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Research Paper (postgraduate) from the year 2012 in the subject English Language and Literature Studies - Linguistics, grade: 1.0, Durham University, language: English, abstract: In a close reading of "If on a Winter's Night a Traveller" (1981), Mariolina Salvatori examines how Calvino's meditation on writer's authority versus reader's autonomy - understood as a battle between production and consumption of text or, in common parlance, the experience and difficulties of writing a novel opposite reading one - influences our understanding of the text. Focussing on how framing devices affect the reading of the novel as a whole, Salvatori poses pertinent questions about readers' autonomy. The following essay follows up on her insights and proposes that within the novel is buried a stringent critique of postmodern theories, especially deconstructionism, that dominated literary discourse in the nineteen-seventies. At that time, postmodern theory stressed the role of the reader and critics assumed that reading creates meaning from the text, independent from writerly intention. If texts are said to have no inherent meaning, there follows the extreme conclusion that any text can mean anything, depending on the manner in which it is read.One argument for reading Calvino's novel in this manner is still prevalent: embedded in a novelty form of fictional arrangement, the book is preoccupied with the metaphysical struggle for dominance between supposedly anta...
I married Diana because she was an exciting, reckless witch of a woman. And it didn't hurt that she had all that money. I also loved her, even though a kind of pall of violence hung around her. Diana's men had a way of dying. One night of our honeymoon I awoke in the dark and discovered we had company. You might have called him sudden death, judging from the gun he was pointing at my stomach. It looked as if I was third on her list...
Here are not many people-and as it is desirable that a story- teller and a story-reader should establish a mutual under-standing as soon as possible, I beg it to be noticed that I confine this observation neither to young people nor to little people, but extend it to all conditions of people: little and big, young and old: yet growing up, or already growing down again-there are not, I say, many people who would care to sleep in a church. I don't mean at sermon-time in warm weather (when the thing has actually been done, once or twice), but in the night, and alone. A great multitude of persons will be violently astonished, I know, by this position, in the broad bold Day. But it applies to Night. It must be argued by night, and I will undertake to maintain it successfully on any gusty winter's night appointed for the purpose, with any one opponent chosen from the rest, who will meet me singly in an old churchyard, before an old church-door; and will previously empower me to lock him in, if needful to his satisfaction, until morning.
As I write this (2013), it is about one and a half years since Fran died and I moved into my present apartment. My life appears to be settled into somewhat of a routine nature. Each morning when I awaken, I go through a mental exercise of reminding myself of activities or events for that particular day....if this is Tuesday, after breakfast, pick up the recyclables in Hampton Square ; if its Wednesday, is this the Wednesday I print the semi-monthly news bulletin, The Pioneer, if it's Thursday, I better get my butt in gear and get ready to deliver meals on wheels and print out a joke to read to the Thursday night Pinochle group.... Each new day is obviously different from any previous days, but there is a certain repetitive nature to them all.During the course of my unique journey from infancy to my now twilight years, I witnessed and/or experienced a plethora of events. In the preceding pages, I have written about a scant few of them and I know I have not even come close to covering many of the things that happened in my life. They are the result of thoughts that came into mind as I was writing and followed no specific pattern other than a rudimentary outline of the flow of my life.
On February 24th, 1934 - shortly after the civil war in Austria and the defeat of the Socialists - Naomi Mitchison left England on a visit to Vienna in order to do what she could to relieve the terrible distress of the defeated. In this day-by-day diary she tells us what she saw, did and felt: and the whole forms at once what is called a "human document" of rare poignancy and dramatic interest, and a book of some historical importance."Very few people have both money and leisure- and the will-to do this. I've got this because of my profession. I rang up V[ictor] G[ollancz] on Monday evening, and asked if he'd give me an advance on a-very hypothetical-book about it. He said he would, and I'm going on that. I couldn't have otherwise. Simply as an observer I shall be some use; it's the one thing I'm sure I can do well, though I don't think I'm a good analyser. What I should like to do is to write a full diary every day, as truthful as it can possibly be. I shall type it on both sides of the sheet, so that it will fold small, and shall try and leave a duplicate with somebody-if I get my copy through, they can destroy theirs. But perhaps the whole thing is moonshine; perhaps there won't be anything to write down! If so, looking back on this afternoon from whenever it is in the future, I shall see myself looking a perfect fool. However, that won't be the first time ! Anyway, for what it's worth. I feel all thrilled now, scre...
Track Listings: Disc: 1 1. Rhinestone Cowboy 2. Galveston 3. By the Time I Get to Phoenix 4. Try a Little Kindness 5. Wichita Lineman 6. Gone, Gone, Gone 7. Walkin in the Sun 8. On a Good Night 9. True Grit 10. The Hand That Rocks the Cradle 11. I Remember You 12. I M a One-Woman Man 13. Orange Blossom Special 14. The Highwayman 15. Streets of London 16. A Thing Called Love 17. Southern Nights 18. William Tell Overture 19. Beach Boys Medley: Good Vibrations/California Girls/Fun Fun Fun/I Get a 20. Amazing Grace 21. Mull of Kintyre 22. Gentle on My Mind Disc: 2 1. By the Time I Get to Phoenix 2. If You Go Away 3. Help Me Make It Through the Night 4. Galveston 5. Wichita Lineman 6. The Impossible Dream 7. Gentle on My Mind 8. Mary in the Morning 9. Try a Little Kindness 10. Where S the Playground, Susie? 11. Oh Happy Day 12. He Ain't Heavy, He S My Brother 13. Dreams of the Everyday Housewife 14. Bonaparte S Retreat 15. MacArthur Park 16. I Will Never Pass This Way Again 17. Rhinestone Cowboy 18. Southern Nights 19. True Grit 20. Mull of Kintyre 21. The Highwayman 22. It S Only Make Believe 23. Amazing Grace 24. Bonus Materials 25. Medley: By the Time I Get to Phoenix/Wichita Lineman/Galveston 26. Medley: I Say a Little Prayer/By the Time I Get to Phoenix 27. Delta Dawn 28. Medley: Little Green Apples/Honey/Honey, Come Back/Release Me 29. Summer Breeze 30. Medley: Try a Little Kindness/Honey, Come Back/Gentle on My Mind 31. Beach Boys Medley: Good Vibrations/California Girls/Fu...
Book 1 of 2 in the Consolation DuetLiam wasn’t supposed to be my happily ever after.He wasn’t even on my radar.He was my husband’s best friend—forbidden.But my husband is dead and I’m alone. I ache for him and I reach for Liam.One night with Liam changed everything. Now I have to decide if I truly love him or if he’s just the consolation prize.
Well do I, Hugo Gottfried, remember the night of snow and moonlight when first they brought the Little Playmate home. I had been sleeping -- a sturdy, well-grown fellow I, ten years or so as to my age -- in a stomacher of blanket and a bed-gown my mother had made me before she died at the beginning of the cold weather. Suddenly something awoke me out of my sleep. So, all in the sharp chill of the night, I got out of my bed, sitting on the edge with my legs dangling and looked curiously at the bright streams of moonlight which crossed the wooden floor of my garret. I thought if only I could swim straight up one of them, as the motes did in the sunshine, I should be sure to come in time to the place where my mother was -- the place where all the pretty white things came from -- the sunshine, the moonshine, the starshine and the snow."Come down and be killed, foul brood of the Red Axe!" the children cried. And with that they ran as near as they dared and spat on the wall of our house, or at least on the little wooden panel which opened inward in the great trebly spiked iron door of the Duke's courtyard.
The Rock Legend trilogy concludes with the Legend twins adventures during Britpop at the North Wales Happy Days holiday camp, Dee Dee's trip to the weird and wonderful Winter Wonderland Street and her journey to stardom as a singer in the 21st century. The journey concludes on the day of Rock's knighthood at the dawn of a new decade and chapter in the life of Rock and Roll."I detest Heroin since being burned but I do miss the cosy feeling running through my old bones. My solution is to drink whisky and have the heating on through the night. The bills are astronomical but I don't give a fuck darling. Anything to keep me off the junk. That's my scarf you're wearing..."
Jack Paul Griffin Time: Nearing midnight. No one has found me yet I've been sitting up here for about four hours, I lit a lamp that someone left up here. The sky is full of clouds. Who knows maybe the moon won't show if not, then I'm hiding for no reason. I miss my family, yes, even Ginger. I've been away from home for so long. It all started on that darned camping trip. Now on my birthday, I can't even talk with my parents. I wonder if anyone is still looking for me, earlier I heard Kray calling me it's funny that a wizard can't even find me. I wonder if Ramie is in bed yet, or is he still playing guitar? It's now 12 am. My watch is a little fast, wait I hear someone, it's Jem he found me. I'll tell him to go, oh no! I can see the moon now!
""...a clear, well thought-out book, even for someone who feels they have no understanding. A few short extracts could explain what some people take years to learn. Although it's aimed at teenagers, I think that this book could be useful for everyone ... it's a motivating, engaging and interactive guide..."" Sophia Robinson (aged 15)""I liked the extracts as they were quite personal...as if it's a one-on-one conversation. Also, having the 'memorise' and 'personal notes' is a nice touch as it takes a step back almost from an in-depth conversation"" Adrian Richards (aged 15)""...easy to read and relate to particularly because it's written as if I am being spoken to directly. It makes the Bible seem easier to read & also gives the verses context."" Isabel Richards (aged 18)""As I was reading the samples from the book, it made me want to carry on reading..I like that the book refers to real life day-to-day issues... I personally think it's a brilliant book & I hope to read more"" Orel Bygrave (aged 14)
The three most important people in my life-my husband and our two sons-along with a cherished nephew perished in a horrific boating accident off Charleston in 1997. I thought my life was over the night I received the cryptic phone call from a family pastor in Florida, asking me if I knew if more bodies had been found. From that awkward moment forward, I began to live every mother's and wife's nightmare.This book, so eloquently crafted by Capt. W. Russell Webster, will honor my family and detail the mistakes that were made and ensure that the many positive changes that have come from this tragedy are memorialized appropriately for future sailors and rescuers alike.
In I Hate Fiction a character named Tim Shaner is working on a piece of fiction in the style of Thomas Bernhard to avoid working on his dissertation. If by working on it, we mean thinking a lot about it. And thinking about other things too. The neighbor’s jeep, what he knows about who in the Buffalo Poetics Program. Rob Greiner, that sort of stuff. Poets write the darndest novels. And this one is funny, irreverent, and meta. Juliana Spahr, author of That Night the Wolf Came
It was my pal S J Axtell who introduced me to hill walking in the Peak District whilst we were yet to reach our teenage years. Then after a weeklong school trip Youth Hostelling in the Lake District, and a week camping in Aviemore, I was happy to continue playing football throughout my teens, up until reaching my late twenties. Returning to hill walking by the age of 28, I began rock climbing on Stanage Edge about three years later. Leaving out my 46 Expeds to the mountains of Scotland which are covered in another volume, the Peak District is where I have spent the greater part of my outdoor life. Wandering and climbing the Derbyshire hills, sometimes arriving home late at night, the idea eventually popped into my head of not only being prepared to spend a night out there in the open if I had to, but to make a night out on the hill a primary objective. And so began a series of "Bivouacs and Other Nocturnal Wanderings," some of those that I remember, I have recounted here.
Nina O'Brien's life changes forever when a stranger appears at the door to her father's truck stop, bloodied and incoherent. As night falls and a ferocious storm descends on the tiny Californian community, the small group of people sheltering with Nina steel themselves to face the onslaught, only to be confronted by a ruthless killer. With nowhere to run, and no means to raise the alarm, Nina must decide who to trust if she is to survive the night.
"I think the Old Man likes me," went on Sergeant Gray meditatively. "It's about a week now since he told me I was a disgrace to the uniform. How'd I know I was going to sneeze in his horse's ear just as he was climbing on?" -- "Suffering snakes!" cried the second mess sergeant. "Go to bed! You're delirious." Sergeant Gray put a dimple in the girl's cheek and surveyed it critically. -- "Yep. The old boy's crazy about me," he ruminated aloud. "Asked me the other day if I thought I'd fight the Germans as hard as I fought work." -- "Probably be asking you to breakfast," observed the second mess sergeant, beginning on a new sheet. "He's in the habit of having noncoms to eat with him." The subtlety of this passed over Sergeant Gray's head. He was carefully adding a small ear to his drawing, an ear which resembled an interrogation point. But a seed had been dropped on the fertile soil of his mind. He finished, yawned again and grinned. "All right," he said. "C'est la guerre, as the old boy says. I'll lay you two dollars to one I eat breakfast with him within a month." His imagination grew with the thought. "Wait! I'll eat bran muffins with him at breakfast within a month. How's that?" -- "A bran muffin with the Old Man!" he chuckled. "A bran muffin! A --"
Classic from the year 2008 in the subject English Language and Literature Studies - Literature, , - entries in the bibliography, language: English, abstract: First published in 1844 ... Here are not many people-and as it is desirable that a story-teller and a story-reader should establish a mutual understanding as soon as possible, I beg it to be noticed that I confine this observation neither to young people nor to little people, but extend it to all conditions of people: little and big, young and old: yet growing up, or already growing down again-there are not, I say, many people who would care to sleep in a church. I don't mean at sermon-time in warm weather (when the thing has actually been done, once or twice), but in the night, and alone. A great multitude of persons will be violently astonished, I know, by this position, in the broad bold Day. But it applies to Night. It must be argued by night, and I will undertake to maintain it successfully on any gusty winter's night appointed for the purpose, with any one opponent chosen from the rest, who will meet me singly in an old churchyard, before an old church-door; and will previously empower me to lock him in, if needful to his satisfaction, until morning.For the night-wind has a dismal trick of wandering round and round a building of that sort, and moaning as it goes; and of trying, with its unseen hand, the windows and the doors; and seeking out some crevices by which to enter. And when it has got in; as one no...
If making a bride's dream come true is easy...why is falling in love so hard?Annie O'Leary's life ended the day her baby died. But then she moved to Montana and found a purpose, a reason for waking up each morning. There's something about Bozeman, something about the friends she's made that keeps her feet firmly anchored to the ground and her heart in one piece.Dylan Bayliss is an Army veteran and security specialist. He's lived his life on the edge and paid a higher price than most. He's about to face his biggest fear and Annie is the only woman he trusts enough to help him.Annie will do just about anything for anyone, but she doesn't know if she has the courage to do the one thing that could change their lives forever.'Loving You' is the second book in The Bridesmaids Club series and can easily be read as a standalone. All of my series are linked, so if you meet a character you like, you could find them in another book. Happy reading!Praise for Leeanna Morgan’s books: “I am addicted to Leeanna Morgan's books! The only problem with them is that I hate coming to the end of one, and can't wait for the next good read. I love how she weaves the characters together, and draws you right into their lives. If you haven't discovered her, please do give her books a try. You won't be disappointed, except for not having found her sooner!”“I thoroughly enjoyed this book! I couldn't put it down. I purchased it today and finished ...
Tom Hackett isn't a criminal. Not as he sees it. To himself he's a man who lives on his wits, and if what he does is not strictly honest - well, so what if no-one gets hurt? After all, it's only money.From being a night club bouncer, he becomes the personal driver to Declan Corrigan, a London gang boss. He steals £50,000 from Corrigan and so signs his own death warrant. On the run he comes across the challenge of two rich and elderly old men - identical twins who do not know which of them is the older. Hackett is able to enlighten them - at a price, of course. Then ex D.I Johnson comes on the scene.
"If I'm Not Me, Who Am I?" provides easy to apply, up to date methodologies to facilitate personal growth and long term change."If I'm Not Me, Who Am I?" offers solutions to deep-rooted personal issues, as well as priceless principles for creating a happier, more meaningful and more effective life through integrity, honor and spiritual clarity.The author shares his own personal discoveries, experiences and awareness, as he leads you on a journey filled with Light and Love.
"For a good time, read Robyn Peterman!" -Michelle Rowen, national bestselling authorA few hard truths...Don't bet on Hasselhoff, Bigfoot might actually exist, and searching for the impossible may lead you to your heart's desire... It's a big fat hairy deal when I lose yet another bet to my best friend, Rena. Not only do I end up attending Bigfoot meetings with her kooky Aunt Phyllis, I find myself traveling with a band of reality TV, Sasquatch-hunting nut-jobs! Not to mention a suspiciously shady film crew. As if those little nuggets weren't enough to send me on the express-train to Crazytown...I stupidly swore off men! Clearly all this would mess up any gal's social life, but the worst part of the story? The minute I send my libido on vacation, I meet Mitch. Yep, Mitch, the sexiest cop ev-ah. The hottest, best kissing, finest tushied, SINGLE guy I've ever laid eyes on. I'd rather be hot on his trail than anything that involves the word Big or Foot. But sometimes what you're hunting for has been right in front of you all along ... "A zany over-the-top rompfest." -Lexi George on How Hard Can It Be?
