Podcasts about Edith Wharton

WEISBERG4.mp3 Weisberg discusses the evolution of divorce in New York, noting a significant increase during the Gilded Age. The scandal influenced novelist Edith Wharton, Mary's cousin, who later wrote about these social circles. Additionally, the diary of George Templeton Strong serves as a vital historical window. (4)

durée : 00:58:41 - Avec philosophie - par : Géraldine Muhlmann, Antoine Ravon - Existe-t-il un "âge de l'innocence" ? Où commence-t-il, quand s'achève-t-il et surtout, qu'est-ce qui fait irruption qui précipite sa fin ? Réponse avec un philosophe, une écrivaine et un cinéaste : Ralph Waldo Emerson, Edith Wharton et Stanley Kubrick. - réalisation : Riyad Cairat - invités : Anne Ullmo Professeure de littérature américaine à l'Université de Tours, spécialiste de l'œuvre d'Edith Wharton; Axel Cadieux Journaliste, critique de cinéma, rédacteur en chef adjoint de la revue So Film; Mathieu Duplay Professeur de littérature américaine à l'univers Paris cité et président de l'Association française d'études américaines

The Age of Innocence, published in 1920, earned Edith Wharton the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction - making her the first woman to win the prize. The story is set in the 1870s, in upper-class Gilded Age New York City. With a 1993 film adaptation directed by Martin Scorsese and featuring a star cast and a new Netflix adaptation in the works, The Age of Innocence is more present than ever. Your hosts - bookish friends Mandy & Fanny - want to know why. In this episode, they explore the love triangle at the heart of the novel and unpack the themes of love, duty, and social expectation of 1870s high society.Through the Pages is a podcast in which your hosts, Fanny and Mandy, read books that are considered classics, to figure out if they're worth your while - and to discover why they are amongst so-called "classics". Because books only truly come to live when you talk about them.

Apology: Helen Veit's audio has a lot of “ducking”, in which a word or multiple words were clipped. This happened during the recording, and cannot be fixed in the audio edit. We'll work hard to make sure this never happens again.In nineteenth-century America, cookbook authors, concerned doctors, and food reformers believed that children had a problem with food. Children, reformers worried, would “eat anything and everything.” If they were to grow into healthy adults, they needed a special diet—“children's food”—which meant that for the first time in human history children would have to eat differently from everyone else.That moment was one step along a path that my guest Helen Zoe Veit traces in her new book Picky: How American Children Became the Fussiest Eaters in History. Beginning in a mid-nineteenth century world in which children routinely ate oysters, organ meats, sauerkraut, and richly spiced dishes alongside adults, she carries the story forward to our own moment—an era of childhood obesity, nutritional anxiety, supermarket abundance, and the widespread assumption that children are “food rejectors by nature.” But as Veit argues, mass childhood pickiness is not deeply biological. It is overwhelmingly cultural. And culture, unlike biology, can change.Helen Zoe Veit is Associate Professor of History at Michigan State University. She specializes in American food history of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and is the author and editor of numerous works on food, morality, and culture. Picky is her latest book.Chapters0:00 - Introduction 3:02 - 19th Century Children Ate Everything 5:30 - Mark Twain and Edith Wharton's Childhoods 14:02 - Why Doctors Were Concerned 24:20 - The First Signs of Pickiness in the 1930s 33:18 - Benjamin Spock and Clara Davis 45:51 - The Supermarket Revolution 52:16 - Parental Guilt and Contradictory Advice 1:00:15 - Solutions and Hope for Change 1:07:59 - Why Food History Matters

Ahead of her new book What's So Great About the Great Books? coming out in April, Naomi Kanakia and I talked about literature from Herodotus to Tony Tulathimutte. We touched on Chaucer, Anglo-Saxon poetry, Scott Alexander, Shakespeare, William James, Helen deWitt, Marx and Engels, Walter Scott, Les Miserables, Jhootha Sach, the Mahabharata, and more. Naomi also talked about some of her working habits and the history and future of the Great Books movement. Naomi, of course, writes Woman of Letters here on Substack.TranscriptHenry Oliver: Today, I am talking with Naomi Kanakia. Naomi is a novelist, a literary critic, and most importantly she writes a Substack called Woman of Letters, and she has a new book coming out, What's So Great About the Great Books? Naomi, welcome.Naomi Kanakia: Thanks for having me on.Oliver: How is the internet changing the way that literature gets discussed and criticized, and what is that going to mean for the future of the Great Books?Kanakia: How is the internet changing it? I can really speak to only how it has changed it for me. I started off as a writer of young adult novels and science fiction, and there's these very active online fan cultures for those two things.I was reading the Great Books all through that time. I started in 2010 through today. In the 2010s, it really felt like there was not a lot of online discussion of classic literature. Maybe that was just me and I wasn't finding it, but it didn't necessarily feel like there was that community.I think because there are so many strong, public-facing institutions that discuss classic literature, like the NYRB, London Review of Books, a lot of journals, and universities, too. But now on Substack, there are a number of blogs—yours, mine, a number of other ones—that are devoted to classic literature. All of those have these commenters, a community of commenters. I also follow bloggers who have relatively small followings who are reading Tolstoy, reading Middlemarch, reading even much more esoteric things.I know that for me, becoming involved in this online culture has given me much more of an awareness that there are many people who are reading the classics on their own. I think that was always true, but now it does feel like it's more of a community.Oliver: We are recording this the day after the Washington Post book section has been removed. You don't see some sort of relationship between the way these literary institutions are changing online and the way the Great Books are going to be conceived of in the future? Because the Great Books came out of a an old-fashioned, saving-the-institutions kind of radical approach to university education. We're now moving into a world where all those old things seem to be going.Kanakia: Yes. I agree. The Great Books began in the University of Chicago and Columbia University. If you look into the history of the movement, it really was about university education and the idea that you would have a common core and all undergraduates would read these books. The idea that the Great Books were for the ordinary person was really an afterthought, at least for Mortimer Adler and those original Great Books guys. Now, the Great Books in the university have had a resurgence that we can discuss, but I do think there's a lot more life and vitality in the kind of public-facing humanities than there has been.I talked to Irina Dumitrescu, who writes for TLS (The Times Literary Supplement), LRB (The London Review of Books), a lot of these places, and she also said the same thing—that a lot of these journals are going into podcasts, and they're noticing a huge interest in the humanities and in the classics even at the same time as big institutions are really scaling back on those things. Humanities majors are dropping, classics majors are getting cut, book coverage at major periodicals is going down. It does seem like there are signals that are conflicting. I don't really know totally what to make of it. I do think there is some relation between those two things.Ted Gioia on Substack is always talking about how culture is stagnant, basically, and one of the symptoms of that is that “back list” really outsells “front list” for books. Even in 2010, 50 percent of the books that were sold were front-list titles, books that had been released in the last 18 months. Now it's something like only 35 percent of books or something like that are front-list titles. These could be completely wrong, but there's been a trend.I think the decrease in interest in front-list books is really what drives the loss of these book-review pages because they mostly review front-list books. So, I think that does imply that there's a lot of interest in old books. That's what our stagnant culture means.Oliver: Why do you think your own blog is popular with the rationalists?Kanakia: I don't know for certain. There was a story I wrote that was a joke. There are all these pop nonfiction books that aim to prove something that seems counterintuitive, so I wrote a parody of one of those where I aim to prove that reading is bad for you. This book has many scientific studies that show the more you read, the worse it is because it makes you very rigid.Scott Alexander, who is the archrationalist, really liked that, and he added me to his blog roll. Because of that, I got a thousand rationalist subscribers. I have found that rationalists at least somewhat interested in the classics. I think they are definitely interested in enduring sources of value. I've observed a fair amount of interest.Oliver: How much of a lay reader are you really? Because you read scholarship and critics and you can just quote John Gilroy in the middle of a piece or something.Kanakia: Yeah. That is a good question. I have definitely gotten more interested in secondary literature. In my book, I really talk about being a lay reader and personally having a nonacademic approach to literature. I do think that, over 15 years of being a lay reader, I have developed a lot of knowledge.I've also learned the kind of secondary literature that is really important. I think having historical context adds a lot and is invaluable. Right now I'm rereading Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. When I first read it in 2010, I hardly knew anything about French history. I was even talking online with someone about how most people who read Les Miserables think it's set in the French Revolution. That's basically because Americans don't really know anything about French history.Everything makes just a lot more sense the more you know about the time because it was written for people in it. For people in 1860s France, who knew everything about their own recent history, that really adds a lot to it. I still don't tend to go that much into interpretive literature, literature that tries to do readings of the stories or tell me the meaning of the stories. I feel like I haven't really gotten that much out of that.Oliver: How long have you been learning Anglo-Saxon?Kanakia: I went through a big Anglo-Saxon phase. That was in 2010. It started because I started reading The Canterbury Tales in Middle English. There is a great app online called General Prologue created by one of your countrymen, Terry Richardson [NB it is Terry Jones], who loved Middle English. In this app, he recites the Middle English of the General Prologue. I started listening to this app, and I thought, I just really love the rhythms and the sounds of Middle English. And it's quite easy to learn. So then, I got really into that.And then I thought, but what about Anglo-Saxon? I'm very bad at languages. I studied Latin for seven years in middle school and high school. I never really got very far, but I thought, Anglo-Saxon has to be the easiest foreign language you can learn, right? So, I got into it.I cannot sight read Anglo-Saxon, but I really got into Anglo-Saxon poetry. I really liked the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Most people probably would not like the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle because it's very repetitive, but that makes it great if you're a language learner because every entry is in this very repetitive structure. I just felt such a connection. I get in trouble when I say this kind of stuff, because I'm never quiet sure if it's 100 percent true. But it's certainly one of the oldest vernacular literatures in Europe. It's just so much older than most of the other medieval literature I've read. And it just was such a window into a different part of history I never knew about.Oliver: And you particularly like “The Dream of the Rood”?Kanakia: Yeah, “The Dream of the Rood” is my favorite Anglo-Saxon poem. “The Dream of the Rood” is a poem that is told from the point of view of Christ's cross. A man is having a dream. In this dream he encounters Christ's cross, and Christ's cross starts reciting to him basically the story of the crucifixion. At the end, the cross is buried. I don't know, it was just so haunting and powerful. Yeah, it was one of my favorites.Oliver: Why do you think Byron is a better poet than Alexander Pope?Kanakia: This is an argument I cannot get into. I think this is coming up because T. S. Eliot felt that Alexander Pope was a great poet because he really exemplified the spirit of the age. I don't know. I've tried to read Pope. It just doesn't do it for me. Whereas with Byron, I read Don Juan and found it entertaining. I enjoyed it. Then, his lyric poetry is just more entertaining to read. With Alexander Pope, I'm learning a lot about what kind of poetry people wrote in the 18th century, but the joy is not there.Oliver: Okay. Can we do a quick fire round where I say the name of a book and you just say what you think of it, whatever you think of it?Kanakia: Sure.Oliver: Okay. The Odyssey.Kanakia: The Odyssey. Oh, I love The Odyssey. It has a very strange structure, where it starts with Telemachus and then there's this flashback in the middle of it. It is much more readable than The Iliad; I'll say that.Oliver: Herodotus.Kanakia: Herodotus is wild. Going into Herodotus, I really thought it was about the Persian war, which it is, but it's mostly a general overview of everything that Herodotus knew, about anything. It's been a long time since I read it. I really appreciate the voice of Herodotus, how human it is, and the accumulation of facts. It was great.Oliver: I love the first half actually. The bit about the Persian war I'm less interested in, but the first half I think is fantastic. I particularly love the Egypt book.Kanakia: Oh yeah, the Egypt book is really good.Oliver: All those like giant beetles that are made of fire or whatever; I can't remember the details, but it's completely…Kanakia: The Greeks are also so fascinated by Egypt. They go down there like what is going on out there? Then, most of what we know about Egypt comes from this Hellenistic period, when the Greeks went to Egypt. Our Egyptian kings list comes from the Hellenistic period where some scholar decided to sort out what everybody was up to and put it all into order. That's why we have such an orderly story about Egypt. That's the story that the Greeks tried to tell themselves.Oliver: Marcus Aurelius.Kanakia: Marcus Aurelius. When I first read The Meditations, which I loved, obviously, I thought, “being the Roman emperor cannot be this hard.” It really was a black pill moment because I thought, “if the emperor of Rome is so unhappy, maybe human power really doesn't do it.”Knowing more about Marcus Aurelius, he did have quite a difficult life. He was at war for most of his—just stuck in the region in Germany for ages. He had various troubles, but yeah, it really was very stoic. It was, oh, I just have to do my duty. Very “heavy is the head that wears the crown” kind of stuff. I thought, “okay, I guess being Roman emperor is not so great.”Oliver: Omar Khayyam.Kanakia: Omar Khayyam. Okay, I've only read The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam by Edward Fitzgerald, which I loved, but I cannot formulate a strong opinion right now.Oliver: As You Like It.Kanakia: No opinions.Oliver: Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson.Kanakia: Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson. I do have an opinion about this, which is that they should make a redacted version of Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson. I normally am not a big believer in abridgements because I feel like whatever is there is there. But, Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson, first of all, has a long portion before Boswell even meets Johnson. That portion drags; it's not that great. Then it has all these like letters that Johnson wrote, which also are not that great. What's really good is when Boswell just reports everything Johnson ever said, which is about half the book. You get a sense of Johnson's conversation and his personality, and that is very gripping. I've definitely thought that with a different presentation, this could still be popular. People would still read this.Oliver: The Communist Manifesto.Kanakia: The Communist Manifesto. It's very stirring. I love The Communist Manifesto. It has very haunting, powerful lines. I won't try to quote from it because I'll misquote them.Oliver: But it is remarkably well written.Kanakia: Oh yeah, it is a great work of literature.Oliver: Yeah.Kanakia: I read Capital [Das Kapital], which is not a great work of literature, and I would venture to say that it is not necessarily worth reading. It really feels like Marx's reputation is built on other political writings like The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte and works like that, which really seem to have a lot more meat on the bone than Capital.Oliver: Pragmatism by William James.Kanakia: Pragmatism. I mean, I've mentioned that in my book. I love William James in general. I think William James was writing in this 19th-century environment where it seemed like some form of skepticism was the only rational solution. You couldn't have any source of value, and he really tried to cut through that with Pragmatism and was like, let's just believe the things that are good to believe. It is definitely at least useful to think, although someone else can always argue with you about what is useful to believe. But, as a personal guide for belief, I think it is still useful.Oliver: Major Barbara by George Bernard Shaw.Kanakia: No strong opinions. It was a long time ago that I read Major Barbara.Oliver: Tell me what you like about James Fenimore Cooper.Kanakia: James Fenimore Cooper. Oh, this is great. I have basically a list of Great Books that I want to read, but four or five years ago, I thought, “what's in all the other books that I know the names of but that are not reputed, are not the kind of books you still read?”That was when I read Walter Scott, who I really love. And I just started reading all kinds of books that were kind of well known but have kind of fallen into literary disfavor. In almost every case, I felt like I got a lot out of these books. So, nowadays when I approach any realm of literature, I always look for those books.In 19th-century American literature, the biggest no-longer-read book is The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper, which was America's first bestseller. He was the first American novelist that had a high reputation in Europe. The Last of the Mohicans is kind of a historical romance, à la Walter Scott, but much more tightly written and much more tightly plotted.Cooper has written five novels, the Leatherstocking Tales, that are all centered around this very virtuous, rough-hewn frontiersman, Natty Bumppo. He has his best friend, Chingachgook, who is the last of the Mohicans. He's the last of his tribe. And the two of these guys are basically very sad and stoic. Chingachgook is distanced from his tribe. Chingachgook has a tribe of Native Americans that he hates—I want to say it's the Huron. He's always like, “they're the bad ones,” and he's always fighting them. Then, Natty Bumppo doesn't really love settled civilization. He's not precisely at war with it, but he does not like the settlers. They're kind of stuck in the middle. They have various adventures, and I just thought it was so haunting and powerful.I've been reading a lot of other 19th-century American literature, and virtually none of it treats Native Americans with this kind of respect. There's a lot of diversity in the Native American characters; there's really an attempt to show how their society works and the various ways that leadership and chiefship works among them. There's this very haunting moment in The Last of the Mohicans, where this aged chief, Tamenund, comes out and starts speaking. This is a chief who, in American mythology, was famous for being a friend to the white people. But, James Fenimore Cooper writing in the 1820s has Tamenund come out at 80 years old and say, “we have to fight; we have to fight the white people. That's our only option.” It was just such a powerful moment and such a powerful book.I was really, really enthused. I read all of these Leatherstocking Tales. It was also a very strange experience to read these books that are generally supposed to be very turgid and boring, and then I read them and was like, “I understand. I'm so transported.” I understand exactly why readers in the 1820s loved this.Oliver: Which Walter Scott books do you like?Kanakia: I love all the Walter Scott books I've read, but the one I liked best was Kenilworth. Have you ever read Kenilworth?Oliver: I don't know that one.Kanakia: Yeah, it's about Elizabeth I, who had a romantic relationship with one of her courtiers.Oliver: The Earl of Essex?Kanakia: Yeah. She really thought they were going to get married, but then it turned out he was secretly married. Basically, I guess the implication is that he killed his wife in order to marry Queen Elizabeth I. It's a novel all about him and that situation, and it just felt very tightly plotted. I really enjoyed it.Oliver: What did you think of Rejection?Kanakia: Rejection by Tony Tulathimutte? Initially when I read this book, I enjoyed it, but I was like, “life cannot possibly be this sad.” It's five or six stories about these people who just have nothing going on. Their lives are so miserable, they can't find anyone to sleep with, and they're just doomed to be alone forever. I was like, “life can't be this bad.” But now thinking back over it, it is one of the most memorable books I've read in the last year. It really sticks with you. I feel like my opinion of this book has gone up a lot in retrospect.Oliver: How antisemitic is the House of Mirth?Kanakia: That is a hotly debated question, which I mentioned in my book. I think there has been a good case made that Edith Wharton, the author of House of Mirth, who was from an old New York family, was herself fairly antisemitic and did not personally like Jewish people. What she portrays in this book is that this old New York society also was highly suspicious of Jewish people and was organized to keep Jewish people out.In this book there is a rich Jewish man, Simon Rosedale, and there's a poor woman, Lily Bart. Lily Bart's main thing is whether she's going to marry the poor guy, Lawrence Selden, or the rich guy, Percy Gryce. She can't choose. She doesn't want to be poor, but she also is always bored by the rich guys. Meanwhile, through the whole book, there's Simon Rosedale, who's always like, “you should marry me.” He's the rich Jewish guy. He's like, “you should marry me. I will give you lots of money. You can do whatever you want.”Everybody else kind of just sees her as a woman and as a wife; he really sees her as an ally in his social climbing. That's his main motivation. The book is relatively clear that he has a kind of respect for her that nobody else does. Then, over the course of the book, she also gains a lot more respect for him. Basically, late in the book, she decides to marry him, but she has fallen a lot in the world. He's like, “that particular deal is not available anymore,” but he does offer her another deal that—although she finds it not to her taste—is still pretty good.He basically is like, “I'll give you some money, you'll figure out how to rehabilitate your reputation, and later down the line, we can figure something out.” So, I think with a great author like Edith Wharton, there's power in these portrayals. I felt it hard to come away from it feeling like the book is like a really antisemitic book.Oliver: Now, you note that the Great Books movement started out as something quite socially aspirational. Do you think it's still like that?Kanakia: I do think so. Yeah. For me, that's 100 percent what it was because I majored in econ. I always felt kind of inadequate as a writer against people who had majored in English. Then I started off as a science fiction writer, young adult writer, and I was like, “I'm going to read all these Great Books and then I'll have read the books that everybody else has read.” In my mind, that's also what it was—that there was some upper crust or literary society that was reading all these Great Books.That's really what did it. I do think there's still an element of aspiration to it because it's a club that you can join, that anyone can join. It's very straightforward to be a Great Books reader, and so I think there's still something there. I think because the Great Books movement has such a democratic quality to it, it actually doesn't get you to the top socially, which has always been the true, always been the case. But, that's okay. As long as you end up higher than where you started, that's fine.Oliver: What makes a book great?Kanakia: I talk about it this in the book, and I go through many different authors' conceptions of what makes a book great or what constitutes a classic. I don't know that anyone has come up with a really satisfying answer. The Horatian formulation from Horace—that a book is great or an author is great if it has lasted for a hundred years—is the one that seems to be the most accurate. Like, any book that's still being read a hundred years after it was written has a greatness.I do think that T. S. Eliott's formulation—that a civilization at its height produces certain literature and that literature partakes of the greatness of the civilization and summarizes the greatness of the civilization—does seem to have some kind of truth to it.But it's hard, right? Because the greatest French novel is In Search of Lost Time, but I don't know that anyone would say that the France in the 1920s was at its height. It's not a prescriptive thing, but it does seem like the way we read many of these Great Books, like Moby Dick, it feels like you're like communing with the entire society that produced it. So, maybe there's something there.Oliver: Now, you've used a list from Clifton Fadiman.Kanakia: Yes.Oliver: Rather than from Mortimer Adler or Harold Bloom or several others. Why this list?Kanakia: Well, the best reason is that it's actually the list I've just been using for the last 15 years. I went to a science fiction convention in 2009, Readercon, and at this science fiction convention was Michael Dirda, who was a Washington Post book critic. He had recently come out with his book, Classics for Pleasure, which I also bought and liked. But he said that the list he had always used was this Clifton Fadiman book. And so when I decided to start reading the Great Books, I went and got that book. I have perused many other lists over time, but that was always the list that seemed best to me.It seemed to have like the best mix. There's considerable variation amongst these lists, but there's also a lot of overlap. So any of these lists is going to have Dickens on it, and Tolstoy, and stuff like that. So really, you're just thinking about, “aside from Dickens and Tolstoy and George Eliot and Walt Whitman and all these people, who are the other 50 authors that you're going be reading?”The Mortimer Adler list is very heavy on philosophy. It has Plotinus on it. It has all these scientific works. I don't know, it didn't speak to me as much. Whereas, this Clifton Fadiman and John Major list has all these Eastern works on it. It has The Tale of Genji, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Story of the Stone, and that just spoke to me a little bit more.Oliver: What modern books will be on a future Great Books list, whether it's from someone alive or someone since the war.Kanakia: Have you ever heard of Robert Caro?Oliver: Sure.Kanakia: Yeah. I think his Lyndon Johnson books are great books. They have changed the field of biography. They're so complete, they seem to summarize an entire era, epoch. They're highly rated, but I feel like they're underrated as literature.What else? I was actually a little bit surprised in this Clifton Fadiman-John Major book, which came out in 1999, that there are not more African Americans in their list. Like, Invisible Man definitely seemed like a huge missed work. You know, it's hard. You would definitely want a book that has undergone enough critical evaluation that people are pretty certain that it is great. A lot of things that are more recent have not undergone that evaluation yet, but Invisible Man has, as have some works by Martin Luther King.Oliver: What about The Autobiography of Malcolm X?Kanakia: I would have to reread. I feel like it hasn't been evaluated much as a literary document.Oliver: Helen DeWitt?Kanakia: It's hard to say. It's so idiosyncratic, The Last Samurai, but it is certainly one of the best novels of the last 25 years.Oliver: Yeah.Kanakia: It is hard to say, because there's nothing else quite like it. But I would love if The Last Samurai was on a list like this; that would be amazing.Oliver: If someone wants to try the Great Books, but they think that those sort of classic 19th-century novels are too difficult—because they're long and the sentences are weird or whatever—what else should they do? Where else should they start?Kanakia: Well, it depends on what they're into, or it depends on their personality type. I think like there are people who like very, very difficult literature. There are people who are very into James Joyce and Proust. I think for some people the cost-benefit is better. If they're going to be pouring over some book for a long time, they would prefer if it was overtly difficult.If they're not like that, then I would say, there are many Great Books that are more accessible. Hemingway is a good one and Grapes of Wrath is wonderful. The 19th-century American books tend to be written in a very different register than the English books. If you read Moby Dick, it feels like it's written in a completely different language than Charles Dickens, even though they're writing essentially at the same time.Oliver: Is there too much Freud on the list that you've used?Kanakia: Maybe. I know that Interpretation of Dreams is on that list, which I've tried to read and have decided life is too short. I didn't really buy it, but I have read a fair amount of Freud. My impression of Freud was always that I would read Freud and somehow it would just seem completely fanciful or far out, like wouldn't ring true. But then when I started reading Freud, it was more the opposite. I was like, oh yeah, this seems very, very true.Like this battle between like the id and the ego and the super ego, and this feeling that like the psyche is at war with itself. Human beings really desire to be singular and exceptional, but then you're constantly under assault by the reality principle, which is that you're insignificant. That all seemed completely true. But then he tries to cure this somehow, which does not seem a curable problem. And he also situates the problem in some early sexual development, which also did not necessarily ring true. But no, I wouldn't say there's too much. Freud is a lot of fun. People should read Freud.Oliver: Which of the Great Books have you really not liked?Kanakia: I do get asked this quite a bit. I would say the Great Book that I really felt like—at least in translation—was not that rewarding in an unabridged version was Don Quixote. Because at least half the length of Don Quixote is these like interpolated novellas that are really long and tedious. I felt Don Quixote was a big slog. But maybe someday I'll go back and reread it and love it. Who knows?Oliver: Now you wrote that the question of biography is totally divorced from the question of what art is and how it operates. What do you think of George Orwell's supposition that if Shakespeare came back tomorrow, and we found out he used to rape children that we should—we would not say, you know, it's fine to carry on to doing that because he might write another King Lear.Kanakia: Well, if we discovered that Shakespeare was raping children, he should go to prison for that. No. It's totally divorced in both senses. You don't get any credit in the court of law because you are the writer of King Lear. If I murdered someone and then I was hauled in front of a judge and they were like, oh, Naomi's a genius, I wouldn't get off for murder. Nor should I get off for murder.So in terms of like whether we would punish Shakespeare for his crime of raping children, I don't think King Lear should count at all, but it's never used that way. It's never should someone go to prison or not for their crimes, because they're a genius. It's always used the other way, which is should we read King Lear knowing that the author raped children, but I also feel like that is immaterial. If you read King Lear, you're not enabling someone to rape children.Oliver: There's an almost endless amount of discussion these days about the Great Books and education and the value of the humanities, and what's the future of it all. What is your short opinion on that?Kanakia: My short opinion is that the Great Books at least are going to be fine. The Great Books will continue to be read, and they would even survive the university. All these books predate the university and they will survive the university. I feel like the university has stewarded literature in its own way for a while now and has made certain choices in that stewardship. I think if that stewardship was given up to more voluntary associations that had less financial support, then I think the choices would probably be very different. But I still think the greatest works would survive.Oliver: Now this is a quote from the book: “I am glad that reactionaries love the Great Books. They've invited a Trojan horse into their own camp.” Tell us what you mean by that.Kanakia: Let's say you believed in Christian theocracy, that you thought America should be organized on explicitly Christian principles. And because you believe in Christian theocracy, you organize a school that teaches the Great Books. Many of these schools that are Christian schools that have Great Books programs will also teach Nietzsche. They definitely put some kind of spin on Nietzsche. But they will teach anti-Christ, and that is a counterpoint to Christian morality and Christian theology. There are many things that you'll read in the Great Books that are corrosive to various kinds of certainties.If someone who I think is bad starts educating themselves in the Great Books, I don't think that the Great Books are going to make them worse from my perspective. So it's good.Oliver: How did reading the Mahabharata change you?Kanakia: Oh yeah, so the Mahabharata is a Hindu epic from, let's say, the first century AD. I'm Indian and most Indians are familiar with the basic outline of the Mahabharata story because it's told in various retellings, and there's a TV serial that my parents would rent from the Indian store growing up and we would watch it tape by tape. So I'm very familiar with it. Like there's never been a time I have not known this story.But I was also familiar with the idea that there is a written version in Sanskrit that's extremely long. It is 10 times as long as the Iliad and the Odyssey combined. This Mahabharata story is not that long. I've read a version of it that's about 800 pages long. So how could something that's 10 times this long be the same? A new unabridged translation came out 10 years ago. So I started reading it, and it basically contains the entire Sanskrit Vedic worldview in it.I had never been exposed to this very coherently laid-out version of what I would call Hindu cosmology and ethics. Hindus don't really get taught those things in a very organized way. The book is basically about dharma, the principle of rightness and how this principle of rightness orders the universe and how it basically results in everybody getting their just deserts in various ways. As I was reading the book, I was like, this seems very true that there is some cosmic rebalancing here, and that everything does turn out more or less the way it should, which is not something that I can defend on a rational level.But just reading the book, it just made me feel like, yes, that is true. There is justice, the universe is organized by justice. It took me about a year to read the whole thing. I started waking up at 5:00 a.m. and reading for an hour each morning, and it just was a really magical, profound experience that brought me a lot closer to my grandmother's religious beliefs.Oliver: Is it ever possible to persuade someone with arguments that they should read literature, or is it just something that they have to have an inclination toward and then follow someone's example? Because I feel like we have so many columns and op-eds and “books are good because of X reason, and it's very important because of Y reason.” And like, who cares? No one cares. If you are persuaded, you take all that very seriously and you argue about what exactly are the precise reasons we should say. And if you're not persuaded, you don't even know this is happening.And what really persuades you is like, oh, Naomi sounds pretty compelling about the Mahabharata. That sounds cool. I'll try that. It's much more of a temperamental, feelingsy kind of thing. Is it possible to argue people into thinking about this differently? Or should we just be doing what we do and setting an example and hoping that people will follow.Kanakia: As to whether it's possible or not, I do not know. But I do think these columns are too ambitious. A thousand-word column and the imagined audience for this column is somebody who doesn't read books at all, who doesn't care about literature at all. And then in a thousand-word column, you're going to persuade them to care about literature. This is no good. It's so unnecessary.Whereas there's a much broader range of people who love to read books, but have never picked up Moby Dick or have never picked up Middlemarch, or who like maybe loved Middlemarch, but never thought maybe I should then go on and read Jane Austen and George Eliot.I think trying to shift people from “I don't read books at all; reading books is not something I do,” to being a Great Books card-carrying lover of literature is a lot. I really aim for a much lower result than that, which is to whatever extent people are interested in literature, they should pursue that interest. And as the rationalists would say, there's a lot of alpha in that; there's a lot to be gained from converting people who are somewhat interested into people who are very interested.Oliver: If there was a more widespread practice of humanism in education and the general culture, would that make America into a more liberal country in any way?Kanakia: What do you mean by humanism?Oliver: You know, the old-fashioned liberal arts approach, the revival of the literary journal culture, the sort of depolitical approach to literature, the way things used to be, as it were.Kanakia: It couldn't hurt. It couldn't hurt is my answer to that question.Oliver: Okay.Kanakia: What you're describing is basically the way I was educated. I went to Catholic school in DC at St. Anselm's Abbey School, in Northeast, DC, grade school. Highly recommend sending your little boys there. No complaints about the school. They talked about humanism all the time and all these civic virtues. I thought it was great. I don't know what people in other schools learn, but I really feel like it was a superior way of teaching.Now, you know, it was Catholic school, so a lot of people who graduated from my school are conservatives and don't really have the beliefs that I have, but that's okay.Oliver: Tell us about your reading habits.Kanakia: I read mostly ebooks. I really love ebooks because you can make the type bigger. I just read all the time. They vary. I don't wake up at 5:00 a.m. to read anymore. Sometimes if I feel like I'm not reading enough—because I write this blog, and the blog doesn't get written unless I'm reading. That's the engine, and so sometimes I set aside a day each week to read. But generally, the reading mostly takes care of itself.What I tend to get is very into a particular thing, and then I'll start reading more and more in that area. Recently, I was reading a lot of New Yorker stories. So I started reading more and more of these storywriters that have been published in the New Yorker and old anthologies of New Yorker stories. And then eventually I am done. I'm tired. It's time to move on.Oliver: But do you read several books at once? Do you make notes? Do you abandon books? How many hours a day do you read?Kanakia: Hours a day: Because my e-reader keeps these stats, I'd say 15 or 20 hours a week of reading. Nowadays because I write for the blog, I often think as I'm reading how I would frame a post about this. So I look for quotes, like what quote I would look at. I take different kinds of notes. I'll make more notes if I'm more confused by what is going on. Especially with nonfiction books, I'll try sometimes to make notes just to iron out what exactly I think is happening or what I think the argument is. But no, not much of a note taker.Oliver: What will you read next?Kanakia: What will I read next? Well, I've been thinking about getting back into Indian literature. Right now I'm reading Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. But there's an Indian novel called Jhootha Sach, which is a partition novel that is originally in Hindi. And it's also a thousand pages long, and is frequently compared to Les Miserables and War and Peace. So I'm thinking about tackling that finally.Oliver: Naomi Kanakia, thank you very much.Kanakia: Thanks for having me. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.commonreader.co.uk

The House of Mirth is a novel by Edith Wharton, first published in 1905.It follows the quiet social life of Lily Bart as she moves through drawing rooms, dinners, and long conversations in New York's upper society.This is a slow, observational story about routine, manners, and small choices, told in a measured and unhurried way.

Hermione Lee is the renowned biographer of Virginia Woolf, Edith Wharton, Penelope Fitzgerald, and, most recently, Tom Stoppard. Stoppard died at the end of last year, so Hermione and I talked about the influence of Shaw and Eliot and Coward on his work, the recent production of The Invention of Love, the role of ideas in Stoppard's writing, his writing process, rehearsals, revivals, movies. We also talked about John Carey, Brian Moore, Virginia Woolf as a critic. Hermione is Emeritus Professor of English Literature at the University of Oxford. Her life of Anita Brookner will be released in September.TranscriptHenry Oliver: Today I have the great pleasure of talking to Professor Dame Hermione Lee. Hermione was the first woman to be appointed Goldsmiths' Professor of English Literature at the University of Oxford, and she is the most renowned and admired living English biographer. She wrote a seminal life of Virginia Woolf. She's written splendid books about people like Willa Cather, Edith Wharton, and my own favorite, Penelope Fitzgerald. And most recently she has been the biographer of Tom Stoppard, and I believe this year she has a new book coming out about Anita Brookner. Hermione, welcome.Hermione Lee: Thank you very much.Oliver: We're mostly going to talk about Tom Stoppard because he, sadly, just died. But I might have a few questions about your broader career at the end. So tell me first how Shavian is Stoppard's work?Lee: He would reply “very close Shavian,” when asked that question. I think there are similarities. There are obviously similarities in the delighting forceful intellectual play, and you see that very much in Jumpers where after all the central character is a philosopher, a bit of a bonkers philosopher, but still a very rational one.And you see it in someone like Henry, the playwright in The Real Thing, who always has an answer to every argument. He may be quite wrong, but he is full of the sort of zest of argument, the passion for argument. And I think that kind of delight in making things intellectually clear and the pleasure in argument is very Shavian.Where I think they differ and where I think is really more like Chekov, or more like Beckett or more in his early work, the dialogues in T. S. Elliot, and less like Shaw is in a kind of underlying strangeness or melancholy or sense of fate or sense of mortality that rings through almost all the plays, even the very, very funny ones. And I don't think I find that in Shaw. My prime reading time for Shaw was between 15 and 19, when I thought that Shaw was the most brilliant grownup that one could possibly be listening to, and I think now I feel less impressed by him and a bit more impatient with him.And I also think that Shaw is much more in the business of resolving moral dilemmas. So in something like Arms and the Man or Man and Superman, you will get a kind of resolution, you will get a sort of sense of this is what we're meant to be agreeing with.Whereas I think quite often one of the fascinating things about Stoppard is the way that he will give all sides of the question; he will embody all sides of the question. And I think his alter ego there is not Shaw, but the character of Turgenev in The Coast of Utopia, who is constantly being nagged by his radical political friends to make his mind up and to have a point of view and come down on one side or the other. And Turgenev says, I take every point of view.Oliver: I must confess, I find The Coast of Utopia a little dull compared to Stoppard's other work.Lee: It's long. Yes. I don't find it dull. But I think it may be a play to read possibly more than a play to see now. And you're never going to get it put on again anyway because the cast is too big. And who's going to put on a nine-hour free play, 50 people cast about 19th-century Russian revolutionaries? Nobody, I would think.But I find it very absorbing actually. And partly because I'm so interested in Isaiah Berlin, who is a very strong presence in the anti-utopianism of those plays. But that's a matter of opinion.Oliver: No. I like Berlin. One thing about Stoppard that's un-Shavian is that he says his plays begin as a noise or an image or a scene, and then we think of him as this very thinking writer. But is he really more of an intuitive writer?Lee: I think it's a terribly good question. I think it gets right at the heart of the matter, and I think it's both. Sorry, I sound like Turgenev, not making my mind up. But yes, there is an image or there is an idea, or there are often two ideas, as it were, the birth of quantum physics and 18th-century landscape gardening. Who else but Stoppard would put those two things in one play, Arcadia, and have you think about both at once.But the image and the play may well have been a dance between two periods of time together in one room. So I think he never knew what the next play was going to be until it would come at him, as it were. He often resisted the idea that if he chose a topic and then researched it, a play would come out of it. That wasn't what happened. Something would come at him and then he would start doing a great deal of research usually for every play.Oliver: What sort of influence did T. S. Elliot have on him? Did it change the dialogue or, was it something else?Lee: When I was working with him on my biography, he gave me a number of things. I had extraordinary access, and we can perhaps come back to that interesting fact. And most of these things were loans he gave them to me to work on. Then I gave them back to him.But he gave me as a present one thing, which was a black notebook that he had been keeping at the time he was writing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and also his first and only novel Lord Malquist and Mr. Moon, which is little known, which he thought was going to make his career. The book was published in the same week that Rosencrantz came up. He thought the novel was going to make his career and the play was going to sink without trace. Not so. In the notebook there are many quotations from T. S. Elliot, and particularly from Prufrock and the Wasteland, and you can see him working them into the novel and into the play.“I am not Prince Hamlet nor was meant to be.” And that sense of being a disconsolate outsider. Ill at ease with and neurotic about the world that is charging along almost without you, and you are having to hang on to the edge of the world. The person who feels themself to be in internal exile, not at one with the universe. I think that point of view recurs over and over again, right through the work, but also a kind of epigrammatical, slightly mysterious crypticness that Elliot has, certainly in Prufrock and in the Wasteland and in the early poems. He loved that tone.Oliver: Yes. When I read your paper about that I thought about Rosencrantz and Guildenstern quite differently. I've always disliked the idea that it's a sort of Beckett imitation play. It seems very Elliotic having read what you described.Lee: There is Beckett in there. You can't get away from it.Oliver: Surface level.Lee: Beckett's there, but I think the sense of people waiting around—Stoppard's favorite description of Rosencrantz was: “It's two journalists on a story that doesn't add up, which is very clever and funny.”Yes. And that sense of, Vladimir going, “What are we supposed to be doing and how are we going to pass the time?” That's profoundly influential on Stoppard. So I don't think it's just a superficial resemblance myself, but I agree that Elliot just fills the tone of that play and other things too.Oliver: In the article you wrote about Stoppard and Elliot, the title is about biographical questing, and you also described Arcadia as a quest. How important is the idea of the quest to the way you work and also to the way you read Stoppard?Lee: I took as the epigraph for my biography of Stoppard a line from Arcadia: “It's wanting to know that makes us matter, otherwise we're going out the way we came in.” So I think that's right at the heart of Stoppard's work, and it's right at the heart of any biographical work, whether or not it's mine or someone else's. If you can't know, in the sense of knowing the person, knowing what the person is like, and also knowing as much as possible about them from different kinds of sources, then you might as well give up.You can't do it through impressions. You've got to do it through knowledge. Of course, a certain amount of intuition may also come into play, though I'm not the kind of biographer that feels you can make things up. Working on a living person, this is the only time I've done that.It was, of course, a very different thing from working on a safely dead author. And I knew Penelope Fitzgerald a little bit, but I had no idea I was going to write her biography when I had conversations with her and she wouldn't have told me anything anyway. She was so wicked and evasive. But it was a set up thing; he asked me to do it. And we had a proper contract and we worked together over several years, during which time he became a friend, which was a wonderful piece of luck for me.I was doing four things, really. One was reading all the material that he produced, everything, and getting to know it as well as I could. And that's obviously the basic task. One was talking to him and listening to him talk about his life. And he was very generous with those interviews. I'm sure there were things he didn't tell me, but that's fine. One was talking to other people about him, which is a very interesting process. And with someone like him who knew everyone in the literary, theatrical, cultural world, you have to draw a halt at some point. You can't talk to a thousand people, or I'd have still been doing it, so you talk to particularly fellow playwrights, directors, actors who've worked with him often, as well as family and friends. And then you start pitting the versions against each other and seeing what stands up and what keeps being said.Repetition's very important in that process because when several people say the same thing to you, then you know that's right. And that quest also involves some actual footsteps, as Richard Holmes would say. Footsteps. Traveling to places he'd lived in and going to Darjeeling where he had been to school before he came to England, that kind of travel.And then the fourth, and to me, in a way, almost the most exciting, was the opportunity to watch him at work in rehearsal. So with the director's permissions, I was allowed to sit in on two or three processes like that, the 50th anniversary production of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern at the Old Vic with David Lavoie. And Patrick Marber's wonderful production of Leopoldstadt and Nick Hytner's production of The Hard Problem at the National. So I was able to witness the very interesting negotiations going on between Tom and the director and the cast.And also the extraordinary fact that even with a play like Rosencrantz, which is on every school syllabus and has been for 50—however many years—he was still changing things in rehearsal. I can't get over that. And in his view, as he often said, theater is an event and not a text, and so one could see that actual process of things changing before one's very eyes, and that for a biographer, it's a pretty amazing privilege.Oliver: How much of the plays were written during rehearsal do you think?Lee: Oh, 99% of the plays were written with much labor, much precision, much correction alone at his desk. The text is there, the text is written, and everything changes when you go into the rehearsal room because you suddenly find that there isn't enough time with that speech for the person to get from the bed to the door. It's physics; you have to put another line in so that someone can make an entrance or an exit, that kind of thing.Or the actors will say quite often, because they were a bit in awe—by the time he became well known—the actors initially would be a bit in awe of the braininess and the brilliance. And quite often the actors will be saying, “I'm sorry, I don't understand. I don't understand this.” You'd often get, “I don't really understand.”And then he would never be dismissive. He would either say, “No, I think you've got to make it work.” I'm putting words into his mouth here. Or he would say, “Okay, let's put another sentence or something like that.”Oliver: Between what he wrote at his desk and the book that's available for purchase now, how much changed? Is it 10%, 50? You know what I mean?Lee: Yes. You should be talking to his editor at Faber, Dinah Wood. So Faber would print a relatively small number for the first edition before the rehearsal process and the final production. And then they would do a second edition, which would have some changes in it. So 2%. Okay. But crucial sometimes.Oliver: No, sure. Very important.Lee: And also some plays like Jumpers went through different additions with different endings, different solutions to plot problems. Travesties, he had a lot of trouble with the Lenins in Travesties because it's the play in which you've got Joyce and you've got Tristan Tzara and you've got the Lenins, and they're all these real people and he makes him talk.But he was a little bit nervous about the Lenin. So what he gave him to say were things that they had really said, that Lenin had really said. As opposed to the Tzara-Joyce stuff, which is all wonderfully made up. The bloody Lenins became a bit of a problem for him. And so that gets changed in later editions you'll find.Oliver: How closely do you think The Real Thing is based on Present Laughter by Noël Coward?Lee: Oh, I think there's a little bit of Coward in there. Yes, sure. I think he liked Coward, he liked Wilde, obviously. He likes brilliant, witty, playful entertainers. He wants to be an entertainer. But I think The Real Thing, he was proud of the fact that The Real Thing was one of the few examples of his plays at that time, which weren't based on something else. They weren't based on Hamlet. They weren't based on The Importance of Being Earnest. It's not based on a real person like Housman. I think The Real Thing came out of himself much more than out of literary models.Oliver: You don't think that Henry is a bit like the actor character in Present Laughter and it's all set in his flat and the couples moving around and the slight element of farce?The cricket bat speech is quite similar to when Gary Essendine—do you remember that very funny young man comes up on the train from Epping or somewhere and lectures him about the social value of art. And Gary Essendine says, “Get a job in a theater rep and write 20 plays. And if you can get one of them put on in a pub, you'll be damn lucky.” It's like a model for him, a loose model.Lee: Yes. Henry, I think you should write an article comparing these two plays.Oliver: Okay. Very good. What does Stoppardian mean?Lee: It means witty. It means brilliant with words. It means fizzing with verbal energy. It means intellectually dazzling. The word dazzling is the one that tends to get used. My own version of Stoppardian is a little bit different from, as it were, those standard received and perfectly acceptable accounts of Stoppardian.My own sense of Stoppardian has more to do with grief and mortality and a sense of not belonging and of puzzlement and bewilderment, within all that I said before, within the dazzling, playful astonishing zest and brio of language and the precision about language.Oliver: Because it's a funny word. It's hard to include Leopoldstadt under the typical use of Stoppardian, because it's an untypical Stoppard.Lee: One of the things about Leopoldstadt that I think is—let's get rid of that trope about Stoppardian—characteristic of him is the remarkable way it deals with time. Here's a play like Arcadia, all set in the same place, all set in the same room, in the same house, and it goes from a big hustling room, late 19th-century family play, just like the beginning of The Coast of Utopia, where you begin with a big family in Russia and then it moves through the '20s and then into the terrible appalling period of the Anschluss and the Holocaust.And then it ends up after the war with an empty room. This room, is like a different kind of theater, an empty room. Three characters, none of whom you know very well, speaking in three different kinds of English, reaching across vast spaces of incomprehension, and you've had these jumps through time.And then at the very end, the original family, all of whom have been destroyed, the original family reappears on the stage. I'm sorry to tell this for anyone who hasn't seen Leopoldstadt. Because when it happens on the stage, it's an absolutely astonishing moment. As if the time has gone round and as if the play, which I think it was for him, was an act of restitution to all those people.Oliver: How often did he use his charm to get his way with actors?Lee: A lot. And not just actors. People he worked with, film people, friends, companions. Charm is such an interesting thing, isn't it? Because we shouldn't deviate, but there's always a slightly sinister aspect to the word charm as in, a magic charm. And one tends to be a bit suspicious of charm. And he knew he had charm and he was physically very magnetic and good looking and very funny and very attentive to people.But I think the charm, in his case, he did use it to get the right results, and he did use it, as he would say, “to look after my plays.” He was always, “I want to look after my plays.” And that's why he went back to rehearsal when there were revivals and so on. But he wasn't always charming. Patrick Marber, who's a friend of his and who directed Leopoldstadt, is very good on how irritable Stoppard could be sometimes in rehearsal. And I've heard that from other directors too—Jack O'Brien, who did the American productions of things like The Invention of Love.If Stoppard felt it wasn't right, he could get quite cross. So this wasn't a sort of oleaginous character at all. It's not smooth, it's not a smooth charm at all. But yes, he knew his power and he used it, and I think in a good way. I think he was a benign character actually. And one of the things that was very fascinating to me, not only when he died and there was this great outpouring of tributes, very heartfelt tributes, I thought. But also when I was working on the biography, I was going around the world trying to find people to say bad things about him, because what I didn't want to do was write a hagiography. You don't want to do that; there would be no point. And it was genuinely quite hard.And I don't know the theater world; it's not my world. I got to know it a little bit then. But I have never necessarily thought of the theater world as being utterly loving and generous about everybody else. I'm sure there are lots of rivalries and spitefulness, as there is in academic life, all the rest of it. But it was very hard to find anyone with a bad word to say about him, even people who'd come up against the steeliness that there is in him.I had an interview with Steven Spielberg about him, with whom he worked a lot, and with whom he did Empire of the Sun. And I would ask my interviewees if they could come up with two or three adjectives or an adjective that would sum him up, that would sum Stoppard up to them. And when I asked Spielberg this question, he had a little think and then he said, intransigent. I thought, great. He must be the only person who ever stood up to him.Oliver: What was his best film script? Did he write a really great film.Lee: That one. I think partly the novel, I don't know if you know the Ballard novel, the Empire of the Sun, it's a marvelous novel. And Ballard was just a magical and amazing writer, a great hero of mine. But I think what Stoppard did with that was really clever and brilliant.I know people like Brazil, the Terry Gilliam sort of surrealist way. And there's some interesting early work. Most of his film work was not one script; it was little bits that he helped with. So there's famously the Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, he did most of the dialogue for Harrison Ford.But there are others like the One Hundred and One Dalmatians, where I think there's one line, anonymously Stoppardian in there. One of the things about the obituaries that slightly narked me was that there, I felt there was a bit too much about the films. Truly, I don't think the film work was—he wanted it to be right and he wanted to get it right—but it wasn't as close to his heart as the theater work. And indeed the work for radio, which I thought was generally underwritten about when he died. There was some terrific work there.Oliver: Yes. And there aren't that many canonical writers who've been great on the radio.Lee: Absolutely. He did everything. He did film, he did radio. He wrote some opera librettos. He really did everything. And on top of that, there was the great work for the public good, which I think is a very important part of his legacy, his history.Oliver: How much crossover influence is there between the different bits of his career? Does the screenwriting influence the theater writing and the radio and so on? Or is he just compartmentalized and able to do a lot of different things?Lee: That's such an interesting question. I don't think I've thought about it enough. I think there are very cinematic aspects to some of the plays, like Night and Day, for instance, the play about journalism. That could easily have been a film.And perhaps Hapgood as well, although it could be a kind of John le Carré type film thriller, though it's such a set of complicated interlocking boxes that I don't know that it would work as a film. It's not one of my favorite players, I must say. I struggle a little bit with Hapgood. But, yes, I'm sure that they fed into each other. Because he was so busy, he was often doing several things at once. So he was keeping things in boxes and opening the lid of that box. But mentally things must have overlapped, I'm sure.Oliver: He once joked that rather than having read Wittgenstein from cover to cover, he had only read the covers. How true is that? Because I know some people who would say he's very clever in everything, but he's not as clever as he looks. It's obviously not true that he only read the covers.Lee: I think there was a phase, wasn't there, after the early plays when people felt that he was—it's that English phrase, isn't it—too clever by half. Which you would never hear anyone in France saying of someone that they were too clever by half. So he was this kind of jazzy intellectual who put all his ideas out there, and he was this sort of self-educated savant who hadn't been to Oxford.There was quite a lot of that about in the earlier years, I think. And a sense that he was getting away with it, to which I would countermand with the story of the writing of The Invention of Love. So what attracted him to the figure of Housman initially was not the painful, suppressed homosexual love story, but the fact that here was this person who was divided into a very pernickety, savagely critical classical editor of Latin and a romantic lyric poet. In order to work out how to turn this into a play, he probably spent about six years taking Latin lessons, reading everything he could read on the history of classical literature. Obviously reading about Housman, engaging in conversation with classical scholars about Housman's, finer points of editorial precision about certain phrases. And what he used from that was the tip of the iceberg. But the iceberg was real.He really did that work and he often used to say that it was his favorite play because he'd so much enjoyed the work that went into it. I think he took what he needed from someone like Wittgenstein. I know you don't like The Coast of Utopia very much, but if you read his background to Coast of Utopia, what went into it, and if you compare what's in the plays, those three plays, with what's in the writing about those revolutionaries, he read everything. He may have magpied it, but he's certainly knows what he's talking about. So I defend him a bit against that, I think.Oliver: Good, good. Did you see the recent production at the Hamstead Theatre of The Invention of Love?Lee: I did, yes.Oliver: What did you think?Lee: I liked it. I thought it was rather beautifully done. I liked those boats rowing around that clicked together. I thought Simon Russell Beale was extremely good, particularly very moving. And very good in Housman's vindictiveness as a critic. He is not a nice person in that sense. And his scornfulness about the women students in his class, that kind of thing. And so there was a wonderful vitriol and scorn in Russell Beale's performance.I think when you see it now, some of the Oxford context is a little bit clunky, those scenes with Jowett and Pater and so on, it's like a bit of a caricature of the context of cultural life at the time, intellectual life at the time. But I think that the trope of the old and the young Housman meeting each other and talking to each other, which I still think is very moving. I thought it worked tremendously well.Oliver: What are Tom Stoppard's poems like?Lee: You see them in Indian Ink where he invents a poet, Flora Crewe, who is a poet who was died young, turn of the century, bold feminist associated with Bloomsbury and gets picked up much later as a kind of Sylvia Plath-type, HD type heroine. And when you look at Stoppard's manuscripts in the Harry Ransom Center in the University of Austin, in Texas, there is more ink spent on writing and rewriting those poems of Flora Crewe than anything else I saw in the manuscript. He wrote them and rewrote them.Early on he wrote some Elliot—they're very like Elliot—little poems for himself. I think there are probably quite a lot of love poems out there, which I never saw because they belong to the people for whom he wrote them. So I wouldn't know about those.Oliver: How consistently did Stoppard hold to a kind of liberal individualism in his politics?Lee: He was accused of being very right wing in the 1980s really, 1970s, 1980s, when the preponderant tendency for British drama was radicalism, Royal Court, left wing, all of that. And Stoppard seemed an outlier then, because he approved of Thatcher. He was a friend of Thatcher. He didn't like the print union. It was particularly about newspapers because he'd been a newspaper man in his youth. That was his alternative university education, working in Bristol on the newspapers. He had a romance heroic feeling about the value of the journalist to uphold democracy, and he hated the pressure of the print unions to what he thought at the time was stifling that.He changed his mind. I think a lot about that. He had been very idealistic and in love with English liberal values. And I think towards the end of his life he felt that those were being eroded. He voted lots of different ways. He voted conservative, voted green. He voted lib dem. I don't if he ever voted Labour.Oliver: But even though his personal politics shifted and the way he voted shifted, there is something quite continuous from the early plays through to Rock ‘n' Roll. Is there a sort of basic foundation that doesn't change, even though the response to events and the idea about the times changes?Lee: Yes, I think that's right, and I think it can be summed up in what Henry says in The Real Thing about politics, which is a version of what's often said in his plays, which is public postures have the configuration of private derangement. So that there's a deep suspicion of political rhetoric, especially when it tends towards the final solution type, the utopian type, the sense that individual lives can be sacrificed in the interest of an ultimate rationalized greater good.And then, he's worked in the '70s for the victims of Soviet communism. His work alongside in support of Havel and Charter 77. And he wrote on those themes such as Every Good Boy Deserves Favour and Professional Foul. Those are absolutely at the heart of what he felt. And they come back again when he's very modest about this and kept it quiet. But he did an enormous amount of work for the Belarus exile, Belarus Free Theater collective, people in support of those trying to work against the regime in Belarus.And then the profound, heartfelt, intense feeling of horror about what happened to people in Leopoldstadt. That's all part of the same thing. I think he's a believer in individual freedom and in democracy and has a suspicion of political rhetoric.Oliver: How much were some of his great parts written for specific actors? Because I sometimes have a feeling when I watch one of his plays now, if I'd been here when Felicity Kendal was doing this, I would be getting the whole thing, but I'm getting most of it.Lee: I'm sure that's right. And he built up a team around him: Peter Wood, the director and John Wood who's such an extraordinary Henry Carr in in in Travesties. And Michael Hordern as George the philosopher in Jumpers. And he wrote a lot for Kendal, in the process of becoming life companions.But he'd obviously been writing and thinking of her very much, for instance, in Arcadia. And also I think very much, it's very touching now to see the production of Indian Ink that's running at Hampstead Theatre in which Felicity Kendal is playing the older woman, the surviving older sister of the poet Flora Crewe, where of course the part of Flora Crewe was written for her. And there's something very touching about seeing that now. And, in fact, the first night of that production was the day of Stoppard's funeral. And Kendal couldn't be at the funeral, of course, because she was in the first night of his play. That's a very touching thing.Oliver: Why did he think the revivals came too soon?Lee: I don't really know the answer to that. I think he thought a play had to hook up a lot of oxygen and attract a lot of attention. If you were lucky while it was on, people would remember the casting and the direction of that version of it, and it would have a kind of memory. You had to be there.But people who were there would remember it and talk about it. And if you had another production very soon after that, then maybe it would diminish or take away that effect. I think he had a sort of loyalty to first productions often. What do you think about that? I'm not quite sure of the answer to that.Oliver: I don't know. To me it seems to conflict a bit with his idea that it's a living thing and he's always rewriting it in the rehearsal room. But I think probably what you say is right, and he will have got it right in a certain way through all that rehearsing. You then need to wait for a new generation of people to make it fresh again, if you like.Lee: Or not a generation even, but give it five years.Oliver: Everyone new and this theater's working differently now. We can rework it in our own way. Can we have a few questions about your broader career before we finish?Lee: Depends what they are.Oliver: Your former colleague John Carey died at a similar time to Stoppard. What do you think was his best work?Lee: John Carey's best work? Oh. I thought the biography of Golding was pretty good. And I thought he wrote a very good book on Thackery. And I thought his work on Milton was good. I wasn't so keen on The Intellectuals and the Masses. He and I used to have vociferous arguments about that because he had cast Virginia Woolf with all the modernist fascists, as it were. He'd put her in a pile with Wyndham Lewis and Ezra Pound and so on. And actually, Virginia Woolf was a socialist feminist. And this didn't seem to have struck him because he was so keen to expose her frightful snobbery, which is what people in England reading Woolf, especially middle class blokes, were horrified by.And she is a snob, there's no doubt about it. But she knew that and she lacerated herself for it too. And I think he ignored all the other aspects of her. So I was angry about that. But he was the kind of person you could have a really good argument with. That was one of the really great things about John.Oliver: He seems to be someone else who was amenable and charming, but also very steely.Lee: Yes, I think he probably was I think he probably was. You can see that in his memoir, I think.Oliver: What was Carmen Callil like?Lee: Oh. She was a very important person in my life. It was she who got me involved in writing pieces for Virago. And it was she who asked me to write the life of Virginia Woolf for Chatto. And she was an enormous, inspiring encourager as she was to very many people. And I loved her.But I was also, as many people were, quite daunted by her. She was temperamental, she was angry. She was passionate. She was often quite difficult. Not a word I like to use about women because there's that trope of difficult women, but she could be. And she lost her temper in a very un-English way, which was quite a sight to behold. But I think of her as one of the most creative and influential publishers of the 20th century.Oliver: Will there be a biography of her?Lee: I don't know. Yes, it's a really interesting question, and I've been asking her executors whether they have any thoughts about that. Somebody said to me, oh, who wants a biography of a publisher? But, actually, publishers are really important people often, so I hope there would be. Yes. And it would need to be someone who understood the politics of feminism and who understood about coming from Australia and who understood about the Catholic background and who understood about her passion for France. And there are a whole lot of aspects to that life. It's a rich and complex life. Yes, I hope there will be someday.Oliver: Her papers are sitting there in the British Library.Lee: They are. And in fact—you kindly mentioned this to start with—I've just finished a biography of the art historian and novelist, Anita Brookner, who won the Booker prize in 1984 for a novel called Hotel du Lac.And Carmen and Anita were great buddies, surprisingly actually, because they were very different kinds of characters. And the year before she died, Carmen, who knew I was working on Anita, showed me all her diary entries and all the letters she'd kept from Anita. And that's the kind of generous person that she was.That material is now sitting in the British Library, along with huge reams of correspondence between Carmen and many other people. And it's an exciting archive.Oliver: She seems to have had a capacity to be friends with almost anyone.Lee: Yes, I think there were people she would not have wanted to be friends with. She was very disapproving of a lot of political figures and particularly right-wing figures, and there were people she would've simply spat at if she was in the room with them. But, yes, she an enormous range of friends, and she was, as I said, she was fantastically encouraging to younger women writers.And, also, another aspect of Carmen's life, which I greatly admired and was fascinated by: In Virago she would often be resuscitating the careers of elderly women writers who had been forgotten or neglected, including Antonia White and including Rosamund Lehmann. And part of Carmen's job at Virago, as she felt, was not just to republish these people, some of whom hadn't had a book published for decades, but also to look after them. And they were all quite elderly and often quite eccentric and often quite needy. And Carmen would be there, bringing them out and looking after them and going around to see them. And really marvelous, I think.Oliver: Yes, it is. Tell me about Brian Moore.Lee: Breean, as he called himself.Oliver: Oh, I'm sorry.Lee: No, it's all right. I think Brian became a friend because in the 1980s I had a book program on Channel 4, which was called Book Four. It had a very small audience, but had a wonderful time over several years interviewing lots and lots of writers who had new books out. We didn't have a budget; it was a table and two chairs and not the kind of book program you see on the television anymore. And I got to know Brian through that and through reviewing him a bit and doing interviews with him, and my husband and I would go out and visit him and his wife Jean.And I loved the work. I thought the work was such a brilliant mixture of popular cultural forms, like the thriller and historical novel and so on. And fascinating ideas about authority and religion and how to be free, how to break free of the bonds of what he'd grown up with in Ireland, in Northern Ireland, the bombs of religious autocracy, as it were. And very surreal in some ways as well. And he was also a very charming, funny, gregarious person who could be quite wicked about other writers.And, he was a wonderfully wicked and funny companion. What breaks my heart about Brian Moore is that while he was alive, he was writing a novel maybe every other year or every three years, and people would review them and they were talked about, and I don't think they were on academic syllabuses but they were really popular. And when he died and there were no more books, it just went. You can think of other writers like that who were tremendously well known in their time. And then when there weren't any more books, just went away. You ask people, now you go out and ask people, say, “What about The Temptation of Eileen Hughes or The Doctor's Wife or Black Robe? And they'll go, “Sorry?”Oliver: If anyone listening to this wants to try one of his novels, where do you say they should start?Lee: I think I would start with The Doctor's Wife and The Temptation of Eileen Hughes. And then if one liked those, one would get a taste for him. But there's plenty to choose from.Oliver: What about Catholics?Lee: Yes. Catholics is a wonderful book. Yes. Wonderful book. Bit like Muriel Spark's The Abbess of Crewe, I think.Oliver: How important is religion to Penelope Fitzgerald's work?Lee: She would say that she felt guilty about not having put her religious beliefs more explicitly into her fiction. I'm very glad that she didn't because I think it is deeply important and she believes in miracles and saints and angels and manifestations and providence, but she doesn't spell it out.And so when at the end of The Gate of Angels, for instance, there is a kind of miracle on the last page but it's much better not to have it spelt out as a miracle, in my view. And in The Blue Flower, which is not my favorite of her books, but it's the book of the greatest genius possibly. And I think she was a genius. There is a deep interest in Novalis's romantic philosophical ideas about a spiritual life, beyond the physical life, no more doctrinally than that. And she, of course, believes in that. I think she believed, in an almost Platonic way, that this life was a kind of cave of shadows and that there was something beyond that. And there are some very mysterious moments in her books, which, if they had been explained as religious experiences, I think would've been much less forceful and much less intense.Oliver: What is your favorite of her books?Lee: Oh, The Beginning of Spring. The Beginning of Spring is set in Moscow just before the revolution. And its concerns an Englishman who runs a print and publishing works. And it's based quite a lot on some factual narratives about people in Moscow at the time. And it's about the feeling of that place and that time, but it's also about being in love with two people at the same time.And, yes, and it's about cultural clashes and cultural misunderstanding, and it is an astonishingly evocative book. And when asked about this book, interviewers would say to Penelope, oh, she must have lived in Moscow for ages to know so much about it. And sometimes she would say, “Yes, I lived there for years.” And sometimes she would say, “No, I've never been there in my life.” And the fact was she'd had a week's book tour in Moscow with her daughter. And that was the only time she ever went to Russia, but she read. So it was a wonderful example of how she would be so wicked; she would lie.Oliver: Yes.Lee: Because she couldn't be bothered to tell the truth.Oliver: But wasn't she poking fun at their silly questions?Lee: Yes. It's not such a silly question. I would've asked her that question. It is an astonishing evocation of a place.Oliver: No, I would've asked it too, but I do feel like she had this sense of it's silly to be asked questions at all. It's silly to be interviewed.Lee: I interviewed her about three times—and it was fascinating. And she would deflect. She would deflect, deflect. When you asked her about her own work, she would deflect onto someone else's work or she would tell you a story. But she also got quite irritable.So for instance, there's a poltergeist in a novel called The Bookshop. And the poltergeist is a very frightening apparition and very strong chapter in the book. And I said to her in interview, “Look, lots of people think this is just superstition. There aren't poltergeists.” And she looked at me very crossly and said they just haven't been there. They don't know what they're talking about. Absolutely factual and matter of fact about the reality of a poltergeist.Oliver: What makes Virginia Woolf's literary criticism so good?Lee: Oh, I think it's a kind of empathy actually. That she has an extraordinary ability to try and inhabit the person that she's writing about. So she doesn't write from the point of view of, as it were, a dry, historical appreciation.She's got the facts and she's read the books, but she's trying to intimately evoke what it felt like to be that writer. I don't mean by dressing it up with personal anecdotes, but just she has an extraordinary way of describing what that person's writing is like, often in images by using images and metaphors, which makes you feel you are inside the story somehow.And she loves anecdotes. She's very good at telling anecdotes, I think. And also she's not soft, but she's not harshly judgmental. I think she will try and get the juice out of anything she's writing about. Most of these literary criticism pieces were written for money and against the clock and whilst doing other things.So if you read her on Dorothy Wordsworth or Mary Wollstonecraft or Henry James, there's a wonderful sense of, you feel your knowledge has been expanded. Knowledge in the sense of knowing the person; I don't mean in the sense of hard facts.Oliver: Sure. You've finished your Anita Brookner biography and that's coming this year.Lee: September the 10th this year, here and in the States.Oliver: What will you do next?Lee: Yes. That's a very good question, though a little soon, I feel.Oliver: Is there someone whose life you always wanted to write, but didn't?Lee: No. No, there isn't. Not at the moment. Who knows?Oliver: You are open to it. You are open.Lee: Who knows what will come up.Oliver: Yes. Hermione Lee, this was a real pleasure. Thank you very much.Lee: Thank you very much. It was a treat. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.commonreader.co.uk

As always, we conclude our series on Edith Wharton's classic novel by answering your questions. There were a lot of good ones and we did our best to answer as many as we could. Sometimes, of course, you just have to look at it. Happy listening! To learn about The Tapestry, the new curriculum from the CiRCE Institute click here! It's available to pre-order now. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit closereads.substack.com/subscribe

One Aladdin Two Lamps by Jeanette Winterson is a fascinating blend of memoir, fiction, history and self-discovery. Jeanette joins us to chat about past and present narratives, storytelling, autonomy, imagination and more with cohost Jenna Seery. This episode of Poured Over was hosted by Jenna Seery and mixed by Harry Liang.                     New episodes land Tuesdays and Thursdays (with occasional Saturdays) here and on your favorite podcast app. Featured Books (Episode): One Aladdin Two Lamps by Jeanette Winterson Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson The Passion by Jeanette Winterson Frankissstein by Jeanette Winterson Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson The Arabian Nights: Tales from a Thousand and One Nights by Richard Burton Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton  

Welcome back to our series on Edith Wharton's very complex (and wonderful) novel. This week, in discussing the ending, we find ourselves at, well, a loss for words. Nevertheless, we persist. We attempt to reckon with the complicated nature of May's character, Newland's fatalism and paralyzed life of the mind, the question of whether he's a tragic character, how we may or may not re-think the countess in light of the ending, and much more! As always, happy listening!To learn about The Tapestry curriculum from the CiRCE Institute click here! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit closereads.substack.com/subscribe

La novelista que escribió sobre la alta sociedad de Nueva York durante la Edad Dorada. Fue la primera mujer en ganar el Premio Pulitzer. Esta es la historia de Edith Wharton.Sígueme en las diferentes redes sociales:X (Twitter): https://twitter.com/lasreinaspod Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lasreinaspodcast/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lasreinaspodcastTikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@lasreinaspodcast Buy me a Coffee: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/lasreinaspod Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Many fans of Edith Wharton's great novels "The Age of Innocence" and "The House of Mirth" may not realize that her very first published book was not a work of fiction at all. In 1897, in collaboration with architect and interior designer Ogden Codman Jr, Wharton published "The Decoration of Houses", at the time, a groundbreaking work on the philosophy of interior design calling for a return to the classic European principles of balance, symmetry and proportion. In fact when she built her own great country home The Mount in Lenox, Massachusetts in 1902, she incorporated many of the French, Italian and British principles she lays out in the book.In this episode, returning guest Dr. Emily Orlando, noted Wharton scholar and author, helps us understand just what the publication of this first book meant to Wharton and the career that was to come. Furthermore, Dr. Orlando addresses the overriding theme of Wharton's own search for home and place that reoccurs regularly in her stories and novels.  We can then understand not only Edith Wharton's concepts for classic architectural design but at least for her - what makes a house a home.Dr. Emily Orlando is the editor of a recently published new annotated edition of "The Decoration of Houses" available wherever books are sold.This episode was produced and edited by Kieran Gannon  Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Welcome back to our series on Edith Wharton's excellent novel. This week we talk about the way the two main female characters have emerged, how we respond to Newland's dilemma, the moral conditions of the novel's world, and much more. Happy listening! To learn about The Tapestry curriculum from the CiRCE Institute click here! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit closereads.substack.com/subscribe

The Arrival of the Fittest: Biology's Imaginary Futures, 1900–1935 by Jim Endersby In the early twentieth century, varied audiences took biology out of the hands of specialists and transformed it into mass culture, transforming our understanding of heredity in the process.In the early twentieth century communities made creative use of the new theories of heredity in circulation at the time, including the now largely forgotten mutation theory of Hugo de Vries. Science fiction writers, socialists, feminists, and utopians are among those who seized on the amazing possibilities of rapid and potentially controllable evolution. De Vries's highly respected scientific theory only briefly captured the attention of the scientific community, but its many fans appropriated it for their own wildly imaginative ends. Writers from H.G. Wells and Edith Wharton to Charlotte Perkins Gilman, J.B.S. Haldane, and Aldous Huxley created a new kind of imaginary future, which Jim Endersby calls the biotopia. It took the ambiguous possibilities of biology—utopian and dystopian—and reimagined them in ways that still influence the public's understanding of the life sciences. The Arrival of the Fittest recovers the fascinating, long-forgotten origins of ideas that have informed works of fiction from Brave New World to the X-Men movies, all while reflecting on the lessons—positive and negative—that this period might offer us. Jim Endersby is professor of the history of science at the University of Sussex. He is the author of Orchid: A Cultural History, Imperial Nature: Joseph Hooker and the Practices of Victorian Science, and A Guinea Pig's History of Biology. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Twitter. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

The Arrival of the Fittest: Biology's Imaginary Futures, 1900–1935 by Jim Endersby In the early twentieth century, varied audiences took biology out of the hands of specialists and transformed it into mass culture, transforming our understanding of heredity in the process.In the early twentieth century communities made creative use of the new theories of heredity in circulation at the time, including the now largely forgotten mutation theory of Hugo de Vries. Science fiction writers, socialists, feminists, and utopians are among those who seized on the amazing possibilities of rapid and potentially controllable evolution. De Vries's highly respected scientific theory only briefly captured the attention of the scientific community, but its many fans appropriated it for their own wildly imaginative ends. Writers from H.G. Wells and Edith Wharton to Charlotte Perkins Gilman, J.B.S. Haldane, and Aldous Huxley created a new kind of imaginary future, which Jim Endersby calls the biotopia. It took the ambiguous possibilities of biology—utopian and dystopian—and reimagined them in ways that still influence the public's understanding of the life sciences. The Arrival of the Fittest recovers the fascinating, long-forgotten origins of ideas that have informed works of fiction from Brave New World to the X-Men movies, all while reflecting on the lessons—positive and negative—that this period might offer us. Jim Endersby is professor of the history of science at the University of Sussex. He is the author of Orchid: A Cultural History, Imperial Nature: Joseph Hooker and the Practices of Victorian Science, and A Guinea Pig's History of Biology. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Twitter. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/intellectual-history

The Arrival of the Fittest: Biology's Imaginary Futures, 1900–1935 by Jim Endersby In the early twentieth century, varied audiences took biology out of the hands of specialists and transformed it into mass culture, transforming our understanding of heredity in the process.In the early twentieth century communities made creative use of the new theories of heredity in circulation at the time, including the now largely forgotten mutation theory of Hugo de Vries. Science fiction writers, socialists, feminists, and utopians are among those who seized on the amazing possibilities of rapid and potentially controllable evolution. De Vries's highly respected scientific theory only briefly captured the attention of the scientific community, but its many fans appropriated it for their own wildly imaginative ends. Writers from H.G. Wells and Edith Wharton to Charlotte Perkins Gilman, J.B.S. Haldane, and Aldous Huxley created a new kind of imaginary future, which Jim Endersby calls the biotopia. It took the ambiguous possibilities of biology—utopian and dystopian—and reimagined them in ways that still influence the public's understanding of the life sciences. The Arrival of the Fittest recovers the fascinating, long-forgotten origins of ideas that have informed works of fiction from Brave New World to the X-Men movies, all while reflecting on the lessons—positive and negative—that this period might offer us. Jim Endersby is professor of the history of science at the University of Sussex. He is the author of Orchid: A Cultural History, Imperial Nature: Joseph Hooker and the Practices of Victorian Science, and A Guinea Pig's History of Biology. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Twitter. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Arrival of the Fittest: Biology's Imaginary Futures, 1900–1935 by Jim Endersby In the early twentieth century, varied audiences took biology out of the hands of specialists and transformed it into mass culture, transforming our understanding of heredity in the process.In the early twentieth century communities made creative use of the new theories of heredity in circulation at the time, including the now largely forgotten mutation theory of Hugo de Vries. Science fiction writers, socialists, feminists, and utopians are among those who seized on the amazing possibilities of rapid and potentially controllable evolution. De Vries's highly respected scientific theory only briefly captured the attention of the scientific community, but its many fans appropriated it for their own wildly imaginative ends. Writers from H.G. Wells and Edith Wharton to Charlotte Perkins Gilman, J.B.S. Haldane, and Aldous Huxley created a new kind of imaginary future, which Jim Endersby calls the biotopia. It took the ambiguous possibilities of biology—utopian and dystopian—and reimagined them in ways that still influence the public's understanding of the life sciences. The Arrival of the Fittest recovers the fascinating, long-forgotten origins of ideas that have informed works of fiction from Brave New World to the X-Men movies, all while reflecting on the lessons—positive and negative—that this period might offer us. Jim Endersby is professor of the history of science at the University of Sussex. He is the author of Orchid: A Cultural History, Imperial Nature: Joseph Hooker and the Practices of Victorian Science, and A Guinea Pig's History of Biology. Morteza Hajizadeh is a Ph.D. graduate in English from the University of Auckland in New Zealand. His research interests are Cultural Studies; Critical Theory; Environmental History; Medieval (Intellectual) History; Gothic Studies; 18th and 19th Century British Literature. YouTube channel. Twitter. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hoy vamos a hablar de literatura. De literatura de oportunidades perdidas y de anhelos inalcanzables. De literatura que fue el reflejo de una sociedad aristocrática infantilizada y de los secretos más recónditos de los seres que la conformaban. Hoy en Nadie al Volante vamos a tratar la vida y la obra de una mujer valiente y audaz, cuyo legado recién estamos empezando a colocar en el lugar que le corresponde, que es muy, muy elevado. Autora estadounidense de novelas, que la convirtieron en una celebridad en su tiempo, que escribió ensayos que versan de temas tan diferentes como el diseño de interiores, los cuadernos de viajes hasta los panfletos bélicos, y que también nos dejó tres volúmenes de poesía. Sus novelas tienen un sello muy característico, marcado por una enorme ironía, que le permitieron convertirse en la primera mujer en ganar el premio Pulitzer con su novela La Edad de la Inocencia, una de las obras maestras que nos dejó la escritora, que es una de las debilidades de quien les habla, y que un genio del cine como es el director Martin Scorsese, la convirtió en una película de culto, que también, más de treinta años después de su estreno, se comienza a valorar en su justa medida. Así que hoy abrimos nuestra sección Filología Inglesa, de nuestro querido Rafael Peñas Cruz, para tratar de indagar en esta enorme personalidad, que se convirtió en amiga íntima de escritores como Henry James y de personalidades de la talla de Teddy Roosevelt, y que autores como el grandísimo Scott Fitzgerald sintieron una profunda admiración por ella. Recibió distintos reconocimientos por parte del gobierno francés y del belga, por su enorme actividad en labores logísticas y humanitarias durante la Gran Guerra, aunque también llego a colocarse como corresponsal en el frente bélico, muy cerca de la carnicería y de los ataques con gas mostaza. El programa de hoy es el último que haremos en el estudio de Nadie al Volante, ya veremos dónde nos lleva la vida, pero los espíritus bromistas han hecho su aparición y escucharéis que alrededor de entre el minuto cincuenta y cinco y los siguientes veinte minutos hay un cambio en el audio porque se desconectaron los micros y quedó solo un dispositivo grabando. Cómo estábamos repletos de entusiasmo y en plena improvisación durante esos minutos, hemos decidido mantener el audio que captamos con el otro dispositivo, aunque merme un poquito la calidad del sonido. Así que vamos a sentarnos ya en nuestro palco del Metropolitan, porque la ópera de Nadie al Volante está a punto de comenzar. Una mujer misteriosa y tremendamente seductora se sienta en el palco de en frente, junto a nuestra prometida. Se trata de su prima que ha vuelto de Europa para llevarse nuestro corazón para siempre. Hablamos de Edith Wharton

Welcome to our first series of the new year, as we jump into Edith Wharton's novel of the Gilded Age, The Age of Innocence. This we discuss the way Wharton uses Newland Archer's unique point-of-view, the nature of the Countess' role in the story (and in Newland's life), the book's contemplation of the changing society, and much much more. As always, happy listening! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit closereads.substack.com/subscribe

Kitty Reads Lit for Peace: Edith Wharton – 12/30/25 (The 'Seventies) plus The Next Peacelands This episode features a New Year's-season reading from Edith Wharton's story “New Year's Day — The 'Seventies,” part of her 1924 collection Old New York. In this piece, Wharton examines memory, reputation, and the quiet consequences of a life lived under the watchful eye of society. Kitty reads a short excerpt that brings out Wharton's signature blend of precision, empathy, and moral insight. Kitty O'Compost continues warming up her reporter voice for the forthcoming Peace Is Here series The Peace Experiments exploring peace, AI, and the commons. For this special holiday edition of The Next Peacelands, Avis Kalfsbeek changes her focus from the factual grounding of warzones and arms suppliers to highlight the spiritual organizations and networks actively building peace around the world. Get the Winter Holiday Reading list with links to the full stories: www.aviskalfsbeek.com/holiday Get Avis's books: www.AvisKalfsbeek.com Music: “The Red Kite” by Javier “Peke” Rodriguez Bandcamp: https://javierpekerodriguez.bandcamp.com Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/3QuyqfXEKzrpUl6b12I3KW Intro Music: PulseBox on Pixabay Upcoming series: The Peace Experiments Edith Wharton – New Year's Day (The 'Seventies) on Gutenberg: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61321

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Episode: 2831 Reading the Long History of Cosmopolitan Magazine.  Today, a great American magazine.

Welcome to Episode 249–we are now NINE! That's right, December is our anniversary month. Episode 1 launched on December 6, 2016, and we've published a new episode every other Tuesday since then. Thank you so much for listening and all your encouragement along the way. We always wonder, especially around our anniversary: how did you discover our podcast?? Let us know in the comments or send us an email if you prefer (bookcougars@gmail.com). Another big deal about this episode is that we finished THE PENGUIN BOOK OF GHOST STORIES: FROM ELIZABETH GASKELL TO AMBROSE BIERCE! We discuss the last story, “Afterward” by Edith Wharton, and also share our top *cough* three stories from the collection. There's a big surprise about that. The books we have read since the last time include: THE CHICKEN SISTERS by KJ Dell'Antonia CITIZEN REPORTERS by Stephanie Gorton DREAM STATE by Eric Puchner FIEND by Alma Katsu WHAT CAN I BRING by Casey Elsass MORE THAN ENOUGH by Anna Quindlen (release date 2/24/2026) We had some fun Biblio Adventures, including running into author Hank Philipi Ryan when we went to see Hanna Halperin in conversation with Oyinkan Braithwaite at The Harvard Bookstore. We spent the day in Boston before that evening's event, starting with a delicious lunch at Flour Bakery + Cafe. Highlights include visiting the Houghton Library, Bob Slate Stationer, the Grolier Poetry Book Shop, and the Harvard Art Museum. We discuss Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 film adaptation of Bram Stoker's novel, DRACULA. Emily enjoyed a conversation between cookbook writers, Casey Elsass and Dorie Greenspan. She also watched the first episode of The Chicken Sisters, a new serial based on the novel. Chris went on a road trip around Rhode Island and Cape Cod, searching out lighthouses and trolls created by Thomas Dambo. Oh, and we announce our reading theme and first readalong book for 2026. Thanks to this episode's sponsor: LET THE WILLOWS WEEP by Sherry Parnell. Happy Listening and Happy Reading! https://www.bookcougars.com/blog-1/2025/episode249

Welcome to Episode 248! This episode is a bit different. We have an Author Spotlight with biographer Natalie Dykstra. If you've been listening to the podcast since this summer, you know that we both read her fascinating biography, CHASING BEAUTY: THE LIFE OF ISABELLA STEWART GARDNER. We also visited the exceptional, impressive, excellent – let's go with indescribable – Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. As a result, we had A LOT to talk about with Natalie, and our conversation went long. We greatly appreciated Natalie taking so much time to speak with us, and when it came to editing, well, we didn't know how to cut anything, and, to be honest, we didn't want to cut anything! So, this episode is an extended Author Spotlight with Natalie Dykstra! We hope you enjoy it and that you pick up CHASING BEAUTY. This biography won a New England Society of New York Book Award and the Marfield Prize, the national award for arts writing. We read it in paper, digitally, and can also recommend the audiobook narrated by Maggi-Meg Reed. We'll be back with a “regular” episode in two weeks, when we'll discuss Edith Wharton's “Afterward,” the last story in our year-long reading of THE PENGUIN BOOK OF GHOST STORIES. Thank you to this episode's sponsor: CLOSING COSTS by Janie Steele. Happy Listening and Happy Reading! https://www.bookcougars.com/blog-1/2025/episode248

Bar Talk (our recommendations):Jessica is reading The Dark Tower VI: Song of Susannah by Stephen King; drinking Free Spirits 'The Spirit of Bourbon'.Damien is reading Rejection: Fiction by Tony Tulathimutte; drinking a Boulevardier (Larceny bourbon, Campari, sweet vermouth).Ryan is reading  Long Division: Stories of Social Decay, Societal Collapse and Bad Manners, edited by Doug Murano and Michael Bailey; drinking a Glenlivet 14.If you liked this week's story, read the interconnected short stories of the Dandridge Cycle by Caitlin R Kiernan.Up next: "The Face of the Monk" by Robert HichensSpecial thank you to Dr Blake Brandes for our Whiskey and the Weird music! Like, rate, and follow! Check us out @whiskeyandtheweird on Instagram, Threads & Facebook, and at whiskeyandtheweird.com

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! In 1901, legendary author Edith Wharton built The Mount—a grand summer estate meant to be her personal retreat from the world. Yet more than a century later, her words still ring true: “I don't believe in ghosts, but I'm afraid of them.” Over the years, the mansion's beauty has been shadowed by stories of disembodied voices, footsteps echoing through empty halls, and an unshakable presence that lingers long after the guests have gone. From its transformation into a girls' school to a theater troupe's residence, The Mount has accumulated layers of emotion, history, and mystery. Now, Crypto Paranormal Investigations, led by Miranda Arthur-Smith and Nick Smith-Koblitz, ventures into its opulent yet haunted corridors to uncover what still stirs within its walls. In this chilling episode of The Grave Talks, they share their findings, experiences, and evidence from one of America's most literary hauntings. Because at The Mount, it seems the stories never truly end—they just change narrators. This is Part Two of our conversation. For more information on Crypto Paranormal Investigations, search for them on Facebook or click here. #TheGraveTalks #TheMount #EdithWharton #HauntedMassachusetts #CryptoParanormal #HistoryAndHauntings #Ghosts #HauntedHistory #ParanormalPodcast #RealGhostStories #LiteraryHauntings #SupernaturalEncounters #ParanormalInvestigation Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! In 1901, legendary author Edith Wharton built The Mount—a grand summer estate meant to be her personal retreat from the world. Yet more than a century later, her words still ring true: “I don't believe in ghosts, but I'm afraid of them.” Over the years, the mansion's beauty has been shadowed by stories of disembodied voices, footsteps echoing through empty halls, and an unshakable presence that lingers long after the guests have gone. From its transformation into a girls' school to a theater troupe's residence, The Mount has accumulated layers of emotion, history, and mystery. Now, Crypto Paranormal Investigations, led by Miranda Arthur-Smith and Nick Smith-Koblitz, ventures into its opulent yet haunted corridors to uncover what still stirs within its walls. In this chilling episode of The Grave Talks, they share their findings, experiences, and evidence from one of America's most literary hauntings. Because at The Mount, it seems the stories never truly end—they just change narrators. For more information on Crypto Paranormal Investigations, search for them on Facebook or click here. #TheGraveTalks #TheMount #EdithWharton #HauntedMassachusetts #CryptoParanormal #HistoryAndHauntings #Ghosts #HauntedHistory #ParanormalPodcast #RealGhostStories #LiteraryHauntings #SupernaturalEncounters #ParanormalInvestigation Love real ghost stories? Don't just listen—join us on YouTube and be part of the largest community of real paranormal encounters anywhere. Subscribe now and never miss a chilling new story:

Inspired by the natural world, NightWood at The Mount in Lenox, MA combines cinematic music, theatrical lighting, and scenic elements to create encounters that evoke wonder, delight, and mystery throughout the forest and gardens of Edith Wharton's Home.It runs November 21- January 3. NightWood immerses visitors on a one-mile illuminated path.

This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit smokeempodcast.substack.comNancy and Sarah discuss a viral essay from British Vogue, “Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?” The free-wheeling conversation touches on dating changes over the generations, the different ways women tell stories about their relationships online, and how women over the past half century have tried to balance independence and attachment. Also discussed:* First Kurt Rambis reference, for those who celebrate* Sarah gets her colors done, has hair problems* We need a producer!* Our email, for the record: smokeempodcast@gmail.com* Please, we beg you, no more videotaped marriage proposals* On men traveling alone: “Who did that guy kill?”* Influencer culture and the egg-freeze flex* Was the world built for “men's comfort”?* Do men want to be protectors? Do women want them to be? A debate!* Having a boyfriend is… Republican?* Might we have a moratorium on quotes from content providers living in Dimes Square?* “I just want a spinach salad…”* The Hulu show that almost broke up your podcastersPlus, a flashback to an early 20th century Edith Wharton banger, the glory that is Sebastian Junger, and much more!The rich jewel box colors of fall will be yours when you become a paid subscriber

Our 17th annual Halloween special with scary true stories about ghosts, corpses and mortal danger. 

In this show, as a prelude to Hallowe'en, we read a very haunting poem, All Souls by Edith Wharton.

Na estante desta semana, temos “Desobediência Civil”, de Henry David Thoreau; “O Cérebro Ideológico”, de Leor Zmigrod; “Os Costumes do País”, de Edith Wharton; e “Latim em Pó”, de Caetano Galindo.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Pulitzer Prize winning novelist Edith Wharton came by her subject matter the old-fashioned way: she was born into a prominent New York City family, and was subjected to the mores of the city's high society circle from birth. This did not suit the plain, brainy young Edith even a little bit, much to her mother's horror, but Edith did eventually submit to an extremely unhappy marriage to a diagnosed megalomaniac (!), which ended in, you guessed it, a trashy divorce. But this episode contains way more than Edith's life, writing and love affairs. We also explore the Gilded Age society that Edith lives in, but it is her aunt who really makes that society. Mrs. Mary Mason Jones is quite the OG legend in New York City, and the entire reason for the phrase “keeping up with the Joneses”. Also included are Mrs. Paran Stevens, Oscar Wilde, a set of international locations, many love affairs, and a whole lot of Newport too. Continue your investigation with ad-free and bonus episodes on Patreon! To advertise on Done & Dunne, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Pulitzer Prize winning novelist Edith Wharton came by her subject matter the old-fashioned way: she was born into a prominent New York City family, and was subjected to the mores of the city's high society circle from birth. This did not suit the plain, brainy young Edith even a little bit, much to her mother's horror, but Edith did eventually submit to an extremely unhappy marriage to a diagnosed megalomaniac (!), which ended in, you guessed it, a trashy divorce. But this episode contains way more than Edith's life, writing and love affairs. We also explore the Gilded Age society that Edith lives in, but it is her aunt who really makes that society. Mrs. Mary Mason Jones is quite the OG legend in New York City, and the entire reason for the phrase “keeping up with the Joneses”. Also included are Mrs. Paran Stevens, Oscar Wilde, a set of international locations, many love affairs, and a whole lot of Newport too. Continue your investigation with ad-free and bonus episodes on Patreon! To advertise on Done & Dunne, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On today's episode of The Literary Life Podcast, Angelina and Thomas are joined by Atlee Northmore to discuss film adaptations of Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence. After sharing their commonplace quotes, Atlee begins outlining the history of screen adaptations of Edith Wharton's novels, some of which were made during her own lifetime. Angelina and Thomas talk about their high standards for movie adaptations of books and how Scorsese's film surpassed their expectations. Together they discuss Scorsese's inspiration for this film, the painstaking detail of each scene in the film, how the editing enhanced the audience's understanding of the characters' emotions, and so much more! Also, Atlee's list of Scorsese's influences for making The Age of Innocence can be found here. Tune in again next week to learn more about what we mean when we talk about “the literary tradition”! For full show notes, including links to everything mentioned today, please visit our website at https://theliterary.life/292. 

This week on The Literary Life Podcast we wrap up the book discussion portion of our series on Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence. Today, Angelina and Thomas begin with chapter 22, going through the significant scenes all the way to the end of the book. They talk about the ways in which this book is an elegy, as well as the continued glimpses of “the family” as the main character. They also discuss the ways in which May shows herself to be more cunning that she pretends in contrast to Ellen's lack of pretense. Other topics of discussion are America's relationship with foreign influence, Archer's desire to live in an illusion, and the recurring theme of “Faust.” They conclude with some thoughts on this book as a parable of American culture. Join us next week for an episode on the film adaptation of this book with our film guru, Atlee Northmore. Visit the HouseofHumaneLetters.com to sign up for all the upcoming and past mini-classes and webinars, especially “The Viking World” taught by Dr. Michael Drout. To view the full show notes for this week's episode, please visit https://theliterary.life/291. 

NO READING REQUIRED! Kimberly is actually really NOT suggesting you read The Buccaneers. You SHOULD, though, read Wharton's The Age of Innocence or The House of Mirth. Her prose is engaging, gorgeous and so fun to read. Listen in to hear all about what happens with Nan and her men, with Laura Testvalley and Dick, with Honoria and Mabel and all the girls. Honestly, it's just such a treat to hear Wharton's writing. Indulge yourself now!

Welcome to The Literary Life Podcast and our series covering The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. Angelina and Thomas open with their commonplace quotes, then begin discussing the events and characters of this section of the book. Some of the ideas they build on this week are the challenges to social conventions, the many references to the goddess Diana and May's “boyishness”, examples of the pretense of society, and the language of flowers. In addition, Thomas shares his feelings about the character of Newland Archer, and Angelina points out the recurring themes of love triangles throughout these chapters. Join us next week when we finish up the last chapters of this book, then come back after that for an episode on the film adaptation of this book with our film guru, Atlee Northmore. Visit the HouseofHumaneLetters.com to sign up for all the upcoming and past mini-classes and webinars taught by Angelina, Thomas, and their colleagues! Be sure to visit https://theliterary.life/290 to view the full show notes for this episode, complete with quotes, book lists, and today's poem.

Drift off to sleep tonight with a classic sleep story by Edith Wharton. Support the podcast and enjoy ad-free and bonus episodes. Try FREE for 7 days on Apple Podcasts. For other podcast platforms go to https://justsleeppodcast.com/supportOr, you can support with a one time donation at buymeacoffee.com/justsleeppodOrder your copy of the Just Sleep book! https://www.justsleeppodcast.com/book/If you like this episode, please remember to follow on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or your favourite podcast app. Also, share with any family or friends that might have trouble drifting off.Goodnight! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Jacke starts the episode with an uplifting story, then submerges himself into chaos and absurdity for a look at The Trial by Franz Kafka, which lands at #21 on the list of Greatest Books of All Time. Then he welcomes novelist Olivia Wolfgang-Smith to the show for a discussion of her admiration for Edith Wharton, her passion for the works of Patrick O'Brian (author of the Aubrey-Maturin series), and her latest work Mutual Interest, a dishy novel about ambition, sexuality, and the rise of a capitalist empire in post-Gilded Age New York. Join us on tour! The History of Literature Podcast Tour is happening in May 2026! Act now to join Jacke and fellow literature fans on an eight-day journey through literary England in partnership with ⁠John Shors Travel⁠. Find out more by emailing jackewilsonauthor@gmail.com or masahiko@johnshorstravel.com, or by contacting us through our website ⁠historyofliterature.com⁠. Or visit the ⁠History of Literature Podcast Tour itinerary⁠ at ⁠John Shors Travel⁠. The music in this episode is by Gabriel Ruiz-Bernal. Learn more at ⁠gabrielruizbernal.com. Help support the show at ⁠patreon.com/literature ⁠or ⁠historyofliterature.com/donate ⁠. The History of Literature Podcast is a member of Lit Hub Radio and the Podglomerate Network. Learn more at ⁠thepodglomerate.com/historyofliterature. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Nineteenth-century Americans regarded Paris as a libertine paradise: a smorgasbord of food and fashion, of night life and sex. Today, the pull toward France endures, though the precise nature of its appeal has shifted. On the second in a series of Critics at Large interview episodes, Alexandra Schwartz talks with the staff writer Lauren Collins about her work as The New Yorker's woman on the ground in France and the long lineage of Francophilic Americans—from Edith Wharton to James Baldwin and, yes, even “Emily.” The two consider how French femininity has been marketed to American women and how modern influencers transmit an incomplete picture of Paris. “Yes, it's romantic, and, yes, it's picturesque, but it's also a big, loud, dirty, profane, complicated city that evolves and changes like everywhere else,” Collins says. “There's a lot of misbegotten essentializing that happens when Americans start talking about France.”Read, watch, and listen with the critics:“Ces restaurants qui gonflent l'addition des touristes américains,” by Mathieu Hennequin (Le Parisien)“Can Emmanuel Macron Stem the Populist Tide?,” by Lauren Collins (The New Yorker)“The Unlikely Rise of French Tacos,” by Lauren Collins (The New Yorker)“Dearest Edith,” by Janet Flanner (The New Yorker)“The Custom of the Country,” by Edith Wharton“Go Tell It on the Mountain,” by James Baldwin“Giovanni's Room,” by James Baldwin“The Discovery of What It Means to Be an American,” by James Baldwin (The New York Times)“Emily in Paris” (2020–)“Sex and the City” (1998–2004)“French Women Don't Get Fat,” by Mireille Guiliano“Bringing Up Bébé,” by Pamela DruckermanNew episodes drop every Thursday. Follow Critics at Large wherever you get your podcasts. Learn about your ad choices: dovetail.prx.org/ad-choices

Welcome to The Literary Life Podcast and a new series featuring the book The Age of Innocence. Our hosts, Angelina Stanford and Thomas Banks introduce us to American Gilded Age author, Edith Wharton, the "First Lady of American Letters." They also share their own experiences with reading Wharton's stories, novels, and letters, as well as some background on the time period and cultural context in which she was writing. In discussing the first several chapters of this book, Angelina and Thomas point out small details and subtleties that Wharton uses to give us hints about the characters and situations she presents. Visit the HouseofHumaneLetters.com to sign up for all the upcoming and past mini-classes and webinars taught by Angelina, Thomas, and their colleagues! To view the full show notes for this episode, including book links, commonplace quotes, and today's poem, please visit https://theliterary.life/289. 

Nous sommes le 27 avril 1934. C'est ce jour-là que paraît l'autobiographie de l'une des plus belles et des plus intelligentes plumes du début du vingtième siècle : Edith Wharton. L'autrice de « L'Âge de l'innocence », « Chez les heureux du monde » ou bien encore de « Ethan Frome » y écrit : « J'ai dit qu'on m'avait enseigné seulement deux choses dans mon enfance : les langues modernes et les bonnes manières. Maintenant que j'ai assez vécu pour voir comment certains se dispensent de ces deux branches de la culture, je m'aperçois qu'il y a des systèmes d'éducation bien pires. Mais, par justice envers mes parents, j'aurais dû indiquer un troisième élément dans ma formation : un certain respect pour la langue anglaise telle qu'on la parle dans le meilleur usage. L'usage, dans mon enfance, faisait autant autorité dans la langue parlée que la tradition dans le comportement social. Et c'est parce que notre petite société vivait encore dans la lumière reflétée d'une culture établie depuis longtemps, que mes parents, qui étaient loin d'être des intellectuels, qui lisaient peu et n'étudiaient pas du tout, parlaient néanmoins leur langue maternelle avec une perfection scrupuleuse, et tenaient à ce que leurs enfants fissent de même. » En 1934, Edith Wharton a 72 ans, il lui reste trois ans à vivre et, si au crépuscule de son existence, elle se penche avec indulgence sur son passé, il n'en a pas toujours été ainsi et elle a eu, auparavant, la dent beaucoup plus dure en racontant le milieu qui la vu naître, celui de la haute société new yorkaise. Une Américaine bien née, passionnée par l'Europe, en singulièrement par l'Italie et par la France. « La culture est, en France, écrit-elle, une qualité éminemment sociale, tandis qu'on pourrait aussi bien dire qu'elle est antisociale dans les pays anglo-saxons. En France, où la politique divise brutalement les classes et les coteries, les intérêts artistiques et littéraires les unissent ; et, partout où deux ou trois Français cultivés se rencontrent, un salon se constitue aussitôt ». Plongeons-nous aujourd'hui dans le monde d'Edith Wharton, de l'Amérique à l'Europe… Invitée : Myriam Campinaire, traductrice et interprète. Sujets traités : Edith Wharton, éducation, culture, Américaine, artiste, autobiographie 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.

Daily Quote兵形象水，水之行，避高而趋下；兵之形，避实而击虚。（《孙子兵法》）Poem of the DayLift Not the Painted Veil Percy Bysshe ShelleyBeauty of WordsThe Age of InnocenceEdith Wharton

On today's episode of The Literary Life podcast, Angelina and Thomas will be talking about the milestones of a reader's literary life. This episode developed in response to the many questions they've received over the years about challenges people face throughout their reading lives. They begin by thinking back to childhood and recalling the first time they each chose a book for themselves and fell in love with the story, as well as the feeling of getting their first library cards as children. Thomas asks Angelina when was the first time she found herself arguing with a book, and he answers the same question himself. Other milestones they discuss are changing your mind about a book on a re-read, learning to see past the imperfections of a book to see the underlying truth, distinguishing the work of art from your subjective reading experience, as well as separating the life of the author from the work of literature. They also answer other common concerns such as “Help! I dislike all the characters in this book!” Be sure to come back next week as we open our next series on Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence in which we will be covering chapters 1-8. Visit the HouseofHumaneLetters.com to sign up for all the upcoming and past mini-classes and webinars taught by Angelina, Thomas, and their colleagues! To view the full show notes for this episode, please visit https://theliterary.life/288. 

On today's episode of The Literary Life podcast, Angelina, Cindy, and Thomas wrap up their discussion of The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling with the final Mowgli story–“Tiger, Tiger.” Before beginning to talk about the story, the chat a little about Kipling's other works and his place in literary history and what sort of writer he was. In this section, Angelina points out the parallels to the first story, as well as the mythic qualities of the whole tale. Together they cover the various ideas in this section, including the ideas of belonging, freedom and boundaries, and heroism. Join is next week for an episode on “Literary Milestones” in the life of a reader. After that we will begin a new series on Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence. Over at House of Humane Letters, a new webinar is now available for registration. It is taught by Heather Goodman and is titled “Coleridge's Imagination: Restoring the Chain of Being.” Also, check out this year's Back to School Online Conference, “Educating the Freeborn,” over at MorningTimeforMoms.com to get registered and hear all of this year's amazing speakers! To view the full show notes for this episode, please visit https://theliterary.life/287. 

Daily QuoteAnd all our knowledge is, ourselves to know. (Alexander Pope)Poem of the Day寄黄几复黄庭坚Beauty of WordsThe Age of Innocence – Chapter 3Edith Wharton

Host Meg Wolitzer presents a quartet of summer stories.  Umberto Eco endures trial by mini bar in “How to Travel with a Salmon,” read by Jin Hah.  A scenic getaway turns eerie in Elizabeth Spencer's “The Weekend Travelers,” read by Campbell Scott.  Life looks up—way up—for an overworked restaurant owner in “The Man, The Restaurant, and the Eiffel Tower,” by Ben Loory, read by Stana Katic.  And upper-class “frenemies” have a reckoning in Edith Wharton's “Roman Fever,” read by Maria Tucci. 

Reader: Lydia Wilson Writer: Edith Wharton was famous for her novels including The House of Mirth, Ethan Frome and The Age of Innocence, for which she became the first woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, in 1921. Abridger: Julian Wilkinson Producer: Justine Willett

Edith Wharton was a woman ahead of her time when she was born into her upper-class New York family. In 1921, she became the first woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for Literature and is considered one of America's greatest writers. She inspired countless other authors and gave the world a glimpse into the rich of the Gilded Age. Wharton also wrote ghost stories. She believed in ghosts. The home that she built, that is known as The Mount, is said to be haunted. Join us as we explore this interesting woman's life and the history and hauntings of The Mount. The Moment in Oddity features Emma Gatewood and This Month in History features Susanna M. Salter elected as the first female mayor in the U.S. Our location was suggested by listener Mary Larkin.  Check out the website: http://historygoesbump.com Show notes can be found here: https://historygoesbump.blogspot.com/2025/04/hgb-ep-582-mount.html   Become an Executive Producer: http://patreon.com/historygoesbump Music used in this episode:  Main Theme: Lurking in the Dark by Muse Music with Groove Studios (Moment in Oddity) "Vanishing" Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ (This Month in History) "In Your Arms" Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Outro Music: Happy Fun Punk by Muse Music with Groove Studios Other music used in this episode: Title: "Ballerinas Opus" Artist: Tim Kulig (timkulig.com) Licensed under Creative Commons By Attribution 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0997280/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1