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"Through the Magic Door (1907) is an essay by Arthur Conan Doyle: his subject is the charisma and charm of books. Doyle invites readers to enjoy the greatest minds of all times through what they have left behind and argues that, when we read, the selfishness and hopelessness of the world can be left behind."
Short excerpt: It is our familiarity also which has lessened our perception of the miraculous good fortune which we enjoy.
Through the Magic Door is a book written by Arthur Conan Doyle first published serialized in Cassell's Magazine between december 1906 and november 1907.However, the book was based on a series of 6 articles published in Great Thoughts from 5 may to 30 june 1894.
Through the Magic Door (1907) is an essay by Arthur Conan Doyle: his subject is the charisma and charm of books. Doyle invites readers to enjoy the greatest minds of all times through what they have left behind and argues that, when we read, the selfishness and hopelessness of the world can be left behind.
Through the Magic Door (1907) is an essay by Arthur Conan Doyle: his subject is the charisma and charm of books. Doyle invites readers to enjoy the greatest minds of all times through what they have left behind and argues that, when we read, the selfishness and hopelessness of the world can be left behind.
I care not how humble your bookshelf may be, nor how lowly the room which it adorns. Close the door of that room behind you, shut off with it all the cares of the outer world, plunge back into the soothing company of the great dead, and then you are through the magic portal into that fair land whither worry and vexation can follow you no more. You have left all that is vulgar and all that is sordid behind you. There stand your noble, silent comrades, waiting in their ranks. Pass your eye down their files. Choose your man. And then you have but to hold up your hand to him and away you go together into dreamland. Surely there would be something eerie about a line of books were it not that familiarity has deadened our sense of it. Each is a mummified soul embalmed in cere-cloth and natron of leather and printer's ink. Each cover of a true book enfolds the concentrated essence of a man. The personalities of the writers have faded into the thinnest shadows, as their bodies into impalpable dust, yet here are their very spirits at your command.
I care not how humble your bookshelf may be, nor how lowly the room which it adorns. Close the door of that room behind you, shut off with it all the cares of the outer world, plunge back into the soothing company of the great dead, and then you are through the magic portal into that fair land whither worry and vexation can follow you no more. You have left all that is vulgar and all that is sordid behind you. There stand your noble, silent comrades, waiting in their ranks. Pass your eye down their files. Choose your man. And then you have but to hold up your hand to him and away you go together into dreamland. Surely there would be something eerie about a line of books were it not that familiarity has deadened our sense of it. Each is a mummified soul embalmed in cere-cloth and natron of leather and printer's ink. Each cover of a true book enfolds the concentrated essence of a man. The personalities of the writers have faded into the thinnest shadows, as their bodies into impalpable dust, yet here are their very spirits at your command. It is our familiarity also which has lessened our perception of the miraculous good fortune which we enjoy. Let us suppose that we were suddenly to learn that Shakespeare had returned to earth, and that he would favour any of us with an hour of his wit and his fancy. How eagerly we would seek him out! And yet we have him-the very best of him-at our elbows from week to week, and hardly trouble ourselves to put out our hands to beckon him down. No matter what mood a man may be in, when once he has passed through the magic door he can summon the world's greatest to sympathize with him in it. If he be thoughtful, here are the kings of thought. If he be dreamy, here are the masters of fancy. Or is it amusement that he lacks?
Poetry. THE MAGIC DOOR is the long-awaited collected edition of Chris Torrance's life work. Gathering eight books originally published between 1973 and 1996, the collection makes available and rejuvenates the work of this unjustly neglected poet, an important figure in the British Poetry Revival. THE MAGIC DOOR is a cycle, a long poem with recurring themes and images, although each volume has its own particular focus, ranging across alchemy, geology, history, myth and legend. For nearly 50 years, Torrance's territory has been the Upper Neath Valley. Having grown up just south of London and worked in the legal profession, he chose instead the borderland of industrial South Wales and a locally renowned beauty spot: "An early Christian hermit's sacred stretch of river." Torrance's dedication to his craft and to his natural surroundings form a unique record of the poet's own consciousness and of his place, aware that "The old ways disappear from the map." Through its own alchemy of form, research, imagination and intelligence, THE MAGIC DOOR is an investigation into time and space, and the position of the individual in such wider concerns. "The time is long overdue to celebrate the integrity of Chris Torrance's questing and night-haunted genius: the effortless precision of the farmer's almanac, those rescued terms from alchemy and geology. And that lovely, reckless, free-flowing spill of self, as the transported poet exchanges youthful London atoms with his chosen Welsh ground. The revealed Magic Door sequence is a delirious epic of witness."--Iain Sinclair
Through the Magic Door (1907) is an essay by Conan Doyle his subject is the charisma and charm of books. Doyle invites readers to enjoy the greatest minds of all times through what they have left behind and argues that, when we read, the sel shness and hopelessness of the world can be left behind.