Alexander Pushkin

Pravda said Wednesday that a distant asteroid has been named after Anna Akhmatova, one of Russia's favorite 20th Century poets. Her work was barred from publication during most of her life. The Communist Party newspaper said Soviet scientists requested that the International Planetary Center in the United States grant the name in honor of the poet's 100th birthday.

In "The Anxiety of Influence," first published in 1973, Harold Bloom argued that all literary texts are creative, unavoidable misreadings of prior texts. The novels of Alice Randall are deliberate reinterpretations of classics refracted through a Negro-centric lens.

The Admiralty spire is bright, nor may the darkness mount to smother the golden cloudland of the light; for soon one dawn succeeds another, with barely half an hour of night. --Alexander Pushkin As the day stretches into evening, a soft orange glow and deep purple puffs of clouds fill the western sky. Lingering sunlight gleams on the Admiralty's golden spire, which rises nearly 200 feet above the Neva River, just as the poet Alexander Pushkin described it more than 150 years ago.

"I wanted to get Kvas--a naturally fermented drink from Russia, a wonderful drink. But they forgot to include it in the order," said Anne Volokh, turning her cheek to exchange "hello" kisses with Princess Katya Galitzine. (The pre-Romanov Galitzines occupied the top rung of society for many centuries in Russia.) Oh well, vodka and caviar would have to do.

"I wanted to get Kvas--a naturally fermented drink from Russia, a wonderful drink. But they forgot to include it in the order," said Anne Volokh, turning her cheek to exchange "hello" kisses with Princess Katya Galitzine. (The pre-Romanov Galitzines occupied the top rung of society for many centuries in Russia.) Oh well, vodka and caviar would have to do.

In "The Anxiety of Influence," first published in 1973, Harold Bloom argued that all literary texts are creative, unavoidable misreadings of prior texts. The novels of Alice Randall are deliberate reinterpretations of classics refracted through a Negro-centric lens.

Notebooks in which Alexander Pushkin doodled, daydreamed and scratched out epic poems with a goose-feather quill will be published for the first time this year in a charitable venture sponsored by Britain's Prince Charles. Scholars say the rarely seen manuscripts will provide a glimpse into the mind behind the myth of Pushkin, the poet revered as the richest in the Russian language.

In Russia, a country rich with writers, one literary figure towers above the rest--above Dostoevsky, above Chekhov, above Tolstoy. These days, he literally towers. His picture is draped from the top of skyscrapers, his verses strung across the capital's boulevards. His writings are recited on every stage, from the Bolshoi to the corner soapbox to national news broadcasts. And if you're like most Americans, you've probably never heard of him. He is Alexander Pushkin, Russia's national poet.

When I picture bookstore browsers pausing in front of "Pushkin's Button," the cognoscenti puzzle,"Pushkin's button? Can they possibly have dug up something we don't already know about Pushkin?" The rest ask simply, "Who's Pushkin?" One of the paradoxes of global culture is that the more its many media clamor for our attention, the less we are able to keep up with even the masterpieces of other national literatures.

When the loud day for men who sow and reap Grows still, and on the silence of the town The unsubstantial veils of night and sleep, The meed of the day's labour, settle down, Then for me in the stillness of the night The wasting, watchful hours drag on their course, And in the idle darkness comes the bite Of all the burning serpents of remorse; Dreams seethe; and fretful infelicities Are swarming in my over-burdened soul, And Memory before my wakeful eyes With noiseless hand unwinds her lengthy

In Russia, a country rich with writers, one literary figure towers above the rest--above Dostoevsky, above Chekhov, above Tolstoy. These days, he literally towers. His picture is draped from the top of skyscrapers, his verses strung across the capital's boulevards. His writings are recited on every stage, from the Bolshoi to the corner soapbox to national news broadcasts. And if you're like most Americans, you've probably never heard of him. He is Alexander Pushkin, Russia's national poet.

When I picture bookstore browsers pausing in front of "Pushkin's Button," the cognoscenti puzzle,"Pushkin's button? Can they possibly have dug up something we don't already know about Pushkin?" The rest ask simply, "Who's Pushkin?" One of the paradoxes of global culture is that the more its many media clamor for our attention, the less we are able to keep up with even the masterpieces of other national literatures.

When the loud day for men who sow and reap Grows still, and on the silence of the town The unsubstantial veils of night and sleep, The meed of the day's labour, settle down, Then for me in the stillness of the night The wasting, watchful hours drag on their course, And in the idle darkness comes the bite Of all the burning serpents of remorse; Dreams seethe; and fretful infelicities Are swarming in my over-burdened soul, And Memory before my wakeful eyes With noiseless hand unwinds her lengthy

Notebooks in which Alexander Pushkin doodled, daydreamed and scratched out epic poems with a goose-feather quill will be published for the first time this year in a charitable venture sponsored by Britain's Prince Charles. Scholars say the rarely seen manuscripts will provide a glimpse into the mind behind the myth of Pushkin, the poet revered as the richest in the Russian language.

Pravda said Wednesday that a distant asteroid has been named after Anna Akhmatova, one of Russia's favorite 20th Century poets. Her work was barred from publication during most of her life. The Communist Party newspaper said Soviet scientists requested that the International Planetary Center in the United States grant the name in honor of the poet's 100th birthday.

The Admiralty spire is bright, nor may the darkness mount to smother the golden cloudland of the light; for soon one dawn succeeds another, with barely half an hour of night. --Alexander Pushkin As the day stretches into evening, a soft orange glow and deep purple puffs of clouds fill the western sky. Lingering sunlight gleams on the Admiralty's golden spire, which rises nearly 200 feet above the Neva River, just as the poet Alexander Pushkin described it more than 150 years ago.

Welland Rudd isn't a typical American. He's never eaten Thanksgiving turkey or watched fireworks on the Fourth of July. At 52, he has yet to set foot on U.S. soil. Rudd isn't a typical Russian, either. Although he speaks the language fluently and has lived his whole life in Moscow, he cuts an unusual figure here. What sets him apart is the cafe-au-lait color of his skin.

Katherine Oettinger, 94, an expert on raising retarded children. She served several presidential administrations. President Dwight D. Eisenhower appointed Oettinger chief of the Children's Bureau in the Department of Health, Education and Welfare in 1957. When the bureau was abolished in 1967, President Lyndon B. Johnson named her deputy assistant secretary for family planning and population.