The latest project from King’s Speech director Tom Hopper will be a big-screen version of Les Misérables, starring Hugh Jackman as Jean Valjean and Russell Crowe as Javert. You can check out the trailer over here.
Cee Lo Green will be dropping a memoir in 2013, and his press release reads like something that’s gone through four different spins in Google translator: “Talk about art imitating life? Enter into the super-natural, the surreal and the extra-ordinary that is [Cee Lo Green.] Do you think this is by chance? CRAZY? FORGET YOU? After reading this book, there will be no doubt that I am meant to be. CEELO GREEN A.K.A ‘everybody’s brother’ will make you a believer, not only in me, but also…yourself.”
“As energy loss is an unavoidable fact of mechanics — no mechanism can be 100% efficient, and the best a designer can do is manage the loss as productively as possible — so translation loss is similarly unavoidable,” explains Mark Davie, who recently translated Galileo’s Selected Writings. But what if the “energy loss” isn’t a failure of the work’s translator so much as a failure of the organization commissioning (or failing to commission) the translation? What if, as is the case for much Arabic literature, “the process [of selecting works for translation] is based on a political consideration” that deprives Western readers of the best Arabic literary work?
Rick Gekoski, previously shortlisted for the PEN/Ackerley prize, talks about what it means to be a good literary loser, at Guardian: “And as soon as the winner is announced and it isn’t you,” Colm Tóibín observed, “the cameraman just walks away, and you are left there at the table trying to look composed, and you want to die.”
“Why do we lust for lists?” Sandra M. Gilbert may not have an answer, but she does have a response to all those “100 Best American Novels” lists (and a list of her own). The Millions has a few lists too, of course – be sure to check out Janet Potter‘s “28 Books You Should Read If You Want To.”
On bad days, when his writer’s block was at its worst, Hart Crane wrote bizarre, feverish prose poetry as a way of juicing his creative synapses. Understandably, he never published this poetry, but now, thanks to the Harry Ransom Center, we can read it in its original form. Sample quote: “I held the crupper by a lasso conscripted from white mice tails spliced to the fore-top gallant.”