against him. Dahl’s personal reputation is justifiably tainted, but his work has been unfairly assailed. When it comes to literature for adults, we’ve mostly stopped judging a work by its author’s personal morality. Why should we hold children’s writers to a stricter standard? |
Link to this entry
http://pokerpulse.com/news/viewtopic.php?p=3305#3305
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| Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 12:47 pm Post subject: |
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Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Book IV of VII
Hardcover
By J.K. Rowling
| Quote: | 'Everyone,' Mr Weasley continuted, 'this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets--'
Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.
'Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?' he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow and black robes. 'I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match.'
'Oh ... go on, then,' said Mr Weasley. 'Let's see ... a Galleon on Ireland to win?'
'A Galleon?' Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. 'Very well, very well ... any other takers?'
'They're a bit young to be gambling,' said Mr Weasley. 'Molly wouldn't like --'
'We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts,' said Fred, as he and George quickly pooled all their money, 'that Ireland win -- but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand.'
'You don't want to go showing Mr Bagman rubbish like that --' Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.
'Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!'
Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.
'Boys,' said Mr Weasley under his breath, 'I don't want you betting ... that's all your savings ... your mother --'
'Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!' boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. 'They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance ... I'll give you excellent odds on that one ... we'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we...'
Mr Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Baman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.
'Cheers,' said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. (From Chapter Seven, Bagman and Crouch, at pgs. 81-82) |
Listen:
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Audio CD
Narrated by Jim Dale,
| Quote: | | Dale does all the voices and remembers who's who in the extraordinary cast of characters. In fact, he holds a Guiness World Record for most character voices in an audio book. |
Even better:
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Audio CD
Narrated by British actor, novelist, comedian and
poetry enthusiast Stephen Fry
| Quote: | | Irish Times reviews of Fry's work on the UK Harry Potter audio books have been unabashedly ebullient. Sadly, publishers across the pond have not released his efforts here. No complaints about Dale but it would be thrilling to hear Fry as the evil Voldemort. |
Watch:
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
DVD
| Quote: | | The bigger the book - and these are BIG for kids' books - the less effective the movie in this seven-part series so far. Nevertheless, each is an eloquent learning support for advanced ESL students. Posh British accents throughout a cast of the island's best and brightest. Each film appears to have been a labor of love. |
Link to this entry
http://pokerpulse.com/news/viewtopic.php?p=3306#3306
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| Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 12:55 pm Post subject: |
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The Angel's Command
Hardcover
By Brian Jacques
| Quote: | Ned began tugging Ben toward the table, passing a message. "Let's see if we can't pick up a coin or two over yonder."
The crews of two pirate ships, the Diable Del Mar and La Petite Marie, were watching their captains gambling. Rocco Madrid, master of the Diablo, was winning, and Raphael Thuron, master of La Petite Marie, was losing, heavily. Rocco's sword, a fine blade of Toledo steel with a silver basketed handle, lay on the table. Behind it was an ever-growing pile of gold coins from many nations. The Spanish captain played idly with his long, grey-streaked black curls, smiling thinly as he watched Thuron. "Make your choice, amigo, where is the pea?"
Sighing heavily, Thuron looked from the dwindling pile of coins, which were stacked behind the blade of his cutlass on the opposite side of the table. He bit his lip and concentrated his gaze on the three walnut shells, while Rocco Madrid drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
"I am not hurrying you, amigo. Shall I take my siesta while you try to find our little friend the pea, eh?"
The Diablo's crew chuckled appreciatively at their captain's witty observation. The more gold Thuron lost, the slower and more deliberate he became.
The French captain spoke without looking up from the three nutshells. "Huh, the little pea might be your friend, but she's no friend o' mine, not after ten losses in a row!"
Rocco twirled his waxed moustache, enjoying his opponent's discomfiture. "Who knows, the little pea, she might change her mind and fall in love with you. Choose, amigo."
Thuron made a snap decision. He turned up the shell that lay in the centre of the three. It was empty, no pea lay under it. A cheer went up from the Diablo's crew, and groans from men of La Petite Marie. Thuron separated five stacks of gold coins from his meagre pile, swiping them toward the Spaniard with the back of his hand. (From the chapter, La Petite Marie, at pgs. 9-10) |
The story behind the story:
| Quote: | | The legend of the Flying Dutchman is known to all men who follow the seafaring trade. Captain Vanderdecken and his ghostly crew, bound by heaven's curse to sail the world's vast oceans and seas, for etermity! The curse was delivered by the angel of the Lord, who descended from the firmament to the very deck of the doomed vessel. Vanderdecken and his evil crew were bound, both living and dead, to an endless voyage. Only two were to escape the Flying Dutchman - a mute, ragged orphan boy, Ben, and his faithful dog, Ned. They were the only two aboard who were pure of heart, innocent of all wickedness. (From the opening page) |
Listen:
The Angel's Command
With Full Cast
Audio CD
Link to this entry
http://pokerpulse.com/news/viewtopic.php?p=3307#3307
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| Posted: Thu Jan 03, 2008 6:42 pm Post subject: |
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Lord of the Nutcracker Men
Hardcover
By Iain Lawrence
| Quote: | I laughed, and that pleased him very much.
"But you've come to the heart of it, Johnny. What Homer is saying is that all the world is a game for the gods. Whatever you do, whether you're sitting here now or playing with your soldiers, it's because the gods want you to do it. But in the end they'll trick you, for you can never win if you fight against the gods." (-- p. 92) |
| Quote: | | Editor's Note: Another youthful adventure story, this time about the First World War, by an old college pal with whom we had a few youthful adventures of our own. |
| Quote: | The Lord of the Nutcracker Men
Audio Cassette
Narrated by Stephen Crossley
Still awaiting ours. Please check back soon for updates. |
Link to this entry
http://pokerpulse.com/news/viewtopic.php?p=3374#3374
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editor
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| Posted: Tue Jan 15, 2008 4:15 pm Post subject: |
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Matilda
Hardcover
By Roald Dahl
| Quote: | | Nearly every weekday afternoon Matilda was left alone in the house. Her brother (five years older than her) went to school. Her father went to work and her mother went out playing bingo in a town eight miles away. Mrs Wormwood was hooked on bingo and played it five afternoons a week. On the afternoon of the day when her father had refused to buy her a book, Matilda set out all by herself to walk to the public library in the village. When she arrived, she introduced herself to the librarian, Mrs Phelps. She asked if she might sit awhile and read a book. Mrs Phelps, slightly taken aback at the arrival of such a tiny girl unaccompanied by a parent, nevertheless told her she was very welcome. (From the chapter entitled, A Reader of Books, p. 12) |
Listen:
Matilda
Audio CD
Narrated admirably by British actor Ron Keith
| Quote: | | A clear, well-enunciated narration by an experienced reader. Never syropy and nicely modulated. |
Watch:
Matilda
DVD
A classic featuring the acting De Vitos
as the awful Wormwoods, parents of our favorite prodigy
Link to this entry
http://pokerpulse.com/news/viewtopic.php?p=3412#3412
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| Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2008 12:03 pm Post subject: |
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The Lady of Shalott
Hardcover
By British Poet Laureate Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Illustrated by Montréal artist Geneviève Côté
| Quote: | Part I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road run by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly;
Down to tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."
Part II
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.
Part III
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
Part IV
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.
And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance --
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Thro' the noises of the night,
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
(Book pages are unnumbered) |
About Tennyson and the poem:
| Quote: | The most famous poet of the Victorian age, Alfred Tennyson (1809-92) is also regarded as one of the preeminent English poets of all time. Tennyson possessed a marvelous ability to craft evocative imagery and to use landscapes to convey emotion. Even his harshest critics have recognized his gift for lyric poetry, which is arguably unequalled in the history of English verse. Queen Victoria appointed Tennyson, a greatly esteemed spokesman for the ideas and values of the era, Poet Laureate in 1850.
... The rich symbolism of "The Lady of Shalott" has invited diverse interpretations: It has been understood as a commentary on the role of women in the Victorian period, who, much like the poem's imprisoned maiden, were relegated to the private sphere of the home and separated from the public sphere of men; and as an exploration of the relationship of the artist to society - the Lady, isolated from the world with her endless weaving, being a metaphor for the artist. Others have perceived it as a reflection on nature versus industry or as a meditation on the passage toward death. (From the first of the book's last three pages) |
A musical interpretation:
Link to this entry
http://pokerpulse.com/news/viewtopic.php?p=3466#3466
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| Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2008 9:17 am Post subject: |
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One Hundred Years of Poetry for Children
Hardcover
Edited by Michael Harrison and Christopher Stuart-Clark
| Quote: | The Game of Life
Roy Fuller
Have you been in sight of heaven
Far ahead on ninety-seven,
Then swirled the dice and thrown a one,
Slid down a snake and flopped upon
Some square like sixty-three?
And then what made you even madder
Seen your sister climb a ladder
To eighty-four from twenty-eight
And felt a sudden rush of hate
As she smirked with glee?
And have you thought she counted out
(So as to miss a snake's dread snout)
A few too many squares - and stayed
Quiet because you were afraid
Or just through leniency?
If so, you will already know
How bitter life can be; and show
Upon your countenance no sign
Except perhaps a mile benign.
And shake on doggedly.
(From the section, Childhood, at p. 58) |
More selections from the book here.
Link to this entry
http://pokerpulse.com/news/viewtopic.php?p=3483#3483
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editor
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| Posted: Mon Feb 11, 2008 12:21 pm Post subject: |
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From Omens and Lucky Charms:
Porch Lies
Tales of Slicksters, Tricksters,
and Other Wily Characters
Harcover
By Patricia C. McKissack
Illustrated by Andre Carrilho
| Quote: | I met Montgomery Red when I rode my bicycle past the empty house next door on my way to the corner store for Mama. He was on his knees searching the ground, looking for something. "Hi. I'm Lenny Bowen. Can I help you, sir>" I asked.
"Well, you are a real gentleman. Please to meet you," Big Red said to me, smiling. "Call me Red." We shook hands and a friendship began instantly.
"You really going in that house over there?" I asked, having already heard about him.
"Yep!"
I gasped, not looking at the windows too long for fear of what I might see. "Why?"
"Time for me to settle down," Red said, sighing. "This seems like as good a place as any." He got back to his searching.
"Right now, I'm looking for an Earth Bone," he threw in matter-of-factly. "You seen one?"
"No, sir," I answered, backing up a piece, just in case an Earth Bone was dangerous. "I aine even now heard of no such thing."
Red shook his head. "Boy, how you get to be however old you are and not know 'bout an Earth Bone?"
I mumbled something 'bout if it had anything to do with conjuring, my folks wouldn't approve.
Suddenly Red stood up so tall I thought he'd never unwind. Why, he had to be well over six four. He cradled something in his huge hand. "Am I lucky to have found this!" He chuckled. "Now I'm as bad any ghosts in that house."
"May - may I seet it?" I asked, marveling at the idea that something so powerful existed. "What's it do?"
In his palm lay the Earth Bone. It looked like an ordinary rock, but I didn't want to 'pear ignorant, so I kept still.
"With this," Red explained, "I don't have to be scared of nothing that creeps, crawls, slithers, slides, or goes bump in the night. I can stop all ghosts, ghouls, and monsters in their tracks." (From The Earth Bone and the King of the Ghosts, pgs. 110-111) |
| Quote: | | Written a warm and friendly-like vernacular from the rural American South. |
Link to this entry
http://pokerpulse.com/news/viewtopic.php?p=3505#3505 |
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editor
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| Posted: Thu Feb 14, 2008 11:06 am Post subject: |
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Time's River
The Voyage of Life in Art and Poetry
National Gallery of Art, Washington
Hardcover
Selected by Kate Farrell
| Quote: | Autobiographia Literaria
When I was a child
I played by myself in
corner of the schoolyard
all alone.
I hated dolls and I
hated games, animals were
not friendly and birds
flew away.
If ayone was looking
for me I hid behind a
tree and cried out "I am
an orphan."
And here I am, the
center of all beauty!
writing these poems!
Imagine!
Frank O'Hara, American, 1926-1966
(-- p. 35, adjacent to Paul Klee, Persische Nachtiogallen (Persian Nightengales), 1917) |
Not every poet enjoys a drop or two of the old sporting blood, it seems.
Link to this entry
http://pokerpulse.com/news/viewtopic.php?p=3524#3524
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editor
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| Posted: Mon Feb 18, 2008 3:05 pm Post subject: |
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From Impossible Odds:
The Witches
Hardcover
By Roald Dahl
Illustrations by Quentin Blake
| Quote: | A REAL WITCH spends all her time plotting to get rid of the children in her particular territory. Her passion is to do away with them, one by one. It is all she thinks about the whole day long. Even if she is working as a cashier in a supermarket or typing letters for a businessman or driving around in a fancy car (and she could be doing any of these things), her mind will always be plotting and scheming and churning and burning and whizzing and phizzing with murderous bloodthirsty thoughts.
Which child, she says to herself all day long, exactly which child shall I choose for my next squelching?
A REAL WITCH gets the same pleasure from squelching a child as you get from eating a plateful of strawberries and thick cream.
She reckons on doing away with one child a week. Anything less than that and she becomes grumpy.
One child a week is fifty-two a year,
Squish them and squiggle them and make them
disappear.
That is the motto os all witches. (From A Note about Witches, pgs. 4-5) |
| Quote: | The Witches
DVD
Perfectly cast - a classic!
Even the kids are likeable in this one! |
| Quote: | The Witches
Audio CD
Narrated by British actor Simon Callow
Callow is pretty good, but there are more recent versions we'll have to hear. Quite often, the author gives the best reading of his own work, though these recordings are now for some reason hard to find. Please check back soon for our full audio review of this wonderful book. |
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editor
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Joined: 09 Nov 2003
Posts: 2940
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| Posted: Tue Feb 26, 2008 2:21 pm Post subject: |
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The Call of the Wild
Paperback
By Jack London
Illustrated by Philippe Munch
One of The Whole Story Series,
annotated with an impressive array of drawings
and obscure historical photos of the Klondike
Gold Rush carefully selected and cited by
Éditions Gallimard
| Quote: | That winter, at Dawson, Buck performed another exploit, not so heroic, perhaps, but one that put his name many notches higher on the totem-pole of Alaskan fame. This exploit was particularly gratifying to the three men; for they stood in need of the outfit which it furnished, and were enabled to make a long desired trip into the virgin East, where miners had not yetappeared. It was brought about by a conversation in the Eldorado Saloon, in which men waxed boastful of their favourite dogs. Buck, because of his record, was the target of these men, and Thornton was driven stoutly to defend him. At the end of half an hour one man stated that his dog could start a sled with five hundred pounds and walk off with it; a second bragged six hundred for his dog; and a third, seven hundred.
"Pooh! pooh!" said John Thornton; "Buck can start a thousand pounds."
"And break it out? And walk off with it for a hundred yards?" demanded Matthewson, a Bonanza King, he of the seven hundred vaunt.
"And break it out, and walk off with it for a hundred yards," John Thornton said coolly.
"Well," Matthewson said, slowly and deliberately, so that all could hear, "I've got a thousand dollars that says he can't. And there it is." So saying, he slammed a sack of gold dust of the size of a bologna sausage down upon the bar.
Nobody spoke. Thornton's bluff, if bluff it was, had been called. He could feel a flush of warm blood creeping up his face. His tongue had tricked him. He did not know whether Buck could start a thousand pounds. Half a tone! The enormousness of it appalled him. He had great faith in Buck's strength and had often thought him capable of starting such a load; but never, as now, had he faced the possibility of it, the eyes of a dozen men fixed upon him, silent and waiting. Further, he had no thousand dollars; nor had Hans or Pete. (-- p. 95) |
| Quote: | The Chilkoot Pass
From the shores of Dyea and Skagway, there are two routes toward Dawson City, the heart of the gold basin, and the fabled Klondike, a gregion named for the river running through it. The first route is the White Pass. At first access here looks easy - the pass is low, the trail passes over hills - but farther on there are chasms and riverbeds to cross; in autumn the trail turns into a river of mud; in winter it's a virtual skating rink. The second route climbs to the Chilkoot Pass at a height of over 3.282 feet (1,000 meters), on a glacial, windswept trail that the 25,000 people who climbed it made legendary. At the foot of the pass, the Canadian Mounted Police required every newcomer to bring along a year's worth of supplies. Some gave up, others lingered trying to get these supplies, only to be duped by con men. Others began the climb, carrying part of their supplies. Once at the top, they had no choice but to climb back down and brave the wearying ascent again until they amassed all they needed. This process could last as long as three months. In 1925 Charlie Chaplin's film The Gold Rush immortalized this "climb to hell." (Cutline with photos and illustrations, pgs. 30-31) |
The Gold Rush
DVD
Featuring the great Charlie Chaplin
| Quote: | Dawson City
Situated where the Yukon and Klondike rivers meet, Dawson City (top) became the gold capital. A mere trading post before the gold rush of July 1898, the city became one of the largest in the Northwest in a matter of three weeks: several banks were built, five churches, a theater, and thirty saloons that offered the miners means to squander their earnings quickly. The cost of living and services quintupled in just a few months. A carpenter, a cook, or a bartender could earn a great deal of money. Even if the miners didn't strike it rich, at least the merchants were guaranteed profits. Bags of gold arrived with mounted police escort (bottom left) to accompany them to the bank vaults. This spectacular entrance roused the hopes and dreams of the whole population stranded in this outpost where, in summer, the streets became virtual mud pits in which men and beasts alike wallowed (center left). Dawson City was no haven for the down-and-out: the Mounted Police made every effort to convince them to leave a city whose supplies, brought by small steamboats going upriver, could not be assured in the long winter months. (Cutline with photos and illustrations, pgs. 50-51) |
| Quote: | | Tensions between men were high. Disappointment and despair at failing to strike it rich, as well as alcohol and gambling, caused violent fights. Boxing matches for betting stakes were also organized in the bars. (Cutline under illustration, p. 91) |
| Quote: | | Gang ringleader Soapy Smith terrorized Skagway, where he controlled gambling and prostitution, until his slaying by a rival in July 1898. Skagway, like Dawson City, was a dangerus place; its money lured many con men, prostitutes, and professional gamblers. The Mounted Police were too few to maintain order in a city whose population could triple or quadruple in a matter of weeks. (Cutline above photo of a jauntily moustached Soapy, p. 94) |
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editor
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Posts: 2940
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| Posted: Mon May 19, 2008 1:24 pm Post subject: |
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Discovery
Hardcover
By 1987 Nobel Prize winner
Ио́сиф Алекса́ндрович Бро́дский
Joseph Brodsky
Pictures by Vladimir Radunsky
| Quote: | In the beginning there were just waves
hammering at the obstacles.
The stars were starring to constant raves
but had no Oscars.
The clouds would go a bit further and
frequently act impertinent,
which was self-destructive, and downpours meant
obscurity to the continent.
America first was discovered by fish
But, far from being eternal
and often making a tasty dish,
fish normally keep no journal.
Then birds discovered America, too -
the screeching seagulls and petrels.
Yet they were just pilgrims, and very few
of them evolved into settlers.
So for millions of years or - as some insist -
longer, Nature played prudent:
on one hand, America would exist;
on the other, it wouldn't.
Still, this bothered America little, since
it knew no public mention.
When you are a continent, you don't mince
words and don't crave attention.
So then Nature sat down and picked up her pen
to make what fish and seagull
saw a reality: off sailed men
and made America legal.
They stepped ashore and they rode across
this land of milk and honey,
and they settled it with their many laws,
their cities, their farms, their money.
Now America has all its maps and charts:
they would fill up your barn and cupboard.
But do you believe in your heart of hearts
that America was discovered?
Don't you think that this land still has a few
secrets? That, huge and silent,
it waits for their being discovered by you,
since Nature is out on assignment? |
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editor
Site Admin
Joined: 09 Nov 2003
Posts: 2940
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| Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 9:36 am Post subject: |
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Arabian Nights
Stories told by Scheherazade
retold by the great pacifist and supporter
of women's suffrage Laurence Housman, younger bro of poet A. E.
with illustrations by Edmund Dulac
Hardcover
| Quote: | Aladdin and the Magic Lamp
Once upon a time, in a far city of Cathay, there dwelt a poor tailor who had an only son named Aladdin. This boy was a born ne'er do well, and persistently resisted all his father's efforts to teach him a trade by means of which he would be able to in future to earn a livelihood. Aladdin would sooner play at knuckle-bones in the gutter with others as careless as himself than he would set his mind to honest business; and, as to obeying his parents int he smallest matter, it was not in his nature. Such was this Aladdin, and yet - so remarkable is the favor of fate - he was strangely predestined for great things.
Stricken with grief because of the waywardness and idle conduct of his son the father fell ill and died, and the mother found great difficulty in supporting herself, to say nothing of the worthless Aladdin as well. While she wore the flesh off her bones in the endeavor to obtain a meager susbsistence Aladdin would amuse himself with his fellow urchins of the street, only returning home to his meals. In this way he continued until he was fourteen years of age, when his extraordinary destiny took him by the hand, and led him, step by step, through adventures so wonderful that words can scarce describe them.
One day he was playing in the gutter with his ragged companions, as was his wont, when a Moorish Dervish came by, and, catching sight of Aladdin's face, suddenly stopped and approached him. This Dervish was sorcerer who had discovered many hidden secrets by his black art; in fact, he was on the track of one now; and, by the look on his face as he scrutinized Aladdin's features, it seemed that the boy was closely connected with his quest. (Thus opens the best translation of one of world's greatest tales, Aladdin and the Magic Lamp, now, strangely, the exclusive purview of children's literature) |
A word about knuckle-bones:
| Quote: | The origin of knucklebones is closely connected with that of dice, of which it is probably a primitive form, and is doubtless Asiatic. Sophocles, in a fragment, ascribed the invention of draughts and knucklebones (astragaloi) to Palamedes, who taught them to his Greek countrymen during the Trojan War. Both the Iliad and the Odyssey contain allusions to games similar in character to knucklebones, and the Palamedes tradition, as flattering to the national pride, was generally accepted throughout Greece, as is indicated by numerous literary and plastic evidences. Thus Pausanias mentions a temple of Fortune in which Palamedes made an offering of his newly invented game.
According to a still more ancient tradition, Zeus, perceiving that Ganymede longed for his playmates upon Mount Ida, gave him Eros for a companion and golden dibs with which to play, and even condescended sometimes to join in the game (Apollonius). It is significant, however, that both Herodotus and Plato ascribe to the game a foreign origin. Plato (Phaedrus) names the Egyptian god Thoth as its inventor, while Herodotus relates that the Lydians, during a period of famine in the days of King Atys, originated this game and indeed almost all other games except chess. (Herodotus, History, Book I)
There were two methods of playing in ancient times. The first, and probably the primitive method, consisted in tossing up and catching the bones on the back of the hand, very much as the game is played today. In the Museum of Naples may be seen a painting excavated at Pompeii, which represents the goddesses Latona, Niobe, Phoebe, Aglaia and Hileaera, the last two being engaged in playing at Knucklebones. According to an epigram of Asclepiodotus, astragals were given as prizes to schoolchildren, and we are reminded of Plutarchs anecdote of the youthful Alcibiades, who, when a teamster threatened to drive over some of his knucklebones that had fallen into the wagonruts, boldly threw himself in front of the advancing team. This simple form of the game was generally played only by women and children, and was called pent alit ha or five-stones. There were several varieties of it besides the usual toss and catch, one being called tropa, or hole-game, the object having been to toss the bones into a hole in the earth. Another was the simple and primitive game of odd or even.
The second, probably derivative, form of the game was one of pure chance, the stones being thrown upon a table, either with the hand or from a cup, and the values of the sides upon which they fell counted. In this game the shape of the pastern-bones used for astralagoi, as well as for the tali of the Romans, with whom knucklebones was also popular, determined the manner of counting. The pastern-bone of a sheep, goat or calf has, besides two rounded ends upon which it cannot stand, two broad and two narrow sides, one of each pair being concave and one convex. The convex narrow side, called chios or the dog counted I; the convex broad side 3; the concave broad side 4; and the concave narrow side 6. Four astragals were used and 35 different scores were possible at a single throw, many receiving distinctive names such as Aphrodite, Midas, Solon, Alexander, and, among the Romans, Venus, King, Vulture, &c. The highest throw in Greece, counting 40, was the Euripides, and was probably a combination throw, since more than four sixes could not be thrown at one time. The lowest throw, both in Greece and Rome, was the Dog. (From helpful Wikipedia) |
| Quote: | Note: We're about to receive a Naxos CD of the tales narrated by UK actor Toby Stephens, who has received good reviews, but, ultimately, we search in vain for our ancient childhood recording, which sent us many nights - perhaps a thousand - to peaceful slumber with a booming basso voce cautioning,
'I am the GEE-nee-aye of the LOMP!
Com-MOND MEE!
For I am the SLAVE of who-EV-er holds the LOMP in his hand!'
This one, too, was punctuated by sweeping excerpts of Rimsky-Korsakov but, alas, we've been unable to find it. Sound familiar? If so, please e-mail legal@pokerpulse.com. Free beer for the first good soul to supply a lead! |
Other Abaris Books we hope to review:
| Quote: | William Sharespeare
Midsummer Night's Dream
With illustrations by Arthur Rackham
James Stephens
Irish Fairy Tales
With illustrations by Arthur Rackham
Richard Wagner
The Ring of the Niblung
With illustrations by Arthur Rackham
Hans Christian Andersen
Stories from Hans Andersen
With illustrations by Edmund Dulac
Robert Louis Stevenson
Treasure Island
With illustrations by Edmund Dulac
Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
The Sleeping Beauty
With illustrations by Edmund Dulac
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Please check back soon for updates!
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editor
Site Admin
Joined: 09 Nov 2003
Posts: 2940
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| Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2008 2:49 pm Post subject: |
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From Omens and Lucky Charms:
The First Christmas
The National Gallery of London
Hardcover
Text and Illustrations attributed to Frances Lincoln
Extracts from the Authorized Version of the Bible
(the King James Bible), the rights in which are vested
in the Crown, are reproduced by permission of the
Crown's patentee, Cambridge University Press
| Quote: | And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." (Text is beside a wondrous color plate of The Adoration of Kings by Jan Gossaert, p. 16) |
Hard to imagine anything with artwork this fabulous was intended solely for children! Certainly the book provides an excellent overview of the basis of this important fest in Christian culture - seond only to Easter.
Link to this entry
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Last edited by editor on Wed Mar 11, 2009 9:47 am; edited 1 time in total |
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editor
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Posts: 2940
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| Posted: Wed Mar 11, 2009 9:45 am Post subject: |
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From Advice to Gamblers:
Mad
Magazine Subscription
Signs You'll Grow Up to be a Degenerate Gambler
January, 2009
| Quote: | It has been said that the first stirrings of talent and greatness in athletics, the arts and science can be observed in someone when they are very young. Likewise those destined for a life filled with bookie joints, pawn shops and flophouses also exhibit unquestionable signs during their formative years. For a list of these 'tells,' you need look no further than ...
Your mounting debt has occassionally prompted visits from a mob Lego breaker.
You plead with your parents to buy you a puppy but only if it's a Greyhound.
You regularly engage in the questionable practice of "Flashcard counting."
Your prom date is an Atlantic City cocktail waitress.
In math class, before the teacher even gets to finish the "One train leaves Chicago and another leaves Toledo..." question, you're down for a five spot on Toledo.
You're barely nine and you've already invented a loaded dice version of 'Trouble.'
The only time you opened your social studies textbook was for a gambling raid perp walk.
Your 4-H project centers on cockfighting.
You show up at a pre-game pep rally with signs imploring the team to keep the score within seven points. (-- pgs. 44-45) |
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