R A L P H The Review of Arts, Literature, Philosophy and the Humanities Volume XIX, Number 4 --- Late Late Spring 2000 |
NEW LISTINGS
REVIEWS
The Three Principal Aspects of the Path
BRIEF REVIEWS
ARTICLES
READINGS The Smell of Rancid Butter
POETRY
LETTERS
THE OFFICIAL RALPH
HELP
THE PREVIOUS ISSUE OF RALPH
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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Two reviews of The Autobiography of Joseph Stalin,
Isaac Newton in the Irish countryside, and
The Doll's House by Henrik Ibsen
Lost Property: Memoirs and Confessions of a Bad Boy
"I am in a cantina getting morbidly drunk with the local fishermen
and that son-of-a-bitch is hanging about with the likes of
Melvin Lasky (of Encounter Magazine), tippling with Kenneth Tynan,
telling jokes telling jokes to Samuel Beckett."
Where the Roots Reach for Water
"It was the perfect ideal childhood. Wonderful mother ---
who loved books like he did, read to him all the time,
talked with him. Wonderful Mom, wonderful Dad. Where's the beef?"
"The best kind of practitioner dies with joy.
A mediocre practitioner has no fears and
the least accomplished practitioner has no regrets."
The Love You Promised Me,
The Great Flu Epidemic of 1918, and
Forensic Murder with Throbbing Breasts
Doing the Tarantella at the Barnes Foundation
Part One
"Imagine a classroom in which to the left of you is a Renoir nude,
and next to that, a Braque study, and Picasso's
Acrobat and Young Harlequins. Right above was the huge and lush
La Grande Jatte by Seurat --- with a Gauguin flanking it to the right,
a Modilgliani to the left. "
"Suddenly my milkmaid's roseate elbow was protruding out of the canvas,
hanging out over the decorative gilt frame (where it certainly didn't belong).
A three dimensional young woman, inside a two-dimensional canvas."
Henry Miller in Paris
"No appointments, no invitations for dinner,
no program, no dough. The golden period,
when I had not a single friend."
"The soup tastes as if a dish rag
had been stewed in it --- slightly sour, mildewed, scummy.
I see Eugene hiding it away in the commode after the meal.
It stays there, rotting away, until the next meal.
The butter, too, is hidden away in the commode;
after three days it tastes like the big toe of a cadaver."
Flow Gently, Sweet Afton
"Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes!
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays!
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream ---
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream!
Falling in love with Lolita Lark, and
Who is that A. W. Allworthy, anyway?
Paradox-of-the-Month
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This will lead you back to our last issue, and,
if you persist, all the way back to the very first one,
from the Dark and Wet Winter of our Conception,
1994 - 1995.
Titles, authors, and publishers
of all books reviewed in RALPH ---
arranged chronologically.
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History
RALPH
didn't spring full-blown from the brows of the gods:
We've been around (in different guises) for over twenty-five years.
The
Fessenden Fund
Other
activities of RALPH's godparents, including
Mho
& Mho Works
Lolita Lark, Editor-In-Chief
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San Diego CA 92176
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