Last year, Mr. Kotter rewrote his 1996 book about organizational change, “Leading Change,” for a new generation of business readers. But this time, he recast it as a fable about a talking penguin named Fred who mobilizes the entire penguin colony against the threat of its melting iceberg.
"“Iceberg” is also part of a growing number of business best sellers that try to explain management or economic ideas in simpler, more reader-friendly language."
“Penguins are so friendly and unthreatening,” said Sally Richardson, president of the trade division at St. Martin’s Press, Iceberg’s publisher. “It’s a very unscary way to approach the scary subject of change.”
NO KIDDING. Der Rest ["Book Brings Penguins Into Boardrooms" NYT] hier
Hagen, playing his last card, suggested Pnin could teach a French language course: like many Russians, our friend had had a French governess as a child, and after the Revolution he lived in Paris for more than fifteen years.
"You mean," asked Blorenge sternly, "he can speak French?"
Hagen, who was well aware of Blorenge's special requirements, hesitated.
"Out with it, Herman! Yes or no?"
"I am sure he could adapt himself."
"He does speak it, eh?"
"Well, yes."
"In that case," said Blorenge, "we can't use him in First-Year French. It would be unfair to our Mr. Smith, who gives the elementary course this term and, naturally, is required to be only one lesson ahead of his students. Now it so happens that Mr. Hashimoto needs an assistant for his overflowing group in Intermediate French. Does your man read French as well as speak it?"
"I repeat, he can adapt himself," hedged Hagen.
"I know what adaptation means," said Blorenge, frowning. "In 1950, when Hash was away, I engaged that Swiss skiing instructor and he smuggled in mimeo copies of some old French anthology. It took us almost a year to bring the class back to its initial level. Now, if what's-his-name does not read French----"
"I'm afraid he does," said Hagen with a sigh.
"Then we can't use him at all. As you know, we believe only in speech records and other mechanical devices. No books are allowed."
Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin, Chapter Six, 3 [LOA 1996 p.399-400]
One summer evening drunk to hell
I sat there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
"Where The Water Lilies Grow"
And on the jukebox Johnny sang
About a thing called love...
Shane McGowans A Pair of Brown Eyes, zu finden auf Rum, Sodomy and the Lash von den Pogues
Ha! trop heureux si le cruel Destin
N'eût emmuré d'un rempart aimantin
Si chaste coeur dessous si belle face,
Et si mon coeur de mon sein arraché
Ne m'eût trahi, pour se voir attaché
De clous de feu sur le froid de sa glace!
die Terzette aus Pierre de Ronsards Sonett Nr 5 aus den Amours de Cassandre (1552)
"The following day he died, but before that he had a moment of lucidity, complaining of pains and then saying (it was darkish in the room because of the lowered blinds): 'What nonsense. Of course there is nothing afterwards.' He sighed, listened to the trickling and drumming outside the window and repeated with extreme distinctness: 'There is nothing. It is as clear as the fact that it is raining.'
And meanwhile, outside the spring sun was playing on the roof tiles, the sky was dreamy and cloudless, the tenant upstairs was watering the flowers on the edge of her balcony, and the water trickled down with a drumming sound."
Vladimir Nabokov, The Gift (1938/1963) [London: Penguin 2001, p. 284-85]
"A certain man," said Rex, as he turned round the corner with Margot, "once lost a diamond cuff-link in the wide blue sea, and twenty years later, on the exact day, a Friday apparently, he was eating a large fish -- but there was no diamond inside. That's what I like about coincidence."
Vladimir Nabokov, Laughter In The Dark (1938), Chap.17
Die Frauentausch-Reality-TV-Folge.
Hier das Lied, das Charles für Marge schrieb und sang:
Lady when you came to me
I was feeling blue
Blue just like your hair, you see
Blue just like the moon
But only when the moon is blue
And not when it is cream
And now that you are here with me
I am in a dream
Oh yeah, Marge, your dreams can come true
Lady when you go away
I feel like I could die
Not like 'dye' like your hair is dyed
But die like Lady Di
And not like 'Di' like her name is Di
But die like when she died
But, lady, just like Lady Di
Be my princess tonight
But don't die, don't die
"Après Walter Scott, Alexandre Dumas les divertit à la manière d'une laterne magique. Ses personnages, alertes comme des singes, forts comme des boeufs, gais comme des pinsons, entrent et partent brusquement, sautent des toits sur le pavé, reçoivent d'affreuses blessures dont ils guérissent, sont crus morts et reparaissent. Il y a des trappes sous les planchers, des antidotes, des déguisements -- et tout se mêle, court et se débrouille, sans une minute pour la réflexion. L'amour conserve de la décence, le fanatisme est gai, les massacres font sourire."
"Nach Walter Scott unterhielt sie Alexandre Dumas auf die Art einer Laterna Magica. Seine Figuren, aufmerksam wie die Affen, stark wie die Stiere, fröhlich wie die Finken, treten plötzlich auf und verschwinden plötzlich, springen von den Dächern auf die Straße, erleiden entsetzliche Wunden von denen sie sich erholen, sind totgeglaubt und kommen wieder. Es gibt Fallen unter den Fußböden, Gegengifte, Verkleidungen -- und alles verwirrt sich, läuft dahin und löst sich auf, ohne eine Minute Nachdenkens. Die Liebe bewahrt immer Anstand, der Fanatismus ist fröhlich, die Massaker bringen einen zum Lächeln."
