Addison and Steele et al

We are pleased to announce that two substantive links been recently made. One, in German, is Ayckbourn, and the other is The Spectator of Addison and Steele.

Sirs, We would like to remind you of the vast number of plays available to you at our link to Elizabeth Inchbald’s British theatre.

Max Klinger

Max Klingerr

Trotsky on Women

We are pleased to announce that a considerable section of Trotsky’s writing on women and the family has been added, along with a montage of ripened female intellectuals, to the It is I, Ekaterina Degot page, entitled Breeder Reactors, or, the Knocking Shop. We trust you will take due note. Our Best to you.

Degout, Grabbe, and Shadewell

Tranche de vie

Dear Readers, We have had more than our fair share of Flegeljahre in the air hangers here on Guam Island. I am relieved, firstly, to let you know that both Max Klinger, here, and Stanley Richardson, back in New England, have returned to their domestic quarters after their seperate hospitalizations. We hope to publish articles from both of them shortly. The real reason for Klinger’s 2nd heart attack was the following as related by himself.

“I felt a unsettled heart throb as I was reading Samuel Beckett’s Watt. There is a stinging rebuke to hope and faith in the novel which is hard to ignore.”

And yet it is uselss not to seek, not to want, for when you cease to seek you start to find, and when you cease to want, then life begins to ram her fish and chips down your gullet until you puke, and the puke down your gullet until you puke the puke, and then the puked puke until you begin to like it. The gluttonous castaway, the drunkard in the desert, the lecher in prison, they are the happy ones.

“Now this is heartbreaking but hardly life-threatening. Pessimism I can bear but fastidious repetition to what point can drive one to madness and death. Following hard upon the above is the lethal passage begining:”

And the poor old lousy old earth, my earth and my father’s and mother’s and my mother’s mother and my father’s father…
“After a further 13 lines of more father/mother variations we get finally to:”

Father’s father’s fathers and mother’s mother’s mothers…

“The finale of the first aria is: An excrement”

“At this point I felt I had had a stroke; my face grew dark crimson, then purple, my nostrils flared wide. I was barely able to comprehend the fineness of the following sentence:”

The crocuses and and the larch turning green every year a week before the others and the pastures red with uneaten sheep’s placentas…

“It was at then that I suffered a massive heart attack.”

“Stanley Richardson, thousands and thousands of miles away in the Commonwealth managed to keep his mind sound enough to read further…”

And the long summer days and the newmown hay and the wood pigeon in the morning and the cuckoo in the afternoon and corncrake in the evening and the wasp in the jam and the smell of the gorse and the apples falling and ithe children walking in the dead leaves and the larch turning brown a week before the others…

“…assuming more about uneaten sheep plaacentas would follow and ggetting instead…”

…howling winds and the sea breaking over the pier and the first fires and the hooves on the road and the consumptive postman whistling The Roses Are Blooming in Picardy…

“He too, Richardson, lost consciousness and suffered arrested cognition. That is all I have to say at the moment.”

I can tell you, Dear Reader, that Klinger will never touch Watt again and I would doubt whether he will venture upon any Beckett at all. Richardson says he will give Watt a third try. And thus the calumny against Grabbe and Degot has been withdrawn and we all continue to live in history.