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Tag: apfel zet

Triangles Are My Favourite Shape Part Two

To paraphrase The Smiths circa 1987, I may have started something I can’t finish with this triangles on book covers thing. Typical me. This is my second post on the topic, and there is one more in the works, but then I think I will be done. Enjoy…

Antifragile by Nassim Nicolas Taleb (Penguin hardcover November 2012)

Antifragile by Nassim Nicolas Taleb (Penguin paperback November 2013)

Design by Jim Stoddart

castle-kafka
The Castle by Franz Kafka; design by Peter Mendelsund (Schocken 2011)

dark-winter
The Dark Winter by David Mark; design by Jamie Keenan (Blue Rider Press October 2012)

dubliners
Dubliners by James Joyce; artwork Apfel Zet (Penguin April 2012)

generation-a
Generation A by Douglas Coupland; design by Jennifer Heuer (Simon & Schuster June 2010)


On Booze by F. Scott Fitzgerald (New Directions July 2011)

The Night Before Christmas Nikolai Gogol  (New Directions Oct 2011)

Design by Rodrigo Corral

persona-non-grata
Persona Non-Grata by Tom Flanagan; design by Scott Richardson (Random House April 2014)

Tenth-of-December
Tenth of December by George Saunders; design by Chelsea Cardinal (Random House August 2013)

mamet-war-stories
Three War Stories by David Mamet; design by Alex Camlin (Argo-Navis November 2013)

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Something for the Weekend

A stunning new cover for James Joyce’s The Dubliners by German designer Apfel Zet (which reminds me — in a good way — of Tony Meeuwissen’Woodbine-inspired cover for Billy Liar published by Penguin in the 1970’s).

Consistent Forms of Hostility — With an exhibition opening in May at the Barbican in London, Rowan Moore looks at the enduring influence the Bauhaus school at The Guardian:

Not much united Walter Ulbricht, the Stalinist dictator of East Germany for two decades, and Tom Wolfe, celebrant of the splendours and follies of American capitalist excess. Not much, except a loathing of the Bauhaus and the style of design it inspired. Ulbricht called it “an expression of cosmopolitan building” that was “hostile to the people” and to “the national architectural heritage”. Wolfe called it “an architecture whose tenets prohibit every manifestation of exuberance, power, empire, grandeur or even high spirits and playfulness”.

For Ulbricht it was alien to Germany, for Wolfe it was alien to America. Both agreed that it was placeless, soulless and indifferent to ordinary people’s needs. And if the Bauhaus attracted such consistent forms of hostility, that is due to the power and coherence of the image it presented to the world, of disciplined and monochrome modernist simplicity, usually involving steel and glass.

Translators Jay Rubin and J. Philip Gabriel talk about translating Haruki Murakami into English at the SF Bay Guardian.

And finally…

A Very American Critic — Elaine Showalter on film critic Pauline Kael at the TLS:

Cosmopolitan in her reading, sophisticated about international cinema, and au courant with theories of the auteur, Kael was nonetheless a very American critic. She was forty-seven before she ever travelled to Europe, and from the very beginning, she used her reviews and essays to explore what it meant to write film criticism in the United States, where the movies were always a compromise between art and commerce. “The film critic in the United States”, she wrote in “Movies, the Desperate Art” (1959), “is in a curious position; the greater his interest in the film medium, the more enraged and negative he can sound”. American film critics risked the temptations of selling out to Hollywood, or expressing contempt for mass market films. Kael prided herself on both her knowledge of the film medium and her deep love for the movies, trashy and avant-garde alike. Movies, she wrote in “The Function of a Critic” (1966), “are one of the few arts (along with jazz and popular music) Americans can respond to without cultural anxieties”. She did not intend to condescend to her readers or tell them that their tastes were wrong.

 

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