literature

1y

<p>French novelist and playwright Honoré de Balzac was born <a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a> in 1799.</p><p>He is best known for his magnum opus, "La Comédie Humaine", a vast collection of interlinked novels and stories that provide a detailed panorama of French society in the first half of the 19th century. The series is divided into three major parts: "Études de Mœurs", "Études Philosophiques", and "Études Analytiques".</p><p>Books by Honoré de Balzac at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/251" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/251"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/251</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

Balzac and the characters from La Comédie humaine. Pen drawing by Grandville for a fan project, circa 1835-1836.

This preparatory drawing for a fan, probably never executed, shows Balzac in vest, brandishing his cane, whose knob is here adorned with a female face. Seated against a stack of books, he dominates a procession of women, some harnessed to the chariot in which the writer is seated, others behind the convoy, their hands clasped in devotion. At the end of the procession, an old woman admonishes two young girls, no doubt to forbid them from taking part in an event reserved for women educated in the ways of life. In front of the float, a few women burn incense in front of the statuette of Balzac (Dantan's caricature), while others remain seated, absorbed in their reading. A few men can be seen busy with specific tasks: one cranks up the stack of books on which Balzac is leaning; another brings to the reading room, not without difficulty, numerous books placed on a hood. An enormous inkwell containing two quill pens grimaces, and its size alone explains the proliferation of works by Balzac, often referred to by newspapers as "the most fertile of our novelists". Several allusions to novels pepper the drawing: the skeleton of death emerges behind the triangular "peau de chagrin"; the young woman and the man leaning on a chest and barrels sway in the background.

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1y

<p><a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a> in 1609.</p><p>Shakespeare's sonnets are first published in London, perhaps illicitly, by the publisher Thomas Thorpe.</p><p>However, there are six additional sonnets that Shakespeare wrote and included in the plays Romeo and Juliet, Henry V and Love's Labour's Lost. There is also a partial sonnet found in the play Edward III. The sonnets are almost all constructed using three quatrains followed by a final couplet. The rhyme scheme is ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. </p><p><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1041" rel="nofollow"><span class="invisible">https://</span>www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1041</a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

Title page of William Shakespeare - Shake-Speare's Sonnets, quarto published by Thomas Thorpe, London, 1609, Folger Library http://www.folger.edu

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121d

<p>I ask no lovelier thing<br>Than this December silver:<br>See how the light flakes off the new-turned plough<br>Under the slow great swing<br>Of branches, silver-boled…</p><p>—Dorothy Margaret Paulin, “December Day”<br>published in SCOTTISH RELIGIOUS POETRY (Saint Andrew Press, 2024)</p><p><a href="https://standrewpress.hymnsam.co.uk/books/9781800830479/scottish-religious-poetry" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="standrewpress.hymnsam.co.uk/books/9781800830479/scottish-religious-poetry"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">standrewpress.hymnsam.co.uk/bo</span><span class="invisible">oks/9781800830479/scottish-religious-poetry</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/december/" rel="tag">#December</a> <a href="/tags/20thcentury/" rel="tag">#20thcentury</a> <a href="/tags/womenwriters/" rel="tag">#womenwriters</a></p>

Dorothy Margaret Paulin
1904–1982

December Day

I ask no lovelier thing
Than this December silver:
See how the light flakes off the new-turned plough
Under the slow great swing
Of branches, silver-boled;
Not all the silken, tender ways of spring
Can over-pass this cold
And windy beauty; see
Where thin-blown ripples spreading
Pattern the water with a mesh of gold.
Not war, nor present misery,
Can rout earth’s ageless peace
Or check the steady rhythm of her soil
To yield and year’s increase.
Yet sun in earth, yet love in man works on,
And shall not cease.

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182d

<p>Videos from our 2025 Schools Conference are now online!</p><p>🎭 Donald S. Murray’s SEQUAMUR<br>📚 Four Scottish short stories<br>✍️ The poetry of Kathleen Jamie<br>🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 The National 5 Scottish poetry collection<br>🔖 New resources for the refreshed Scottish Set Texts</p><p><a href="https://asls.org.uk/schools/conference-videos/schools-conference-2025/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="asls.org.uk/schools/conference-videos/schools-conference-2025/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">asls.org.uk/schools/conference</span><span class="invisible">-videos/schools-conference-2025/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/schools/" rel="tag">#schools</a> <a href="/tags/national5/" rel="tag">#National5</a> <a href="/tags/higher/" rel="tag">#Higher</a></p>

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1y

<p>French writer, literary critic, art critic, book publisher Edmond de Goncourt was born <a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a> in 1822.</p><p>He was the founder of the Académie Goncourt. Some of his work was written in collaboration with his brother, Jules. Until his death in 1870, Jules was the main author of the Journal, which was then continued by Edmond, who remained alone. It consists of a collection of notes, generally brief, taken from day to day.</p><p>Books by Edmond de Goncourt at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/5693" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/5693"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/5693</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

Edmond de Goncourt
by Nadar — Musée des beaux-arts du Canada

An elderly man with a mustache sits on a chair in this vintage photograph.

La femme au dix-huitième siècle by Edmond de Goncourt and Jules de Goncourt

Edited 1y ago

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23d

<p>At last we have them all well fooled, well tamed;<br>they use our baths and lard themselves with oil,<br>truss up their souls and bodies in the toga…</p><p>—William Neill (1922–2010), “Despatches Home”<br>from DESPATCHES HOME (Reprographia, 1972)</p><p>A poem for the Ides o fMarch </p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/20thcentury/" rel="tag">#20thcentury</a> <a href="/tags/roman/" rel="tag">#Roman</a> <a href="/tags/romanbritain/" rel="tag">#RomanBritain</a> <a href="/tags/idesofmarch/" rel="tag">#IdesofMarch</a></p>

Despatches Home
William Neill

At last we have them all well fooled, well tamed;
they use our baths and lard themselves with oil,
truss up their souls and bodies in the toga.

The squireens speak school-Latin and affect
misunderstanding of the kerns from their estates
(less slaves these than their masters
whom we have flattered into Roman ways).
Now, when our swords save them from their own kin
and mind plays traitor, there’s no need for gyves.

Up in the hills, I grant you, there are those
whose hides are dun with peat-reek and who keep their arms
tough as our own with “Parry! Thrust! Recover!”
Who watch and watch, and hope that we grow weak.

Ungovernable these, growling in their own speech;
lean as the wolves they prowl their bracken dales,
dream vengeance as the bards sing round their fires.
They curse their former lords – lost to Catullus –
and snarl like tigers when we bay them up.

Holding for the most part, then, to the Pax Romana,
out from the hills some few
attempt their bloody mischief on dark nights.
These demons armoured in enamelled bronze
hate us as we hate them.

We both despise
the Latin-lisping traitors of the town.

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23d

<p>Is tu riamh an ceann do dhleastanais,<br>mu chòcaireachd, caoraich, leabhraichean;<br>a bheil fios an d’fhuair thu do dhìol<br>airson do dheataim is spàirn is sgìths?</p><p>—Meg Bateman, “Màthair”<br>from Soirbheas/Fair Wind, Polygon Books 2007</p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/gaidhlig/" rel="tag">#Gaidhlig</a> <a href="/tags/gaelic/" rel="tag">#Gaelic</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/mothersday/" rel="tag">#MothersDay</a></p>

Màthair
Meg Bateman

Bha sinn a’coimhead nan rionnag
mus do thionndaidh sinn a-steach leis na coin,
is thuirt thu gum bu mhithich dhut
na h-ainmean aca ionnsachadh gu ceart.

Ach chan fhada gus am bi thu fhèin nam measg
’s is mise a bhios a’feuchainn ri d’ainmeachadh,
thusa aig nach fhaca mi do nàdar
ach mar phriobadh fann an cuid solais –

Is tu riamh an ceann do dhleastanais,
mu chòcaireachd, caoraich, leabhraichean;
a bheil fios an d’fhuair thu do dhìol
airson do dheataim is spàirn is sgìths?

O gun lasainn de dh’aighear annad
na leigeadh leam d’fhaicinn gu slàn,
no chan fhaide thu bhuam nuair a shiùbhlas tu
nab ha thu rim thaobh a-nochd.

Mother
English translation by Meg Bateman

We looked at the stars for a while
Before we turned in with the dogs,
And you said it was high time
You learnt their names properly.

But soon you will be among them yourself
And I will be the one trying to name you;
You whose nature I have seen
Only as their faint points of light –

As you labour behind duty,
Behind house-work, farm-work, books,
And who knows if you have your reward
For your care and effort and exhaustion.

I wish I could kindle a joy in you
That would let me see you whole
Or you won’t be further when you go
Than you were tonight at my side.

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180d

<p>I Have a Wodehouse Problem. The Problem Is I Can’t Stop Reading Him</p><p>I have to limit myself to three pages at a go, once per day, with the first cup of coffee</p><p>by Mark Migotti</p><p><a href="https://thewalrus.ca/i-have-a-wodehouse-problem-the-problem-is-i-cant-stop-reading-him/?utm_source=Klaviyo&utm_medium=campaign&utm_id=01K6WWKSGGAECXNP6RXA56G23K&_kx=3MZUehzXM-41qlWAMPUiuNZadX2p0SByuNf_t0eMLB0.U5D8ER" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="thewalrus.ca/i-have-a-wodehouse-problem-the-problem-is-i-cant-stop-reading-him/?utm_source=Klaviyo&utm_medium=campaign&utm_id=01K6WWKSGGAECXNP6RXA56G23K&_kx=3MZUehzXM-41qlWAMPUiuNZadX2p0SByuNf_t0eMLB0.U5D8ER"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thewalrus.ca/i-have-a-wodehous</span><span class="invisible">e-problem-the-problem-is-i-cant-stop-reading-him/?utm_source=Klaviyo&utm_medium=campaign&utm_id=01K6WWKSGGAECXNP6RXA56G23K&_kx=3MZUehzXM-41qlWAMPUiuNZadX2p0SByuNf_t0eMLB0.U5D8ER</span></a></p><p>P. G. Wodehouse at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/783" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/783"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/783</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

Image of the writer PG Wodehouse from 1930.

Wodehouse is shown standing outdoors, dressed in a suit and overcoat, with a hat. He looks relaxed and content, smiling broadly.

He holds something in his hands, giving a casual, informal air.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P._G._Wodehouse#/media/File:P.G._Wodehouse,_1930.jpg

https://archive.org/details/screenland21unse/page/n424/mode/1up

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1y

<p>American artist and fiction writer Robert W. Chambers was born <a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a> in 1865.</p><p>Chambers is best known for his weird fiction and horror stories, particularly "The King in Yellow," a collection of short stories published in 1895. He wrote numerous other novels and short stories across various genres including "The Maker of Moons" (1896), "The Mystery of Choice" (1897), and "The Tracer of Lost Persons" (1906).</p><p>Books by Robert W. Chambers at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/38191" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/38191"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/38191</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

Robert William Chambers
published by L.C. Page and company, Boston, 1903 - https://archive.org/details/littlepilgrimage00harkuoft (Little Pilgrimages, page 97)

A man with a mustache captured in a black and white photograph.

Title: The king in yellow, by Robert W. Chambers Creator/Contributor: Chambers, Robert W. (Robert William), 1865-1933 (artist) Date issued: 1890-1920 (approximate) Physical description: 1 print (poster) : color ; 62 x 43 cm. Summary: A yellow hooded figure has black wings. Genre: Book & magazine posters; Prints Notes: Title from item. Date note: Date supplied by cataloger. Statement of responsibility: R. W. Chambers Collection: American Art Posters 1890-1920 Location: Boston Public Library, Print Department Rights: No known restrictions.

The book contains nine short stories and a sequence of poems; while the first stories belong to the genres of supernatural horror and weird fiction, The King in Yellow progressively transitions towards a more light-hearted tone, ending with romantic stories devoid of horror or supernatural elements. The horror stories are highly esteemed, and it has been described by critics such as E. F. Bleiler, S. T. Joshi, and T. E. D. Klein as a classic in the field of the supernatural. Lin Carter called it "an absolute masterpiece, probably the single greatest book of weird fantasy written in this country between the death of Poe and the rise of Lovecraft", and it was an influence on Lovecraft himself.

Edited 1y ago

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1y

<p>"Ceux qui vivent d’amour, vivent d’éternité."</p><p>Belgian poet and art critic Émile Verhaeren was born <a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a> in 1855.</p><p>Verhaeren's early work was heavily influenced by the Symbolist movement, which sought to express the unseen forces and emotions behind everyday experiences through symbolic imagery and metaphor. "Les Flamandes" (1883) is his first major collection, depicting the life and customs of Flemish people.</p><p>Books by Émile Verhaeren at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/3287" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/3287"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/3287</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a></p>

Portrait of Verhaeren by Théo van Rysselberghe.

Portrait of a senior gentleman at a desk, surrounded by documents and writing tools.

Cover of James Ensor by Emile Verhaeren

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181d

<p>On Translating Proust and the Art of Not Reading Ahead</p><p>“It is a bummer to me that Proust occupies such a rarefied, even elitist, realm in the culture.”</p><p><a href="https://lithub.com/on-translating-proust-and-the-art-of-not-reading-ahead/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="lithub.com/on-translating-proust-and-the-art-of-not-reading-ahead/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">lithub.com/on-translating-prou</span><span class="invisible">st-and-the-art-of-not-reading-ahead/</span></a></p><p>Marcel Proust (who was also a translator himself) at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/987" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/987"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/987</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/translation/" rel="tag">#translation</a></p>

Jacques-Émile Blanche, Portrait de Marcel Proust (1892), Paris, musée d'Orsay.

Proust wears a formal black suit with a white waistcoat and bow tie.

Proust’s delicate, pale face—with finely arched eyebrows, dark hair, and a faint mustache—is turned slightly toward the viewer.

https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcel_Proust#/media/Fichier:Jacques-Emile_Blanche_Portrait_de_Marcel_Proust_1892.jpg

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23d

<p>Our baby’s heart, on the sixteen-week scan<br>was a fluttering bird, held in cupped hands…</p><p>—Kathleen Jamie, “vii. Prayer”<br>from the poem sequence “Ultrasound”, first published in JIZZEN (Picador, 2011)<br> <br><a href="https://www.panmacmillan.com/authors/kathleen-jamie/jizzen/9781447218234" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.panmacmillan.com/authors/kathleen-jamie/jizzen/9781447218234"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.panmacmillan.com/authors/k</span><span class="invisible">athleen-jamie/jizzen/9781447218234</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/mothersday/" rel="tag">#MothersDay</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a></p>

Kathleen Jamie
vii. Prayer

Our baby’s heart, on the sixteen-week scan
was a fluttering bird, held in cupped hands.

I thought of St Kevin, hands opened in prayer
and a bird of the hedgerow nesting there,

and how he’d borne it, until the young had flown
– and I prayed: this new heart must outlive my own.

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181d

<p>The reason, gin ye waant the truth,<br>I sleep like this – ma gairdie stieve<br>upon yer breist, its steekit nieve<br>laid on yer sma’ hert like an aith –</p><p>is no’ for waarmth or peace o’ mind<br>but that in ma dreams, ma dou,<br>I’m staunin here upricht, wi’ you<br>the lang sheld that I grue ahind.</p><p>—Don Paterson, “The Human Sheld”<br>published in RAIN (Faber 2010)</p><p><a href="https://www.faber.co.uk/product/9780571251742-rain/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.faber.co.uk/product/9780571251742-rain/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.faber.co.uk/product/978057</span><span class="invisible">1251742-rain/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a> <a href="/tags/scots/" rel="tag">#Scots</a> <a href="/tags/scotstober/" rel="tag">#Scotstober</a></p>

The Human Sheld
by Don Paterson

The reason, gin ye waant the truth,
I sleep like this – ma gairdie stieve
upon yer breist, its steekit nieve
laid on yer sma’ hert like an aith –

is no’ for waarmth or peace o’ mind
but that in ma dreams, ma dou,
I’m staunin here upricht, wi’ you
the lang sheld that I grue ahind.

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1y

<p>"Of the life of Benjamin Button between his twelfth and twenty-first year I intend to say little. Suffice to record that they were years of normal ungrowth."</p><p><a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a> in 1922.</p><p>F. Scott Fitzgerald's short story "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" is published in The Smart Set magazine. It was subsequently anthologized in Fitzgerald's 1922 book Tales of the Jazz Age.</p><p>Tales of the Jazz Age at PG:<br><a href="https://gutenberg.org/ebooks/6695" rel="nofollow"><span class="invisible">https://</span>gutenberg.org/ebooks/6695</a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, published in Collier's Magazine, May 27, 1922, New York. Vol. 69, No. 21. Illustrations by James Montgomery Flagg. Front cover illustration by James Montgomery Flagg.

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180d

<p>Daith an’ dule will stab ye surely,<br> Be ye man or wife,<br>Mony trauchles an’ mischances<br> In ilk weird are rife;<br>Bide the storm ye canna hinder,<br> Mindin’ through the strife,<br>Hoo the luntin’ lowe o’ beauty<br> Lichts the grey o’ life.</p><p>—Helen Cruickshank, “Sea Buckthorn”<br>published in A KIST O SKINKLAN THINGS (ASL, 2017)</p><p><a href="https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">asls.org.uk/publications/books</span><span class="invisible">/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/20thcentury/" rel="tag">#20thcentury</a> <a href="/tags/scots/" rel="tag">#Scots</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a> <a href="/tags/scotstober/" rel="tag">#Scotstober</a></p>

Sea Buckthorn
by Helen Cruickshank

Saut an’ cruel winds tae shear it,
Nichts o’ haar an’ rain –
Ye micht think the sallow buckthorn
Ne’er a hairst could hain;
But amang the sea-bleached branches
Ashen-grey as pain,
Thornset orange berries cluster
Flamin’, beauty-fain.

Daith an’ dule will stab ye surely,
Be ye man or wife,
Mony trauchles an’ mischances
In ilk weird are rife;
Bide the storm ye canna hinder,
Mindin’ through the strife,
Hoo the luntin’ lowe o’ beauty
Lichts the grey o’ life.

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181d

<p>CFP: 18th International Conference on Medieval & Renaissance Scottish Language, Literature, & Culture<br>1–4 July, University of Bristol, UK</p><p>Proposals for papers invited that discuss any aspects of medieval & renaissance Scottish language, literature, & culture, & papers that reflect on these fields from different time periods, languages, & places</p><p>@litstudies </p><p>Deadline: 14 Nov 2025</p><p><a href="https://icmrsllc2026.blogs.bristol.ac.uk/call-for-papers/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="icmrsllc2026.blogs.bristol.ac.uk/call-for-papers/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">icmrsllc2026.blogs.bristol.ac.</span><span class="invisible">uk/call-for-papers/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/language/" rel="tag">#language</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a> <a href="/tags/gaeilc/" rel="tag">#Gaeilc</a> <a href="/tags/gaidhlig/" rel="tag">#Gaidhlig</a> <a href="/tags/medieval/" rel="tag">#medieval</a> <a href="/tags/renaissance/" rel="tag">#renaissance</a></p>

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181d

<p>And by the halie tree<br>In the leaman licht o the wuid,<br>Squired by a houlet, a hawk and a doo,<br>Wes his Euridikee…</p><p>—“Orpheus”, by Tom Scott (1918–1995)<br>from A KIST O SKINKLAN THINGS</p><p><a href="https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">asls.org.uk/publications/books</span><span class="invisible">/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/scotstober/" rel="tag">#Scotstober</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/scots/" rel="tag">#Scots</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a></p>

Tom Scott
Orpheus

Ye think thon wes the end?
Yon meetin in the wuids
When Thracian Orpheus heard the drum, the cries,
The whud o the bacchantes’ thrangan feet
And, seik in saul,
Mad to be jyned for aye to his Eurydikee,
Strung his harp
And gaed to meet them wi a sang.
Ye think thon wes the end?

Na. Eftir the thrang breeled on, red
Fingert, bluidie-mawed, the riven limbs
Quiveran aye amang the mairtyred gress,
There wes a lull
And throu it syne a roun
And syne as muckle’s a moan
And syne a voice,
Yon voice o his
That quietit the forest and its fowk,
That reconcilit lion and lamb,
Ordert the rain,
Spoke frae the grund
And threept in the greitan tree
‘Euridikee! Euridikee!’

And at the name
A ferlie thing wes duin.
Thir broken bits o bodie, bits o bane,
Brisket, gash, airm and droukit hair
Cam thegither as gin some will
Mair nor the merely real
Had wrocht on them.
And on yon slauchtert grund was formed
Orpheus anew,
Orpheus the singer, Orpheus the makar,
Orpheus cleansed o the auld despair.
And by the halie tree
In the leaman licht o the wuid,
Squired by a houlet, a hawk and a doo,
Wes his Euridikee.

They say he made a new sang,
A nobler nor the auld,
And sings it aye in the great haa o the warld.

They say it will nevir end.

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170d

<p>Du gies hooseroom tae a swap o scarfs,<br>lodgins ta mallies. A shjalder swanks<br>apo dy shooder…</p><p>—Christine De Luca, “Growin Auld (Wasterwick)”<br>published in WAST WI DA VALKYRIES (Shetland Library, 1997)</p><p><a href="https://www.christinedeluca.co.uk/pages/wast_wi_da_valkyries" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.christinedeluca.co.uk/pages/wast_wi_da_valkyries"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.christinedeluca.co.uk/page</span><span class="invisible">s/wast_wi_da_valkyries</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/scotstober/" rel="tag">#Scotstober</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/shetland/" rel="tag">#Shetland</a> <a href="/tags/shetlandic/" rel="tag">#Shetlandic</a> <a href="/tags/scots/" rel="tag">#Scots</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a></p>

Christine De Luca
Growin Auld

Wasterwick

Wasterwick, auld wife o da sea, worn
tae a beauty only age can bring. Du sits
straight-backed, airms reck oot
bi clett an stack. Dy sang is
da sang o sels an a thoosand shiftin shalls
is dey beach demsels. Da Waarie Gyo
is a secret fowld i dy skurt, whaar
a kittle o tang swills to an fro.

Du gies hooseroom tae a swap o scarfs,
lodgins ta mallies. A shjalder swanks
apo dy shooder, nest safe in a reffel
o trefoil an smora. Banks-flooers
mak a wavy aedge ta dy simmer hap.

We look on dee at’s cradled grown men,
trace lines o kennin on dy wise repose.
Da wasterin sun at faas saaftly lays
a wild rose apo dy granite face.

Vocabulary:
da: the
clett: cliff, rock, crag
stack: column of rock in the sea
dy: your (familiar)
shalls: shells
dey: they
demsels: themselves
gyo: steep, narrow inlet
fowld: fold
i: in
skurt: bosom
kittle: tickle
tang: seaweed
du: you (familiar)
gies: gives
tae, ta: to
swap: a sudden beat or blow
scarfs: shags
mallies: fulmars
shjalder
oyster catcher
apo: on
shooder: shoulder
reffel: tangle
smora: clover
banks flooers: sea pinks
aedge: edge
hap: shawl
dee: you (familiar)
at’s: who has
kennin: knowing
faas: falls
saaftly: softly

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1y

<p>Clytemnestra, in Greek mythology, was the wife of Agamemnon, and the half-sister of Helen of Troy.</p><p>In Aeschylus' Oresteia, she murders Agamemnon – said by Euripides to be her second husband – and the Trojan princess Cassandra, whom Agamemnon had taken as a war prize following the sack of Troy; however, in Homer's Odyssey, her role in Agamemnon's death is unclear and her character is significantly more subdued.</p><p><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14417" rel="nofollow"><span class="invisible">https://</span>www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14417</a></p><p><a href="https://gutenberg.org/ebooks/1728" rel="nofollow"><span class="invisible">https://</span>gutenberg.org/ebooks/1728</a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/mythology/" rel="tag">#mythology</a></p>

Clytemnestra by John Collier, 1882..

Classic artwork featuring a woman with long hair holding a large axe.

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181d

<p>“Connection reaches into Rodge’s work not just as a responsibility, but through his writing method as well”</p><p>SNACK Magazine speaks to Rodge Glass about moving to Glasgow, first meeting Alasdair Gray, & his latest book Joshua in the Sky: A Blood Memoir</p><p><a href="https://snackmag.co.uk/rodge-glass-looks-back-to-moving-to-glasgow-first-meeting-alasdair-gray-and-latest-novel-joshua-in-the-sky-a-blood-memoir-interview" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="snackmag.co.uk/rodge-glass-looks-back-to-moving-to-glasgow-first-meeting-alasdair-gray-and-latest-novel-joshua-in-the-sky-a-blood-memoir-interview"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">snackmag.co.uk/rodge-glass-loo</span><span class="invisible">ks-back-to-moving-to-glasgow-first-meeting-alasdair-gray-and-latest-novel-joshua-in-the-sky-a-blood-memoir-interview</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/memoir/" rel="tag">#memoir</a> <a href="/tags/biography/" rel="tag">#biography</a> <a href="/tags/lifewriting/" rel="tag">#lifewriting</a></p>

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23d

<p>One swipe of the sonogram<br>and the midwife had the sex predicted…</p><p>—Janette Ayachi, “New Mother”<br>published in HAND OVER MOUTH MUSIC (Liverpool University Press, 2019)</p><p><a href="https://www.liverpooluniversitypress.co.uk/doi/book/10.3828/9781786942142" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.liverpooluniversitypress.co.uk/doi/book/10.3828/9781786942142"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.liverpooluniversitypress.c</span><span class="invisible">o.uk/doi/book/10.3828/9781786942142</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/mothersday/" rel="tag">#MothersDay</a></p>

New Mother
Janette Ayachi

One swipe of the sonogram
and the midwife had the sex predicted

she stacked away files like over-sized
tarot cards shuffling through the blood work

slicking the lubricated wand back and forth
like an upturned hourglass to spell out the word

‘girl’ on the Ouija board of my bulging stomach.
I folded the scan picture like a brewing secret

gave a copy to my mother, the gift of birth passed down
the hands of women, a flat lithograph, grainier

than a memory, a gelatine print,
a boneless x-ray, an alien woodcut.

Not long after that my body shivered
into postpartum, chartreuse light levered

its way through shadows and I became one of the new
mothers wandering the hospital corridors in cotton gowns;

trying on rooms like shoes, barefoot and barren
slotting coins into payphones mechanically calling

future selves to check in, stomachs deflated and slack,
eyes bloodshot like raw steak, darker than forest shadow.

This is the metamorphosis, a new skin shed, the older part
locked in a bathroom somewhere starving and slightly sad

stepping back further into previous chapters
so when winter strips the trees of their bark

we will stand naked in the mirror
and call out our own names.

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180d

<p>In conversation with Sara Sheridan, Damian Barr discusses his novel THE TWO ROBERTS, which reimagines the lives of Scottish artists Robert MacBryde & Robert Colquhoun. Recorded at the National Galleries on 7 October 2025</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/live/T44S_tndnfM" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.youtube.com/live/T44S_tndnfM"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.youtube.com/live/T44S_tndn</span><span class="invisible">fM</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/art/" rel="tag">#art</a> <a href="/tags/artists/" rel="tag">#artists</a> <a href="/tags/visualart/" rel="tag">#visualart</a> <a href="/tags/20thcentury/" rel="tag">#20thcentury</a></p>

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180d

<p>Remediating Stevenson: Reframing perspectives through graphic novels<br>29 Oct, free online</p><p>The online launch & celebration of three new graphic novels inspired by Robert Louis Stevenson’s South Sea Tales: “The Bottle Imp”, “The Isle of Voices” & “The Beach of Falesá”. The event is aimed at upper primary & secondary teachers with an interest in English, Literacy & Art.</p><p><a href="https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/remediating-stevenson-reframing-perspectives-through-graphic-novels-tickets-1699667564439" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/remediating-stevenson-reframing-perspectives-through-graphic-novels-tickets-1699667564439"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/remedia</span><span class="invisible">ting-stevenson-reframing-perspectives-through-graphic-novels-tickets-1699667564439</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/robertlouisstevenson/" rel="tag">#RobertLouisStevenson</a> <a href="/tags/decolonial/" rel="tag">#decolonial</a> <a href="/tags/pacific/" rel="tag">#Pacific</a> <a href="/tags/graphicnovels/" rel="tag">#graphicnovels</a> <a href="/tags/comics/" rel="tag">#comics</a> <a href="/tags/schools/" rel="tag">#schools</a></p>

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180d

<p>Hi <a href="/tags/bookstodon/" rel="tag">#Bookstodon</a>!</p><p>What’s a book that shaped your life? I’ll start, “Anarcho-syndicalism: Theory and Practice.” Now it’s your turn, reply with yours!</p><p>Book link: <a href="https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/rudolf-rocker-anarchosyndicalism" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="theanarchistlibrary.org/library/rudolf-rocker-anarchosyndicalism"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">theanarchistlibrary.org/librar</span><span class="invisible">y/rudolf-rocker-anarchosyndicalism</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/amreading/" rel="tag">#AmReading</a> <a href="/tags/bookrecommendations/" rel="tag">#BookRecommendations</a> <a href="/tags/currentlyreading/" rel="tag">#CurrentlyReading</a> <a href="/tags/nonfiction/" rel="tag">#NonFiction</a> <a href="/tags/fiction/" rel="tag">#Fiction</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#Literature</a> <a href="/tags/history/" rel="tag">#History</a> <a href="/tags/anarchism/" rel="tag">#Anarchism</a> <a href="/tags/syndicalism/" rel="tag">#Syndicalism</a> <a href="/tags/socialism/" rel="tag">#Socialism</a> <a href="/tags/communism/" rel="tag">#Communism</a> <a href="/tags/bookclub/" rel="tag">#BookClub</a> <a href="/tags/tbr/" rel="tag">#TBR</a> <a href="/tags/readinglist/" rel="tag">#ReadingList</a></p>

A person wearing a brown hat and black shirt holds a book titled "Anarcho-Syndicalism: Theory and Practice." They have a neutral expression, sitting on a green sofa.

Book cover of "Anarcho-Syndicalism: Theory and Practice" by Rudolf Rocker. Features a smokestack labeled "Revolution" and muted tones.

Edited 180d ago

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1y

<p>"The spirit of truth and the spirit of freedom — these are the pillars of society."<br>The Pillars of Society</p><p>Norwegian Dramatist & Poet Henrik Ibsen died <a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a> in 1906.</p><p>Ibsen is renowned for his pioneering work in realism, a movement in theater that sought to depict everyday life & societal issues with honesty and accuracy. He moved away from the romanticized and melodramatic styles that dominated the 19th century.</p><p>Books by Henrik Ibsen at PG<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/861" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/861"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/861</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/theatre/" rel="tag">#theatre</a></p>

Henrik Ibsen painted by Eilif Peterssen

An elderly man sits at a desk, engrossed in his work, surrounded by books and papers.

Title page of a 1936 edition of the play Peer Gynt by Henrik Ibsen, illustrated by Arthur Rackham.

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