When Writers Go Weird: That time George Bernard Shaw left money in his will for a new English alphabet

Someone's really irked at the English alphabet.

Are writers ever normal? No, otherwise they'd be productive members of society. 'When Writers Go Weird' is when we remember writers acting strange, odd, off, or--yeah--just plain weird. Also known as Tuesday to them.

Today:  George Bernard Shaw really didn't like the English alphabet and wanted a new one.

You are used to the English alphabet and language. Whether you're an expert user or dabbling in it as a secondary means of communication, you're used to it. You've read this far in a blog post after all.

Which leads to the curious case of George Bernard Shaw's distaste for the alphabet he relied on so heavily. The winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1925--and numerous other literary awards--Shaw's native tongue was English. He was an Irishman under British rule for the majority of his life, surrounded by the English alphabet. His plays--from Pygmalion to Man and Superman--were all written with that same standard English alphabet using Latin letters.

But he hated it. It made no sense to him how we spelled words and relied so little on phonetics. Case in point, the word "ghoti" is attributed to him, where "ghoti" is pronounced the same as you would say "fish." (Using the "gh" from words like "enough," etc.)

In actuality, Shaw never said anything about "ghoti" (it comes from a letter written in the 19th century from Charles Ollier, who credited his son William with its creation), but Shaw's hatred for the English alphabet was so pronounced, everyone presumes he created the ghoti/fish comparison.

_____________________________________

The organization gained so much traction, President Theodore Roosevelt became a firm believer.
_____________________________________

He wasn't alone. The early 20th century was a quirky time with individuals promoting curious ways to overcome difficulties in language. In 1906, for example, the Simplified Spelling Board was created in the United States (and funded in part by steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie) in hopes of simplifying spelling mistakes and ease the ability to learn English. The organization gained so much traction, President Theodore Roosevelt became a firm believer of the Board's suggestion of 300 new spellings and demanded the Government Printing Office adopt them in their literature. The reason we don't see those new spellings today? Congress quickly rebuked Roosevelt within months.

L.L. Zamenhof

Even earlier, in 1905, an ophthalmologist named L.L. Zamenhof, the creator of Esperanto (designed to be an auxiliary worldwide language easy enough for all to learn), released his Fundamento de Esperanto as a definitive guide to the new language. He gained so much traction that there was the Worldwide Esperanto Congress established that same year--a congress which is still held annually to this day. Mark your calendars and invite the kids.

(Yes, an ophthalmologist deals with eyes, but L.L. Zamenhof apparently only had eyes for languages.)

By 1908, the Simplified Spelling Society was created in Great Britain in the same vein as its American cousin (although completely lacking in tycoon affiliations), and attracted authors from throughout the country, including George Bernard Shaw, to no one's surprise.

_______________________________________

He habitually refused to abide by rules traditionally held with English spelling.
_______________________________________

This is all to say it was a heady time for lovers of making languages accessible and for straightforward alphabets. For Shaw, though, this was a lifelong passion. He habitually refused to abide by rules traditionally held with English spelling and punctuation, such as dropping the "u" in words like "favour" and refusing to use an apostrophe in contractions. He also spent 13 years on the BBC's Advisory Committee on Spoken English pushing a phonetic component. How much the BBC actually listened to Shaw's advice is another matter.

He felt so intensely about establishing a new English alphabet that, upon his death in 1950, Shaw bequeathed a significant portion of his assets in his will to reforming spelling. Naturally, people contested Shaw's last will and testament. Create a new alphabet for English? Was he crazy when he made the will?? But after some legal wrangling, the trust announced £8,300 was set aside from the estate and that a contest would commence for people to design a new alphabet.

There were three rules Shaw required for his new alphabet. One, it had to have a minimum of 40 letters. Why at least 40? God only knows. Two, the new alphabet should be based as much as possible on phonetic qualities. And, lastly, it should not look anything like the Latin letters the English alphabet already uses.

By 1958, the contest began. Out of 467 submissions, four winners were chosen to receive a £500 prize, with Ronald Kingsley Read largely receiving most of the credit. The Shaw Alphabet--also known as the Shavian Alphabet--was born. Made of 48 letters compared to the English alphabet's 26, it replaces lowercase and uppercase letters with "tall," "deep," and "short" status. A dot is placed over a letter if it's a proper name.

While the alphabet exists and Shaw's wishes were granted, the Shavian Alphabet never gained much traction. The trust--which had been originally responsible for holding the competition--had very little money left over. In the end, they only published Shaw's play Androcles and the Lion in the Shavian style.

As for the general movement for an easier alphabet and language, its high point was probably Teddy Roosevelt backing them. The movement petered out into a whimper by the second half of the 20th century. The American Simplified Spelling Board ceased operations by 1920. The auxiliary language of Esperanto? Estimates suggest there are only 1,000 native speakers worldwide today.

Meanwhile, the British Simplified Spelling Society changed its name to the English Spelling Society, but stopped formally endorsing a new English spelling system by 1960. While still in existence today, it largely only makes headlines when protesting major spelling competitions, like the Scripps National Spelling Bee in the United States. Because nothing sways worldwide opinion like raising a stink around nervous 13-year olds.

In the end, Shaw's curious desire for a new English alphabet came to fruition, if only after his death--even if the alphabet itself is largely dead now, too.

There's always Pygmalion in its original Latin letters, though.

In a nutshell: Two people who are not blood relatives of John Steinbeck continue decades-long fight over his estate.

You know how it goes. A famous person marries a few times. They die. Multiple heirs contest who gets what despite everyone making money. It's like the worst reality TV show ever aired on Bravo.

In essence, that's what's been ongoing with John Steinbeck's extended family for decades--and it's been a classic case of contempt and lawsuits.


Quick Synopsis Time!:
The Nobel laureate and writer of The Grapes of Wrath and East of Eden died in 1968, while married to his third wife Elaine of 18 years. With his second wife, Gwyndolyn, Steinbeck had two sons, Thomas and John.

Seemingly attempting to be fair to all, Steinbeck divvied up how his family could earn income from his novels after his death. In short, Elaine was bequeathed interest from earlier works Steinbeck outright-owned the copyright to. Meanwhile, his sons would receive royalties from copyrights later. Copyright law is a mindless labyrinth and confusing to everyone, so we'll skip the minutia.

Elaine dies years later. In her own will, she leaves her Steinbeck income to her daughter from a previous marriage (and Steinbeck's stepdaughter), Waverly Scott Kaffaga.

Meanwhile, both sons died, with Thomas leaving his royalties to his own wife (and Steinbeck's daughter-in-law) Gail Knight Steinbeck.

Still following? Let's Continue!:
Now, Gail and Waverly have been in court for years fighting for more money.

In 2017, Waverly was awarded $13 million by a jury after it was found that Gail was trying to interfere with Waverly's negotiations with movie studios for film adaptations. In September, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals reduced the verdict to roughly $5 million, but still found in Waverly's favor. Yet, Gail and Waverly continue fighting in court over who owns what and who has done one wrong.

Why? Because there was yet another agreement signed by the then-living parties in 1983 how this would all be divided up. Alas (((rubs temples furiously)))--copyright law being what it is, which is full of jargon and a myriad of poorly-worded language--Gail believes she has rights to works, while Waverly contends only she does.

All of this means the case eventually could end up in the United States Supreme Court, as The Hollywood Reporter explains.

In conclusion:
Two people who are not blood relatives of John Steinbeck want John Steinbeck's money.

This is why I choose to remain broke. My heirs can't quibble with their inheritance if there's no inheritance.

Famous Writers Shirtless: Ernest Hemingway

Writers are never known as the studliest or sexiest of people, but that doesn't stop them from showing some skin for the camera once in awhile.

So, occasionally we'll post some literary beefcake for your perusal.


Today:  Ernest Hemingway, again.

Pssh, I'm not impressed unless it's a sawed-off, buddy.

Admittedly, I expected a better bathroom from Ernest. There's a complete lack of wall accents and natural light. This bathroom looks like something a mob syndicate in eastern Russia would have out back.

So many things to wonder about--the least of which is Ernest's affinity for shirtlessness. Like, why a double-barreled shotgun? More importantly, why a double-barreled shotgun in the bathroom? Did a water buffalo just enter the room? What happened here? Do you keep the shotgun behind the toilet with the toilet plunger? How does this work?

J.M. Coetzee and a supercomputer once wrote some really hazy poetry back in the '60s.

Nobel Prize Laureate J.M Coetzee was once a computer programmer back in the 1960s who worked on designing the United Kingdom's Atlas 2 supercomputer. (It was the '60s. Picture the cut-and-paste set of the original Star Trek with glowing buttons. That was how snazzy the Atlas 2 was. Just swap out Spock for Coetzee.)

According to University of Texas research, while developing the computer Coetzee spent his evenings placing algorithms into it to select words and create repetitive lines to construct "computer poetry." What we end up with explains the 1960s in a nutshell.

"OUTSPREAD LEAF PLANT THE GRAVEDIGGER"

"GLACIAL TAILOR MIRROR THE LEMNISCATE"

"SAD SPADE JOIN THE ENTROPY"

"FRENETIC TETANUS DEADEN THE DOCUMENT"

No offense, but this computer sounds like it needs a good scotch and a couple of anti-depressants to lighten up. Sylvia Plath comes across as rainbows and sunshine compared to this.



photo: University of Texas

The newest Ernest Hemingway look-a-like has been crowned.

Ernest Hemingway or Santa Claus--you decide.

If you have a thing for pleasantly plump senior citizen men with a striking resemblance to Santa Claus, but men who instead have an unwavering dedication to wearing varying shades of beige, I have good news. The annual Ernest Hemingway look-a-like contest occurred recently.

The overload of everything Ernest was held to coincide with what would have been the Nobel prize winning author's 118th birthday. The festivities were at Sloppy Joe's Bar in Key West, FL (a hangout Hemingway used to visit when he lived there), and the event attracted 153 entrants, including Paula Deen's husband.

No, seriously. Paula Deen's husband, Michael Groover, entered, and he actually came in 5th place. What a time to be alive.





The winner was 71-year old Richard Filip, who had entered the contest the previous six years. According to South Florida Reporter, Filip says he shares a lot in common with Hemingway beyond just the pretty face. "With Ernest Hemingway, I feel like he’s my brother from another mother," he said. "I fish a lot, I hunt a lot … I drink a lot, then I drink a little more, and then I drink a little more!"

In other breaking news, the phrase "brother from another mother" died today after a long battle with lameness. It was 87-years old.

Famous Writers Shirtless: Ernest Hemingway (with dog)

Writers are never known as the studliest or sexiest of people, but that doesn't stop them from showing some skin for the camera once in awhile.

So, occasionally we'll post some literary beefcake for your perusal.

Today:  Ernest Hemingway

Is Hemingway wearing shorts here? Is he nude? I fear he's going commando and letting things just air out. The New York Times might be doing us a great service.

With that face of confusion, you just know that dog has seen things it wishes it could un-see.

Famous Writers with Cats: Patrick White

Writers need inspiration somewhere in life, and for many that inspiration comes from their pet cats.

This is a running series where we post pictures of famous writers with their feline companions--the cute, the cuddly, the creepy. And that's just the writers.


Today:  Patrick White

What's going on here? Is Mr. Whiskers smiling for the camera? Sneezing? Maybe he's just trying to mimic his owner? One thing is for certain, Mr. Whiskers is probably reveling in that deep chest massage.

Couldn't a guy with the last name "White" get, you know, a black or brown cat, though?

Famous Writer or Indie Band Artist: George Bernard Shaw

This is a segment where we look at famous writers and decide whether they missed their calling as the lead singer for an indie band from Austin, TX.

Because a little facial hair, unkempt clothing, and a stern expression goes a long, long way to being a rock star.


Today's budding indie star:  George Bernard Shaw

All your best indie artists stare longingly in a mirror at how fashionable they look. Little did Shaw know that he'd pre-date high school and college women by a hundred years by knowing to place a hand on hip in every potential Facebook or Instagram photo.

The wannabe bowler hat suggests Shaw might sing that song you really want to like, but something about it makes you never want to listen to it.

The abundant wool making up his outfit shows how Shaw doesn't mind being itchy. He'd suggest he's really just suffering for his craft--and he must, especially with socks that extensive, too.

Famous Writers with Cats: V.S. Naipaul

Writers need inspiration somewhere in life, and for many that inspiration comes from their pet cats.

This is a running series where we post pictures of famous writers with their feline companions--the cute, the cuddly, the creepy. And that's just the writers.


Today:  V.S. Naipaul

Mr. Whiskers' eyes are pleading for you to intervene.

Little known fact: This is how doctors recommend you hold newborn babies as well, like a slab of salami.

With all the blood rushing to Mr. Whiskers' head, he probably passed out ten seconds after the picture was taken.

After five months, Bob Dylan will finally get around to accepting his Nobel Prize.

Not like it's one of the biggest awards a human being can be bestowed with in life--no rush--but five months after being announced as the winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, Bob Dylan will finally get around to accepting his award.

Not to go out of his way, Dylan will be in Stockholm, Sweden, playing two concerts, and figures then will be as good as any to grab the award.

To receive his prize money, though, Dylan must give a lecture--which is not expected to be done in person. Instead, Dylan is expected--if at all--to give a lecture via recording at a later date.

And the reason they couldn't just give this to Paul Simon instead was...?

Famous Writers Shirtless: Derek Walcott

Writers are never known as the studliest or sexiest of people, but that doesn't stop them from showing some skin for the camera once in awhile.

So, occasionally we'll post some literary beefcake for your perusal.

Today:  Derek Walcott

This is either what a beach mob boss looks like in St. Lucia, or the cover to Walcott's new line of saucy romantic novels.

When you look as intimidating as this, you can feel free to wear your swim trunks as high over the belly button as you damn well feel.

Famous Writers Shirtless: George Bernard Shaw

Writers are never known as the studliest or sexiest of people, but that doesn't stop them from showing some skin for the camera once in awhile.

So, occasionally we'll post some literary beefcake for your perusal.

Today: George Bernard Shaw

So, is Rodin going to consider this copyright infringement?

This is usually how any writer looks during the creation of something. Naked in a dark room, a semi-fetal position, wondering what the hell they're doing with their lives.

Admittedly, aside from the twig-like thighs, the upper body is 75% more muscular than I was envisioning from George Bernard Shaw.

Bob Dylan didn't show up to accept his Nobel Prize in Literature because--I don't know--he's a busy man?

He didn't show up because Bob Dylan has been, is, and always will be about creating a fictionalized mystique around himself.

When Dylan was announced as the 2016 Nobel Laureate in Literature, he refused for two weeks to respond to the Swedish Academy's attempts at contacting him. His reasoning? "I was out on the road when I received this surprising news, and it took me more than a few minutes to properly process it."

A few? Apparently it took Dylan 20,160 minutes to process it--the amount in two weeks--before the synapses in his brain could wrap around the idea that a plagiarist could become a Nobel winner.

Fast forward to the award ceremony, and Dylan was a no show. In his stead, fellow folk singer Patti Smith sang Dylan's "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall," and the American ambassador to Sweden read Dylan's prepared speech.

The Atlantic nearly fainted in excitement in their coverage of Dylan's speech, calling it--among many things--"subversively humble." But the real pearl from The Atlantic might be this nugget:

"It’s not that he doesn’t want to question whether his songs are literature, it’s that he hasn’t had the time."

It seems Bob Dylan is burning the candle at both ends 24/7/365, so much so that the poor man truly can't even think. Why aren't we staging an intervention to save this brave man's life from self-destruction? HE CAN'T EVEN PROCESS THOUGHT.

The Atlantic continues, writing about Patti Smith's singing at the banquet:

"She delivered an aching rendition of his song “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall,” during which she forgot the words to the second verse and had to start again—a mistake that only heightened the lyrics’ mystery and power."

The song is so powerful, even Dylan's great friend couldn't remember the lyrics. Do you want to take a crack at singing this life-altering, classic, American song off the top of your head? Go ahead. I'll wait. [[[[[waits an hour]]]]] You don't know the powerful lyrics, do you? They might be so powerful, they make it impossible to think. Bob Dylan can alter space and time.

If you're a masochist and want to read the text to Dylan's speech, you can find it elsewhere, but not here.

Odds are in a few years we'll find out he cribbed half the speech from a Zimbabwean children's book and the musings of a politician in ancient Estonia. That's the true Bob Dylan way.

Famous Writers Arrested: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Much like the Famous Writers Shirtless posts, here we'll occasionally dive into mugshots of the criminally-inclined writers who found themselves in the big house.

Mugshots? Yes, please.

Today:  Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

The 1970 Nobel Prize winner, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, found himself on the wrong side of Soviet authorities in 1945 after some of his private letters were found by the KGB to be critical of Joseph Stalin. How critical? Statements like calling Stalin "the boss" and "the master of the house." Those are potentially the most nuanced and subtle insults in the history of insults, but it was apparently inflammatory to the Soviets.

That sort of behavior got you eight years in the Soviet gulags. To say Solzhenitsyn went to the cooler is putting it mildly. Most prison camps were in remote and bitterly cold regions of the USSR.

As Solzhenitsyn's lack of enthusiasm shows in his prison photo above, it was not a weekend in the Bahamas, and he was not cut any slack. Solzhenitsyn served a full eight year prison sentence, worked and froze in various gulags, and saw his wife divorce him in order for her not to be marked as a traitor to the country. (They'd later remarry and divorce again after he was released. Admittedly, they should have quit while they were ahead.)

Solzhenitsyn was released in 1953 and had some success with releasing some works, including a 1960 novel based on his experiences in the gulags called One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. The Soviet leader at the time, Nikita Khrushchev, encouraged its publication as a tool for de-Stalinzation of the country.

Alas, hard line leaders took over power from Khrushchev, and that hard line mentality led to Solzhenitsyn being expelled from the USSR in 1974 for his works being too critical of the nation. It would be two decades until he was allowed to visit his homeland again, after the Soviet Union crumbled.

In the end, the USSR wanted to break Solzhenitsyn, but Solzhenitsyn's critical works were a small part in breaking the USSR.

Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in Literature.

Bob Dylan was announced as the winner of the 2016 Nobel Prize in Literature.

And Bob Dylan is a plagiarist.

The Swedish Academy, which votes on the prize, can make their reasons and rationales. They can call Dylan a "great poet in the English-speaking tradition," and suggest Dylan "created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition."

But Dylan isn't a poet. He's a cult of personality, a creation solely conjured up to captivate the gullible, and a plagiarist who has repeatedly stolen lines and passages from obscure writers and passed it off as his own work.

There was the story in 2003 of Dylan being accused of stealing passages from Japanese writer Junichi Saga's novel Confessions of a Yakuza.

There were allusions in 2006 of Dylan using words, phrasing, and imagery of the relatively obscure American Civil War poet Henry Timrod.

In 2009, people noticed that Dylan's 2004 memoir seemed to borrow heavily from vintage editions of Time Magazine.

There were even questions in 2011 if Dylan's original artwork in a show wasn't actually just direct copies of historical photographs.

There have been other accusations as well--and not all believe Dylan is the stunningly skilled writer the Swedish Academy and his cult of followers believe him to be. His contemporary, Joni Mitchell, has repeatedly called Dylan out. In a 2010 interview, Mitchell let loose. "Bob is not authentic at all," she said. "He's a plagiarist and his name and voice are fake. Everything about Bob is a deception." In a 2013 interview with Uncut, Mitchell continued the feeling. When asked about calling Dylan a plagiarist, Mitchell said, "It's not like I outed him. He stole all of his lines out of a Japanese hoodlum's novel. There was a lawsuit impending, but it got dropped. He told me 'I haven't written a song in years.'"

There's the old, overused adage that good writers borrow; great writers steal, and by that very vague qualifier Dylan is worthy of the Nobel Prize.

By any other metric, by any other definition, by any sense of ethics, Dylan has succeeded only by piggybacking off the backs of people who spent many long days and longer nights trying to craft a beautiful line of poetry, a phrase that instills awe, a piece of art. Dylan is not an artist, he is not a writer, and he is not original.

The 2016 Nobel Prize in Literature doesn't belong to Bob Dylan, although he may claim it. The award belongs to obscure Civil War poets, and Japanese storytellers, and the long deceased writers of Time Magazine of years gone by.

Famous Writers with Dogs: Patrick White

Writers need inspiration somewhere in life, and for many that inspiration comes from their pet dogs.

This is a running series where we post pictures of famous writers with their canine companions--the cute, the cuddly, the creepy. And that's just the writers.


Today: Patrick White

Well, so much for breaking the stereotype that dogs just end up looking like their owners in time.

I'm fairly certain that 85% of that pug is composed of Crisco.

As for Patrick White--you can never go wrong with a stylish shirt that channels everything fashionable about ringworm.

Hunter S. Thompson once stole Ernest Hemingway's elk antlers.

Naturally.

After Ernest Hemingway killed himself in 1961, stories abounded regarding the myth and legend of the Nobel Laureate, a myth that Hunter S. Thompson looked to further by writing a story for the National Observer in 1964.

As Thompson's wife, Anita, now tells the CBC, Hunter drove out to Ketchum to check out Hemingway's famous estate--only to find no one was there. The property was empty. Yet, hanging above a doorway was a pair of large elk antlers that Hemingway used as decoration. Being alone, Thompson simply stole them and took them home.

"[Hunter] made such a long journey to go and visit, and he just couldn't help himself," Anita Thompson told the CBC. "When he would talk about it, he was embarrassed. Because Hunter is not a thief — he's just so caught up in the moment."

Exactly. Which one of us didn't see something we really wanted at someone else's house, got caught up in the moment, and headed home with a lovely china set or a Cuisinart that could really pull our own kitchen together?

Maybe a conscience won out, or maybe it's because garish elk antlers really aren't so fashionable these days, but Anita Thompson contacted a local Ketchum library that oversees the Hemingway property to set up returning the antlers. After fifty-two years, the doorway will be adorned once again.

When Writers Go Weird: That time Samuel Beckett wanted to sue over...well...God knows what.

Are writers ever normal? No, otherwise they'd be productive members of society. 'When Writers Go Weird' is when we remember writers acting strange, odd, off, or--yeah--just plain weird. Also known as Tuesday to them.


Today:  That time Samuel Beckett wanted to sue over some water, Phillip Glass, and black people.


Samuel Beckett always had the resting grouch face of a moody human being. But unlike some innocent people with such an issue, Beckett actually followed through with such petulant behavior.

Everyone loves a good ego stroke. Hollywood, Wall Street, and Washington wouldn't exist if ego stroking wasn't a critical part to the process. But before the tender sensibilities of a real Donald Trump or a fake Gordon Gecko, there was the infallibility of pride in the form of Nobel Prize winners such as Samuel Beckett.

That's the face of unabashed enthusiasm right there.

Lawsuits (or the threat of one) from Beckett almost became a midweek pastime, a hobby with the frequency and randomness he doled them out. Not for some egregious action, like plagiarism, profit, or libel regarding him or his work--but threats simply because Beckett didn't like the way something in a play of his was going to be interpreted.

Most notable of all cases occurred in 1984, when Boston's American Repertory Theatre (ART) decided to put on a version of Beckett's 'Endgame.' The play, directed by award winning JoAnne Akalaitis, kept the play's dialogue verbatim, but simply tweaked other areas, like the set and music. Beckett's original play had a plain room with two windows as the setting--nothing else. Akalaitis moved the play into a derelict, abandoned subway tunnel. She added some water (Why? It's a Beckett play--everything's a why?), and had an orchestral movement by famed composer Philip Glass included before the play started.

And Beckett was not happy.

____________________________________________________________________________

"Beckett believes the version..."totally distorts" his play by...casting black actors."

____________________________________________________________________________


"He doesn't like it. He's disgusted by it," said Beckett's attorney, Martin Garbus, at the time. "But he doesn't have funds to take on [...] all the other people at the American Repertory Theatre. He feels he doesn't have any choice."

The Associated Press added, "Beckett believes the version by the highly acclaimed theater company "totally distorts" his play by changing the locale, adding music and casting black actors in key roles, Garbus said."

That's right. The scourge of skin pigment. Samuel Beckett lost perspective enough to think that a play where characters sit in trash cans (seriously--if you haven't read/watched his work--two characters channel their inner Oscar the Grouch and live entirely in a trash can) couldn't have someone other than a white actor participate.

"I have never heard him so angry," said another acquaintance of Beckett's to the AP.

_____________________________________________________________________________

"Anybody who cares for the work couldn't fail to be disgusted by this."

_____________________________________________________________________________


Beckett initially attempted legal action against ART, yet stopped at some point. Whether it was common sense that he'd lose in a court of law or ART's desire to sweep the matter under the rug, one wonders. Both sides agreed to a disclaimer being added to the play's program, and both agreed to allow Beckett a direct response to the attendee:

"Any production of Endgame which ignores my stage directions is completely unacceptable to me. My play requires an empty room and two small windows. The American Repertory Theater production which dismisses my directions is a complete parody of the play as conceived by me. Anybody who cares for the work couldn't fail to be disgusted by this."

Perspective in life requires a sort of intellectual nuance, something Beckett clearly struggled to gather. Once you've lost your two windows, you might have lost your two cents. Beckett never mentioned the water or black actors matter again, for reasons unknown. The brouhaha over Beckett versus the ART in Boston was such a sensation at the time it led The New York Times theater critic Mel Gussow to review the play in 1984. Aside from the aforementioned music and scenery, Gussow said "the alterations are minimal."

"The director has not only respected the meaning of the dialogue," wrote Gussow, but "she has been attentive to the author's pauses, silences and intonations." Moreover, he said, "[T]his is a valid representation of the spirit of the original work."

Was it really a matter of two windows? The mellifluous music of Philip Glass? Black actors being used? In the end, no one quite understood Beckett's fuss, but it was quite clear no one had a reason to be disgusted. That is, perhaps, except Beckett in himself.

Famous Writers Shirtless: V.S. Naipaul

Writers are never known as the studliest or sexiest of people, but that doesn't stop them from showing some skin for the camera once in awhile.

So, occasionally we'll post some literary beefcake for your perusal.


Today:  V.S. Naipaul

Everyone knows the hottest sunbathing action is done in the backyard in the shade.

The only thing hotter than Naipaul's lack of thigh muscle definition is the tea being served up.

Seamus Heaney is getting a museum in his honor funded by lotto money.

Seamus Heaney is one of a few poets of the last forty years that the world remembers. Now, Heaney will be remembered with a museum as well.

Heaney, the Nobel laureate who died in 2013 at the age of 74, will be the focus of a literary trail in County Derry, Northern Ireland, with a museum as the centerpiece. £688,700 in funding will be provided by the United Kingdom's National Lottery.

Poetry and the lottery.

It makes sense, because most poets will only know what money looks like if they win the lottery.




photo: The Celtic Times