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Have you ever lost the joy in your creative work — that sense of fun you had when you were starting out, before the admin and the algorithms drained it away? How do mid-career creatives get it back, and what can a four-year-old teach us about play? Austin Kleon talks about productive procrastination, silly rituals, the case for paper reference books in an AI world, and how his newsletter went from a marketing cost to the day job that keeps the lights on. In the intro, Does social media still sell books? [Self-Publishing with ALLi]; Trial by algorithm [The Bookseller]; Publishing's AI Hypocrisy Problem [The New Publishing Standard]; ALLi AI survey for authors; Brave New Bookshelf Podcast, and Pics from signing at BookVault. Today's show is sponsored by ProWritingAid, writing and editing software that goes way beyond just grammar and typo checking. With its detailed reports on how to improve your writing and integration with writing software, ProWritingAid will help you improve your book before you send it to an editor, agent or publisher. Check it out for free or get 15% off the premium edition at www.ProWritingAid.com/joanna This show is also supported by my Patrons. Join my Community at Patreon.com/thecreativepenn Austin Kleon is the New York Times and international bestselling author of nonfiction books, including Steal Like an Artist, Show Your Work!, and Keep Going, as well as an artist, professional speaker, and poet. His latest book is Don't Call It Art: 10 Ways to Create Like a Kid Again. You can listen above or on your favorite podcast app or read the notes and links below. Here are the highlights and the full transcript is below. Show Notes Why Austin wrote Don't Call It Art now, and what his kids taught him about creative joy Productive procrastination, silly rituals, and treating writing like Lego Comedy as a philosophical position, and giving yourself permission to be bad in private Sharing process in the algorithm era, and why your whole life is the process Bibliomancy, paper reference books, and what AI can't give you that a dictionary can Style, the Taco Bell distinctiveness rule, and how Austin's newsletter became his day job You can find Austin at AustinKleon.com. Transcript of the interview with Austin Kleon Jo: Austin Kleon is the New York Times and international bestselling author of nonfiction books, including Steal Like an Artist, Show Your Work!, and Keep Going, as well as an artist, professional speaker, and poet. His latest book is Don't Call It Art: 10 Ways to Create Like a Kid Again. So welcome back to the show, Austin. Austin: Thank you for having me back. It's nice to talk to you again. Jo: You were on the show in March 2020, and at the time, your book was Keep Going, which was prescient considering the pandemic and politics. So I wondered, why this book, Don't Call It Art, now? Was this something you see in the creative community or your own life that made you want to write this book? Austin: Keep Going is a book about what happens when the world goes crazy around you and you're still trying to do your creative work. This is a book about what happens when inside has bottomed out. Keep Going is a book about the world bottoming out, and you're worried that your own creative work is going to bottom out too. How do you keep pushing through and keep making stuff? This book, to me, is about what happens when you bottom out inside—when you've lost that love and feeling for the thing that you wanted to do, and you're just not connecting with it in the way that you used to or the way that you want to. How do you get back? How do you return to that sense of joy and wonder and fun that we have when we're starting out? And for me, it was being around my little kids that taught me how to tap into that. My kids were natural—they didn't have any creative hangups. I would spend all day talking to people who had creative hangups, and then I'd get back in the house, and I'd just be around these beings who didn't have any of them. It was really instructive. I felt like, if I could bottle the energy of my kids when they were about four years old and try to put it in a book, I think it could really help a lot of the people that I run into, and the people with the kinds of problems I hear from. Jo: You mentioned bottoming out. How do people know when they've hit that point? Austin: You just don't want to do it anymore. You're kind of like, “This just isn't giving me back what it used to.” When we start with our creative work, that's the thing that juices us. We come away from it feeling full up. I think you hit a certain point where you start to feel drained after it. Or maybe you don't feel drained by the thing itself that you're doing—maybe it's all the stuff around it, which is more often the case. For example, if you're a mid-career writer like me, who's been publishing books for 16 years now, I still really like writing. I still really like drawing. I still really like cutting and pasting and putting things together. It's the admin around the work—the emails, the meetings, the running-a-business part of it—that's super draining for me, and that stuff can start to bleed over into the creative work. So it's really important for me to make sure that I'm having some playtime, some R&D, some research and development time, to make sure it's not just all business. When you take the thing that you love and you turn it into the thing that you make a living from, you can really run into a lot of problems. Jo: I'm at 20 years, so I know exactly what you're saying, and a lot of listeners are the same. We love writing books, but it's all the stuff that goes around it. So for those of us who do this for money as well as passion, what are some practical ways to have more fun with our creativity? Austin: Something I learned from my kids is that you really are your most creative when you're supposed to be doing something else. So one of the things I use a lot in the studio is productive procrastination. Whatever I'm supposed to be working on, I start another little project, and that's my little naughty fun time. When I first come into the studio, I try to do something that I'm not supposed to be doing—something that I won't have much to show for. That could be making one of my blackout poems. That could be making a collage in my notebook. It could also be sitting here. I have a bass in the studio now, so I can practise my bass guitar. Sometimes I'll do that for the first 15 minutes just to get in that headspace of, “Hey, what's it like to do something just for yourself? Just because you want to do it?” The juice that you get from that little naughty “I'm going to do what I'm not supposed to be doing right now” thing, that carries into the rest of the day. It's like a nice start to things. Jo: Do you think that play could be something different to what we make our money with? For me, writing novels and stories is great fun in one way, but it's also what I then publish and make money on. So writing stories is more serious, I guess, than playing with Lego or something. Austin: Right. So the trick is, how can you make writing your stories like playing with Lego? That's kind of been my whole career. I hate staring at Microsoft Word and that blinking cursor, taunting you like, “Come on, what have you got?” A lot of my creative life has been about trying to make it more playful, trying to make it feel more like a game. That's how I came up with my blackout poems. I take an article from The New York Times and I black it out until it only has a few words left behind. It sort of looks like if the CIA did haiku, for some people listening. That was one little exercise. Then weirdly, that side thing that I thought was just play, just fun—that turned into my first book. So then it's, okay, what else can I mess around with and play with? I do a lot of collage work in the studio, and I rarely actually use that for any of the books. Sometimes I use it for my newsletter to illustrate the newsletter. But it's always about trying to figure out, how can I make writing a game? How can I make it more playful? There are different things that I do to make it feel more playful. One of them's really stupid. I really believe in silly rituals because I think silliness is really powerful. People talk about their daily rituals—Mason Currey has that great book, Daily Rituals: How Artists Work. When I was reading that book, I realised it was really the silly stuff that I really liked. There was, I think it was Balzac counting out coffee beans or something before he got to write. Or Steinbeck sharpening 12 pencils or something goofy like that. So one of the things I like to do before I write is that I have these cigarette pencils. They're pencils that look like cigarettes in the studio. I put one in my mouth before I start writing, and I pretend to be some old '40s writer on a typewriter. I like doing goofy stuff in the studio because I think when you do goofy stuff—stuff that you'd be embarrassed if anyone else saw it—it gets you in that playful state. Jo: It's interesting. In your book, you have a section that says, “Don't take things too seriously.” For many of us, we write memoir for example, and that is very close to us. It's like the deepest expression of what we want to say in the world. It feels very serious. So how can we hold things more lightly and not take things so seriously? Austin: For me, comedy is actually a philosophical position. What I mean by that is, I think a lot of people set out with a tragic model of creative work. They think, “Oh, I have this special gift,” or, “I have this thing that I really need to do, and I need to put it out into the world, and I need to make the world look more like I want it to look.” They have this idea that, “Through blood and sweat and tears, I'm going to see this thing through, and I'm going to push it into the world, and I'm going to have my way.” I think there's another way of working where it's more like, “I'm just a normal person trying to play with my environment, and take my experiences and put them into something interesting. So I'm going to play and use my wits, and we're going to see what we come up with.” Those really are two modes of life. The pandemic taught me that it was really when we were keeping our sense of humour, when we were having a laugh and keeping our egos in check around the house and just acknowledging how goofy we all were and how ridiculous the situation was, that seemed to be when we were really thriving. Versus, “Well, we're in this tough situation. We've got to make it into what we want it to be.” That felt really bad. But when we cruised along and we were just improvisational, when we went at things with a kind of lightness, that worked. There's a great Italo Calvino essay about lightness in Six Memos for the Next Millennium. Lightness is really underrated. Even when we're going about heavy work, having a sense of lightness and play with it just makes the work better. That's a philosophical position of mine. I aspire to comedy. I aspire to a comic outlook on life. I'm just a creature with a body who's going to die, and I'm fundamentally ridiculous. Life is pretty absurd. You just make the best of it. Jo: There's certainly some truth there. Staying on a similar theme, you have a chapter in the book on permission to be bad. Many of the listeners also have your book Show Your Work, and it shaped many of us into sharing our work in progress. It feels quite dangerous now, in a world where judgment is much louder than it maybe was when you wrote Show Your Work. So tell us a bit about permission to be bad versus should we keep some of this private? Austin: Permission to be bad is about the making part of things. It's the private part. It's permission to be bad when you're in private, when you're actually doing the work. Show Your Work is a book about what you do after you've done the work, or while you're doing the work. It was never about putting up a webcam and running a 24/7 feed. It was more like, hey, what are the ways that I can connect with the kind of audience I can build while I'm making the work itself? So the way I see permission to be bad is, you really have to give yourself permission when you're not sharing, when you're off screen, to really be as bad as you want to be. It doesn't necessarily mean quality-wise. I think it also means letting yourself write stuff that you would never say on social media. Letting yourself read stuff that you wouldn't admit you were reading on social media. Letting yourself listen to stuff. Letting yourself really be that unfiltered, unhinged, private person that you want to be. Then when it comes to sharing, you put some time in between that input time, that making time, and the sharing time, and then you share what you think is going to be useful or helpful or interesting to other people. Jo: I think you wrote that book before TikTok, and how fast people are moving. Do you think people need to slow down a bit in what they share, maybe? Austin: I don't know. I obviously had a lot more faith in social media back then. I use all the principles from Show Your Work in my newsletter. Newsletters are very much the new kind of great thing. They're doing a lot of the work that social media used to do, in that you're still able to have this direct connection with the people that you're trying to reach. The big problem with social media now is that it's all algorithmically tuned, where the people that are following you don't see the stuff that you're doing most of the time. What you have to do now, if you want the people who are following you to see your stuff on social media, is you have to make stuff that the algorithm likes. That's a whole different thing. As far as the Show Your Work principle—which is share your process as much as your product—that carries over to any platform. In my newsletter every Friday, I share a list of 10 things that were going on behind the scenes here. It might have been what I was watching on TV, what I listened to, a new pen I was trying out, or something like that. The Friday newsletter is almost always process stuff. When I talk about process, my definition is actually very broad. For a lot of people, it's drafting, editing, whatever. For me, the process is the whole life. The process is almost everything except the finished thing. A writer's life is 24/7. My friends who have real jobs really are like, “What do you do all day?” And I'm like, “Well, what do you mean?” They're like, “Well, I see you out on your bike ride.” I'm like, “Yes, when you see me out on a bike ride, I'm thinking through something half the time.” If I'm watching TV, I'm thinking, “Hey, would this be good in the newsletter?” I'm never off. My whole life—everything is copy, as Nora Ephron said. That's part of the job. It's very hard to turn off. So I see the whole life as process, and the question becomes, what little bits and pieces of that life and that process can you share with people while you're making the things that you hope to sell them later? Right now, I'm in a cycle where I'm selling this book, but all these people have showed up because I've shared my process every week for the past seven years since I put out a book. Jo: It's funny you say that. I was at the dentist yesterday, and— My dentist literally asked me, “So where do you get all your ideas?” This is a common question for all of us, right? And it just becomes so hard to explain that to people who don't walk around in the world just constantly getting ideas. Austin: I can't believe I'm going to tell this story. I was getting my vasectomy after my second kid, and I was talking to this doctor just before the operation. He said, “So what do you do for a living?” I said, “I'm a writer.” He said, “Oh, that must be cool. You get to use your brain.” And I said, “That's everything that you want your doctor to say.” I was going to say, “Please use your brain,” before he's about to cut into you. He said, “Oh, no, no. What I mean is, I know what I'm going to do every day for the next 10 years.” He knew exactly what his day was going to look like. He said, “You have to use your brain. You've got to figure out new stuff.” I was like, “Oh, that's really interesting.” That's the trade-off, right? He's got the job security. He knows what he's going to do. Every writer has a moment where they have to talk to a normal person about what you do. Jo: I was going to say, I'm married to one. Austin: Now, my wife, on the other hand, grew up the daughter of a writer, so she knows exactly what it's like. Nothing ever phases her. She's totally used to it. She's used to me staring off into space, completely checking out of a conversation. She's used to me using lines on her that I'm going to put in a piece later. She's used to the whole rigmarole. It's very handy. I've been very lucky in that sense. Jo: Coming back to the book, you talk about your use of bibliomancy for inspiration. Since we're talking about that, tell us about it. I think all the book people listening will be happy. Austin: I'm a person who still keeps a dictionary nearby—a paper dictionary. I keep a big old American Heritage. It's just a big, thick book. When I really don't have any ideas, I will turn at random to the dictionary, close my eyes, stick my finger down the page, open my eyes, and just see what I come up with. Sometimes just that act will give me an idea. I also do that with books. I'll go around the studio, pick up a book, flip to a random page, and just see what it says there, or read an old piece of marginalia that I've left in a book. I believe deeply in the power of bibliomancy, and I think it's a case for paper books. I'm one of those people that still really believes in reference books. I've started collecting more and more of them. I have an old, big dictionary that's always open on my desk, and I look up words. I learned from John McPhee, the writer, that you should look up words that you think you know. That was the first time I'd ever heard anyone say that. So I look up words that I think I know. Instead of reaching for a thesaurus when I need a different word, I actually just look up the definition of the word that I already have. That's another McPhee tip. The other thing that happened that I thought was really interesting is, I got a Roget's for the first time—a thesaurus. I don't think most people know what an actual thesaurus is. Most people think of a thesaurus as a synonym finder, and that's not actually what a thesaurus is at all. A thesaurus is more like an encyclopaedia, weirdly. You look up things based on big concepts, and then it gives you a bunch of words to look up later. It's a very strange thing. It's not what most people think it is. I have a couple of editions of Roget's in here. I like the really old Roget's from the 1900s because they actually have opposing ideas facing each other on the page. Do you have an old-school Roget's? Have you ever looked through one? Jo: I don't have one now, but I certainly grew up with them. I was literally just thinking, I wonder if there are ones for Americans and ones for British people, because so often we say different things and mean different things. I always hear Americans say, “Oh, that's a doozy,” or something, and it means the complete opposite thing here. Austin: Like if you say “fanny pack” over there. That means something very different than it means here, right? Chips or fries, that kind of stuff. So I wonder if there are different ones for different cultural references. Jo: I don't know. Austin: As people, with ChatGPT and all these LLMs and stuff, people are like, “Why would you ever pick up a paper reference book?” And I'm like, “I actually like the friction.” I like having to move in space and go over to my dictionary. I like flipping the pages. I like having to scan a page for the word I'm looking for, because— This marvellous thing happens when you're looking for the word, where you bump into all these other words. If you're a word nerd, you get to start thinking about the root of the word—oh, why is this word next to this word? Well, it's because they share the same root. Then you're going down all these fun rabbit holes. The thing that I'm trying to do as a writer and a creative person is, I'm trying to get to the thing that I didn't know I was looking for. The thing that people misunderstand about AI, I think personally, is that it's a great tool if you know what you're looking for. If you're like, “Find me this thing. I want exactly this. I want to see a picture of a dog wearing a king's costume,” or some crap like that, then it can spit that picture out for you. Or, “I want to know what happened on this day,” and whatever. It can do that. But that's not actually what I'm doing most of the time when I'm writing or making something. I start with an idea, but what really happens—the magic of writing and the magic of making stuff in general—is when you discover something that you didn't even know you were headed for. That's the real magic for me. Sometimes I have an idea and I want to articulate it for people, but more often than not, there's something that bothers me or something that I want to talk about, and I sit down and write, and I figure out what it is that I actually have to say and what I actually think. Every writer really knows this, and that's why the dictionary, stuff like that, those are ways of training you to get in that discovery mode. “Well, let me—oh, I bumped into this. I went looking for this one thing and then I ran into this other thing.” That's why I love the library. I don't know what system you use over there, but you look for one book in the Dewey Decimal System over here, and then, okay, here's all these other weird books next to it. Then you end up with three other books other than the one that you were looking for. That's the magic. To me, that's the magic of creative work, discovering what you didn't know you were looking for. That was particularly important for me when I was writing this book because we discovered that my wife has a condition called aphantasia. It's very rare in the population, about 2 to 3% of people. There's probably some people listening to this right now who are like, “What is this? Tell me.” Jo: Aphantasia actually more common in the creative industries. Austin: Yes. What it is, is that you don't see—when I say close your eyes and picture an apple, you don't actually see the apple in your head. You can think about an apple and the qualities of an apple, but you don't actually see it. Some people, and it's a matter of degree—some people like me, I can close my eyes, I can tell you what the apple looks like, I can tell you what colour it is, I can tell you where the shading is. Someone like my wife doesn't see the apple. She can tell you what an apple is. It's really interesting because she has a degree in architecture, which is known as a very visual field. But the thing you discover about aphantasia is, it doesn't keep people from becoming artists. In fact, it's the opposite. Someone like Ed Catmull, who co-founded Pixar, writes about it in his book, and so many of the great animators at Pixar are actually aphantasics. The reason is that they learned that they had to draw in order to see things. When you don't have a picture in your head of what you want something to look like, things appear in the drawing, and you find things that you couldn't even picture. A lot of writers actually are aphantasics. John Green discovered recently that he has aphantasia. It turns out that it's a superpower for writers, because if you don't have a picture in your head, then you don't have to translate that picture into words. A lot of writers talk about thinking in radio, like they have a constant narrator. My wife—she's probably going to kill me for talking about her this much—when she describes it to me, she's like, “Oh, it's like a radio in my head. I'm constantly hearing a voice, and it's a narrator.” I was like, “Holy shit, that would be really helpful to me.” I don't have anything like that in my head. I read Mrs Dalloway for the first time, and I gave it to her and I said, “You've got to read this book. I think this must be what it's like in your head.” And she said, “Oh my God, it is.” Part of the thing that I took away from that experience—this is a long-winded way of getting here—is that I take a lot of inspiration from people with this condition. Most of the people I know in the arts or the creative fields, they set out with this grand vision, and then they start working on the thing and it's nothing like what they had in their head, and they get really depressed: “This isn't what I had in mind.” Whereas if you set out without a picture in your head, and you just start manipulating things and you see what appears, that's more of the comic mode I was talking about earlier. What would happen if we just sat down with our materials and we started playing and we saw what appeared on the page? What if we started typing and saw what appeared, and then we played with that? That's the kind of joy. That's more like how kids operate. Kids are better at that. They're better at reacting to what's actually in front of them, instead of having these grandiose visions about what they're trying to achieve. Jo: Just coming back on the longevity of a creative career. Your books are very distinctive. You have a very distinctive visual style, your handwriting and the way the books are done. I wondered if another part of the ennui, perhaps, or the draining of the later career is that we get trapped into doing something that feels like it looks the same. Or we have a voice, and we're happy in that voice, but sometimes we want to do something completely different. For authors, we have different names. I write under two different names, and that helps. But equally— How do you define author voice, and do you ever feel like doing something completely different to your normal style? Austin: Style, in a lot of ways, is self-plagiarism. Style is the repeated things that we notice in people's work. Hitchcock talked about this in films. Wes Anderson is someone like that—Wes Anderson has a style. I'm sure that he gets really sick of it too sometimes, but you also can't help it in some ways. I thought a lot about this because people worry about style so much. A lot of the time, what we call style is what Adrian Tomine one time said: “Style is just the distance between what's in my head and what comes out of my hand.” I really like that definition. With this book, I was trying to think, “Okay, if I do another book in this series, how can I push things a little bit?” And then I was reading this article about Taco Bell. You guys have Taco Bell over there, don't you? Do you have Taco Bell? Jo: No. Austin: So Taco Bell, for people who don't know, is this American Mexican chain, and they have tacos and burritos and stuff like that. They're well known for making these really insane… it's so American, this company. They make a taco with a Doritos as a shell. Doritos are crisps, I guess. Jo: Yes, we have Doritos. Austin: Okay. I spent time in England, I just don't remember if I ate Doritos when I was in England. Anyway, I was reading this article about Taco Bell. It was really funny. They have an innovation kitchen at Taco Bell, and they have a rule about new products. The rule is called the distinctiveness rule, and the rule is: you can change the flavour or you can change the taste, or you can change the form, but you can't change both at the same time. I got really obsessed with this concept because I thought, “Well, this could be kind of interesting.” If you're someone who's had success and you're known for something, this presents an interesting thing. You could do a complete break and do something completely new, or you could try the distinctiveness rule. Okay, well, what if I play with this idea of taste versus form? What if I change the taste and keep the form? So the idea for Don't Call It Art was, what if I do another one of these books, but the taste is more like if my kids made it? It had the texture of kids' art, it had lots of scribbles in it, it was loose and messy. That was kind of the idea. The actual book ended up being more like the other books. It ended up looking like an Austin Kleon book, because I just can't help that. The thing you said about having multiple names that you write under, that's kind of what I do with the newsletter. I think of the newsletter as very different from the books. The newsletter is this twice-weekly thing where I can be a little bit more of myself. In the books, I'm this very helpful, happy version of myself. It's me, but it's me on my best day. I'm really helpful and interesting for you. The newsletter is still a highlight reel in a sense, but it's a little bit more of my weird everything-I'm-into. It's more of the unclipped version of me. The newsletter becomes a place where I can do a lot of the weird stuff that's much different from the books. I have these little projects going all the time. Sometimes I'll make a bunch of prints and put them online. Sometimes I'll make a bunch of zines on a topic I haven't covered in the book. Sometimes I'll do a mixtape. As someone who's interested in a lot of different forms and genres and just different modes of output, having something like a newsletter has been really creatively fruitful for me. It's kept me from getting too bottomed out with the books because the books do a certain thing for the reader, and as much as I'd love to do a book that was radically different, I also think I've been given a real gift with the form of my books, in that I kind of own the way that they feel and look. There aren't a lot of books that look like those books and feel like those books, and so I like playing with that form. It would be hard to get rid of it now. The pseudonym for me is kind of like the newsletter in a sense. The newsletter is a little bit more of where I get to be wild and wacky. Then the books are a little bit more of a chiselled thing. Jo: The books are perfect examples of the form, as you say, but it's interesting about the newsletter. You mentioned at the beginning that we can be drained by the admin around the work. For many people listening, a newsletter becomes admin. So how does the newsletter fit into your business? The books are traditionally published, they're very professional. How do you have your independent side, and how does all of that work together in your business? Austin: Thank you for asking that question. I run the whole show at the newsletter. The newsletter is just me, and then my wife edits it, and no one else is involved. I don't have an assistant. I don't have a team. It is just me, and that's why I love it. I control everything. I pick who gets in there. I pick everything. I love that. I grew up watching David Letterman over here, and Letterman had a nightly show, and I always thought that was killer. I thought, “Man, what a fun job. You have a show every night where you have a new guest, and you have all these wacky things going on.” It was like a variety show. I always thought that would be really fun, so the newsletter is my version of that. I started the newsletter in 2013, and it was just a Friday newsletter. It quickly became a list of 10 things I thought were worth sharing. I had a friend, Hugh MacLeod, who was like, “Hey, I have a newsletter. It's bigger than any conference you've ever gone to.” He was talking about South by Southwest here in Austin. He's like, “I have a newsletter now, and it's bigger than South by Southwest.” Jo: Oh, I remember him. Austin: He would say, “Every time I have a new print, I put it out, and there's a button, and then they buy it.” He was like, “You've got to get it. This newsletter thing is killer.” This was in 2011 or something. Jo: Yes, I still have his books. Blogging in Your Underwear or something. Austin: Totally. So Hugh's a whole different story, but I was just like, “Oh, I should really get a newsletter.” Letterman always had a top 10 list on his show. I just always thought a 10 list was really fun. And of course the books are lists of 10 too. So it just worked to have a weekly list of 10. It felt good, and it felt like an infinitely repeatable format. What I'm looking for as a creative person is an infinitely repeatable format that can go on and on and on and be new every time. So the list of 10 is something that people know the form of. It goes back to the Taco Bell thing. They know the form, but they're not sure what's going to go inside. They know it's going to be a burrito, but they don't know what's going to be in the burrito, and that's the exciting part. The newsletter, business-wise, was always a marketing cost for about the first eight years of its existence. I paid MailChimp to send it out. Then in about 2021, when I hadn't done a book for a while, my agent said, “You know, you should really think about doing a paid tier of your newsletter.” And this is to his credit, because he doesn't make anything off the newsletter. He said, “There's this thing called Substack now that makes that really easy.” So we moved to Substack in 2021 in October, and I started doing a Tuesday edition of the newsletter that was just for paid people. That grew enough that it's gone from a marketing cost to something that's almost—it's not quite as much as I make on my books, but it's close. And to be candid, my books sell pretty well. So suddenly the newsletter has become this really healthy income stream. The newsletter to me is actually the day job now. The newsletter is what really keeps the lights on. It's also the perfect mix. It's the day job, it's the thing that keeps income coming in on a regular basis, but it's also the thing I like to do the most. I'm not like a traditional writer who likes to just get lost in their book and take years and years and go away. I'm someone who loves to be doing a lot of different things. The newsletter is a perfect format for me. I'm talking myself into not quitting, actually. It's funny. It's gone from this thing that was a marketing cost to now it's a significant part of our income. That journey—such a bad word, journey—that trip has been very interesting. It's been really cool. But I'm also just lucky. I've been really lucky, and I think part of my thing is, I'm always just trying not to squander my luck. Jo: Well, the book is fantastic, and I know people are going to love it. And the newsletter, of course. So tell us— Where can people find you and your books and newsletter online? Austin: The easiest thing to do is to just go to AustinKleon.com, and that has links to everything—the books, the newsletter. I do actually keep an old-school blog still. I'm one of the few people that still maintains their blog and keeps it up to date. I'm hedging my bets because I think in the end everything will come back to a self-hosted website. I think in the end everyone's going to just go back to their little websites, or at least I hope so. Jo: Well, that was great, Austin. Thanks so much. Austin: Oh, thank you. The post Don't Call It Art: Rediscovering Creative Joy With Austin Kleon first appeared on The Creative Penn.

Brinkmann, Sigrid www.deutschlandfunk.de, Büchermarkt

Brinkmann, Sigrid www.deutschlandfunk.de, Büchermarkt

Robert the Devil is a supernatural medieval legend that inspired a 19th-century French opera, which incorporates key elements from a seminal Gothic novel.  The opera and legend are substantially different but both interesting. We begin with Giacomo Meyerbeer’s 1831 opera, Robert le diable, which gained notoriety for a ballet sequence in Act III, which portrays an attempted seduction of the hero, Robert, Duke of Normandy, by the ghosts of corrupted nuns, freshly risen from their crypts. The scene is not found in the original legend, but as we learn, was borrowed from a particularly sensationalistic early Gothic novel,The Monk, written by Matthew Gregory Lewis in 1764.   We also learn that Meyerbeer's chief librettist, Eugène Scribe later went on to crib another storyline from Lewis’ The Monk for the 1854 opera by composer Charles Gounod, La nonne sanglante (“the bloody nun”). Rendering of cloister set for Paris Opera premiere. Along the way, we learn how Robert le diable helped save the financially imperiled Paris Opera after its royal subsidy had been withdrawn following the July Revolution of 1830.  Along with public curiosity about the scandalous ballet, ticket sales owed much to the 19th-century equivalent of special effects — flashy and innovative stagecraft (new gaslight design, trapdoors, floating will-o-the-wisps, etc.) and a spectacular set replicating a ruined gothic monastery. Hans Christian Andersen, George Sand and Frédéric Chopin lavishly praised the production. Honoré de Balzac and Alexander Dumas worked mentions of the opera into their novels. Edgar Degas painted not one but two renderings of the Ballet of the Nuns. Edgar Degas’ rendering of the “Ballet of the Nins” The opera also gave birth to a new style of ballet, one linked to Romanticism's interest in the supernatural: ballet blanc, “white ballet” named for the innovative long, flowing skirts that lent themselves to wafting movements suggestive of misty wisps moving in the darkness. The opera’s 1847  London premiere was attended by Queen Victoria and featured superstar soprano Jenny Lind as Robert’s sister.  Traffic came to a standstill as unruly spectators mobbed the streets hoping for  glimpse of either celebrity. The second half of our episode tells the original story of Robert the Devil.  It first appeared around 1250, sketched out in short form by the Dominican monk, Étienne de Bourbon, in a collection of exempla, or moral tales intended to be used by priests in their homilies.  A couple decades later, details were filled out in a longer, anonymous  poem, preserved in France's National Library. Then by the late 14th century, it was rendered as a miracle play in “Forty Miracles of Our Lady,” commissioned by a guild of Parisian goldsmiths. By 1500, the story had arrived in Britain. That year, Wynkyn de Worde, assistant to pioneering London printshop owner Thomas Caxton, issued a chapbook prose translation hewing close to the French 14th-century poem. I found the Wynkyn de Worde text reproduced in a handsome 1904 volume complete with line illustrations, decorative initials, and borders reminiscent of the Arts and Crafts books of William Morris.  As promised in the episode, here is the link to that book: Robert_the_Deuyll.pdf.  (Visit the show notes on the Bone and Sickle website if you can’t click link). As for the  story itself, it’s best you enjoy it without spoilers as told by Mrs. Karswell.  It’s full of demonic wrath, battles, court intrigue, miracles, pathos, and a very and prolonged peculiar penance.  All told in charming 16th-century language with all the little sound-design extras you’ve come to expect from Bone and Sickle.

Aujourd'hui on est au Nid du Héron, la guinguette du Lac de Maine et du Parc Balzac, avec qui on vous proposera des Hors les Murs spéciaux, tout l'été. Pour le lancement de leur saison, on explore la biodiversité présente sur ce lieu. Juste après l'enregistrement de cette émission, une balade est organisée pour permettre au grand public de découvrir les animaux et les arbres qui peuplent le Parc. L'occasion pour nous d'avoir un avant goût et de découvrir ensemble quelles sont les espèces qui nous entourent, comment les protéger et comment les faire connaître au grand public. On en parle avec celui qui mène cette ballade : Guillaume Poirier, de l’échappée Anjouée Playlist : For All Thoses > BusCrates (feat. T.R.A.C.) / Terra Nueva > Ojun, Marie Lanfroy et Carlo de Sacco /

Le 18 aout 1850, le grand Honoré de Balzac meurt à Paris. Très vite, il est décidé d'ériger une grande statue à l'auteur de la Comédie Humaine. Auguste Rodin se voit confier cette prestigieuse tâche. Il faudra attendre 65 ans avant de la voir enfin érigée. C'est cette incroyable aventure que raconte la romancière Clélia Renucci dans son livre Le Chef D'œuvre maudit, paru aux éditions Albin Michel. Merci pour votre écoute Un Jour dans l'Histoire, c'est également en direct tous les jours de la semaine de 13h15 à 14h30 sur www.rtbf.be/lapremiere Retrouvez tous les épisodes d'Un Jour dans l'Histoire sur notre plateforme Auvio.be :https://auvio.rtbf.be/emission/5936 Intéressés par l'histoire ? Vous pourriez également aimer nos autres podcasts : L'Histoire Continue: https://audmns.com/kSbpELwL'heure H : https://audmns.com/YagLLiKEt sa version à écouter en famille : La Mini Heure H https://audmns.com/YagLLiKAinsi que nos séries historiques :Chili, le Pays de mes Histoires : https://audmns.com/XHbnevhD-Day : https://audmns.com/JWRdPYIJoséphine Baker : https://audmns.com/wCfhoEwLa folle histoire de l'aviation : https://audmns.com/xAWjyWCLes Jeux Olympiques, l'étonnant miroir de notre Histoire : https://audmns.com/ZEIihzZMarguerite, la Voix d'une Résistante : https://audmns.com/zFDehnENapoléon, le crépuscule de l'Aigle : https://audmns.com/DcdnIUnUn Jour dans le Sport : https://audmns.com/xXlkHMHSous le sable des Pyramides : https://audmns.com/rXfVppvN'oubliez pas de vous y abonner pour ne rien manquer.Et si vous avez apprécié ce podcast, n'hésitez pas à nous donner des étoiles ou des commentaires, cela nous aide à le faire connaître plus largement. Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Balzac s'est livré corps et âme à la littérature, avec l'ambition démesurée de « saisir l'esprit, l'âme, la physionomie des choses et des êtres »…Plongez dans l'histoire des grands personnages et des évènements marquants qui ont façonné notre monde ! Avec enthousiasme et talent, Franck Ferrand vous révèle les coulisses de l'histoire avec un grand H, entre mystères, secrets et épisodes méconnus : un cadeau pour les amoureux du passé, de la préhistoire à l'histoire contemporaine.Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

We have experienced Paris through the words of Hemingway and Balzac, the colors of Chagall and Delaunay, the wild adventures of Henry Miller, the recipes of Julia Child, the stars of Michelin, and the curated lists of Fodor's, Frommer's, and Lonely Planet. Yet, few have explored Paris through the unique perspective of the “Exposition Universelle”—the World's Fair, or World Expo.Paris is a living archive of seven Universal Expositions held between 1855 and 1937. These grand events left an indelible mark on the city, creating an urban diary of monumental achievements: the Eiffel Tower, of course, but also the Musée d'Orsay, the Grand Palais, and the Petit Palais.“Nobody Sits Like the French” uncovers these stories and many more. Blending travel guide and history, the book reveals a Paris invisible to most—a city where every glass of Burgundy, every sip from Baccarat crystal, every Monet or Gauguin admired, and even the modern marvel of a working sewer system, can be traced back to the legacy of a World Expo. https://www.charlespappas.world/buy-the-world-expo-bookhttp://www.yourlotandparcel.org

Un autre Deux Princes. Cette fois-ci, on : - Offre un marché avec le crime organisé pour la construction des rues- Conseille aux gens de se trouver un partenaire qui est partisan du CF Montréal- Parle des concerts de Sabrina Carpenter et Justin Bieber à Coachella- Discute de Balzac- Débat sur Kanye West- Révèle l'âge de Theo Von Deux Princes. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

Eva Ramos es la nueva creación de Juan Gómez-Jurado. El autor de tantas novelas de éxito, con millones de ejemplares vendidos, deja a un lado la serie de Reina Roja, y nos presenta a una nueva protagonista, muy marcada por la rara enfermedad que sufre su hermano Pablo, y que tiene una profesión: mentir.Alexandra Roma, una de las voces más queridas del romance juvenil, que regresa con Tantas veces como respiro: la primera entrega de una bilogía que seguro que os va a encantar. Francisco Bescós nos trae un thriller claustrofóbico ambientado en un gigantesco centro logístico, aislado en mitad de la Alcarria. El título: Mantis. Y en pequeñas historias de los clásicos, las 50.000 tazas de café que bebió en su vida Balzac.En la sección de Audiolibros, Grandes promesas. Pierre Lemaitre cierra las aventuras de la familia Pelletier.

De toda a parte nos chegam avisos quanto a uma crise de autores teatrais, ou do conto, do romance, géneros que déramos como adquiridos, elementos constantes de uma plena função cultural, mas se se perdeu o entusiasmo das formas, aquela audácia com que se partia da realidade como de um mote para depois se tratar certos temas com um cuidado obstinado em animar de um sopro vital algo que pode, sem ele, tornar-se débil, apenas arrastando uma convenção oficial e cansada, há alturas em que tudo o que resta são pequenos salteadores da tradição, que a única coisa que lhe trazem é aquele gesto insolente, cabriolante, blasfemo, trabalhando verdades cada vez mais somíticas, tão parciais que acabam por só dispor de turvos factos e figuras que se desfazem em pó mal as examinamos de perto. Agustina notava que em certas alturas tendem a proliferar as melancolias dos pequenos talentos, sendo que estas chegam a assemelhar-se a infâmias calculadas. Adivinhou há três décadas que aquilo que nos esperava era um crescendo da ganância e uma cultura pedante que se imitaria para não ter que se inventar a si mesma. Não estamos já na companhia desses perdulários encantadores, mas dos associais das superestruturas, e não há já aquela capacidade de se defenderem do mundo alimentando-se da canção perdida que é o passado. No máximo temos nalguns a erudição malabarista, uma instrução que fede as mais das vezes a desembaraçados preconceitos, a banalidade aristocratizada do que passa por sabedoria, mas nada daquela inteligência convulsa, monstruosa, como essa criatura estupenda que se fixou entre nós, e que, entre só umas poucas mais, gozavam desse prestígio dos que punham na boca de cada um dos que com elas se cruzavam as únicas palavras que alguma vez pronunciaram. Impor-se com toda a relevância é um talento assombroso, mas hoje, tenham mais ou menos recursos, é difícil reconhecer nesses frágeis actores, que representam numa teatralidade tosca e excessiva o tal privilégio dos que movem o poder da criação, uma verdadeira intensidade. Não vemos que, nas coisas de que se ocupam com essa luz repartida e triste, consiga nascer seja o que for. Até as mentiras são cada vez mais inábeis… “Não mentem como dantes, não há qualquer contrato de persuasão, de conquista, na mentira”, diz-nos Agustina. “Hoje mente-se por manifesta insolência, quer-se dizer apenas ‘vê que a tua opinião me é indiferente e o que podes pensar não me causa nenhuma perturbação'. Eu vi diante dos meus olhos essa mentira desesperada e fútil”… Surgia, assim, uma geração que mente friamente, assim como se avilta friamente, e nisso escoa todo o seu drama. Não quer contratos com a sabedoria e com a experiência, e depois só resta uma espécie de leviandade carismática. Se em tempos esta escritora podia notar que “a alma de um homem é feita de muitas tentativas doutras almas”, hoje parece até um excesso romântico servir-se desses termos, quando o que prevalece é “o canibalismo moral”, a sede irreprimível de possuir súbditos, seguidores, de subjugar a vontade dos demais, sendo certo que, “quanto mais débil é uma sociedade, mais activa parece ser”, e damos por uns seres que não conseguem seguir nenhum argumento, nenhuma intriga arrojada, nada senão um rastilho boateiro, ficando-se longe daquela indiscrição da inteligência, ficando por dizer o que antes o nevoeiro consertava, esse pigmento de alma que nos era introduzido e que não era nem mero sentimento nem outra coisa que pudesse facilmente ser descrita, mas aquilo a que Agustina chamou “um sabor hamletiano que os portugueses regelam na pele, como se um povo inteiro nele se contivesse, na clausura da sua hereditariedade na fermentação do destino”. Podem até ser exageros de quem sempre nos foi dizendo que não lutava por pessoas ou coisas, mas por sínteses, e que vinha para o romance como para um piano velho, deixando a meninice dedilhar e cantar, com aquele gozo que a música desperta nas feras. Depois dessas ousadias que mais temos senão a tal febre de fatalismo que tomou conta de tudo?, a azeda turbulência e os motivos a que cada um se agarra entre enganos e tristezas remoídas, para de si mesmas transmitirem uma impressão forte, cercadas dos milhares de pessoas manejadas pela publicidade, pela nevrose colectiva de corresponder ao século, no que este tem de programa alienatório. Assim, “tudo são prorrogações e leve maceração de consciências", e, independentemente da forma, não se dá por um escrever e pensar com aquela audácia vingativa. “O que devia ser alado precipita-se no chão sujo dum palco; o que devia ser narrativa poética faz-se uma força antiquada da qual se evade sem pena a nossa imaginação. O que devia surpreender aborrece; o que é fruto de glória parece raquítica pretensão.” Deste modo vemos o processo cultural abster-se de um verdadeiro programa, de tudo aquilo que pudesse definir alguma ambição, porque hoje o sim e o não brotam da trivialidade e são incapazes de nos vincular seja ao que for.  As criações que nos surgem por diante estão a reclamar algo que não existe. Impressiona-nos o patetismo, e basta deter a atenção nessas fórmulas tão lapidares quanto moribundas para se ficar sem vontade de coisa nenhuma, e se alguns espíritos ainda são capazes daquela prosa canalha e desafectada que nos anima um pouco com o seu vigor de insubordinação, sendo possível imaginar que algum ensejo crítico mais empenhado possa desentranhar deste nosso tempo um manifesto urdido por uns quantos contra a habituação de andar no mundo e obedecer-lhe, por outro lado, os versos parvos têm provado ser hoje uma indústria que prolifera para ajuda das convicções desbotadas, esses versos parvos que, segundo Agustina, têm grande audiência porque não comprometem a solidão, só a resguardam mais. Versos parvos que sobrecarregam uma literatura, encontrando o apoio dessa trama mediática que no medíocre vê afinidades honrosas. “Mas importa analisar o fado desta linhagem que temos. As relações entre os que produzem uma obra e os que a divulgam ou só observam são viciadas pelo método do verso parvo. São muitas vezes hipocrisias sem talento, movidas por sinceridades mal-intencionadas. Um autor escreve mal, um artista representa deploravelmente; e logo se lhes encontram parentescos com uma corrente ou outra, parentescos que, a serem autênticos, fariam deles desgraçados. O estilo não permite sucessores sem obrigar a maiores originalidades. A prova de que esse apoio é inútil é que a simpatia não produz carreira. Muitas vezes os amigos são o pesadelo indiscreto duma obra que podia impor-se. Se amam, pervertem; se aplaudem, embevecem, mais do que estimulam. A solidão não é uma vocação; é um desespero cultivado pela arte da vida breve que se repercute no ilimitado.” Neste episódio, veio conversar connosco Lourença Baldaque, escritora que tem publicado nos mais diversos registos desde 2005, e que criou as edições Fauve&Rouge, persistindo de forma discreta, empenhada, tendo como finalidade assumida a vital procura de um tempo literário. Além de ter traduzido e publicado autores franceses como Jules Renard, Jules Barbey d'Aurevilly e Balzac, tem traduzido de outras línguas, tendo sido responsável pela tradução da correspondência da avó (Agustina) com o escritor argentino Juan Rodolfo Wilcock e foi responsável pela recolha e organização da monumental edição em três volumes dos ensaios e artigos publicados por Agustina na imprensa entre 1951 e 2007. Se hoje a lenta réstia do seu farol ainda actua entre nós e tem alguma coisa de função esquecida, é sempre possível, ainda que arriscado e exigente, trazê-la de volta ao nosso convívio, sobretudo quando, apesar de toda a farra, a cultura recaiu numa espécie de pudor do isolamento, de ancilose, e há um tremendo receio do confronto, uma vez que mesmo as pessoas abdicam da sua constituição e se deixam transformar em miragens, “e como ectoplasmas não têm mistério, assim flutuam indiferenciadamente no grande oceano da informação”.

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L'auteur Ismael JUDE a deux actualités littéraires avec Une vie de Jasmin, un roman publié aux éditions Verticales mais aussi avec un atlas, En France : sur les pas de personnages de romans, publié chez Autrement. Connaissez-vous la France de Madame Bovary, celle de Lancelot du Lac ou encore celle d'Augustin Meaulnes ? Autant de héros qui ont arpenté villes et campagnes, donnant à certains paysages une aura, comme la Provence de Marcel Pagnol. De Desvres à Pointe-à-Pitre, avec une escale à Porto-Vecchio, ce voyage littéraire suit les traces de personnages qui ont façonné notre imaginaire, héros comme anti-héros. Un atlas pour du tourisme littéraireCet atlas offre une véritable occasion de faire du tourisme littéraire, de vivre, aimer et mourir avec les héros des romans. Une quarantaine de destinations sont proposées, on y trouve des itinéraires, mais aussi des cartes pour identifier les lieux de ces personnages. Tout commence avec Balzac qui, inspiré par Walter Scott, veut écrire l'histoire récente de la France en répartissant ses romans sur tout le territoire. Il commence par décrire la ville de Tours et ses alentours. On y croise aussi des portraits du Havre, de Toulon, de Marseille.Certaines villes ou régions sont devenues indissociables d'un auteur : Chateaubriand et Saint-Malo, la Provence et Pagnol. Quelques régions sont toutefois surreprésentées, comme la Normandie ou la Provence. Et certains écrivains se sont arrangés avec la réalité : certains auteurs se sont quelque peu arrangés avec la réalité: Trouville n'est plus le petit port de pêche paisible des romans de Flaubert. Cependant, l'émission y reste présente. D'autres territoires, comme le Pays basque ou le Béarn, sont au contraire moins bien représentés. Cet atlas met en avant une véritable dimension patrimoniale de la littérature : plein de références littéraires   Une vie de Jasmin, un roman éco-poétiqueIsmael Jude publie également un roman. C'est l'histoire assez extraordinaire, d'une jeune femme-fleur prénommée Jasmin, qui s'écrit étrangement avec des caractères arabes et dont les parents se sont rencontrés sous le signe des fleurs, avant de les détester Jasmin aime les fleurs et qui ne vit que par les odeurs. Elle a un lien très fort avec les fleurs puisque son corps se recouvre de fleurs ou de herbes diverses. Mieux encore : quand Jasmin marche pieds nus, sur ses traces poussent des fleurs. Elle pratique une sorte de “dermaculture” et se drogue au glyphosate…Un roman éco-poétique écrit entre La Ciotat et Grasse dans une langue rare et sensuelle qui permet de renouer avec le végétal qui est en nous.L'auteur a beaucoup joué avec les mots et le champ lexical des plantes   Invité :  Ismaël Jude, romancier et docteur en littérature. Auteur de En France : sur les pas de personnages de romans, publié chez Autrement. Il vient également de publier Une vie de jasmin, aux éditions Verticales. Et la chronique Ailleurs nous emmène à Nouakchott, en Mauritanie, pour parler du concert autour de la chanteuse de jazz Leïla Olivesi qui s'est profondément inspirée de la littérature et des poèmes de la négritude (Aimé Césaire, Senghor, Glissant, David Diop) pour son album African Rhapsody avec également une rencontre littéraire, le 6 mai 2026. Cette rencontre poétique et musicale mettra en scène les voix des écrivains Mbarek Ould Beyrouk et Salihina Moussa Konaté à l'Institut français de Mauritanie.   Programmation musicale : L'artiste Aupinard avec le titre Le Thé   

L'auteur Ismael JUDE a deux actualités littéraires avec Une vie de Jasmin, un roman publié aux éditions Verticales mais aussi avec un atlas, En France : sur les pas de personnages de romans, publié chez Autrement. Connaissez-vous la France de Madame Bovary, celle de Lancelot du Lac ou encore celle d'Augustin Meaulnes ? Autant de héros qui ont arpenté villes et campagnes, donnant à certains paysages une aura, comme la Provence de Marcel Pagnol. De Desvres à Pointe-à-Pitre, avec une escale à Porto-Vecchio, ce voyage littéraire suit les traces de personnages qui ont façonné notre imaginaire, héros comme anti-héros. Un atlas pour du tourisme littéraireCet atlas offre une véritable occasion de faire du tourisme littéraire, de vivre, aimer et mourir avec les héros des romans. Une quarantaine de destinations sont proposées, on y trouve des itinéraires, mais aussi des cartes pour identifier les lieux de ces personnages. Tout commence avec Balzac qui, inspiré par Walter Scott, veut écrire l'histoire récente de la France en répartissant ses romans sur tout le territoire. Il commence par décrire la ville de Tours et ses alentours. On y croise aussi des portraits du Havre, de Toulon, de Marseille.Certaines villes ou régions sont devenues indissociables d'un auteur : Chateaubriand et Saint-Malo, la Provence et Pagnol. Quelques régions sont toutefois surreprésentées, comme la Normandie ou la Provence. Et certains écrivains se sont arrangés avec la réalité : certains auteurs se sont quelque peu arrangés avec la réalité: Trouville n'est plus le petit port de pêche paisible des romans de Flaubert. Cependant, l'émission y reste présente. D'autres territoires, comme le Pays basque ou le Béarn, sont au contraire moins bien représentés. Cet atlas met en avant une véritable dimension patrimoniale de la littérature : plein de références littéraires   Une vie de Jasmin, un roman éco-poétiqueIsmael Jude publie également un roman. C'est l'histoire assez extraordinaire, d'une jeune femme-fleur prénommée Jasmin, qui s'écrit étrangement avec des caractères arabes et dont les parents se sont rencontrés sous le signe des fleurs, avant de les détester Jasmin aime les fleurs et qui ne vit que par les odeurs. Elle a un lien très fort avec les fleurs puisque son corps se recouvre de fleurs ou de herbes diverses. Mieux encore : quand Jasmin marche pieds nus, sur ses traces poussent des fleurs. Elle pratique une sorte de “dermaculture” et se drogue au glyphosate…Un roman éco-poétique écrit entre La Ciotat et Grasse dans une langue rare et sensuelle qui permet de renouer avec le végétal qui est en nous.L'auteur a beaucoup joué avec les mots et le champ lexical des plantes   Invité :  Ismaël Jude, romancier et docteur en littérature. Auteur de En France : sur les pas de personnages de romans, publié chez Autrement. Il vient également de publier Une vie de jasmin, aux éditions Verticales. Et la chronique Ailleurs nous emmène à Nouakchott, en Mauritanie, pour parler du concert autour de la chanteuse de jazz Leïla Olivesi qui s'est profondément inspirée de la littérature et des poèmes de la négritude (Aimé Césaire, Senghor, Glissant, David Diop) pour son album African Rhapsody avec également une rencontre littéraire, le 6 mai 2026. Cette rencontre poétique et musicale mettra en scène les voix des écrivains Mbarek Ould Beyrouk et Salihina Moussa Konaté à l'Institut français de Mauritanie.   Programmation musicale : L'artiste Aupinard avec le titre Le Thé   

This week, we're joined by Nick During and Abigail Dunn from New York Review Books for a wide-ranging conversation about the world of NYRB. From Classics to Kids, Comics to Poets, we explore what gives these books their distinct spirit and why so many readers find themselves returning to those familiar spines again and again.Along the way, we talk about recent releases, a few titles currently on our nightstands, and some of the surprises that come with bringing books back into print. It's a conversation about discovery, rediscovery, and the quiet pleasure of finding the right book at the right time. Plus, they shed some light on some surprises on the horizon!2026 Novella Book ClubWe have announced the four novellas we will be reading for The Mookse and Gripes Novella Book Club in 2026!* January: Daisy Miller, by Henry James* April: An Episode in the Life of a Landscape Painter, by César Aira* July: The Hour of the Star, by Clarice Lispector* September: Prelude, by Katherine MansfieldDiscussions will be hosted at The Mookse and the Gripes Discord (see below!).We've got some fantastic author-focused episodes lined up for the foreseeable future, and we want to give you plenty of time to dive in if you'd like to read along with us. These episodes come around every ten episodes, and with our bi-weekly release schedule, you'll have a few months to get ready for each. Here's what we have in store:* Episode 135: William Faulkner* Episode 145: Elizabeth Taylor* Episode 155: Naguib Mahfouz* Episode 165: Annie Ernaux* Episode 175: Henry JamesThere's no rush—take your time, and grab a book (or two, or three) so you're prepared for these as they come!Join the Mookse and the Gripes on DiscordWant to share your thoughts on these upcoming authors or anything else we're discussing? Join us over on Discord! It's the perfect place to dive deeper into the conversation—whether you're reading along with our author-focused episodes or just want to chat about the books that are on your mind.We're also just about to read the second novella book club book of 2026: An Episode in the Life of a Landscape Painter, by César Aira, translated by Chris Andrews. It's a fantastic book, and we'd love to have you join the discussion. It's a great space to engage with fellow listeners, share your insights, and discover new perspectives on the books you're reading.Shownotes* East of Dreams, by Nastassja Martin* In the Eye of the Wild, by Nastassja Martin* The Death of a Greek Lover, by David Plante* Difficult Women: A Memoir of Three, by David Plante* Too L.A.: Letters Never Sent (But Some Were), by Eve Babitz* Jesus Christs, by A.J. Langguth* Effingers, by Gabriele Tergit, translated by Sophie Duvernoy* Käsebier Takes Berlin, by Gabriele Tergit, translated by Sophie Duvernoy* Things in Nature Merely Grow, by Yiyun Li* Crazy Genie, by Inès Cagnati, translated by Liesl Schillinger* Light While There Is Light: An American History, by Keith Waldrop* “The Old Forest,” by Peter Taylor* The Netanyahus, by Joshua Cohen* Onward and Upward in the Garden, by Katharine S. White* Divorcing, by Susan Taubes* Lament for Julia, by Susan Taubes* Free Day, by Inès Cagnati, translated by Liesl Schillinger* Family Lexicon, by Natalia Ginzburg, translated by Jenny McPhee* Valentino & Sagittarius, by Natalia Ginzburg, translated by Avril Bardoni* Lies and Sorcery, by Elsa Morante, translated by Jenny McPhee* Pittsburgh, by Frank Santoro* Proper Doctoring: A Book for Patients and Their Doctors, by David Mendel* Shakespeare's Montaigne: The Florio Translation* Proensa: An Anthology of Troubadour Poetry, selected and translated by Paul Blackburn* The Interior Landscape: Classical Tamil Love Poems, translated by A.K. Ramanujan* After Lorca, by Jack Spicer* A Woman of Thirty, by Honoré de Balzac, translated by Jeanine Herman* Turtle Diary, by Russell Hoban* The Marzipan Pig, by Russell Hoban* Château Rouge, by Amit Chaudhuri* First Love, by Gwendolyn Riley* My Phantoms, by Gwendolyn Riley* The Palm House, by Gwendolyn Riley* Memories of the Future, by Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky, translated by Joanne Turnbull* Smoke, by Ivan Turgenev, translated by Donald Rayfield* Diary Without Vowels, by Aleksander Wat, translated by Alissa Valles* The Lord, by Soraya Antonius* Where the Djinn Consult, by Soraya Antonius* Levitations, by Easton Smith* Bristol, by Jean Echenoz, translated by Mark Polizzotti* Command Performance, by Jean Echenoz, translated by Mark Polizzotti* Bina: A Novel in Warnings, by Anakana Schofield* Library of Brothel, by Anakana Schofield* I Liked Rex, by Diane Williams* The Kingdom of Agamemnon, by Vladimir Sharov, translated by Oliver Ready* Borges, by Adolfo Bioy Casares, translated by Valerie Miles* Morel's Invention, by Adolfo Bioy Casares, translated by Margaret Jull Costa* Zama, by Antonio Di Benedetto, translated by Esther Allen* The Silentiary, by Antonio Di Benedetto, translated by Esther Allen* The Suicides, by Antonio Di Benedetto, translated by Esther Allen* Bomarzo, by Manuel Mujica Lainez, translated by Gregory Rabassa* Life and Fate, by Vasily Grossman, translated by Robert Chandler* Blood Dark, by Louis Guilloux, translated by Laura Marris* An African in Greenland, by Tete-Michel Kpomassie, translated by James Kirkup* A High Wind in Jamaica, by Richard Hughes* Max Havelaar: Or, the Coffee Auctions of The Dutch Trading Company, by Multatuli, translated by Ina Rilke and David McKay* The Enchanted April, by Elizabeth von Arnim* Woman Running in the Mountains, by Yūko Tsushima, translated by Geraldine Harcourt* The Culling Time, by Yūko Tsushima, translated by Dennis Washburn* Loved and Missed, by Susie Boyt* The Sweet Dove Died, by Barbara Pym* Memoirs from Beyond the Grave, by François-Réne de Chateaubriand, translated by Alex Andriesse* The Story of a Life, by Konstantin Paustovsky, translated by Douglas SmithThe Mookse and the Gripes Podcast is a bookish conversation hosted by Paul and Trevor. Every other week, we explore a bookish topic and celebrate our love of reading. We're glad you're here, and we hope you'll continue to join us on this literary journey!A huge thank you to those who help make this podcast possible! If you'd like to support us, you can do so via Substack or Patreon. Subscribers receive access to periodic bonus episodes and early access to all new episodes. Plus, each supporter gets their own dedicated feed, allowing them to download episodes a few days before they're released to the public. We'd love for you to check it out! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mookse.substack.com/subscribe

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"There will be a lot fewer people employed doing existing work in not just insurance, but in all business." Phillip reports from the press pool at Semafor World Economy 2026, where 500 CEOs, a quarter of the US Senate, and 20 G20 finance ministers spent two days in Washington DC sketching out the next decade. Inside: why the AI race is really the electricity race (and why we may have already lost it to China), the $10 trillion and 250 gigawatts Meta says AGI will cost, Senator Mark Kelly on the new commercial space economy, Levi's 50% DTC milestone, Ralph Lauren's experience-economy flex, and why Balzac saw the "exterminator economy" coming 200 years ago. Plus: white smoke from Apple Park. Key Takeaways: Space is getting a concentric-circle economy. NASA hands low-Earth orbit to private industry; the moon is next; Mars is the horizon. Sen. Mark Kelly laid out the vision at Semafor. AGI has a price tag, and it's $10T. Meta's Dina Powell McCormick framed the path forward: trillions in capital, 250GW of power, and geopolitical fallout to match. The AI race is actually the electricity race — and the US lost it five years ago. Chips and lithography aren't the bottleneck. Power is, and China builds more in a year than the US builds in a decade. NIMBY has evolved into BANANA. Build Absolutely Nothing Anywhere Near Anyone is the new posture from Virginia to Maine, and the quiet threat to American AI competitiveness. The heritage brand isn't dead; it just needs a thesis. Levi's built a three-layer AI framework — process, product, people — and is posting 16 consecutive quarters of DTC growth to prove the strategy works. Everyone's becoming an exterminator. The age of sovereignty is producing a wave of DIY micro-entrepreneurs using ChatGPT as their back office. Every job AI takes, it seems to hand back, just in a flat-brimmed hat. The American consumer is less bearish than the algorithm suggests. Ralph Lauren, Kickstarter, and Chime all reported data at odds with recession narratives. Spending is healthy, savings are up, and creators are launching. In-Show Mentions: The Commerce Department is a hedge fund now Dispatch from Semafor: Pritzker on what beats fear [POLICY BRIEF] The Halo Effect of the New Economy Future Commerce Podcast: Marcus Collins Associated Links: Check out Future Commerce on YouTube Check out Future Commerce Plus for exclusive content and save on merch and print Subscribe to Insiders and The Senses to read more about what we are witnessing in the commerce world Listen to our other episodes of Future Commerce Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Aujourd'hui dans "Esprits Libres", Marc Bourreau reçoit le philosophe Luc Ferry pour une discussion approfondie sur des sujets d'actualité brûlants.Tout d'abord, Luc Ferry partage son analyse perspicace sur la crise de la lecture chez les jeunes. Il souligne que le phénomène ne se limite pas à la jeunesse, mais touche également les adultes, qui sont de plus en plus attirés par les séries télévisées addictives au détriment des livres traditionnels. Il met en lumière les défis que posent ces nouvelles habitudes de consommation culturelle, notamment pour les adolescents confrontés à des œuvres littéraires exigeantes comme celles de Balzac. Il invite à une réflexion sur les moyens de susciter à nouveau l'intérêt des jeunes pour la lecture.La conversation se tourne ensuite vers la situation précaire au Liban, sujet sur lequel le philosophe s'exprime avec passion. Ayant eu de nombreux étudiants libanais, il se dit profondément affecté par les événements qui déchirent ce pays, pris en étau entre l'armée israélienne et le Hezbollah. Ferry n'hésite pas à pointer du doigt la responsabilité du Hezbollah, qu'il considère comme le véritable ennemi, en raison de son obsession de détruire Israël. Il appelle la France et l'Europe à aider le gouvernement libanais à désarmer cette organisation, condition sine qua non pour permettre des négociations apaisées avec Israël.L'épisode aborde également la polémique autour de la clause de conscience réclamée par des auteurs quittant les éditions Grasset, suite au limogeage de leur PDG. Luc Ferry y voit le signe de l'effondrement de la gauche intellectuelle et culturelle en France, qui a longtemps dominé la vie intellectuelle du pays. Il observe avec intérêt l'émergence d'auteurs de droite comme Philippe de Villiers ou Jordan Bardella parmi les best-sellers.Enfin, l'invité commente la défaite inattendue du Premier ministre hongrois Viktor Orbán face à son rival de droite Péter Magyar. Il souligne que cette défaite n'a rien à voir avec le modèle politique de Viktor Orbán, mais est plutôt liée à des scandales de corruption et à ses tensions avec l'Union européenne.Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Mariolina Bertini"Adieu"Honoré de Balzacil ramo e la foglia edizioniwww.ilramoelafogliaedizioni.itEstate del 1819. Nel parco di un antico convento in rovina nel cuore dell'Île de France un'apparizione folgora due cacciatori di passaggio: una donna misteriosa e bellissima, dai lunghi riccioli incolti e dal pallore spettrale, che sembra incarnare la natura selvaggia del luogo. Il suo passato è una storia d'amore, di follia e di morte che condurrà il lettore in Russia, sulle rive della Beresina, facendogli rivivere la disfatta e la tragica ritirata dell'esercito napoleonico. “Adieu” è uno dei racconti della Commedia umana in cui più completamente viene in luce la complessità e la ricchezza del genio di Balzac. Vi troviamo il romanziere che gareggia con i pittori suoi contemporanei nella rappresentazione dell'“armonioso disordine” di un paesaggio fiabesco. Accanto a questo Balzac dall'ispirazione tutta visiva c'è il “grande storico” caro a Baudelaire, attento a raccontare la ritirata di Russia traducendo fedelmente in immagini il racconto di testimoni e memorialisti. E c'è infine il Balzac appassionato ai misteri della scienza, che si interroga sul linguaggio segreto della follia e sui rapporti tra la vita delle nostre emozioni e la forza del pensiero.«La donna si lasciò sfuggire un grido di dolore e si alzò del tutto. I suoi movimenti si succedevano con tanta grazia ed erano così rapidi che non pareva una creatura umana ma una di quelle figlie dell'aria celebrate dalla poesia di Ossian. Andò verso uno specchio d'acqua, scosse leggermente una gamba per sbarazzarsi della scarpa e parve immergere con piacere il piede bianco come l'alabastro in quella sorgente […] Poi si inginocchiò sul bordo della fontana e si divertì, come una bambina, a immergervi i lunghi capelli e a tirarli fuori bruscamente, per veder cadere goccia a goccia l'acqua di cui si erano imbevuti e che, attraversata dai raggi del sole, formava come dei rosari di perle.»Mariolina Bertini ha insegnato Letteratura francese all'Università di Parma dal 1988 al 2017. Ha curato edizioni italiane di Proust e di Balzac e il volume dei Meridiani Mondadori dedicato ai saggi di Giovanni Macchia. Tra le sue opere ricordiamo Proust e la poetica del romanzo (Bollati Boringhieri, 1996), il memoir Torino piccola (Pendragon, 2018), L'ombra di Vautrin. Proust lettore di Balzac (Carocci e Classiques Garnier, 2019), che ha vinto il premio Italiques nel 2021, e Su Liala (Nuova Editrice Berti, 2022). È socia nazionale residente dell'Accademia delle Scienze di Torino.Alessandra Ginzburg è psicoanalista con funzioni didattiche della Società Italiana di Psicoanalisi e membro della International Psychoanalytic Association. Ha studiato letteratura francese con Francesco Orlando e Arnaldo Pizzorusso. Allieva di Ignacio Matte Blanco si è impegnata nell'applicazione e nella diffusione anche letteraria della sua opera. Sul versante clinico, oltre a vari saggi, ha pubblicato La stoffa di cui sono fatti i sogni e le emozioni. Per un'applicazione clinica del pensiero di Matte Blanco (Alpes, 2020). Sul versante letterario, oltre a molteplici introduzioni a romanzi e racconti di Balzac, ha pubblicato Il miracolo dell'analogia. Saggi su letteratura e psicoanalisi (Pacini, 2011) e La Recherche di Proust e gli esiti del bacio negato (Alpes, 2025).Diventa un supporter di questo podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/il-posto-delle-parole--1487855/support.IL POSTO DELLE PAROLEascoltare fa pensarehttps://ilpostodelleparole.it/

Ignacio Peyró reflexiona sobre la histórica precariedad económica de los escritores, contrastando la bohemia con la necesidad material, ilustrada por figuras como Balzac o Salgari. Se destaca el premio de un millón de euros de Aena a Samantha Schweblin como una inyección económica valorada por el gremio, a pesar de las dudas sobre la idoneidad de una empresa pública para este fin. 

Alexandre Dumas et Honoré de Balzac ne se sont pas simplement peu appréciés. Ils se sont profondément opposés, presque en tout. Leur hostilité s'est exprimée parfois publiquement, mais surtout sous forme de critiques, de piques et de rivalité idéologique que de véritables attaques frontales répétées. Une opposition profonde, mais rarement théâtralisée comme un duel ouvert.Ces deux géants du XIXe siècle incarnaient deux mondes incompatibles.D'abord, leur manière d'écrire les séparait radicalement. Balzac se voulait architecte. Il bâtissait une œuvre monumentale, La Comédie humaine, avec l'ambition de peindre la société française dans toute sa complexité. Il corrigeait sans cesse, retravaillait ses textes jusqu'à l'épuisement, noyait ses éditeurs sous les épreuves raturées. Dumas, lui, écrivait vite, beaucoup, avec panache. Il privilégiait l'élan, l'efficacité, le plaisir du récit. Là où Balzac cherchait la profondeur psychologique et la vérité sociale, Dumas revendiquait le souffle, l'aventure, le théâtre du romanesque. Balzac voyait souvent en lui un amuseur plus qu'un grand écrivain.Leur mode de vie nourrissait aussi l'antagonisme. Balzac menait une existence tendue, laborieuse, presque monastique par moments. Il écrivait la nuit, buvait du café en quantités folles, croulait sous les dettes, mais travaillait avec une discipline acharnée. Dumas, au contraire, donnait l'image d'un homme débordant de vie, sociable, prodigue, flamboyant, entouré d'amis, de maîtresses, de collaborateurs. Cette aisance apparente irritait Balzac. Dumas paraissait réussir sans souffrir autant, ce qui, pour un homme aussi obsédé par le labeur que Balzac, avait quelque chose d'insupportable.Il y avait aussi la question, très sensible, de la fabrication des œuvres. Dumas travaillait avec des collaborateurs, notamment Auguste Maquet, qui participait à l'élaboration de plusieurs romans. Ce fonctionnement choquait Balzac, attaché à l'idée de l'écrivain comme créateur total, seul maître de sa phrase. Pour lui, Dumas industrialisait la littérature. Dumas, lui, assumait davantage une logique de production, adaptée à la presse et au feuilleton.Politiquement et socialement, ils différaient encore. Balzac était conservateur, monarchiste, fasciné par les hiérarchies sociales. Dumas, plus libéral d'esprit, plus mobile politiquement, incarnait une énergie populaire et un goût du large qui déplaisaient à Balzac. À cela s'ajoutait sans doute une forme de jalousie réciproque : Balzac pouvait mépriser le succès immense et immédiat de Dumas ; Dumas pouvait voir en Balzac un homme sombre, envieux, volontiers pontifiant.Au fond, Dumas et Balzac se heurtaient parce qu'ils représentaient deux définitions inconciliables de l'écrivain. L'un voulait saisir le réel dans toute son épaisseur. L'autre voulait emporter le lecteur. Deux génies, oui, mais deux génies faits pour se regarder de travers. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.

Nem gondolják, hogy fiatalosabb tartalmat gyártanának a hagyományos sajtónál, egyszerűen csak azért érik el könnyebben a tizenéveseket, mert a kortársaktól szívesebben tanulnak – mondta Kenyeres Kristóf, a Balzac diákújság társalapítója a HVG podcastjában. Váltsuk az ígéretes pénzügyi terveket együtt valóra! A műsor támogatója a Raiffeisen Bank.

Giuseppe Episcopo"La sorellina"Raymond ChandlerTraduzione di Gianni PannofinoEdizioni Adelphiwww.adelphi.it«Tra gli investigatori con o senza distintivo, forse solo Maigret può competere con Marlowe quanto a popolarità: del resto Simenon è uno dei pochissimi che, come Chandler, ha infranto ogni barriera tra letteratura mainstream e di genere» («il manifesto»).È una ragazza «minuta, ordinata, dall'aria perbene, con capelli castani pudicamente lisci e occhiali dalla montatura a giorno» quella che si presenta nell'ufficio di Philip Marlowe in una calda mattina di primavera. E se lui accetta di aiutare la giovane, giunta dal Kansas in cerca del fratello scomparso, non è certo per i miseri venti dollari che si vede allungare sulla scrivania, ma per noia, o forse per curiosità – perché è chiaro, almeno per un investigatore privato scaltro come lui, che dietro «il classico aspetto da bibliotecaria» si nasconde in realtà «un'affascinante, piccola bugiarda». Nel mondo freddo e fosco di Marlowe, d'altronde, di rado le cose sono come appaiono, e meno che mai sotto le sfolgoranti luci di Hollywood, dove lo condurrà questa indagine, fra maliose starlet, imperturbabili agenti di spettacolo, gangster costretti a occultare la loro identità e cadaveri con punteruoli da ghiaccio conficcati nella nuca. La patina di glamour che avvolge la città, infatti, maschera ricatti, menzogne, vacuità morale e corruzione – quel torbido paesaggio umano che Marlowe è solito fronteggiare con le sue armi predilette: una caustica ironia e un cinico disincanto. E che Chandler, con la prosa a un tempo poetica e spietata che è la sua cifra, riesce ancora una volta a restituire magistralmente, gettando sull'America del dopoguerra e sulla più rutilante (e illusoria) incarnazione del suo sogno uno sguardo lucido, malinconico e sferzante.Raymond Chandler (Chicago, 1888 - La Jolla, 1959) dopo gli studi in Inghilterra torna in America e si stabilisce in California. Inizia a lavorare nel campo petrolifero, ma nel 1933 collabora con la rivista gialla “Black Mask” che aveva lanciato il genere poliziesco d'azione. Nel 1939 pubblica il suo primo romanzo, Il grande sonno, che ha per protagonista l'investigatore privato Philip Marlowe. Nel 1943 firma un contratto con la Paramount e comincia a lavorare per il cinema come sceneggiatore. Intanto la salute, minata dall'alcol, si deteriora e un anno dopo la morte della moglie, avvenuta nel 1954, Chandler tenta il suicidio. Iniziano i soggiorni in cliniche private per disintossicarsi. Muore prima di aver terminato l'ottavo romanzo di Philip Marlowe, The Poodle Spring Story. Giuseppe Episcopo è ricercatore in Critica letteraria e Letterature comparate presso il Dipartimento di Lingue, Letterature Culture Straniere dell'Università Roma Tre. Dal 2009 al 2022 è stato prima Teaching Fellow alla University of Edinburgh e poi Associate Lecturer alla University of St. Andrews.Ha tradotto in italiano Peter Brooks, Fredric Jameson e Franco Moretti. Ha scritto in volume e rivista su John Adams, Simon Armitage, Brecht, Balzac, Robert Coover, D'Arrigo, Philip K. Dick, Gadda, Primo Levi, Pynchon, Tolstoj, J.R. Wilcock, sulla intermedialità, la radio e il radiodramma.Diventa un supporter di questo podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/il-posto-delle-parole--1487855/support.IL POSTO DELLE PAROLEascoltare fa pensarehttps://ilpostodelleparole.it/

Envíanos un mensaje!La semana pasada, luego de escuchar el episodio sobre la historia de Miguel Hugo Ricci y los incidentes del 11 de marzo de 1971 en la UPR de Río Piedras un oyente que recomendó que hablara de Rafael Pérez Balzac. Al buscar información sobre esta persona me enteré que había sido víctima de un violento incidente ocurrido en el 1962 dentro de la universidad. Hoy te cuento la historia de Rafael Pérez Balzac a quien algunos conocían como Chino Perez.Fuentes de información y documentos adicionales disponibles en Patreon.Auspiciadores:En este nuevo año, comienza con un resumé estratégico que te ayude a alcanzar tus metas profesionales, ya sea un cambio de carrera, un ascenso o un aumento de salario. Para más información, pueden llamarnos al 787-300-7777 o visitar www.resumeprofesional.com. Además, nos complace anunciar el lanzamiento de nuestro curso online de redacción de resumé, diseñado tanto para quienes desean aprender a crear su propio resumé como para quienes desean desarrollarse profesionalmente como resume writers y hacer carrera en este campo. Para conocer más, visiten www.cursoresume.com.Puedes llamar a Fernando Fernández Investigador Privado y Forense con más de 17 años de experiencia a nivel local e internacional al 787-276-5619 o visítalo en: Fernando Fernandez PIEste episodio también es traído a ustedes por Jabonera Don Gato. Los jabones Don Gato son hechos a mano, sin químicos dañinos ni detergentes. Elaborados con aceites naturales, esenciales y aromáticos, seguros para la piel. Pruébalos y siente la diferencia. Visítalos en jaboneradongato.com y utiliza el código "Crimepod" para obtener un 10% de descuento en tu compra.Este episodio es traído a ustedes por Libros787.com. Ordena tus libros favoritos escritos por autores puertorriqueños desde la comodidad de tu casa. Utiliza el código promocional: CRIMEPODPR para que recibas envío gratuito en tu primera compra. Envíos a todas partes de Puerto Rico y Estados Unidos.Carreer Branding, Fernando Fernández, Jabonera Don Gato, Libros787.comSupport the show

Régulièrement, l'équipe de Folie Douce partage avec vous les extraits les plus marquants des épisodes du podcast. Aujourd'hui, on vous propose de réécouter disiz.Dans cet extrait, Charlotte Casiraghi développe, en partant de l'écriture de Honoré de Balzac, une réflexion sur la dépression post-partum.Cet épisode commence dans mon jardin, entre rafales et jonquilles, je parle de migraine, de coude fêlé et tisse un lien entre la mise sous cloche des femmes et la vie sous surveillance de mon invitée.Il se poursuit dans le studio de Folie Douce en compagnie de Charlotte Casiraghi. Elle vient de publier un premier livre, La Fêlure, qui m'a touchée car il est le geste d'une femme qui soulève la cloche pour se montrer - ou presque - telle qu'elle est. Elle accomplit ce geste en appelant à la rescousse Maya Angelou, Colette, George Sand, Balzac et Fitzgerald. Elle explique que « l'hospitalité du texte littéraire » lui a permis de se sentir « à l'abri des préjugés et des jugements ».Vous allez découvrir, à mon micro, une femme passionnée de soin en santé mentale. Elle raconte son engagement en milieu hospitalier auprès de jeunes femmes souffrant de troubles du comportement alimentaire et sa découverte de la difficulté à accompagner « l'individualité d'une souffrance ».Elle qui sous le masque médiatique cache des deuils précoces et violents, évoque « cette impression tirée de l'enfance que la mort est très réelle » et la solitude née de cette impression.Elle a depuis tissé des liens entre cette crainte originelle et « l'inquiétude maternelle », terme qu'elle emploie avec Julia Kristeva et d'autres psychanalystes féministes qui ont éclairé sa route et l'ont rendu moins seule, faisant de son histoire intime, en certains aspects si différente des autres, une histoire universelle.J'espère que cette écoute vous donnera envie de lire La Fêlure et de suivre les premiers pas de Charlotte Casiraghi en tant qu'autrice.Merci d'être là, merci d'écouter, merci de soutenir. N'hésitez pas à me faire tous vos retours ici, sur les réseaux sociaux ou sur votre plate-forme d'écoute !Photo : Astrid di CrollalanzaRetrouvez juste ici un formulaire pour m'aider à mieux vous connaître, communauté de Folie Douce !

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Le dernier soupir du père Goriot devait être un soupir de joie. Ce soupir fut l'expression de toute sa vie, il se trompait encore.

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Rastignac avait vu les trois grandes expressions de la société : l'Obéissance, la Lutte et la Révolte. Et il n'osait prendre parti. L'Obéissance était ennuyeuse, la Révolte impossible, et la Lutte incertaine.

durée : 00:24:59 - La Série fiction - Tout allait pâlir devant les péripéties de cette grande journée, de laquelle il serait éternellement question dans les conversations de madame Vauquer.

durée : 00:25:02 - La Série fiction - Les ministères ont leur obéissance passive, comme l'armée a la sienne : système qui étouffe la conscience, annihile un homme et finit, avec le temps, par l'adapter comme une vis ou un écrou à la machine gouvernementale.

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Quand on connaît Paris, on ne croit à rien de ce qui s'y dit, et l'on ne dit rien de ce qui s'y fait.

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Une chose digne de remarque est la puissance d'infusion que possèdent les sentiments. Quelque grossière que soit une créature, dès qu'elle exprime une affection forte et vraie, elle exhale un fluide particulier qui modifie la physionomie, anime le geste, colore la voix.

durée : 00:25:00 - La Série fiction - La jeunesse n'ose pas se regarder au miroir de la conscience quand elle verse du côté de l'injustice, tandis que l'âge mûr s'y est vu : là gît toute la différence entre ces deux phases de la vie.

durée : 00:25:02 - La Série fiction - Sachez-le bien, une femme aimante est encore plus ingénieuse à se créer des doutes qu'elle n'est habile à varier le plaisir.

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Etre jeune, avoir soif du monde, avoir faim d'une femme, et voir s'ouvrir pour soi deux maisons !

durée : 00:25:02 - La Série fiction - Les ministères ont leur obéissance passive, comme l'armée a la sienne : système qui étouffe la conscience, annihile un homme et finit, avec le temps, par l'adapter comme une vis ou un écrou à la machine gouvernementale.

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Le dernier soupir du père Goriot devait être un soupir de joie. Ce soupir fut l'expression de toute sa vie, il se trompait encore.

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Rastignac avait vu les trois grandes expressions de la société : l'Obéissance, la Lutte et la Révolte. Et il n'osait prendre parti. L'Obéissance était ennuyeuse, la Révolte impossible, et la Lutte incertaine.

durée : 00:24:59 - La Série fiction - Tout allait pâlir devant les péripéties de cette grande journée, de laquelle il serait éternellement question dans les conversations de madame Vauquer.

durée : 00:25:02 - La Série fiction - Sachez-le bien, une femme aimante est encore plus ingénieuse à se créer des doutes qu'elle n'est habile à varier le plaisir.

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Quand on connaît Paris, on ne croit à rien de ce qui s'y dit, et l'on ne dit rien de ce qui s'y fait.

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Une chose digne de remarque est la puissance d'infusion que possèdent les sentiments. Quelque grossière que soit une créature, dès qu'elle exprime une affection forte et vraie, elle exhale un fluide particulier qui modifie la physionomie, anime le geste, colore la voix.

durée : 00:25:00 - La Série fiction - La jeunesse n'ose pas se regarder au miroir de la conscience quand elle verse du côté de l'injustice, tandis que l'âge mûr s'y est vu : là gît toute la différence entre ces deux phases de la vie.

durée : 00:24:54 - La Série fiction - La maison où s'exploite la pension bourgeoise appartient à madame Vauquer. Elle est située dans le bas de la rue Neuve Sainte-Geneviève. Les maisons y sont mornes, les murailles y sentent la prison. Nul quartier de Paris n'est plus horrible, ni, disons-le, plus inconnu.

durée : 00:25:01 - La Série fiction - Etre jeune, avoir soif du monde, avoir faim d'une femme, et voir s'ouvrir pour soi deux maisons !

durée : 00:24:54 - La Série fiction - La maison où s'exploite la pension bourgeoise appartient à madame Vauquer. Elle est située dans le bas de la rue Neuve Sainte-Geneviève. Les maisons y sont mornes, les murailles y sentent la prison. Nul quartier de Paris n'est plus horrible, ni, disons-le, plus inconnu.

Nous vous proposons de réécouter une émission consacrée à Frederick Wiseman, l'immense cinéaste disparu le 16 février 2026. Un continent du cinéma à lui tout seul, de son premier film Titicut Follies tourné dans un hôpital psychiatrique du Massachussetts en 1966 à Menus plaisirs en 2023 consacré au restaurant des Troisgros. Wiseman aura passé sa vie, caméra à la main avec un appétit et une curiosité qui l'ont conduit du tribunal pour enfants de Memphis à un hôpital de New York et de la petite colonie américaine du canal de Panama à un centre de recherche sur les primates. Une oeuvre que d'aucuns ont comparée à la Comédie humaine de Balzac, c'est dire sa puissance et son ampleur... Wiseman, c'était d'abord une signature, des films très longs de 2 heures, voire 3, parfois 4. Sans interview face caméra ni voix off, un montage au millimètre. Voir un film de lui, c'était plonger en immersion dans un monde, aussi sentir l'intelligence et l'acuité de son regard couler dans vos veines, une expérience vraiment unique. Direction les États-Unis, dans cette émission enregistrée en novembre 2017, on échangeait avec Frederick Wiseman de son film Ex Libris consacré à la Bibliothèque de New York. Il y est question de licornes et d'écritures médiévales, d'Elvis Costello et de Toni Morrison, de service public et de démocratie bien sûr. Frederick Wiseman nous parlait de son travail, inlassable chroniqueur, depuis plus de quarante ans, des institutions de son pays.   En fin d'émission, nous revenons sur le Palmarès des Césars, la cérémonie se tenait le 26 février 2026 à l'Olympia, à Paris. 

Cet épisode commence dans mon jardin, entre rafales et jonquilles, je parle de migraine, de coude fêlé et tisse un lien entre la mise sous cloche des femmes et la vie sous surveillance de mon invitée.Il se poursuit dans le studio de Folie Douce en compagnie de Charlotte Casiraghi. Elle vient de publier un premier livre, La Fêlure, qui m'a touchée car il est le geste d'une femme qui soulève la cloche pour se montrer - ou presque - telle qu'elle est. Elle accomplit ce geste en appelant à la rescousse Maya Angelou, Colette, George Sand, Balzac et Fitzgerald. Elle explique que « l'hospitalité du texte littéraire » lui a permis de se sentir « à l'abri des préjugés et des jugements ».Vous allez découvrir, à mon micro, une femme passionnée de soin en santé mentale. Elle raconte son engagement en milieu hospitalier auprès de jeunes femmes souffrant de troubles du comportement alimentaire et sa découverte de la difficulté à accompagner « l'individualité d'une souffrance ».Elle qui sous le masque médiatique cache des deuils précoces et violents, évoque « cette impression tirée de l'enfance que la mort est très réelle » et la solitude née de cette impression.Elle a depuis tissé des liens entre cette crainte originelle et « l'inquiétude maternelle », terme qu'elle emploie avec Julia Kristeva et d'autres psychanalystes féministes qui ont éclairé sa route et l'ont rendu moins seule, faisant de son histoire intime, en certains aspects si différente des autres, une histoire universelle.J'espère que cette écoute vous donnera envie de lire La Fêlure et de suivre les premiers pas de Charlotte Casiraghi en tant qu'autrice.Merci d'être là, merci d'écouter, merci de soutenir. N'hésitez pas à me faire tous vos retours ici, sur les réseaux sociaux ou sur votre plate-forme d'écoute !Photo : Astrid di CrollalanzaRetrouvez juste ici un formulaire pour m'aider à mieux vous connaître, communauté de Folie Douce !

durée : 01:01:48 - Toute une vie - par : Françoise Estèbe - "Je suis une femme enragée et agrippée " disait Louise Bourgeois. De sa jeunesse trahie lui venait cette rage existentielle qu'elle transforma inlassablement en une rage de créer," intense et productive". - réalisation : Ghislaine David - invités : Jacqueline Caux; Yves Gagneux Conservateur du patrimoine et directeur de la Maison de Balzac à Paris; Bruno Mathon Peintre et critique d'art.; Xavier Girard Essayiste, critique et historien d'art contemporain, auteur de l'ouvrage 'Les années Fitzgerald' (Assouline).; Marie-Laure Bernadac Conservatrice générale du patrimoine, chargée de l'art contemporain au Musée du Louvre de 2003 à 2013.

A personal guide from us - smaller, quieter museums we genuinely love, chosen for their intimacy and character rather than hype. None of these are in the top 15 most-visited museums in Paris. PS: The music from this episode is an original from Pres Maxson called Guimard's Abbesses. Here's the list of museums mentioned in the episode. For the full list with addresses, details, websites, etc, check out my website and Substack.  1. Musée Rodin 2. Musée des Archives Nationales 3. Maison de Balzac 4. Musée de la Chasse et de la Nature  5. Musée Yves Saint Laurent Paris (currently closed) 6. Musée Nissim de Camondo (currently closed) Future Bonus: Musée Hector Guimard (opening 2027ish) *********** The Earful Tower exists thanks to support from its members. For just $10 a month you can unlock almost endless extras including bonus podcast episodes, live video replays, special event invites, and our annually updated PDF guide to Paris.  Membership takes only a minute to set up on Patreon, or Substack. Thank you for keeping this channel independent.  For more from the Earful Tower, here are some handy links: Website  Weekly newsletter  Walking Tours