Penguin Librarian's Den

"I ransack public libraries, and find them full of sunk treasure." — Virginia Woolf

bookriot:

Aw yay, get that beautiful Dracula look with our book style guide.

Nice cover choice.

bookriot:

Aw yay, get that beautiful Dracula look with our book style guide.

Nice cover choice.

Looking good, Mr. D!
Penguin Drop Caps
bookshelfporn:

Framed Bookshelf by Mark Taylor Design

☆*✲゚*。(((´♡‿♡`+)))。*゚✲*☆

bookshelfporn:

Framed Bookshelf by Mark Taylor Design

☆*✲゚*。(((´♡‿♡`+)))。*゚✲*☆

classicpenguin:

We were thrilled to see Penguin Random House author Richard Flanagan win the Man Booker Prize for Narrow Road to the Deep North, and even more so because his book draws attention to a great classic. As spring turned to summer in the year 1689, the Japanese writer Matsuo Basho embarked on a foot journey that has inspired poets and pilgrims for centuries. His account of a five-month walk through Edo Japan is at once a collection of haiku by the acknowledged master of the form and a wondrous travelogue that brings to life a countryside in new bloom. 
On choosing to borrow Basho’s title, Flanagan wrote, “Basho, the great Japanese haiku poet wrote a haibun—a sort of nature travel journal that combines haiku and prose— with this title. His Narrow Road to the Deep North is a high point of Japanese culture. The Death Railway is a low point of that same culture.” 
 

classicpenguin:

We were thrilled to see Penguin Random House author Richard Flanagan win the Man Booker Prize for Narrow Road to the Deep North, and even more so because his book draws attention to a great classic. As spring turned to summer in the year 1689, the Japanese writer Matsuo Basho embarked on a foot journey that has inspired poets and pilgrims for centuries. His account of a five-month walk through Edo Japan is at once a collection of haiku by the acknowledged master of the form and a wondrous travelogue that brings to life a countryside in new bloom.

On choosing to borrow Basho’s title, Flanagan wrote, “Basho, the great Japanese haiku poet wrote a haibun—a sort of nature travel journal that combines haiku and prose— with this title. His Narrow Road to the Deep North is a high point of Japanese culture. The Death Railway is a low point of that same culture.” 

 

“For some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.”

—   Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life ( (via malapropsbookstore)

(Source: victoriousvocabulary, via malapropsbookstore)

thepenguinpress:

nprbooks:

You guys!  We are so VERY excited to be the ones to announce this year’s National Book Award finalists! Check out the full list here.

So happy for Phil Klay and Redeployment!

thepenguinpress:

nprbooks:

You guys!  We are so VERY excited to be the ones to announce this year’s National Book Award finalists! Check out the full list here.

So happy for Phil Klay and Redeployment!

classicpenguin:

asymptotejournal:

At what rate are new Japanese words & phrases making their way into English, if at all?
Translator Jay Rubin answers on our blog, in an exclusive interview with Ryan Mihaly of Words in Transit at Amherst College.

Jay Rubin, translator of our editions of Akutagawa’s Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories and Soseki’s Sanshiro gave this great interview on Murakami and the art of translation in general. Check it out!

classicpenguin:

asymptotejournal:

At what rate are new Japanese words & phrases making their way into English, if at all?

Translator Jay Rubin answers on our blog, in an exclusive interview with Ryan Mihaly of Words in Transit at Amherst College.

Jay Rubin, translator of our editions of Akutagawa’s Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories and Soseki’s Sanshiro gave this great interview on Murakami and the art of translation in general. Check it out!

bookriot:

How do you pronounce publisher names like Knopf? Houghton Mifflin Harcourt? Hachette?

We’ve got the video to help you say them the correct way.

We’re easy. YOU’RE WELCOME.

classicpenguin:

It’s Drop Caps Day! This isn’t a joke. X, Y, and Z are on sale today, and we’re giving away a full twenty-six book set to celebrate. Because we love Drop Caps and we love our readers. (US/CAN only — sorry international readers, we really do love you too!)
Click the image or click here to enter! Good luck and don’t forget to share your Drop Caps photos with us so we can re-post some of our favorites!

classicpenguin:

It’s Drop Caps Day! This isn’t a joke. X, Y, and Z are on sale today, and we’re giving away a full twenty-six book set to celebrate. Because we love Drop Caps and we love our readers. (US/CAN only — sorry international readers, we really do love you too!)

Click the image or click here to enter! Good luck and don’t forget to share your Drop Caps photos with us so we can re-post some of our favorites!

A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR

Alex Marwood author of The Killer Next Door and Edgar Award-winning The Wicked Girls for Best Paperback Original.

Recession-gripped provincial Britain isn’t the ideal place to spend your teens. As a nation, in hard times, we tend to retrench into an aggressively grey conformity that matches the rain, and it’s not the most nurturing atmosphere for the naturally eccentric. The adults around me, everywhere I went, seemed either angry or mad or, occasionally, both (an impression that, as an adult myself, I realise was entirely accurate; sometimes teenagers have a far clearer picture of the world around them than they’re credited with), and the world seemed a bitter, frightening place. I dreamed of escape, but escape often seemed a million miles from my reality.

And then there was every other Wednesday. There was one great advantage, did I but know it, to my parents’ collapsing marriage, and that was that they frankly weren’t noticing a great deal of what we were up to. No-one ever looked into my bags of books to check them for suitability (checked that I was really staying at my friend Joanna’s house, further down the line). And every other Wednesday, they went off to shout at a counsellor and my sister and I got to stay in town until seven o’clock. I had no money, but I had a library card, and it was in my library that I discovered the world. Still in my school uniform, I would have two hours to pick five books for the coming fortnight, and it was sheer blue bliss.

The librarians at that library were wonderful. Where my teachers pursed their lips and hinted at a Dark Future if one failed to worship at the altar of Austen, these women (yes, they were all women) never tried to improve me, just to encourage my voracious hunger for the written word. I sunk into science fiction, whodunnits, horror, thrillers, bonkbusters – all the things we didn’t have at home, all the things school said would lead to hell – and they gently steered me to more, only better, of the same. I read the whole of Agatha Christie the summer I turned eleven, and was then introduced to the psych thrillers of Highsmith and Rendell. Learned about sex and triumph through adversity from Jacqueline Susann and Eric Jong and Marilyn French. Travelled the universe with Asimov and Bradbury, and, from there, came to John Wyndham and my lifelong romantic adoration of Kurt Vonnegut. Became obsessed with James Herbert and Dean Koonz, until one day a librarian pushed a collected MR James and a copy of The Turn of the Screw into my hands.

I vividly remember sitting on the orange carpet at the foot of the reference stacks reading Whistle and I’ll Come to You and feeling that gorgeous moment when the hairs on the back of your neck prickle up even though you’re in a crowd and thinking: yes. This is what I want to do when I grow up. I want to scare people for a living, and not by working at the tax office. I really don’t know, but I think that if it hadn’t been for the Oxford Central Library I might well never have become a writer.