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April 8, 2014 Slide Show: Kurt Vonnegut’s Whimsical Drawings Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.,’s crude, ludic doodles—a beaver, a cobra, an asterisk-anus—are famous from novels like “Breakfast of Champions,” as is the curly-haired self-portrait that doubled as his signature. But making graphic art was, for Vonnegut, a hobby that extended beyond illustrations for his fiction: he painted seascapes and landscapes on Cape Cod in the nineteen-fifties; felt-tip drawings of abstract faces on discarded pages of manuscripts; and larger, more formal color drawings that he exhibited in a one-man show in Greenwich Village in 1980. Vonnegut described his artwork as a pursuit that liberated him from the oppressive work of writing. What Muriel Spark Saw She loved lightning. To her readers, Dame Muriel Spark arrived aptly named and like a bolt from the blue in 1957, with her first novel, “The Comforters,” published when she was thirty-nine. April 7, 2014 A Novel Like a Rocket Sergei Dovlatov and the Hearsay of Memory

Notizie di libri Corriere della Sera Israele, in poco più di una settimana il libro ha venduto alcune migliaia di copie CULTURAUn successo editoriale sugli insediamenti. Assaf Gavron: slang e humour per sfidare i tre maestri Oz, Grossman e Yehoshua di Viviana Mazza Se il vivaista diventa Kafka CULTURADalla radio al romanzo, Marco Presta è fatto così: butta giù pennellate dense di ironia per descrivere il disagio e il degrado della nostra società di A.Arachi La fenomenologia della mitezza CULTURABarbara Spinelli esplora il mondo di coloro che «erediteranno la terra». Il Paese Italia senza un de Gaulle CULTURARitorna per Rubbettino la biografia (rivista) del generale di Gaetano Quagliariello. L'Europa, Pilato e il populismo CULTURAI fini della natura e della ragione a confronto con la fede nel pensiero del filosofo Robert Spaemann e del cardinale Ruini di G.G.Vecchi Il ritorno di Robert Musil

Depression Part Two I remember being endlessly entertained by the adventures of my toys. Some days they died repeated, violent deaths, other days they traveled to space or discussed my swim lessons and how I absolutely should be allowed in the deep end of the pool, especially since I was such a talented doggy-paddler. I didn't understand why it was fun for me, it just was. But as I grew older, it became harder and harder to access that expansive imaginary space that made my toys fun. I played out all the same story lines that had been fun before, but the meaning had disappeared. Depression feels almost exactly like that, except about everything. At first, though, the invulnerability that accompanied the detachment was exhilarating. The beginning of my depression had been nothing but feelings, so the emotional deadening that followed was a welcome relief. Which leads to horrible, soul-decaying boredom. Months oozed by, and I gradually came to accept that maybe enjoyment was not a thing I got to feel anymore.

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