Showing posts with label Librarian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Librarian. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

112th Birthday of Jorge Luis Borges Today

Jorge Luis Borges


Borges in 1951, by Grete Stern
BornJorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo

24 August 1899

Buenos Aires, Argentina
Died14 June 1986 (aged 86)

Geneva, Switzerland
OccupationWriter, poet, critic, librarian
LanguageSpanish


Jorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo (August 24, 1899 – June 14, 1986), known as Jorge Luis Borges (Spanish pronunciation: [ˈxorxe ˈlwis ˈβorxes]), was an Argentine writer, essayist, poet and translator born in Buenos Aires. In 1914 his family moved to Switzerland where he attended school and traveled to Spain. On his return to Argentina in 1921, Borges began publishing his poems and essays in surrealist literary journals. He also worked as a librarian and public lecturer. In 1955 he was appointed director of the National Public Library (Biblioteca Nacional) and professor of Literature at theUniversity of Buenos Aires. In 1961 he came to international attention when he received the first International Publishers' Prize, the Prix Formentor. In 1971 he won the Jerusalem Prize. His work was translated and published widely in the United States and in Europe. Borges himself was fluent in several languages. He died in Geneva, Switzerland, in 1986.
His work embraces the "character of unreality in all literature".[2] His most famous books, Ficciones (1944) and The Aleph (1949), are compilations of short stories interconnected by common themes such as dreams, labyrinths, libraries, animals, fictional writers, religion and God. His works have contributed to the genre of science fiction as well as the genre of magic realism, a genre that reacted against the realism/naturalism of the nineteenth century.[3][4][5] In fact, critic Angel Flores, the first to use the term, set the beginning of this movement with Borges's Historia universal de la infamia (A Universal History of Infamy) (1935).[6] Scholars also have suggested that Borges's progressive blindness helped him to create innovative literary symbols through imagination.[7] His late poems dialogue with such cultural figures as Spinoza, Camões, and Virgil.
His international fame was consolidated in the 1960s, aided by the "Latin American Boom" and the success of Gabriel García Márquez's Cien Años de Soledad (One Hundred Years of Solitude).[3] Writer and essayist J. M. Coetzee said of him: "He, more than anyone, renovated the language of fiction and thus opened the way to a remarkable generation of Spanish American novelists.

jorge luis borges - A Writer, Poet, Critic, Librarian "jorge luis borges" Rare Photos Collection | jorge luis borges Biodata | jorge luis borges Poem

BORGES
Borges in 1951, by Grete Stern
BornJorge Francisco Isidoro Luis Borges Acevedo

24 August 1899

Buenos Aires, Argentina
Died14 June 1986 (aged 86)

Geneva, Switzerland
OccupationWriter, poet, critic, librarian
LanguageSpanish






Jorge Luis Borges: Selected Stories & Other Writings

Borges in 1951, by Grete Stern


POEMS OF THE NIGHT BY JORGE LUIS BORGES





JORGE LUIS BORGES: A 25 AÑOS DE SU MUERTE.

112th birthday of Jorge Luis Borges






Jorge Luis Borges, 1899 - 1986

Jorge L Borges


The Art of Poetry by Jorge Luis Borges

To gaze at a river made of time and water

and remember Time is another river.

To know we stray like a river

and our faces vanish like water.



To feel that waking is another dream

that dreams of not dreaming and that the death

we fear in our bones is the death

that every night we call a dream.



To see in every day and year a symbol

of all the days of man and his years,

and convert the outrage of the years

into a music, a sound, and a symbol.



To see in death a dream, in the sunset

a golden sadnesssuch is poetry,

humble and immortal, poetry,

returning, like dawn and the sunset.



Sometimes at evening there's a face

that sees us from the deeps of a mirror.

Art must be that sort of mirror,

disclosing to each of us his face.



They say Ulysses, wearied of wonders,

wept with love on seeing Ithaca,

humble and green. Art is that Ithaca,
a green eternity, not wonders.



Art is endless like a river flowing,

passing, yet remaining, a mirror to the same

inconstant Heraclitus, who is the same

and yet another, like the river flowing.


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Jorge Luis Borges picture


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