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William S. Burroughs

"We are the language" in the title of one of the most important chapters of Cities of the Red Night , a novel that William Burroughs has not received many plaudits of Naked Lunch , but remained over time, perhaps even more significant. Contradictory, visionary as always, but more determined Cities of the Red Night tells the story of Captain Mission, a libertarian and utopian pirate that "nothing is true. Everything is permitted. " Skilful William Burroughs's metaphor to describe the wide world of the last century and glimpses of the future, with an obsession, an obsession that is also the subtle linking all his life. "What I'm trying to say is very simple. The entire human position no longer tenable, "he writes in a passage de Cities of the Red Night , Captain Mission by voting to victims of this insight, that virus called man. While maintaining all the benefits of the revolutionary Naked Lunch , Cities of the Red Night , architect with more experience, on several levels, showing a William Burroughs increasingly unsettling. Remains extremely relevant, because although projected in the darkest depths of human history and crazy and convulsions language Cities of the Red Night incontrovertible expresses the thought of Burroughs that he translates as: " What I'm trying to say is very simple. The entire human position no longer tenable. And a final comment ... As you know, a large crater in what is now Siberia is considered the result of a meteorite. He also theorizes that this meteorite has brought the radiation in question. Others have speculated that it might be not a meteorite but a black hole, a hole in the structure of reality, through which the inhabitants of these ancient cities traveled in time to end an impasse. " William Burroughs shows off the abilities of his magic tricks ("The essence of magic tricks is the distraction and inconvenience. If you can convince someone to have, by their perspicacity, guess your hidden agenda, will not seek more than" ), masking the reality from time to time and disrupting patterns literary, as if the true independence of Captain Mission depended language. Hypothesis by no means unrealistic, given that the populations of Cities of the Red Night are among the most extravagant and elaborate ever created, as always punctual Fernanda Pivano noted in the preface: "How John Cage created compositions that somehow dissonant sounds usual force in a musical structure, Burroughs crowd the pages of creatures from the human world continually transmigrate in the sci-fi or in that of the absurd. " And this sudden metamorphosis are necessary to explain that the Burroughs human virus "after thousands of years of coexistence of more or less benign, is now back on the verge of a malignant mutation. Essential, now more than ever.

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Jason Starr

"Down here there are only winners and losers and do not have to end up on the wrong side of that line" it takes Atlantic City soundtrack, for these crimes Small dick , prosaic title but makes it perfectly the atmosphere of a world and a daily life that are always on the edge of illegality. At the beginning is never anything serious: some subterfuge, theft trivial, just enough tricks to make ends meet. Little stuff, which outlaws most stupid, but the spiral does not know where to break at some point you get even a robbery itself and you end up with a clumsy and cruel murder. The protagonist of this rapid and progressive descent into the underworld is worthy of James Cain Tommy Russo, a failure of the highest quality who dreams of becoming an actor but loses much of its time (and all his money) to bet on the wrong horse. Hence the urgent need for liquids (put it this way) that sets out, step by step, with detours to the wrong side of the road , to quote Tom Waits. In New York wet, muddy, very clean and very dark dashed by Jason Starr does not take much: just a word at the wrong time or a twist of fate and all, some more, some less, helping to push deeper and deeper Tommy Russo . Who lies, who is hiding something, who finds himself caught up, if only as a witness in his deeds: the whole range of humanity Little Murders cock seems to help create an atmosphere of ambiguity between winners and losers that intersects with the boundaries between order and lawlessness. The construction of the dialogue, always fragmentary and impetuous, has a far from secondary role because the characters of Little Murders cock , from Tommy Russo talk as they walk. When his girlfriend finds out that he has robbed, is justified thus: "I have a gambling addiction. I did not want to tell you, but it's true. I started betting when I was in high school and since then has been getting worse. I always go to the racecourse and in betting shops, to bet money on those fucking horses. I'm sorry not to have made the word, but I did not know how to deal with the issue. " If he has robbed, she lied, and I understand, no one is innocent and everyone has something to hide (sometimes even a corpse). With the pace of a real thriller, Little Murders cock reiterates that attitude that Jason Starr had already demonstrated cold calls (a book sure to be rediscovered ): writing noir and without any particular literary pretensions, but that does not allow anything to narrow models of genre fiction and, indeed, makes the most of them to redefine the worlds, characters and atmospheres in which the moral failure of the human race is just around the corner . Or just across the line drawn from Atlantic City song whose theme will be by chance or for some reason, largely coincides with the story of Tommy Russo, its Little Murders cock and a New York was never so innocent.

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Hunter S. Thompson

The telegram is very clear, basic, and in his brief, perfect: "Run, stop here there is still room in the barrel of rum does not make a stop cock stop piles of money stop you all day booze to stop you stop fucking her all night long run because it could be short-lived. " The answer is equally eloquent: "I have special programs. I go there and I'll jump into the fray. A nice quiet drunk. " In spite of the assignment to which he embarked for Puerto Rico, a job that soon put in a corner, HS Thompson only has the intention to have a good time, as did Hemingway and Fitzgerald, his heroes. He has only to cross the beach and plunge into the ocean to put its flag on the island: "Now I felt better, warm and sleepy and free as a lark. With the palm trees that ran fast and hot sun that burned in the street, I felt that I had a feeling the first few months in Europe, a mixture of ignorance and tranquility Scazzi pure-go-all-the-devil with you when the wind gets up and begins to spin at an unknown point on the horizon. " The goal, increasingly, coincides with the bottom of the bottle and a drink after another HS Thompson invents a civil war with itself, and if at the Chronicles of rum are exhilarated and over the top, and slowly after hangover hangover reveals a fund conscious bitterness. It 'just as he drowned in alcohol and dissolving HS Thompson reveals himself a great writer. He has only a minimum wage of lucidity to realize he had crossed a dangerous threshold: "I felt to see something crawling on the ceiling and the off calling me by name. I started to shake and sweat, then started the frenzy. " Every night becomes increasingly threatening (one of many party ends with a rape), the money disappear in traffic jams and keep rum, if only for another day, the dissolute lifestyle becomes a nightmare. The Chronicles of rum show, step by step diary of a failure. The escalation is emblematic. Before HS Thompson begins to have a vague sense of chaos in which one finds: "I felt the dark foreboding that life we \u200b\u200bused to be a lost cause, that we do not do other than acting, taking the piss each other senseless odyssey. " A moment later, is convinced that "we all go to the same places of fucking, fucking do the same things people have done for fifty years, and expect something to happen." The wait is an empty promise because "the sweet illusions that make us carry on hold only up to a certain extent" and HS Thompson confesses to have arrived at the bottom: "If this was the absolute freedom then I had tasted in abundance." Dispelling it, often, HS Thompson and other write "Fear and Loathing," but in his Chronicles rum (we are only in 1959) is already the essence of a great, crazy and brilliant outsider.

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Dr. Paola Peil already 'CEO of CAI, and' was on a visit to Sec. Valencia.

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and 'was received by Segr.Sisto from Rag. Manfredi and the Director of climbing Stefano .

He had great praise for the seat which he had already got wind, for the meritorious activities of the Chamber and the complex of initiatives carried out by Cai of Valencia.

After lunch at "Pomini Rossi," thanked and promised to return to Valencia and possibly to participate in the classical wintertrails Moneglia.

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Paul Harding

George Washington Crosby, in the last hours of twilight, his father recalls. Howard is an elusive figure, wrapped in self-sufficiency of "personal mysteries." It 's a salesman and most of his customers live in the woods and as soon as spring comes to expect it in the clearings. One, in particular, it expects to restore its supply of tobacco consumed during hibernation. The meeting between the two men, the hermit of the forest and the traveler with her hand bag, is a rare moment of quiet on the river bank to a troubled life that surrounds the whole family, because Howard is suffering from epilepsy . The disease, with its sudden bursts, the visionary power and tends to render them hazardous (George recalls that when he's bitten your hand) until the wife feels that his wife feels only "a silence filled with anger and bitterness . And 'the silence of those who take time "does not show the intention to put him in a nursing home. Just a gesture, a piece of paper, a motion and "Is not it true? Just a movement of the head, a step left or right, and we become by the wise, fair, loyal, crazy in cocky. The light changes, blinking, we see the world from a different perspective just and our place in it has already changed and will continue to change, forever. " Howard also knows, like everyone, that "humans must still live somewhere and in something" and it is still in his chariot and escape. George repairs clocks, as if to recover the portion of time that was taken away with his father, just as those "forgotten songs that we never knew, we thought only to remember, when in fact, all of a sudden, we realize that we do not know at all, and while we understand how they can be wonderful. " Last winter to Howard and George tend to coincide because, even if they are separated by time and distance, both feel a sadness "so deep that it must be love", that only the final Surprisingly, opens and closes in the twinkling of an eye. Paul Harding, former drummer of the unfortunate Cold Water Flat, built Last winter with a large bold style (say, virtually no dialogue) succeeding in a stand of unstable, precarious balance of time, punctuated by the seasons, the joints, by the flashes of seizures, mechanisms of clocks until the waves of increasingly long passages from generation to generation. The ticking of his writing is methodical, able to illuminate "a final design that is dispersed to the four winds without even stop at the end of what, at the end of it all," to regain the transcendence of the American wilderness and with all those weird moods that are the very constitution of the "invisible republic" which is imbued from beginning to end, as an original ballad, Dylan.

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Steve Erickson

even survived a mass suicide on behalf of the end of the century, Kristin is on the run forever, even if it is not clear who or what to run, if not from their past. And 'evident from the first pages of The sea comes at midnight that "the reason that it continued to move forward was just that there was nothing behind, to which he could come back." E 'on its last legs, penniless, hungry and cold, and even a listing crazy and not at all reassuring in a newspaper appears to him as a possibility, a bed, maybe a hot meal. Know as the occupier, a man with too many demons behind him and only one obsession: the Apocalyptic calendar, or an array of dates and events that according to his hallucination, would provide the staff time or a map of the time or the time for dreams or something. Kristin el'Occupante, with its stories, it would be sufficient to understand why Thomas Pynchon said Steve Erickson, who "has the rare gift of being able to transcribe and light the night side of reality" and are only the beginning: The sea comes at midnight twisting spiral after spiral, with the lives of the characters that are screwed into each other, almost creating an impossible family scattered to the four corners of the world. From New York (with a side of snuff movie) to Paris (which also saw Arc d'X, a city must be especially close to Steve Erickson), from the hills of Los Angeles to Tokyo: obsessions, pain , fears weigh on the players who seem to wander aimlessly chasing dreams or memories or both as "a dream is a thing of the future." Steve Erickson not only makes clear the geography of routes, revealing the thin plot that ties all the individual lives, but highlights the facts, every single gesture, the obsessions and habits of putting the reader to understand that "things never happen in slow motion, says people. Happen much faster than people can understand, and it is only the memory that takes place in slow motion. " The design of The sea comes at midnight is completed only at the end (or patience, or are carried away by events: there are no other possibilities) when all sequences are now lined up like frame buildings and becomes intelligible to the intimate nature of writing that Steve Erickson has an almost prophetic gift when he says: "Suppose I could do it all again, changing everything. If I left a bit 'more to faith and a little' less vision, if I could take back the first lie that has a broken heart, if you are looking for a smaller result I could get something bigger if I had not done what I did, and if I had done what I did. " It 's a narrative free from the rigidity of patterns, languages, and theories already The sea comes at midnight itself as one of the more disturbing, possibility that the acute and visionary novel, in general, before the its future.

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Colum McCann

revealed with the sons of darkness, Colum McCann made his debut with the law of the river gives us the opportunity to discover his debut a novel metaphors in the flow of river hides and reveals remnants of his autobiography and its roots. Colum McCann, James Joyce, Ireland looks with the eye of the exile. It allows, in the incipit of the novel already, doubt, disorientation and confusion of being a migrant, so that "even more than the river could be a river." It 's the story of a homecoming and a departure at the same time somehow definitive because "it's always nice to go somewhere, but just anywhere, you just know you are leaving again." After trying desperately to her mother in Mexico and the United States, Conor Lyons, the novel's protagonist, returns from his father in Ireland and discovers that it is now only a shadow of a man. Party in turn years before, to "leave Europe with its piles of bones and mangled flesh, the massacre that was decimating both sides," and landed in Mexico, he returned home. The adventurous life of photographer began during the civil war in Spain is now a memory faded and yellowed like the prints of his shots. He lives in a state of prostration, has no other interests except a mysterious giant salmon to whom he dedicates all his days. Through his voice, Conor Lyons would like to know his mother, Juanita, who has tried unsuccessfully for five long years, but his father now seems absorbed the slow passing of its setting. The Law of the River tells the missed encounter, a dialogue that does not exist on which to weigh the past, a widespread existential misery surrounded by bucolic landscapes of Ireland: final call there is something missing in the plot and characters, and it is no coincidence that the share the most intense and lyrical novel are those that rely on the landscape and its description, the search for identity is still undefined. The environmental metaphors apply to the father ("The river jumped. It was a moment of perfect understanding. The sunlight caught on the fly and paint droplets as they raised, and at that moment it became clear that the old and the 'water was only one thing: they had lived his life by pretending to each other, the river and he was once unstoppable, eager for new roads, take and run away impetuous, but now progressing slowly towards an extreme sea, immutable "), for his son, Conor Lyons ("The Dawn left a trail on the streets red, typhoid wave that poured on the morning. I kept walking in the shade of leafy branches, under the sun under the canopy of a universe full of doubt and curiosity, with a telephone cord that kept muttering to myself ") and probably also for the same Colum McCann who had to cross the ocean to discover new, with the sons of darkness, a voice well clearer and more convincing of the Law of the River.

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James Crumley

All the characters of James Crumley brisk walk always on the wrong side of the road and life looking for trouble as if they were to breathe the air every day. His vision is very black, not only for the consolidated noir in which he showed all his skill, but because it points out the psychology of his losers, destined to be "taken for a ride in a nightmare of death and a cold wind blowing on an open grave. " These are the words he writes in the first few pages of his (underrated) debut One way to beat . A story of war and friendship, camaraderie and madness, great intentions (because "a warrior's duty to dream") and inevitable dissolution, One way to beat tells the link between Sergeant Jacob Slagsted Krummel, from a family of warriors, and Joseph Jabez Morning, a folksinger who have changed the guitar with a gun or a soldier with too many utopias too uncomfortable in a dimension in which "the orders have not nothing to do with rationality: they are there to be issued, and acquitted, and do not try a sense in that. " For three quarters, One way to beat tells the monotonous life in a barracks and sbracata Filipino and crazy day in the city in search of an oblivion that comes to power and of beer and whores' illusion that "everything is possible in the darkness before the dawn". A long escalation that results in the last quarter of One way to beat which opens with a brief glimpse into the explosive and the Vietnam War where the group led by Krummel and Morning is transferred at the beginning of the conflict with a deadly, stinging description a firefight with the Viet Cong who enters law in history. The experience is the same that marks each veterarno forever because, as Jacob Slagsted Krummel recalls, "all warriors end up back home, but I was not sure how or when the battle was over, and I could no longer tell day from night. " That perpetual darkness, without boundaries, without memory is the wound from which most black One way to beat can not look away. With a conclusion that explains perfectly the same nature and essence of the writing of James Crumley: "I know. You prefer to feel about the terror of the lungs that seemed split in two in search of a breath of fresh air, but the imperceptible tremor that was now standing in my hands shake, vortex of madness that took over my brain, or diarrhea that I dripped long leg. But you, this aspect of the story, you already know by heart. I did what I did. Two men died, two others were alive, maybe. Do not need to look no logic in this. The fear and trembling, not a justification, the action has nothing to do with reason, and the dead are dead. "

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F. S. Fitzgerald

Q HIS collection is a small treasure chest that contains many important clues: When Francis Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda began to live beyond their means, relying in the future and success (two variables that most unstable can not) put the first seeds that will flower later, acid and bitter, the evolution of the Lost Generation. Confident, beyond a reasonable doubt in its expectations, rather than in its practical availability, Francis Scott Fitzgerald is believed not only rich but also capable of supporting the game with whom the economy and finance breathing, chewing, carousel second secono. The first earnings of his writing (though deserved) led him to believe one of those one of those "masters" who control the fate of the world from the country club or the foyer of the work. A standard of living, writing stories and screenplays, but was also a novel after another highly successful (which were yet to arrive) it can be argued for a few weeks and that's what happens to Francis Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda should be found to reflect on their budgets so as to cope with them. Their attempt to impose a penalty is empty on the edge of ridiculous to give up costly convenience and luxury to which they are accustomed is mantener a tremendous effort and that lifestyle is only possible with a continuous and great digression on the coldness of numbers out of context and rationale. If you notice that the same writer says sadly: "At that moment appeared to me very clear that one of the mainstays of the economy: the breadth of choice is directly proportional to liquidity." Rather than changing attitudes, in the end choose to move to France, where, as they have heard from other friends in voluntary exile, the cost of living is best suited to their aspirations. Yet because both are lost between the accounts, they should know that by changing the position of addends, the sum does not change. The same Francis Scott Fitzgerald writes in her spare change and this caustic economic diary that "there is content to go around the world, we Americans are accustomed to having all the comforts, so always expect the best and of course we have to pay. " Once in France, they merely put into practice this simple truth, and if they start "the impression you can really live with virtually nothing" resources soon disappear because the impression is exactly what it is: a little less, little more than a mirage. So not enough even $ 36,000 per year and arrived at the terminus Francis Scott Fitzgerald will use a pitiful subterfuge of saying he was "no money but with no regrets." Does not fit precisely with the truth because his story, and that Zelda was marked by excess and vocation is a constellation of "ups & downs" that led the first waves of disappointment, then the inevitable and fatal distress. Perhaps it all started here.

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James Jones

the grass of Guadalcanal, one of the bloodiest battles of the World War II, soldiers face a hidden enemy in the flourishing tropical nature. In fact it is invisible, and men who have been ordered to hunt them no choice but to climb hills, one after another, step by step, to meet his own death and to bring it to the enemy. The American commander wanted by the frontal attack proves to be a massacre, and only the disobedience of an officer will conquer the Japanese positions, where the soldiers reversed all the fury of revenge. War is a complicated issue, and James Jones is one of the more detailed versions that are known. The details of the daily lives of soldiers trapped in the torments of the jungle that have resist all to die in front of a Japanese machine gun speak for themselves in rebuilding the essence of the devastating war. Where not enough to elaborate descriptions of James Jones think about the soldiers in the first person to explain a condition chilling: "There were too many precautions. A man could not take care of everything to defend themselves. It was easier to kill than be killed if the will of the enemy. " James Jones goes even further in that it uncovers the psychological aspects of each soldier (the one who left home, what we will lose forever, the one that is already dead and does not know it), conflicts with official arrogant and indifferent and a piece after another take form a complete picture of the absurdity of military life that finds its raison d'etre, in the end, nell'indispensabilità heroism. How do you explain no frills one of the protagonists of the Thin Red Line "one of the risks of military life was that every twenty years, like clockwork, that part of the human race to which he belonged, which they were his policies or his ideals for humanity, was embroiled in a war, and could touch you to combat it. " As in any large portrait of the war experienced and seen from inside, even The thin red line track a very clear boundary between reality and fantasy in which the war takes shape. First of all, there is the reality: "It was a horrible vision, all were doing the same thing, all unable to stop it, all devoted and fiercely believed to be of free individuals. Expanded to include a large number of countries, millions of men who did the same on thousands of hills in the world. It did not end there. Continued. It was the concept, the concept ', because the reality of the modern state in action. " Then there is the understandable attempt to escape because "everyone lived by a strict fiction. Nobody, in fact, was what purported to be. It was as if each had invented a story about himself, and then pretending to be the hero of all. " A little trick for those who no longer knows that defense and, in the grass, waits for the inevitable.

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COORDINATION OF PDL AND THE CIRCLE OF THE RIGHT TO ORGANIZE Gallicano nel Lazio CONFERENCE ON THE THEME OF THE HOUSE FLOOR, Thursday 'February 24 AT 17.30 AT THE STREET TEACHER, 23.

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BE USED FOR 'STREET UNVEILS NEW TEACHER AND WILL BE' MADE THE POINT OF ACTIVITY 'GROUP BY Consiliare Councillor Chiarelli SARACEN AND PARENT!

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Charles Williams

can not separate the fate of the novel by the reduction (in this case the term is most appropriate) film. The film based on the book by Charles Williams, despite a good pace and a dignified setting, simplified so obvious, since many of the protagonists, the plot, focusing, as was logical, on the more spectacular. Charles Williams's novel the story is more complicated, and much more evolved: calm is claustrophobic even if it is set right in the middle of the ocean to outer space, landscape perfect for that overlap of appearances, deceptions and dilemmas which are structured on the history and its natural course. The plot follows a trail of events that have a succession of almost mathematical: John and Rae Ingram, a couple on their honeymoon on a sailboat that picks up a castaway, he said, is the sole survivor of another vessel, now adrift. Hughie Warriner, this is the name of the young man saved from the waves, is terrified of water and lied. He moved, on the other boat, John discovers that there are, still alive, two people. I am the wife of Hughie and Bellew grumpy: They too hide qualcosae John realizes immediately that the boat, the Orpheus, the reason is gone for quite a while. A luxury that we can not afford to live in the sea, but then Hughie took command of the Saracen, the boat of Ingram and running away. The ocean turns out to be a cul de sac and tension remains high throughout the novel, we read his anguish that calm distributed among the various parties. The size of human relationships, by their very nature in the bankruptcy case of the sailors of Orfeo, the hostility of the ocean (from calm to the storm, his moody surface reveals a deadly trap) serve only to aggravate the features of the rough edges personality that brings out Charles Williams method with dexterity. The only one who seems to be free is just John Ingram knows quite well the laws and customs of the sea for the sailors lost in the controversy between Orfeo and concentrate all efforts in trying to save the boat. At first try in every way to keep it afloat, pumping and flushing with jerky shots dried water filters through the rotten planking. Then, when it is clear that Orfeo has no more hope, the fire to give a reference to his wife. The destruction of Orfeo is a sacrifice that offers more than a metaphor: that a desperate fire lights up in the middle of nowhere, a catharsis of flames on the vertical calm and horizontal water. The effect, in itself spectacular, has the power to bring the end of the novel that will explode with the same effectiveness: Charles Williams will not be a sophisticated connoisseur of language and style, although he still got to manage the property dialogs and the silence of his characters stuck in dead calm. Its focus is more on the psychological implications, conflicts between the personalities and, at least in a few cases (spouses Warriner) to the elements, latent or explicit, of dissociation to weave a sequence of nooses that cling to the reader truly original thriller.

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Jim Carroll

In the life of Jim Carroll, Jim has changed road shifts attention to New York a dozen years away from his literary debut, in a period between 1971 and 1973. In his wanderings in New York, Jim Carroll is no longer alone or with his fellow follies. E 'became a poet who starts to browse through the trouble of adding a line after another with their daily bread because "poetry has too many variations. Mr. Frost was right on one point: there are always promises to keep, and variations on that theme. In basketball you can correct your mistakes directly and beautifully, in midair. " Free throws and baskets are a thing, his game has become one where he must learn to disentangle between Bob Dylan, Allen Ginsberg, Andy Warhol, the Velvet Underground. Keen observer, ironic, meticulous, Jim Carroll takes each of the neuroses, the sweetness, the inventions and debolesse. Memorable descriptions of Dylan and Sara, the ruthless and shocking portrait of Warhol, hilarious (and a bit 'ridiculous) the episode with Ginsberg, but it would be wrong to reduce Jim has changed the road this one (although important) to anecdotes and a diary or bohemian. Jim Carroll actually seems more the master of language and writing than it was at the time of its inception and even if the narrative is designed to occupy a secondary plan in its activities (in the first place c 'has always been poetry, then you get the rock and roll), is now well placed to make a mark. With a little confession, hidden between the lines Jim has changed the road, Jim Carroll reveals the step that had to do, in those years: "The fact is that instead of liberation through language, is the language was to become a hostage and the room where prisoners are becoming increasingly small. The language needs room to maneuver. Only unlimited words are transformed into something that surpasses them. " The new "Road" by Jim Carroll is not that much different because the man is dall'undeground nell'undeground and comes back and stays there (maybe there is some clipping someone more dedicated to sex and less for the drugs), but the poet, the writer begins to mature a different consciousness. Both with respect to their means of expression, which would combine the demons and ghosts with the needs of writing, both with respect to a view that, from the pavement begins to raise his eyes and says, "Look around calmly, by all parties. Now. The recent past. E 'indecent think that the weak of this century have been able to inflict such suffering on their own initiative and many. There is no presumption that the most blatant failure to recognize that this game takes part another hand, which is taken from the deck from above, below and in between. We are far from being so advanced that they can make a mess so complete. " A huge leap in quality for the "Catholic boy" who lived between basketball and heroin.

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Gay Talese

Gay Talese cats tales of New York as if they were "rain dogs" the subject of yet and it might seem, bizarre storyteller, instead is a writer capable of giving a specific meaning to his role and his writing, fiction or non fiction that is because, as he says in the conclusion of Frank Sinatra has a cold , "I have always believed, and I hope to demonstrate with my efforts, that we should pay attention to ordinary people even in the literature is not fiction, and that, without changing names and falsifying the facts, the writers should produce what they call the literature of reality. " The attention to detail, whether it's the small detail that makes each story credible, whether it's final decisions in setting the writing becomes his way of life that journalism is the starting point and final destination. The foundation, which would be useful to think sometimes, those are uncommon attention to the subjects, the meetings and portraits that Gay Talese explains: " I have never written to anyone that does not nourish a minimum respect and this respect is evident in the effort to express in writing and in the effort to try to understand and express the views of the subjects of history and the social and historical helped shape their character, or their lack of character. " To describe a non-event, the one with Frank Sinatra, who did not rivorgergli took the word as an epic, and not invent anything, it takes all the "art of practice", the ability to read through and through New York, "a city of things that go unnoticed and a vision that is "inspired by curiosity, is supported by the essence of people and places I've left behind, people are neglected, that is not news." His narrative of the minimum daily with the highest art of writing puts in symbiosis journalism and fiction in a way quite unique, even if Gay Talese does not hide the details secret, indeed he confesses quite genuine: "I came from a small town, and my perceptions were somewhat provincial. I felt a sense of wonder at all that the others were normal. I thought it was worth writing about the usual events that were part of the daily routine of an average person. " The dedication to the common man , even when calling from Frank Sinatra or Joe DiMaggio, is its primordial element and the drive, inspiration, "the only essential quality is curiosity, and strength to escape and explore the world and the people who lead extraordinary lives or who are in the dark. " Something that serves as a vocation that Gay Talese pantry with enthusiasm because "there are stories everywhere, in front of us, within our reach." Just free them from reality: the beautiful, and difficult, must be just that.

Notes To Depressed Friends

Edward Bunker

From one prison to another, Edward Bunker, and already known, it is said. He does it with the raw tone and careless air that characterizes his writing. Told in first person, Education of a rogue takes us from the gloomy atmosphere of the places of detention (military schools, reformers, jails and prisons true) places the welfare of Los Angeles is always hovering between extreme wealth (it was saved on several occasions by the angel to Hollywood, "Mrs Wallis, the wife of" a large piece of cinema ") and the total delinquency its slums. Of course, to an innate ability (with his usual candor admitted: "I had no idea what I wanted, but I felt the anger in me to go through life experiences and an equally strong and urgent desire for knowledge), the Ed Bunker are more acquaintances of the latter, despite the efforts of the wealthy angel. Education of a rogue is more than an autobiography, and is beyond the novel: although supported by the life story of a convict, of course, in a noir, it may be an essay, the kind that might be of interest to Cesare Beccaria, in fact, is the path of a man who has spent half his life in prison, mostly minor, to the point where you confuse the offense with penalties, the cause and effect. Warning: Bunker no sociological or psychological issues, just tell us a world that lived and, by implication, studied, and that, again through the lens of a particular sensibility, has sought to translate into his writing. Its beginnings are documented by their of Education rogue are empirical: "To write a book one had to be a magician or a sorcerer, or an alchemist, to seize an experience, real or imagined, to recreate and use the words on the written page." A few cells away, another prisoner pounding the keys of a typewriter all night and Caryl Chessman. Edward Bunker was already understood by the reader that "a book was a book, a passage can be to far away places and exciting adventures and listening to the work of a writer who lives in the same conditions has the decisive epiphany. Devote to writing all the time that remains before, telling the his "education", and its prisons, together, a world of exclusion, violence, fear, deceit, of pain. Without any particular mediation, but those experiences. At the tender age of 65, "pacified" as read the liner notes, trying to understand where we had brought a ' Education of a rogue : "I could play my best cards, without doubt, and there are things I'm ashamed, but when I look in the mirror, I am proud of what they are. The traits of my character that made me fight the world are the same ones that allowed me to assert myself. " A true outsider, an outlaw perfect, a great writer .

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February 10 - I remember

remember the thousands and thousands of men, women, elderly and children, left to die in a dark foiba, buried alive among the dead. Why are the bullets. I remember teachers, priests, soldiers, workers, students, tortured and killed by Yugoslav communist militias in schools, in the street, at church, at home. Corpses scattered mercilessly throughout the northeastern border of Italy. I remember young women tortured with hot pincers, locked in iron cages, raped and exposed to the mockery of men of Tito. I remember those perpetrators still unpunished, acquitted of murder for having worked in the territory "extra-" or never even tried. I remember the desperation of 350 000 Italian exiles in Rijeka, Istria, Dalmatia. Forced to abandon their homes, their lands, their memories rooted in centuries. I remember thousands of people disappeared into thin air that Italy, Europe and the world have pretended to forget. I remember the silence of the historians of the party and the omission of an accomplice Italian school, so that the younger generations do not know, because they do not remember. On 10 February each year, "Day of remembrance for the victims of the sinkholes, the exodus Julian - Dalmatian and events of the eastern border" I wear the tricolor ribbon to bestow my gratitude to these Sons of Italy too long forgotten. I remember. And you?
(FROM SITE http://www.10febbraio.it/ )

... Do not cry for me. I have never felt so strong as this night of waiting, which is the last of my life. You know I'm dying for Italy. We are thousands of Italians, thrown into ravines, killed and massacred, deported to Croatia mowed daily hate, hunger, disease, slaughtered unjustly. Open the eyes of Italians and aim their eyes toward this troubled territory of Istra is and will be Italian. If the tricolor of Italy will, I hope, also to fly on my Cres, kiss it for me, with my children. Tomorrow they will kill me. Do not kill my spirit or my faith. I'm going calmly to his death and as my last thought will be turned to God and I welcome you, I leave, so my cry, very strong, stronger than the blasts of machine guns, will be: live Italy! ".

(THE TESTAMENT OF STEPHEN PETRIS WRITTEN IN THE PRISON OF THE RIVER October 9, 1945 the night before being shot).