Anatole Broyard
Born
in New Orleans, Louisiana, The United States
July 16, 1920
Died
October 11, 1990
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Kafka Was the Rage: A Greenwich Village Memoir
16 editions
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published
1993
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A Passion for Books: A Book Lover's Treasury of Stories, Essays, Humor, Lore, and Lists on Collecting, Reading, Borrowing, Lending, Caring for, and Appreciating Books
by
10 editions
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published
1999
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Intoxicated by My Illness
by
11 editions
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published
1992
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Life Stories: Profiles from The New Yorker
by
11 editions
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published
2000
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Men, Women, and Other Anticlimaxes
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published
1980
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Aroused by Books
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published
1974
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Healing: 20 Prominent Authors Write About Inspirational Moments of Regaining Health
by
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published
2001
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癌とたわむれて
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“The contents of someone's bookcase are part of his history, like an ancestral portrait."
(About Books; Recoiling, Rereading, Retelling, New York Times, February 22, 1987)”
―
(About Books; Recoiling, Rereading, Retelling, New York Times, February 22, 1987)”
―
“Two people making love, she once said, are like one drowned person resuscitating the other.”
― Kafka Was the Rage: A Greenwich Village Memoir
― Kafka Was the Rage: A Greenwich Village Memoir
“A good book is never exhausted. It goes on whispering to you from the wall. Books perfume and give weight to a room. A bookcase is as good as a view, as the sight of a city or a river. There are dawns and sunsets in books - storms, fogs, zephyrs.
I read about a family whose apartment consists of a series of spaces so strictly planned that they are obliged to give away their books as soon as they've read them. I think they have misunderstood the way books work.
Reading a book is only the first step in the relationship. After you've finished it, the book enters on its real career. It stand there as a badge, a blackmailer, a monument, a scar. It's both a flaw in the room, like a crack in the plaster, and a decoration. The contents of someone's bookcase are part of his history, like an ancestral portrait.
- in "About books; recoiling, rereading, retelling", The New York Times, February 22, 1987”
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I read about a family whose apartment consists of a series of spaces so strictly planned that they are obliged to give away their books as soon as they've read them. I think they have misunderstood the way books work.
Reading a book is only the first step in the relationship. After you've finished it, the book enters on its real career. It stand there as a badge, a blackmailer, a monument, a scar. It's both a flaw in the room, like a crack in the plaster, and a decoration. The contents of someone's bookcase are part of his history, like an ancestral portrait.
- in "About books; recoiling, rereading, retelling", The New York Times, February 22, 1987”
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