#Orwell’s Roses

[luxe-pauvre]

Most of writing is thinking, not typing, and thinking is sometimes best done while doing something else that engages part of you. Walking or cooking or labouring on simple or repetitive tasks can also be a way to leave the work behind so you can come back to it fresh or find unexpected points of entry into it.

Rebecca Solnit, Orwell’s Roses

[sunbites]

reading orwell’s roses and everytime i see his name a voice in my head screams jorjor well

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

On this episode of the podcast, Ariel chats with Dr Tanis MacDonald about her upcoming course in winter 2025 on hopepunk. What exactly is so punk about this kind of hope? Can hopepunk even be said to be a genre in its own right, or is it an aesthetic or lens that we can use to think through just why the characters are deciding to have hope in bleak situations?

Tune in for recommendations of hopepunk novels (and poetry!), ruminations on political hope, the centrality of relationships and radical empathy to these stories, and more. Plus some academic theories informing the formulations of hope, of course.

Links:

Tanis MacDonald | Author of Straggle: Adventures in Walking While Female

Watershed Writers with Tanis MacDonald | Podcast on Spotify

Hopepunk, explained: the storytelling trend that weaponizes optimism | Vox

Companion Species Manifesto

The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction

S2.9 Reframing Narratives With Ecocriticism, With Dr Jenny Kerber

[therandomtoad]

I just want to take a moment to appreciate the talents of Cathrine O'Hara. The woman was a crucial part of my childhood and I barely noticed-

[eggbagelz]

orwell zonerunner days look tee hee......... his jacket [ic it isnt obvious] is a sort of like. modified bullfighter jacket [the epaulets say die bravely and live furiously respectively]

[homenumrevelio-rpg]

Despliegue de amor durante la Re-inauguración del Conniving Serpents en San Valentin, 2026

Después de tantos meses oscuros en el Callejón Diagon, finalmente desde el 12 de febrero los locales cerrados comienzan a reabrir, pero es el sábado cuando la vida llega al Callejón. El Conniving, con motivo de San Valentín, levanta una gran fiesta con música en vivo, de la mano de Eagan Couglhan, un artista que lleva creciendo como la espuma desde que se descubrió su parentezco con el gran señor Couglhan.

La publicidad inicia desde el 1 de febrero con afiches en el Callejón Diagon y otros callejones y pueblos mágicos concurridos.

Luces colgantes desde el techo en tonos rojos; corazones que caen en lluvia y desaparecen; y en el medio de la pista, un árbol de sobres donde todos pueden escribir cartas de amor que no serán leídas pero que, a media noche, retazos de ellas aparecían en el techo, en eco de amores silenciosos.

Los co-propietarios, Albus Potter y Gaïa Greengrass.

En orden: Rose Weasley, Marlene Carter, Lucy Weasley, Blodwyn Rowle, Daisy Orwell, Charlie Longbottom, Miles Davies, Matthew Shirley, Charity Loxias, Opal Diggory.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

from Orwell's Roses: In Mexico, roses have a particular significance as the flower that cascaded forth from Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin’s coarse-woven cloak on December 12, 1531, only a decade after the Spanish conquest of the Aztec empire. The legend relates a radiant young woman had appeared to this indigenous man near what is now Mexico City, identified herself as the Virgin Mary, and commanded that they build her a shrine. When the Spanish bishop of Mexico demanded proof, the Virgin caused the hilltop named Tepayac to bloom with out-of-season flowers—a variety of flowers in some accounts, non-native roses in the most common version—for Juan Diego to use in his quest to be believed. He returned to the bishop, the roses tumbled forth, and the inside of his cloak was revealed to bear her image, as if the roses themselves had drawn her or become her. The cloak with its image of a dark woman cloaked in a robe scattered with stars and standing atop a crescent moon still hangs in the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe at the foot of Tepayac.

The Virgin of Guadalupe is sometimes regarded as an Aztec goddess reappearing in Christian guise, and she spoke Juan Diego’s language to him, Nahuatl. In D.A. Brading’s history of the origins and evolution of the image and its worship, he notes that “when Mary commanded Juan Diego to gather flowers, she rooted the Christian gospel deep within the soil of Aztec culture, since for the Indians flowers were both the equivalent of spiritual songs and by extension, symbols of divine life.” The largest Catholic pilgrimage in the world is to that shrine complex on the Virgin of Guadalupe’s feast-day, December 12, and year-round the shrine is piled high with offerings of roses.

[Thank you Rebecca Solnit]

[demi-raven]

(Reposting my pinned post, the way it looked in early April 2023. This way, I can keep deleting and editing in the pinned version and still keep a memory of what it looked like.)

[vampiresuns]

it has to be some kind of lesson to integrate into this new year to finish a book about one of my worst favoured authors (Orwell), and not only have the book fuck so goddamn hard but it also being so excellently written and overall delicious to read

[fandom]

Books

In which the demigods and a conniving triangle knock the necromancers and their cavaliers from their celestial heights!

This list is brought to you by Tor Publishing Group (@torpublishinggroup), which you’re probably familiar with, given that this is tumblr dot com.

Percy Jackson +1 by Rick Riordan

The Book Of Bill by Alex Hirsch

Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling

The Locked Tomb series -3 by Tamsyn Muir

The All for the Game series +3 by Nora Sakavic

The Warrior Cats series by Erin Hunter

A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin

A Court of Thorns and Roses series +2 by Sarah J. Maas

Dracula -4 by Bram Stoker

The Trials of Apollo series +9 by Rick Riordan

The Odyssey +10 by Homer

Wings of Fire series +5 by Tui T. Sutherland

Six of Crows duology -9 by Leigh Bardugo

Discworld -5 by Terry Pratchett

The Silmarillion -4 by J. R. R. Tolkien

The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice

Pride and Prejudice -5 by Jane Austen

The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton

The Raven Cycle series -5 by Maggie Stiefvater

Frankenstein -7 by Mary Shelley

The Iliad -1 by Homer

Stormlight Archive +2 by Brandon Sanderson

1984 +4 by George Orwell

The Folk of the Air series -2 by Holly Black

Romeo and Juliet +20 by William Shakespeare

The Simon Snow series -6 by Rainbow Rowell

The Secret History -9 by Donna Tartt

Captive Prince series +13 by C. S. Pacat

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Good Omens +20 by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman

The Picture of Dorian Gray +18 by Oscar Wilde

The Sun and the Star -17 by Rick Riordan & Mark Oshiro

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare

The Far Side +11 by Gary Larson

The Animorphs series -13 by K. A. Applegate

Throne of Glass series -4 by Sarah J. Maas

Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard series -3 by Rick Riordan

Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde +8 by Robert Louis Stevenson

Mistborn -1 by Brandon Sanderson

Diary of a Wimpy Kid -16 by Jeff Kinney

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

The Song Of Achilles -13 by Madeline Miller

Crescent City series by Sarah J. Maas

The Twilight Saga -3 by Stephenie Meyer

Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare

The Infernal Devices series by Cassandra Clare

The Bell Jar -12 by Sylvia Plath

The Wicked Powers series by Cassandra Clare

The Dark Artifices series by Cassandra Clare

The number in italics indicates how many spots a title moved up or down from the previous year. Bolded titles weren’t on the list last year.

So many books, so little time. Come find your online Community for all things books and reading. Right this way.

[wherekizzialives]

July Reads

You can tell that I took a week off from writing and had a couple of days completely to myself in July since I’ve managed to finish 10 books this month. All of them have been interesting, some of them completely upended me in the best of ways, and a few left me better than they found me. As of today I only have two books left to read for the History Girl Summer challenge I’m participating in over…

[luxe-pauvre]

Orwell wrote in 1944, “The really frightening thing about totalitarianism is not that it commits ‘atrocities’ but that it attacks the concept of objective truth; it claims to control the past as well as the future,” a framework that would morph into Big Brother’s “Who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.” The attack on truth and language makes the atrocities possible. If you can erase what has happened, silence the witnesses, convince people of the merit of supporting a lie, if you can terrorise people into silence, obedience, lies, if you can make the task of determining what is true so impossible or dangerous they stop trying, you can perpetuate your crimes. The first victim of war is truth, goes the old saying, and a perpetual war against truth undergirds all authoritarianisms from the domestic to the global. After all, authoritarianism is itself, like eugenics, a kind of elitism premised on the idea that power should be distributed unequally.

Rebecca Solnit, Orwell’s Roses

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ian McDonald's "The Wilding"

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Ian McDonald is one of those absurdly brilliant novelists that just leave me wondering the actual fuck he manages it. How does he cover so much ground, think up so many compelling characters, find so many gracenotes, conjure up so many complicated emotions?

McDonald burst on the scene in the late 1980s, with the 1988 novel Desolation Road and then his 1989 Out On Blue Six, a slick, stylized cyberpunk-meets-Orwell tale that overflowed with beautiful prose, technomysticism, and sly jokes that hid sneaky truths that hid even more sly jokes:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/01/20/out-on-blue-six-ian-mcdonalds-brilliant-novel-is-back/

By my count, McDonald has now published twenty books – mostly novels, but a couple short story collections (and the most amazingly demented, Tom-Waits-inflected teddybear murder comic imaginable, 1994's Kling Klang Klatch):

https://irishcomics.fandom.com/wiki/Kling_Klang_Klatch

McDonald's work is truly globespanning. While he's made his mark on the Martian soil, and overtaken the moon with the Luna trilogy (his definitive rebuttal to Heinlein's Moon Is a Harsh Mistress) he is widely adored and much-awarded for the glittering, futuristic versions of Brazil (Brasyl), Tanzania (the Chaga series), and India (River of Gods).

Indeed, McDonald's imagination has roamed so far over the Earth and the solar system that it's possible to overlook his fantastic reimaginings of Ireland, the land where he was raised. There's his Philip K Dick Award-winning 1991 novel King of Morning, Queen of Day, a swirling, mythopoeic novel of Celtic mysticism:

https://www.baen.com/king-of-morning-queen-of-day.html

And then there's 1992's Hearts, Hands and Voices, which is lowkey one of the best novels I have ever, ever read – a scorching science fictional allegory for The Troubles, but with the gnarliest biotech weirdness you can possibly imagine:

https://archive.org/details/heartshandsvoice0000ianm/mode/2up

McDonald's books cover so much goddamned ground, but one feature they all share is a prose styling wherein every sentence is at least 20% poetry, a fraction that somehow, impossibly, rises to as much as 150% in certain especially shiny passages.

Like this passage, which opens The Wilding, McDonald's new horror novel that marks his first return to Ireland since 1992:

Autumn lay on the great bog in silvers and tans, late purples and duns.

The sun rose above the tall ash saplings and feral sycamore. It called the birds into full voice. Stabbing shrills, tumbles of notes, the flutes of dove-call, frantic ticking hisses, song upon song. In hedgerows and copses, among the pale foliage of the birches, in the weave of deep willow and the bramble fastnesses, each bird called and was heard. In this season the peatland held the day's warmth through the night and on the bright, clear mornings rivers of mist formed, filling the subtle hollow places in the exposed cuttings, the bogs and fields. High sun would dispel it but at this hour half of Lough Carrow lay mist-bound. Each blade of grass hung heavy with dew, the clumps of sedges were already browning, the bracken curling and crisping.

A pair of horns lifted above the willow scrub and out-grown ash hedges of the Wilding. Polished tips caught the low sun and kindled as bright and keen as spears.

https://www.gollancz.co.uk/titles/ian-mcdonald/the-wilding/9781399611503/

Oof.

I would drop everything to read Ian McDonald's grocery lists but after that opening, I wasn't going to put this one down, and I didn't, reading the whole thing on yesterday's flight home from my gigs in Atlanta this week.

The Wilding is (I'm pretty sure?) McDonald's first horror novel, and it's fucking terrifying. It's set in a rural Irish peat bog that has been acquired by a conservation authority that is rewilding it after a century of industrial peat mining that stripped it back nearly to the bedrock. This rewilding process has been greatly accelerated by the covid lockdowns, which reduced the human footprint in the conservation area to nearly zero.

The story's protagonist is Lisa, a hard-case Dubliner who came to the bog to do community service after a career as a crime syndicate driver for hire, a woman who never met a car she couldn't boost and pilot in or out of any tight situation. After years in the bog, she's ready to start a new life, studying Yeats at university, indulging a late-discovered love of poetry that has as much to do with her redemption as her years in the wild.

Lisa's last duty before she leaves the bog and goes home to Dublin is leading a school group on a wild campout in one of the bog's deep clearings. It's a routine assignment, and while it's not her favorite duty, it's also not a serious hardship.

But as the group hikes out to the campsite, one of her fellow guides is killed, without warning, by a mysterious beast that moves so quickly they can barely make out its monstrous form. Thus begins a tense, mysterious, spooky as hell story of survival in a haunted woods, written in the kind of poesy that has defined McDonald's career, and which – when deployed in service of terror – has the power to raise literal goosebumps.

There's a lot of fantasy that deals with Celtic mythology, including McDonald's own King of Morning, Queen of Day, but the vibe of that stuff tends to the heroic and romantic – sure, there's the odd banshee, but in the main, it's mischievous wee people, pookas, and leprechauns. More fey than fear.

But Irish mythology in its raw form is terrifying. The monsters of Irish storytelling are grotesque, mean, remorseless, and come in every shape and size. Some authors have done well by going back to the bestiary for the deep cuts. When I was a kid, I must have read John Coyne's Hobgoblin fifty times (mostly because it was about D&D, which I was obsessed with). I haven't read this one since I was about 12, and I have no idea if it'd hold up today, but it left me with a deep appreciation of the spooky multifariousness of monsters who dwell in Ireland's bogs:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hobgoblin_(novel)

The Wilding is a suspense novel, which means there's no way to really sum up the plot without spoiling a lot of the affect, but suffice to say that McDonald brings large swathes of deep Irish lore to the surface, and it had me reading as fast as I could and wanting to put the book down and hide.

What a writer McDonald is! The fact that this is the same guy who wrote last year's stunning secret-history/solarpunk/uncategorizable wonder that was Hopeland beggars belief:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/30/electromancy/#the-grace

Read you some Ian McDonald novels, is what I'm trying to say. This one is only available in the UK, if that's not where you are, consider mail-ordering it. Looks like they've got stock at Forbidden Planet for £19 plus £18 shipping to the US. Worth every penny:

https://forbiddenplanet.com/424306-the-wilding-hardcover/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/25/bogman/#erin-go-aaaaaaargh

[queerfables]

A dash of nutmeg...

Look I feel a bit like I'm throwing soup at a dart board and calling it analysis, but I have some thoughts about Aziraphale's magic words in episode 4, and it's going to kill me if I don't share.

The thing is, these words have been nagging at me since I heard them. They sounded familiar, and I've been trying to figure out why. Today, it finally clicked.

Banana. Fish. Gorilla.

Those initial three words are all key words from Crowley and Aziraphale's drunken conversation about Armageddon. It's right at the start of things, when Crowley convinces Aziraphale to help him stop the world from ending.

We'll start with the fish, because they come up first.

"The point I'm trying to make," [Crowley] said, brightening, "is the dolphins. That's my point." "Kind of fish," said Aziraphale.

Their entire exchange here is hilarious and iconic but I'll try to keep this to the point. After some banter about the difference between fish and mammals, Crowley argues that dolphins don't deserve to be caught in the crossfire when the kraken rises and the seas boil. Which conveniently brings us to:

"Same with gorillas. Whoops, they say, sky gone all red, stars crashing to ground, what they putting in the bananas these days?"

Banana. Fish. Gorilla. It got me curious, so I searched for other places these words show up in the book. There's nothing I think is really significant: a couple of things are described as banana flavoured, fish show up in rains that herald the impending doomsday, gorillas aren't ever mentioned again. If I'm on the right track at all, I think this part is here to signpost a connection between this string of words from the show and the specific moments in the book.

If that's true, it must be pointing to something. What's left? Shoe lace and nutmeg.

Shoe lace.

The word "shoelace" isn't actually in Good Omens. Neither is "shoe lace" with a space in between. There's a couple of unremarkable descriptions involving shoes, and one miraculously conjured lace handkerchief, and then - and then. Right at the very end of the story, we have Adam, grounded by his parents, being described as "a scruffy Napoleon with his laces trailing, exiled to a rose-trellissed Elba". It's tenuous. I could dismiss that as nothing. Except Adam's laces show up again, and it's the very last passage of the book.

If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends. And if you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot . . . no, imagine a sneaker, laces trailing, kicking a pebble; imagine a stick, to poke at interesting things, and throw for a dog that may or may not decide to retrieve it; imagine a tuneless whistle, pounding some luckless popular song into insensibility; imagine a figure, half angel, half devil, all human . . . Slouching hopefully towards Tadfield . . . . . . forever.

I'm not ready to say much about what I think the significance of this passage might be. But an allusion to the book's ending does feel significant, doesn't it?

The one thing I will say, for people who may not know, is that this passage is riffing on a line from Orwell's 1984. The line it's playing on is a lot darker: "If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face – for ever." I think it's probably relevant that this is referencing a book about a totalitarian regime. I also think it's probably relevant that it's taking that reference and twisting it into something much sweeter, more optimistic and empowered.

I'm still thinking through all the connections and implications, though.

Nutmeg.

And that brings us to "nutmeg". I have to be honest, I wasn't hopeful. I didn't remember any references to it and if I were betting, I wouldn't have put money on it appearing in the book at all. But the word does show up, and it shows up exactly once. Crowley is reminiscing about a cocktail he had once, made out of fermented date-palms. It's part of a conversation with Aziraphale, where they discuss losing the Antichrist. And here's the really interesting part:

"You said it was him!" moaned Aziraphale, abstractedly picking the final lump of cream-cake from his lapel. He licked his fingers clean. "It was him," said Crowley. "I mean, I should know, shouldn't I?" "Then someone else must be interfering." "There isn't anyone else! There's just us, right? Good and Evil. One side or the other." He thumped the steering wheel. "You'll be amazed at the kind of things they can do to you, down there," he said. "I imagine they're very similar to the sort of things they can do to one up there," said Aziraphale. "Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy," said Crowley sourly. "Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?" "Sure," said the demon. "There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-" "I meant afterwards." "Oh."

Book Aziraphale differs from his characterisation in the show in a few ways, and this is the big one. In the book, Aziraphale is much more cynical about his own side, and much more aware of heaven's flaws. Here, he's convincing Crowley that the threat heaven poses is just as serious as any threat from hell.

If I'm right about any of this, if these nonsense words mean anything at all, I think they are saying that heaven and hell are two sides of the same very nasty coin, and more to the point, that maybe Aziraphale is more aware of it than he seems.

I need to think about this more, still. I'm not sure if I really think this connection is something, and if it is, I'm still figuring out what sorts of conclusions we might draw from it. But if the script is trying to point us to these three sections of the book, maybe there's a deeper analysis to be had here.

I do think it's interesting that the last two words each only show up in one section of the book. It's not like I'm skipping around trying to decide which passage involving shoe laces is most relevant - it shows up twice, only in the last few pages of the book and only in relation to Adam (and in particular, humanising Adam. He's Napoleon in exile, but he's a kid with trailing laces. His future isn't a boot stamping on a human face, it's a sneaker with those same trailing laces - and a stick that his dog can choose whether or not to chase).

I could talk myself in circles on this point, so I guess I've got to open it up to the floor. Am I making something out of nothing with this? Or do you think there could be something here?

[stephaniesblogxx]

girlblogger questions! 🤍

last song you listened to: violets for roses - lana del rey

favourite colour: pink & red

hobby: guitar

favourite place: small cafes

favourite book: 1984 by george orwell

currently reading: the wartime sister by lynda loigman

favourite movie: sabrina

favourite tv show: gilmore girls

favourite food: pizza

tagging: @lilbaegirl @lanadelreystan101 @lilblondedarling @mimiicritter @maxxxthewpoet @aurora-doll-333 @waifangels @crucified-cam @cryingporcelaindoll @georgiannesblog @gossipgirlblogger101 @knowitsforthebetterr @lipglossuser @lovelyasteraceae @hrts4kenny @nobodysnymphet @neptun4ngel @i-know-you-wanna-kiss-me @ivoryteacups @notyourfavlolita @unknownn-girl @velvetpetalss @manicpixieangel444 @diizzzie @stellablahh @parisqx @pureprinc3ss @purebbyfawn @dollsleeping @becauseimsoothatgirl @dangeroustaintedflawed @777inpieces @trxpico @ang3linebn

have fun 🤍

[jesuisgourde]

A list of all the books mentioned in Peter Doherty's journals (and in some interviews/lyrics, too)

Because I just made this list in answer to someone's question on a facebook group, I thought I may as well post it here.

-The Picture of Dorian Gray/The Ballad Of Reading Gaol/Salome/The Happy Prince/The Duchess of Padua, all by Oscar Wilde -The Thief's Journal/Our Lady Of The Flowers/Miracle Of The Rose, all by Jean Genet -A Diamond Guitar by Truman Capote -Mixed Essays by Matthew Arnold -Venus In Furs by Leopold Sacher-Masoch -The Ministry Of Fear by Graham Greene -Brighton Rock by Graham Green -A Season in Hell by Arthur Rimbaud -The Street Of Crocodiles (aka Cinnamon Shops) by Bruno Schulz -Opium: The Diary Of His Cure by Jean Cocteau -The Lost Weekend by Charles Jackson -Howl by Allen Ginsberg -Women In Love by DH Lawrence -The Tempest by William Shakespeare -Trilby by George du Maurier -The Vision Of Jean Genet by Richard Coe -"Literature And The Crisis" by Isaiah Berlin -Le Cid by Pierre Corneille -The Paris Peasant by Louis Aragon -Junky by William S Burroughs -Absolute Beginners by Colin MacInnes -Futz by Rochelle Owens -They Shoot Horses Don't They? by Horace McCoy -"An Inquiry On Love" by La revolution surrealiste magazine -Idea by Michael Drayton -"The Nymph's Reply to The Shepherd" by Sir Walter Raleigh -Hamlet by William Shakespeare -The Silver Shilling/The Old Church Bell/The Snail And The Rose Tree all by Hans Christian Andersen -120 Days Of Sodom by Marquis de Sade -Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke -Poetics Of Space by Gaston Bachelard -In Favor Of The Sensitive Man and Other Essays by Anais Nin -La Batarde by Violette LeDuc -Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov -Intimate Journals by Charles Baudelaire -Juno And The Paycock by Sean O'Casey -England Is Mine by Michael Bracewell -"The Prelude" by William Wordsworth -Noise: The Political Economy of Music by Jacques Atalli -"Elm" by Sylvia Plath -"I am pleased with my sight..." by Rumi -She Stoops To Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith -Amphitryon by John Dryden -Oscar Wilde by Richard Ellman -The Song Of The South by James Rennell Rodd -In Her Praise by Robert Graves -"For That He Looked Not Upon Her" by George Gascoigne -"Order And Disorder" by Lucy Hutchinson -Man Crazy by Joyce Carol Oates -A Pictorial History Of Sex In The Movies by Jeremy Pascall and Clyde Jeavons -Anarchy State & Utopia by Robert Nozick -"Limbo" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge -Men In Love: Masculinity and Sexuality in the Eighteenth Century by George Haggerty

[arbitrary line break because tumble hates lists apparently]

-Crime And Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky -Innocent When You Dream: the Tom Waits Reader -"Identity Card" by Mahmoud Darwish -Ulysses by James Joyce -The Four Quartets poems by TS Eliot -Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare -A'Rebours/Against The Grain by Joris-Karl Huysmans -Prisoner Of Love by Jean Genet -Down And Out In Paris And London by George Orwell -The Man With The Golden Arm by Nelson Algren -Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates -"Epitaph To A Dog" by Lord Byron -Cocaine Nights by JG Ballard -"Not By Bread Alone" by James Terry White -Anecdotes Of The Late Samuel Johnson by Hester Thrale -"The Owl And The Pussycat" by Edward Lear -"Chevaux de bois" by Paul Verlaine -A Strong Song Tows Us: The Life of Basil Bunting by Richard Burton -Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes -The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri -The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling -The Man Who Would Be King by Rudyard Kipling -Ask The Dust by John Frante -On The Trans-Siberian Railways by Blaise Cendrars -The 39 Steps by John Buchan -The Overcoat by Nikolai Gogol -The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol -The Iliad by Homer -Heart Of Darkness by Joseph Conrad -The Volunteer by Shane O'Doherty -Twenty Love Poems and A Song Of Despair by Pablo Neruda -"May Banners" by Arthur Rimbaud -Literary Outlaw: The life and times of William S Burroughs by Ted Morgan -The Penguin Dorothy Parker -Smoke by William Faulkner -Hero And Leander by Christopher Marlowe -My Lady Nicotine by JM Barrie -All I Ever Wrote by Ronnie Barker -The Libertine by Stephen Jeffreys -On Murder Considered As One Of The Fine Arts by Thomas de Quincey -The Void Ratio by Shane Levene and Karolina Urbaniak -The Remains Of The Day by Kazuo Ishiguro -Dead Fingers Talk by William S Burroughs -The England's Dreaming Tapes by Jon Savage -London Underworld by Henry Mayhew