An urgent call has been made to all part-time learners of the Namibia College of Open Learning (Namcol) countrywide to become part of a legal textbook buy-back scheme.
Doris Lessing (2008). The Cleft, London, Harper Perennial, 260 pages, paperback, P100, ISBN 978-0-00-723344-1. Available at Exclusive Books, Riverwalk.
V.S. Naipaul, winner of the 2001 Nobel Prize for Literature, is in Uganda to do research for a book on traditional African religion.
Review by Fusinha
His style is not so simple and sentimental like it might look at the first sight. Reading “Marc Chagall Biography”, Jonathan Willson lets us notice that his painting is something more than just characteristic creatures, dreamy, soaring hills under the Jewish Witebsk sky – it’s the vast history of 20th Century.
Being merely 13, with self-confidence he announced:”Mum, I’d like to become the greatest painter.” And so he became the greatest Jewish painter of 20th Century, who captured the colorful world of the small towns buried by Nazis for good. But except houses` roofs, domed synagogues and the streets of native Witebsk, appears Jesus. Thanks to the painting “Dedicated to Christ”, exposed and making a huge impression during the Saloon of Independent in Berlin in 1913, Marc Chagall had started his international carrier.
Chagall knew form the very beginning how he wants to paint. Subsequent Petersburg schools, in which he was learning could not change or effect his visions or style. Copying classic masterpieces Chagall had found them tiring, full of boring decorativeness. That is why in 1910, thanks to Maxim Winawer`s scholarship, he turned up in the international capital of arts – Paris. France had became the artist’s motherland; here he had spent the most fruitful years of his lifetime.
There came out the paintings recognized by the critics as the most excellent works: “Self-portrait with seven fingers”, “Rain”, “Woman and donkey” or “Me and village” from 1911, where melancholic features mix with the spirit of surrealism. The creatures from his paintings do not respect and agree with gravity and their world is filled up with intensive, bright colors.
Not only as an artist but also as a man, Chagall wasn’t easily influenced by environment. He wasn’t part of the Parisian bohemia, hasn’t been drinking and sitting in coffee shops on Montparnasse, even though very often friends were trying to take him out of the studio. Most of the time he has been spending with poets or being on his own.
Showing suffering Jews by using Jesus as a simple Jewish boy (“Golgota” 1912) and Christian motives, rose controverersy in the Jewish community. Like decorating Christian churches, what often Chagall was doing in his late years.
It is out of discussion that he had been seduced by France. There he had been treated and respected as a great painter. It doesn’t surprise anybody that in 1948, after almost 10 years, he had left New York and settled down in Orgeval near Paris. He visited after 50 years his motherland, resurrected so many times in his paintings. After coming back he said that “Life goes on in France.” In the distance between the remembered world of province and the cultural center of the world lies the power of his paintings.
Frank O’Hara lived in New York City for fifteen years, from 1951 until his death, in 1966. In that time, he wrote hundreds of poems, often several a day, hunting and pecking on a portable Royal with great speed. (Trained as a pianist, he called writing “playing the typewriter.”) He . . .
SELECTED SHORTS”
The actress Rita Wolf reads from Jhumpa Lahiri’s second short-story collection, “Unaccustomed Earth.” Lahiri will be on hand to introduce the event, and following the reading she will talk about her work with Isaiah Sheffer, the host of “Selected Shorts.” (Broadway at 95th St. 212-864-5400. April 2 . . .
What if, for once, we did not credit Richard Price with having a “wonderful ear for dialogue”? What if we praised his wonderful mind for dialogue instead? An “ear” for dialogue always seems to imply reportorial or stenographic prowess, the writer sitting in a bar or a bus, studiously agog . . .
Laura King’s suicide--she jumps from a window--unmoors her family from their New York life. When a second mother of their acquaintance jumps, Arthur King hastily moves his adolescent children, Cam and Celia, back to the Wyoming ranch where he grew up; there, he thinks, it will be easier . . .
1.
One what?
One grasp?
No hands.
No collection
of stars. Something dark
pervades it.
2.
Metaphor
is ritual sacrifice.
It kills the look-alike.
No,
metaphor is homeopathy.
A healthy cell
exhibits contact inhibition.
3.
These temporary credits
will no longer be reflected
in your next billing period.
4 . . .
We hated the early anatomists
for showing us how fragile we are,
how God’s image is composite:
the liver the bright bruise of a sunset,
the thyroid wrapped around our throats
for luck. They saw our brains folded
against our foreheads and knew our hearts
pump dumbly on through the . . .
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