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Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Podcasts

PodcastDirectory / Education / Education
PodcastDirectory / Regions / NA / USA

Lay yourself down to sleep with the soothing soporific of Miette's purring voice reading you classic works of short fiction. Sweet dreams.

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Education

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English

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Brooklyn
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NY
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USA
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NA
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Text Only listing of Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast Podcasts

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The Young Workman’s Letter (Guest narrator: Chris King)

Usually, when I think about this humble little project, it fills me with all kinds of amourpropre. Even when I'm temporarily removed from my own devices (audiotorily speaking), I can't help but self-congratulatorily pat myself backwise (I'm flexible) at keeping the motor of this anthology running. Then sometimes...

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I Am Awake (Guest narrator: Philip Shelley)

Tonight's guest narrator owns and operates The Devastationalist Manifesto, a project I desperately wish would soon revive itself from its two-year hiatus, and not just because I miss the occasional chance for self-gam-gawkery...

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The Man Who Lost the Sea (Guest narrator: Shig Vigintitres)

Sturgeon's a presence which should have been established here long ago, and I was grateful beyond expression when tonight's guest reader volunteered to represent him. That said, I was only told there was...

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Enoch and the Gorilla (Guest Reader: Patrick Scott)

Some of you may remember the sweet sounds of Patrick Scott from earlier Miette Bailouts. When I put out the call for guest readers, he was quick to the case. But Patrick's a busy guy, now that he's a famous filmmaker, and so when you listen to his lustrous interpretation of Flannery O'Connor, you will pick up the occasional whirr of what seems a loud computer fan...

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Frau Wilke (Guest narrator: Sam Jones)

If you know Sam Jones from various internet outlets, you will be neither surprised nor disappointed that he chose to read Walser for his guest stint here. However, if you know Sam Jones from various internet outlets alone, you might not know...

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Everything is Green (Guest narrator: George Carr)

The voice you are about to hear is not my own, though today's guest narrator insists his distinctive lilt can be attributed to "equal parts whisky, speed, and diction practice." Which means that it's probably closer to my voice than we'd think at first listen. And so, I would appreciate no murmured speculation on rhinoplastic nasal blockage or testosterone injections on my part. For the next month or two...

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Order of Insects by William H. Gass

I know, it's been a while. I've been trying to Have A Summer over here, an effort thwarted by an adverse reaction to allergens purportedly getting caught up in butterfly currents on the other side of the world. Either that, or it's the Romantic Lady Writer's Disease, which would be fine by me, inasmuch as any anachronistic way to go down is fine by me. But I do wish it'd forestall another decade.

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Two Gallants by James Joyce

Bloomsday is here again, as you surely know, and as is my ritual, here’s another story from the Dubliners. This is the 7th such reading, and sometimes, the thought of keeping this up for eight more years to finish the collection is one I tend to avoid. But to keep things spicy in the meantime [...]

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At the Anarchists’ Convention by John Sayles

I yanked tonight's story from The Best of American Short Stories 1980, a volume edited by the great Stanley Elkin. If you take one look at it, you'll see that 1980, while not considered a boon year for American fiction, perhaps should be. Donald Barthelme, Mavis Gallant, William H. Gass, Elizabeth Hardwick Grace Paley, Peter Taylor, and I'm thinking...

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The Truth and All Its Ugly

Whenever an internet missive or blip crosses my screen with Kyle Minor's name attached, I open it up in awe of his apparently continual reading and writing and thinking acutely about the finer side of the bookish life. I don't know whether this relentless pursuit of the craft can be had without a truckload of drugs, but I also think the drugs necessary for his task probably haven't even been concocted yet. You could get your brain into top form fast by looking closely at the right 2/3 of ...

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First Confession

I hadn't read Frank O'Connor's stories in a very long time-- he fell into the gutter of authors I'd studied to a point of boredom as a student, and while I've spent a good deal of my adult life sweeping those gutters and asking absolution from what I've swept up, it took a while to get to him. I'd associated it so closely, in the vast netherlands of the juvenilia of my headspace, with hackneyed Catholic guilt tropes in Comic Sans all the way through...

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Letter from a Hunchback Girl to a Metalworker

Fernando Pessoa has been a long-standing point of not insignificant fixation in the writerly pursuits of Your Faithful (If Not Schedularly Published) Storyteller, for reasons that will be forehead-smackingly obvious to some of you. As for the rest of you, rather than stand around in the dark, I welcome you to take a guess. Should you want that guess to be educated,

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Killer Whales, Susan Daitch

There's a quite decent independent bookstore in the town in which I'm staying this week, a bookstore that will be closing soon for all the usual reasons. I plan to spend a fair amount of time later this morning vulturing my way through this store, and walk out picking my teeth with unsold reading lights and hauling overstuffed bags full of firesale booty that can no way be described as "carrion" no matter how many ways I stretch the metaphor...

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The Force Acting on the Displaced Body, Christopher Rowe

Are your toes frozen? I hope not. Especially if you're as big of a pansy about the weather as I am. Because the weather knows this about me and is a relentless jerk about this, my revenge is in the form of a seaside adventure story based largely on southern waters. Which is, admittedly, analogous to bringing double your milk money to school and handing one over freely to the big bully. But I don't know how to kick the weather where it deserves to be kicked, so this is the...

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A Woman of Properties, Jack Matthews

Well, here we are having taken yet another circumnavigatory Gregorian tour together, and I hope that you've put away your party hats and crackers and are back to the grind, having disregarded all the unreasonable expectations you made of yourselves for the coming months. Because I have nothing but sympathy: it's too cold to get up and run ten miles and do the laundry and tidy the front garden and write your best auntie a letter every morning. I understand. Stay in bed. Read a good book ...

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The Balloon

If you've been listening for a while, you may know that I have an unfortunate habit of whining, incessantly and irrepressibly, in those months when the cold has rendered my extremities indistinguishable from assorted varieties of freezer section meats. It's a problem I've known about, it's one that those around me suffer in kind on behalf of all of you, and it's one that I'd love to kick, if only I inject some lock de-icer into these knees. Maybe anti-freeze would work?

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The Masque of the Red Death

This story is brought to you by a very nice man named Jake, who requested it a while ago, and when I read Philip K Dick instead last week, expressed some disappointment.

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Roog

I got kicked in the inspiration after that bit of Nabokov (he has that effect), and was determined to give you new stories at least weekly. I'd cleared my schedule to dedicate more time to only these more self-satisfying projects, and then, disaster struck, in the name of green-biled phlegm and rancor of bronchitis.

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The Vane Sisters

It had been some years since I've read any Nabokov, which I can only blame a youthful use of mind-shrinking substances or a two-mile-long to-read list. But recently, I made a full-length audiobook of Dustin Long's Icelander, whose completion set me on a mission. I'm not going to shill Icelander too much (ahem, only five bucks! And I get a piece!), but there was no way for any reasonable person -- or even myself -- to finish it and not start thumbing through the old master's treasures, all ...

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Here Be Dragons

The very first words of Gore Vidal's foreword to Alfred Chester's collected stories (Head of a Sad Angel Although it has been my misfortune to have at practically all the noted American writers of the last half century, I did have the great good luck never to have so much as glimpsed Alfred Chester....

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Helpmate

Not long ago, I found myself in the unfortunate position of being deeply ensconced in a marvelous book while on a crowded public transportation system. “Nothing unfortunate about that, Miette,” you’ve said. I heard you. The unfortunate thing was that the title of the book, when viewed from across a subway car, [...]

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Disappearing

It's that time of year, my dears, where I'm about to head off to foreign parts for what's known in various circles as "vacation," "holidays," or "days spent without LCD bathing." I can't believe it, either, actually, and am not sure I'll be able to pull off things like "relaxing" and "not having much of anything to do," which have only existed as very high level concepts in my foggy head. And there are so many things lined up when I return that I'll probably never ever take time off again ...

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A Small Circle of Friends

I know; this is two posts in a row that make direct mention of ladies' underthings. I have three very good reasons for this:

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After the Race

Looking at the Bloomsday readings I've done to date, it's evident that my written prefaces have become some absurd equivalent of squealing fangirlish bra-tossing. I may (OR MAY NOT) be an excellent bra-tosser with perfect aim and pitch, and we all know that Joyce wouldn't be one to have a problem with women's undergarments tossed his way. But my first exposure to Joyce was in a sleepy little black shoebox theatre, where a troupe of mild-mannered turtlenecked barnstormers read from Dubline ...

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Sex and/or Mr. Morrison

A disclaimer for you on this happy June that will become self-evident soon enough: I love this story. I could read it a thousand times over and give you a thousand different insights. I love it in the peepish and borderline obsessive way its narratrice experiences love. Love it, in its own words, "as a mouse might love the hand that cleans the cage, and as uncomprehendingly, too, for surely I see only a part of him here." ...

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In the Avu Observatory

A few days ago, I took a little trip to Toronto, where the jazz singers scat to sheet music, where wine is poured long before noon, and where the best booksellers refuse to serve the likes of me. While there, I spent a day in rooms full of brainy people as obsessive as I am about books and reading and great literature and using technology in the service of all these things. That's right: me, your Miette, dropped down in the middle of Booknerdville. Must I even mention that it was terrific ...

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Sono and Moso

Last week's New Yorker magazine included a series of letters written by Saul Bellow to other writers. I've often thought epistolary exchange between writers to be the most nettly of writing, both the most effusive and the most sincere, the most pretentious and the most vein-splittingly self-conscious. It's hard

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The Butterfly

I've been wanting to read James Hanley to you for a couple of months now, ever since he was reintroduced to me a few months ago while I was yearning for a bathematic submergence in a foreign hotel.

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The Fifth Story

I read recently about toxic bread in a sleepy French village, about mass hallucinations and the newly revealed hypothesis that the CIA was responsible for covert LSD experiments. Apparently, the same thing might have happened in the subways of New York. And suddenly, so much is explained, especially as pertains to cockroach-squashing memories. [...]

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Sir Henry

I have a good excuse to spare you my blathery scrawl about the show-stopping beauty in this story -- the hot cats at Electric Literature have done so in a flashier way, and before you even tap the PLAY button on your baubly mp3 players, you ought to watch this:

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The Trojan Horse

Sometimes I think you haven't lived until you've been given the shoulder by a drunken horse in a bar. Other times I think the very stuff of life happens from being the drunken horse in a bar. But usually, it has to do with neither of these things, and I'm fairly certain that none of it would be worth the slightest damn if there was no Queneau to neigh by.

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The Sorrel Colt

The other day I was walking through a blistering, blustery, blinding-white below-zero snowstorm, cursing the day I decided not to live on a Caribbean island, and doubly cursing the day I decided not to be born with antifreeze for blood. Because if I had been born with antifreeze for blood, I'd probably have other alien characteristics as well, such as the ability to launch an anvil from my hand that I could drop on the head of the person walking in the snowstorm next to me when that person ...

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Gregory

So, I know very little about the author of tonight's story. He has no Wikipedia page in any language that I can gather, one used copy of an out-of-print collection of stories available in English (that I can cursorily find, anyhow), and a slight dusting of a presence in literary anthologies, including one in which I dusted off this. In fact, the only thing I'm certain of regarding tonight's author is that I really ought to attempt to learn basic Greek pronunciation if I'm going to crack a ...

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DiGrasso

Oh, aren't we lucky!? A double-bluffed, double-dipped, double-headed dose of Isaac Babel. When you've had a listen here and discover that you're still running low on your recommended daily serving of Babel, you might head here to find a new recording of an old reading of another one.

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On Hope

I can think of nothing more apt for the rounding-out of a year than a fleeting little fable on outplaying inevitability. If you're anything like me, Inevitability is one collector you've managed to send off-course at least once this year, and that itself is cause for champagne. Happy New Decade to all, but especially to those who continue to believe relentlessly in the potential of literature.

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Emmy Moore’s Journal

There was a time when I was little (and I was so cute, and so little!) when I wanted to be Jane Bowles. I was obsessed with the puppet show, unhealthily so, though thinking back now, I can't think of any self-respecting adult who'd have introduced such a cute little thing to it.

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The Interior Castle

I'm more than a little eager to introduce this bit of Jean Stafford-- in fact, the last time I was this eager, I was about to jump out of an airplane, an activity I was undertaking using age-faked identification, which was, to the best of my memory, the only time I've ever vomited directly onto the feet of an airplane pilot (the pilot then said this wasn't the first time his feet had taken ablutions this way). And wait, I don't mean to conflate Jean Stafford with my own underage retching. ...

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The Bound Man

My friends, a confession: I am a sucker. Little stray kittens and musty books and vegetably steamed dumplings.... these things were basically made for me. And stories like this belong on the list of things for which I'm a true sucker, and by "like this" I don't necessarily mean Austrian (though I don't mean "decidedly not Austrian" either). And I don't necessarily mean the sort of story that plucks your arteries and uses them to serenade you corrido-style. Although, again, I don't have ...

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The Pool of the Stone God

For those of you who will not be spending the weekend dressed scandalously and behaving just as badly, or scaring young children, or throwing personal hygiene product in the trees of your enemies, ...

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The Adventure of Prince Florizel and a Detective

It was recommended some time ago by a guy named Alex that I read the entire four-story cycle of The Rajah's Diamond, and it is a request I'll perhaps fill someday. I'm in the throes of a mini Stevenson obsession right now, so it seems the proper and selfish thing to do. But for now, I wanted to warn you that as an aperitif, what I'm offering here is, in fact, the last story in the cycle.

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Trouble at Pow Crash Creek

It's probably one of the better things in life -- right up there with creative breakthroughs and lasting love and the slurp of streetside oysters -- to have one's hat tipped to new and great authors. In my case, it doesn't happen often, because I'm finicky and discriminating with my own tastes, or as others have said, snotty. Some of my closest friends, in fact, have sworn never again to share enthusiasm of their own discoveries, for fear of my response. I'm not proud of this....

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I Stand Here Ironing

So I have this tendency, as you may have noticed, to take a sharp left at matters of personal divulgences, which is a difficult thing to pull off today, given the severity and somber-ity of a story like this one. But so, okay, here you go, three very revealing facts about my own self to accompany a story of introspect and plaintivity and other words existent and non-:

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Space-Time for Springers

Can I tell you something about my speculative fiction habits? Of course I can-- this my barroom restroom wall and the red marker's in my slimy mitt. Here's the thing: I just love stories about sentient animals. I can't get enough of talking dogs or super-intelligent rats or telekinetic polar bears-- this is the stuff of unconditional love.

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The Doctor’s Heroism

Well, I've been reading some unavoidable news about Death Panels and baby killing nazi zombies terrorizing in the Norwegian mountains and all sorts of incessant catfighty nastiness which I suppose our world can take, given that it's really all pretty hopeless, when confronted by the threat of health care. Or zombies.

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An Unbeliever

The other day I was lying in the woods, on a hammock on a mountaintop, reading aloud to young people, and wondered, for a second, why there was no professional job market for reading aloud on hammocks to young people, why there isn’t a real market demand for just such a role and why imagined [...]

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Feathers

Oh ladies! Oh men and oh boys and girls, the sexiest man alive is BACK. Patrick has been threatening to start up Patrick's Bedtime Story Podcast, and with a voice this smooth, he might have to do it, much as I'd miss his occasional guest posts here. I'll warn you that there's an outburst of laughter in the middle of this that I didn't have the heart to cut out, and also that he does a killer bird caw, and that Olla's voice is a little on the saccharinely fey side. It's that good.

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Hollow

Breece D'J Pancake was brought to my attention only a couple of years ago, one of those writers who didn't leave a whole lot left behind for us to gluttonously swallow, and one who was willing to grab the short story by the balls of its form and steer it where he wanted. In his forward to the collection of Pancake's stories, James Alan McPherson quotes from a letter he received from Pancake:

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An Encounter

I'm so excited about Bloomsday that I'm sharing the love a day early this year. In fact, I was so excited that I almost went ahead and read all the stories from Dubliners that I haven't yet done for you, but then it hit me that I'd have to move forward next year with my plan to do Ulysses in its entirety. And, well, I don't know if I have the pipes for that yet. And I don't know if you have the perseverance to listen to me indulge the Joyce itch.

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The Sailor-Boy’s Tale

Twice now I've sat down to read something from Isak Dinesen's Winter's Tales , and twice when pawing through for a good story, I've ended up spending hours re-reading the stories in here, to the point of distracted negligence, but to the point of great self-satisfaction nevertheless. One day I'll just relent and read them all to you, but that'd be a big project, and if you're anything like me, you're already running on the fumes of big projects. ...

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The Silver Hilt

Okay, okay, you all keep asking for me to read writers you know, and I keep dipping into the well of obscurity to pick up writers you've never heard of. I know! I'll read the writers you know, maybe, but you have to tell me which ones you want to hear. And until you do, I'm just going to continue to flip over rocks and turn up amazing archeoliterary pearls like this. Do you know this story? Probably not. Should you listen anyway? Yes, if you want your socks knocked right off your fee ...

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A Game of Catch

It's always a little weird to me to read a sports story, with idioms like "burning one in" that are just so far removed from my patois that I can barely even get my mouth to go in that direction. And it's equally odd to try and project teenage boy-speak, because it's been quite a while since I've taken an interest in the mannerisms of teenage boys. But it's springtime, and nothing's more appropriate than boys and baseball. So here's a little bit of both, no matter how much "burning one ...

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The Burning City

Boy, I sure am all kinds of flushed with the Scandinavs these days. Maybe it's my compassion for others plying their way through long cold winters, or maybe it's my assertion that gravlaks is a flawless food, or maybe it's just what they're willing to pay for a beer is a most resonant sacrifice. Or maybe they're just loaded with great writers. But if you had to lay a fresh twenty on what countries would sit atop Miette's Trove of Literary Masters (and god knows you should let me in on su ...

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Madame de Luzy

Tonight’s story came from one of several boxes of books that were recently given to me by a stranger, someone apparently vying for the title of Miette’s Best Friend. And as I mention when reading tonight’s story, this alone makes today one of the best days anybody’s had, in a good long while (if [...]

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Three Letters… and a Footnote

This is on the lighter end of Horacio Quiroga’s stories, which (of those I’ve read) tend to have more to do with death and desolation than the streetcar indiscretions we’ve got here. But it’s March, and I’m springing forward and bringing you with me, merrily because there’s no unsightly wad of money in our [...]

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Various Miracles

More Canadian Short Fiction? You damned well bet– just check the calendar. On that note, I’m starting to think Carol Shields herself is somewhat of a miracle. For starters, look at this, from an interview on Canada as a landscape for writers: “We’re not big on heroes, either. The concept of heroes is alien. [...]

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The Boat

Canadian Short Fiction Month continues, as promised, with a story that seems obviously designed to be delivered from the lips straight to the ears. There’s so much beauty tucked away in here of the sort you wouldn’t necessarily see on the page, unless you read to yourself with one of the voices in your [...]

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The Orchard

If you’re reading this before listening to the podcast… and you know, I have no idea whether you read or listen first, or if you just read, or just listen, and find yourself lost on those rare occurrences where I can hold a thought long enough to prattle BOTH orally and epistolarily about it… but [...]

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It Was

I was sitting here eating little sugary hearts with terms of endearment printed on them. They’re pretty popular with the young people, and surely you must know them: cheap things, sort of disgusting in the way that totally fructosified food product is, but sort of terrific for the same reason. And besides, [...]

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The Hyannis Port Story

I was talking to the resident genius here about false memories and the publishment thereof, when an idea emerged, an idea with such potential for industry salvation that there’s no choice but to document it here, in the interest of knowledge open-sourcing, or whatever. The idea involved all these made-up memoirs floating about these [...]

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Raymond’s Run

A disclaimer: the Wiki says that tonight’s story is… how to put this… Big in Middle School Circles. But don’t let that put you off (especially if you yourself run in Middle School Circles, or are Big therein). I can be as big of an arrogant elitist as the next lady when it [...]

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In Dreams Begin Responsibilities

Well, pilgrims. It’s that day once again when the poisoned blankets of history are celebrated with turkey and squash. And I want to get all excited with you about Delmore Schwartz, and rave a while about how you should be able to listen to the rhythm of his narrative with an almost painful [...]

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The Specialist’s Hat

So it was decided that I needed a table, but in thinking about the sort of table I might need, for the purpose the table would serve, it was further decided that the table needed to have certain bench-like properties. A hybrid, as we say in these times. The problem is, as you may have [...]

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The Quilt

This was going to go up during Banned Books week, but then I got a nasty visit from Uncle Rhinovire, and then there was the trip to the Akvariet and then it hit me that neither a short story nor the oral presentation of one qualify, really, as a “Banned Book,” although for reasons that [...]

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To the Open Water

As I noted in the whole wide verbal megillah setting up tonight’s reading, I’m taking great issue with the Wikipedia entry on tonight’s author. Here, again, is the first sentence, with my call to fix it: Jesse Hill Ford (December 28, 1928 - June 1, 1996) was an American writer of Southern literature who produced [...]

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The Spring

But in order to be mad scientists, first we had to learn how to be normal scientists. It’s funny, imagining John Fahey sitting in a hotel rampantly scrawling. Not because he’s so otherwise voiceless, or should relegate his expressiveness to the steel-stringed style, or other reasons fascistic or idiotic. He’s just one of those [...]

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When I Was Miss Dow

This story was brought to my attention a few months ago, making its way inbox-ward on the anniversorry of my trip down Amniotic Lane, timing not unintentional. Now, I would share with you my thoughts on why this was selected as a Birthday Story, but that would involve psychographic profiling of the sender’s right [...]

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Of Angleworms and Others

So it’s summer right now, if you’re with me hemispherically. Although if you were to zoom in a little closer you’d see that in some places, we’re tying up that chapter, it’s cooling down, and that means it’s time to read you some Tove Jansson. Now, I was going to read you something [...]

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Show-and-Tell

In the two days since first reading of tonight’s story, I’ve been deeply ensconced with this idea of show-and-tell, to the irrational (read: batshit) point of showing-and-telling the objects comprising the contents of my desk to the various beasts kicking about the place, or showing-and-telling one runty waterlogged piece of the garden to another. [...]

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Fun With Your New Head

A couplefew nights ago, catatonic with fatigue after a couple days of travel, I found just the right pace of entertainment watching my cat chase a furry little squeaker all around the place. My conscience wouldn’t let me object– it was nature’s way and the mouse deserved whatever was coming to it, after all… [...]

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The Self-Contained Compartment

During a trip by car I noticed a guy on the phone in a parking lot frantically trying to start his car, a kid really, a kid in trouble, just laying into the ignition while the engine was turning halfway over which indicated, to my limited capacity for automotive troubleshooting, that maybe his vehicle was [...]

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The Pukey

“But when it thinks, I feel like vomiting.” With these words, it is clear that if Nigel Dennis were still around I’d be his groupie. I’d start the FaceBook Club and make mashups on Youtube for him and disguise myself as an editor at Rolling Stone Magazine to obtain his personal email address, which I [...]

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Eveline

Were I a listmaker, and perhaps I am, you would be the warm recipient of many reasons to be grateful when the internet goes for broke on Bloomsday. This list, were I to make one, would include the subcategories: FOR ME and FOR YOU. Topping the FOR YOU list, were such a thing [...]

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The Cask of Amontillado

So I read in the news today about the Indonesian macaque monkeys who’ve learned to successfully catch fish, and how exciting this is for biology, and how it’s a living and breathing example of the adaptation of a species to its conditions and environment, and really it was all astonishing stuff to read. But [...]

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A Rose for Emily

So, my "identity" was stolen recently. And not for the sake of sordid members-only internet sites or international travel or a weekend of Spitzering other scandalous activities that, if you're going to have your identity stolen, would constitute Theft in Style. No, my identity was used to buy clip art and stock photography and website services, which is about as exciting as cutting school to go and get a root canal, sneaking out of the house late at night to mow the lawn next door. You g ...

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A Note on the Camping Craze That is Currently Sweeping America

Fishing season began early this year for your Miette, with the streetside discovery of a freshly abandoned goldfish with wonky telescopic eyes, in its bowl and with a note reading: Free Fish! Please Give Steve Buscemi a good home. And of course I did. I found an exceptional home for him, a home where he’s [...]

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Truth or Consequences

After a week of muscle-burning manual work and long long drives, some of us settle in with a nice cold beer. For others-- maybe like me, who's to say -- it takes more that that... way more, maybe, to relax muscles as sore as these and attempt to put together nerves which have been plucked to the bone. For that reason, perhaps it's best to just shut up and read (if you're me) or grab a beer and listen (if you're you) and maybe write the Pulitzer committee about considering a Podcasting cat ...

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Last Class

All week I've been wanting to read this to you, waking up more excited than the trashman on the day-after-Christmas, and running into my.... uh... recording studio (read: three paces from the bed) to see if it's quiet enough...

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Binoculars

A saw a sign the other day while out on a drive, a sign that said this: Frost Heaves. And I almost had to stop and compose myself, because I was so deeply distressed by the fact that frost can't heave in private (and I'm not a histrionic sort of girl), and saddened that a frost's heave has to be announced clearly for any old asshole who happens to be driving by...

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A Handful of Dates

The question that's been asked a few times of me now: why don't I read more African writers? Actually, it's been asked more than a few times... enough times, in fact, to warrant the sort of qualifier most accurately described as MANY.

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In a Hole

It's confusing, the name of tonight's author, right? I mean, the better known writer sharing this name didn't bother with a middle pseudonymous initial, and there's a slight tweak to the surname, but we readers would be none the wiser, push-to-shove, and would settle back with a cup of tea and upperclass accent.

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Lonesome Road

A mildly embarrassing problem when getting under way with tonight's story, confessed in full in these lines: when I first sat down to read it to you this evening, I got caught on a raft in a sea of lexical continental drift, and over and over I stammered out the title only to have it read "Roadsome Load." No kidding: again and again.

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Some of Us Had Been Threatening Our Friend Colby by

As I lay writhing on my sickbed I was catching up on my milehigh stack of unread periodicals, and made my way to an article about one of the leading competitors for an upcoming race for a high position of public office in the country in which I'm living. Because, you know, there aren't many articles written about this, which is surprising, because from the sound of things, the race for this public office is not of no importance....

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Lawyer Kraykowski’s Dancer

A few days ago I was driving down the street behind a car which, as was warned by prominent display of rooftop sign, was being operated by a Student Driver... a sign which really wasn't necessary, given the stammering mid-intersection braking and sideview-mirror clipping taking place all the way down the road, and I had this great idea that it'd be a real public service - a true exercise of civic duty - if other drivers could collectively contribute to driving lessons, by driving like ravin ...

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From the Mouths of Buildings

A message from the author of today's story: Do you ever wonder as you are reading a story, or hearing one, such as on a podcast, for example, what or whom has inspired a particular story? Picture this: imaginary "directions" or "instructions" for a story that the author creates-- after the story has been written--or told. Imagine that these "directives" led to this story--which in actuality they did not--well at least the author had no idea of any directives of any sort when the story ...

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Youth, Beautiful Youth

Returning soon with a much-awaited all-new MBSP. Leaving you with a mightylong one to hold you till (the longest yet in one sitting, I think). For Dream, remembered always, and loved even longer.

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Hermann Hesse: Youth, Beautiful Youth

Returning soon with a much-awaited all-new MBSP. Leaving you with a mightylong one to hold you till (the longest yet in one sitting, I think). For Dream, remembered always, and loved even longer.

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Fedya Davidovich

HEY, Internet, I want to tell you all about Earideas. Wow, that sounded a little snake-oily- let me try that again:

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Fedya Davidovich

HEY, Internet, I want to tell you all about Earideas. Wow, that sounded a little snake-oily- let me try that again:

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Fedya Davidovich

HEY, Internet, I want to tell you all about Earideas. Wow, that sounded a little snake-oily- let me try that again: Step right up folks and have a look at the one, the only, the world's finest, most discriminating, most hyperventilating-inducing collection of the web's best audio content: Earideas. There, that's a little less in your shopping cart of the internet sell-out mall. And I won't even mention that Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast is included in the Earideas directory of the ...

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The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race

I was thinking about the last story I read to you, and thinking it’d be nice if other events of this variety, the sort of events that are difficult to explain to small children, were similarly reimagined. And not just on a large scale, either. I’m talking about The Pulling of My Wisdom [...]

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The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race

I was thinking about the last story I read to you, and thinking it’d be nice if other events of this variety, the sort of events that are difficult to explain to small children, were similarly reimagined. And not just on a large scale, either. I’m talking about The Pulling of My Wisdom [...]

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J.G. Ballard: The Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as a Downhill Motor Race

I was thinking about the last story I read to you, and thinking it'd be nice if other events of this variety, the sort of events that are difficult to explain to small children, were similarly reimagined. And not just on a large scale, either. I'm talking about The Pulling of My Wisdom Teeth Considered as a Jaunt Through a Daisy Field, or The Love Affair Between Gravity and my Ceiling, Considered as a Synchronized Swimming Spectacular. And here's another.

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The Passion Considered as an Uphill Bicycle Race

I hope those of you celebrating All Things Autumnal are settling into it well, the roast fowl and the hot cacao and woodfire smoke for dessert, and, well, you know the picture I'm aiming for here. It does wonders to the general countenance, I think:

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The Passion Considered as an Uphill Bicycle Race

I hope those of you celebrating All Things Autumnal are settling into it well, the roast fowl and the hot cacao and woodfire smoke for dessert, and, well, you know the picture I'm aiming for here. It does wonders to the general countenance, I think:

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Alfred Jarry: The Passion Considered as an Uphill Bicycle Race

I hope those of you celebrating All Things Autumnal are settling into it well, the roast fowl and the hot cacao and woodfire smoke for dessert, and, well, you know the picture I'm aiming for here. It does wonders to the general countenance, I think: case in point, we returned home not long ago to find the floor coated with the dust of construction detritus, and in the mood I was in, considered it almost as good as snow, a synaesthetic layering of scenariae which led this little brain of m ...

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Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?

I read in the news yesterday that television writers here in the U.S. have gone on strike, and that because of the strike, everybody's arms are collectively thrown up in a great wide panic, because nobody knows what's going to happen on Charmed and because there's nobody to script the next great Wardrobe Malfunction, and this sounds like very bad news indeed and I was sorry to read it.

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Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?

I read in the news yesterday that television writers here in the U.S. have gone on strike, and that because of the strike, everybody's arms are collectively thrown up in a great wide panic, because nobody knows what's going to happen on Charmed and because there's nobody to script the next great Wardrobe Malfunction, and this sounds like very bad news indeed and I was sorry to read it.

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Joyce Carol Oates: Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?

I read in the news yesterday that television writers here in the U.S. have gone on strike, and that because of the strike, everybody's arms are collectively thrown up in a great wide panic, because nobody knows what's going to happen on Charmed and because there's nobody to script the next great Wardrobe Malfunction, and this sounds like very bad news indeed and I was sorry to read it. Genuinely so, and not because of an audience's deprivation, nor out of concern for people fortunate enoug ...

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The Bell Tone

At times during my podcastressing career, I have stumbled upon authors about whom I know very little, and have been fortunate to find that you, resourceful mariners of the Internet's belly, have proven yourselves well worth your collective avoirdupois in gold and other fine metals, and for that, I thank you.

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The Bell Tone

At times during my podcastressing career, I have stumbled upon authors about whom I know very little, and have been fortunate to find that you, resourceful mariners of the Internet's belly, have proven yourselves well worth your collective avoirdupois in gold and other fine metals, and for that, I thank you. Sometimes, in fact, I'll strike big, and an author him or herself will get in touch and fill me in on the missing t-crosses and so on, and so I ask again, who can tell me anything abou ...

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The Lady of the House of Love

Andrea was kind enough to suggest and supply a sufficiently Halloweeny bit of ghoulishness to reconcile the setback of temporary lack of access to mine own troves. In the hopes of exponentially increasing the sympathy factor, let it be known that in addition to being without books, the chief operating offices of Miette's bedtime have been largely internet-free for the past weeks, in what would, under normal circumstances,

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Angela Carter: The Lady of the House of Love

Andrea was kind enough to suggest and supply a sufficiently Halloweeny bit of ghoulishness to reconcile the setback of temporary lack of access to mine own troves. In the hopes of exponentially increasing the sympathy factor, let it be known that in addition to being without books, the chief operating offices of Miette's bedtime have been largely internet-free for the past weeks, in what would, under normal circumstances, leave a girl like me a little mildewy-eyed, save for the fact that, ...

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The Red Room

So listen, about today's story, well, as you'll know when you listen to the first minute, I'm running low on resources at the moment, tapped, so to speak, at least, until things are nice and orderlied again.

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H. G. Wells: The Red Room

So listen, about today's story, well, as you'll know when you listen to the first minute, I'm running low on resources at the moment, tapped, so to speak, at least, until things are nice and orderlied again. And so those willing to share might send their finds and recommendations via the Electronic Scenicroadway to miette (at) hereabouts (domain-wise). And to repay you in advance, why not check here for one of the better audio finds I've made in these parts. But I think for best effect, ...

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The Fly

While settling in and to avoid the appearance of mothballs, here's another Mansfield. And while this isn't the first time we've rocked her boat, she's a voice so nice I'll read her unspliced.

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Katherine Mansfield: The Fly

While settling in and to avoid the appearance of mothballs, here's another Mansfield. And while this isn't the first time we've rocked her boat, she's a voice so nice I'll read her unspliced.

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I See You Never

Last night, I was thinking of what to write to you today while starting to doze off just prior to handing over the wheel. I woke up with one of those Holy Mother I'm Dozing Off kind of starts, and, as I was now more alert than usual during this leg of the trip, I made the sad discovery that what I'd read as the Bikini Avenue Exit was actually something far more G-Rated, and significantly less scandalous.

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Ray Bradbury: I See You Never

Last night, I was thinking of what to write to you today while starting to doze off just prior to handing over the wheel. I woke up with one of those Holy Mother I'm Dozing Off kind of starts, and, as I was now more alert than usual during this leg of the trip, I made the sad discovery that what I'd read as the Bikini Avenue Exit was actually something far more G-Rated, and significantly less scandalous. Which was a drag for me, because I've spent months thinking, as I sleepily drove past ...

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Fear

Where I am, dear listeners, it's hot. And for reasons which terrify some, confound others, and lead to the sort of mass collective eye-rolling that I'd rather avoid (because the energy produced therein would raise the outside temperature another half-degree), I'm not the sort to articondition the air. Which means: it's hot, here, big vats of frying oil hot, and there's no reprieve inside these walls.

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Rhys Davies: Fear

Where I am, dear listeners, it's hot. And for reasons which terrify some, confound others, and lead to the sort of mass collective eye-rolling that I'd rather avoid (because the energy produced therein would raise the outside temperature another half-degree), I'm not the sort to articondition the air. Which means: it's hot, here, big vats of frying oil hot, and there's no reprieve inside these walls. And while I'd like to reach out and cry for help, I'm not sure you'd be able to distingu ...

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Virtuoso

Herbert Goldstone, what are you going to tell me about him? Writes crazy sci-fi about thinking machines more human than man. This story in dozens of brilliant anthologia. Very little else to be found. The wiki draws a blank. This story is not a drop shy of Wondrous.

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Virtuoso

Herbert Goldstone, what are you going to tell me about him? Writes crazy sci-fi about thinking machines more human than man. This story in dozens of brilliant anthologia. Very little else to be found. The wiki draws a blank. This story is not a drop shy of Wondrous. And so, Internet, how about a little game of Be My Research Assistant?

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How the World Was Saved

A delivery truck pulled out in front of me the other day, freshly deflowered by a graffiti artist who chose to express him- or herself by relaying the following, in big blue caps: I LOVE SARAH, KINDA?

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Stanislaw Lem: How the World Was Saved

A delivery truck pulled out in front of me the other day, freshly deflowered by a graffiti artist who chose to express him- or herself by relaying the following, in big blue caps: I LOVE SARAH, KINDA? Which is nice, but only kinda. And some advice to other budding young taggers in need of epic gestures of romance: maybe you might consider keeping the paint safe in the can until you're a little more sure of things, right? And if that specific Sarah is reading, I'm sure he or she was jus ...

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Sarah Cole

Some days, as a podcastress, you find that it's about a billion and two degrees of sour sunshined degrees outside, measured by the scales of Daniel or Anders either/or, and while the last thing you feel like doing might involve heavy lifting dressed in black, the next to last thing, on days such as those, might involve trying to get discernible sound and meaning to emerge from your throat.

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Russell Banks: Sarah Cole

Some days, as a podcastress, you find that it's about a billion and two degrees of sour sunshined degrees outside, measured by the scales of Daniel or Anders either/or, and while the last thing you feel like doing might involve heavy lifting dressed in black, the next to last thing, on days such as those, might involve trying to get discernible sound and meaning to emerge from your throat. And on days like these, you, as a podcastress, would be grateful for offers from your listeners, to ...

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Araby

Happy Bloomsday to you, and happy third Bloomsday podcast from your Miette, an event which many of you will remember is dear to me.

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James Joyce: Araby

Happy Bloomsday to you, and happy third Bloomsday podcast from your Miette, an event which many of you will remember is dear to me. And I can hear you now: "Oh, that's nice Miette, but Bloomsday is about Ulysses. When are you going to read Ulysses?" Well, I didn't do the entire thing (maybe next year) but with my friends at Librivox, we've managed to satisfy the best sort of Bloomophile. I'm serious. Really so.

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Inflexible Logic

Dearest listeners of the internet, I know. I've been gone. Many of you have pointed this out to me, though by the time I returned to read your pleas and queries, I was back, relieved of goneness, and racked with guilt over how abandoned you'd all been left, was at a loss at what I might read to redeem myself.

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Russell Maloney: Inflexible Logic

Dearest listeners of the internet, I know. I've been gone. Many of you have pointed this out to me, though by the time I returned to read your pleas and queries, I was back, relieved of goneness, and racked with guilt over how abandoned you'd all been left, was at a loss at what I might read to redeem myself. And excuse me for saying so, but I think I've outdone myself here. QED: tonight's story involves mention of Proust and Montaigne, chimpanzees, booze, guns, the laws of probability ...

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Everything

A caveat for you listeners. Hell, a full-out warning: this is a long one, today's story, long and, dare I say it, a little dark, and not in the "change the bulb" sort of way. Which is just my way of saying to you:

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Ingeborg Bachmann: Everything

A caveat for you listeners. Hell, a full-out warning: this is a long one, today's story, long and, dare I say it, a little dark, and not in the "change the bulb" sort of way. Which is just my way of saying to you: this is not a first-date sort of story, really not, and it's probably not an endorphinator to be enjoyed on the treadmill. It's more a story, for you know, rainy nights and whiskey, or something to fill a long silence of a spat with friends or loved ones, or to drown out the s ...

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The Dancing Bear

As a rule, yours (very) truly takes a big dollop of pleasure in knowing just a little something about the authors I'm reading to you. Where there are exceptions, they are serious exceptions, resuscitated from beyond the brink and leaving their snot in my mouth.

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Etienne Barsony: The Dancing Bear

As a rule, yours (very) truly takes a big dollop of pleasure in knowing just a little something about the authors I'm reading to you. Where there are exceptions, they are serious exceptions, resuscitated from beyond the brink and leaving their snot in my mouth. And today's could be considered one of those exceptions except I expect one of you may be able to present me with A Clue. And so, consider this a Bedtime Story Challenge: ply me with the choicest bits of biographical enumeration ...

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A Literary Adventure

Never having been one for bandwagonry (after all, the bumper's too high for me to jump, and I don't have much in the way of carnival skills from which is allegedly derived the phrase), but it can't be helped: if everybody and their thrice-removed step-great-uncle

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Roberto Bolano: A Literary Adventure

Never having been one for bandwagonry (after all, the bumper's too high for me to jump, and I don't have much in the way of carnival skills from which is allegedly derived the phrase), but it can't be helped: if everybody and their thrice-removed step-great-uncle (or is it great, then step?) is talking about Bolano, the only thing for the likes of me to do is to just talk Bolano.

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Richard Bausch: Nobody in Hollywood

If I were a state fair judge offering blue ribbons after thoroughly scrutinizing the stories that have been read to you to-date, tonight's would be a heavy competitor for Most Gut-Bursting Opener in American Short Fiction, specifics of which, there's nobody can offer sympathy like me. And I'm pitting this as the prizewinning hen against the Great Openers, which you can see for yourself if you look at the archives. And since I've received permission to read this to you (for sometimes, ...

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Two Gentle People

Riding the big train today and started to daydream, in the daydreamy style of reductive logic unique to the accompaniment of a train horn, the subject which was What I Might Read to the Internet Tonight.

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Graham Greene: Two Gentle People

Riding the big train today and started to daydream, in the daydreamy style of reductive logic unique to the accompaniment of a train horn, the subject which was What I Might Read to the Internet Tonight. And so, in the comparatively confined space of that dreamscape, the decision of What To Read, usually answered with the same response to the question "What am I reading right now? or "Who's the First Writer That Comes to Mind... NOW?" become exponentially more imposing, as the question, in ...

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Daniel Curley: Love in the Winter

Given that Tonight's Story invokes the Mann Act, and given that the Mann Act is bar-none the best Congressional Act of 1910 (and I dare you to find a better one. I mean, Chuck Berry was charged with violating the Mann Act. Frank Lloyd Wright too.) Now, I know it's been a hundred years and the Act's been amended to reflect the century's (uh) progress, but I'm wondering if it's possible for me to get arrested for the Mann Act (enumeration: I mean, could one be charged with a violation in the ...

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Barton Midwood: One's Ship

The news today tells us that a respected literary journal (not to be named here) has just released a list of names they consider to be The Best Young American Novelists, and among them, a full third of these names have not yet had a novel published.  And that's kind of odd.  Now, in other forums you might find your Miette boxing soap on matters like this, but here, I was genuinely tempted to call this one of the Best Young American Bedtime Story Podcasts, but instead, replay today's weather ...

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Love in the Winter

Given that Tonight's Story invokes the Mann Act, and given that the Mann Act is bar-none the best Congressional Act of 1910 (and I dare you to find a better one. I mean, Chuck Berry was charged with violating the Mann Act. Frank Lloyd Wright too.)

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One’s Ship

The news today tells us that a respected literary journal (not to be named here) has just released a list of names they consider to be The Best Young American Novelists, and among them, a full third of these names have not yet had a novel published. And that's kind of odd.

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The Hour of Letdown

What we’ve got going on here, for those assiduous enough to parse their eyes over these words (and I suspect that I’m not speaking about many of you, that most of you just download the listening bits, which is quite all right) — but for those of you reading, I thought I’d thank you with [...]

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Tobermory

At times, this little podcast of ours is thought of not unlike a nice helping of ice milk-- not bad for you, tasty even, in the right circumstances, but of questionable nutritional value. Not harmful, necessarily, but nothing that might be considered Useful For You. At then sometimes, someone will say otherwise, and that's not bad, usefulness.

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Saki: Tobermory

At times, this little podcast of ours is thought of not unlike a nice helping of ice milk-- not bad for you, tasty even, in the right circumstances, but of questionable nutritional value. Not harmful, necessarily, but nothing that might be considered Useful For You. At then sometimes, someone will say otherwise, and that's not bad, usefulness. That said, for the most part, what we have here may or may not be available online, as they are plucked at whimsy from Miette's Own Library, but ...

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Guy Davenport: The Haile Selassie Funeral Train

Okay, so with this one your loyal Miette may be accused once again of the instigation of mind-bleeding ear pops, which is not minded, but in answer to which we may turn to today's author himself for further elucidation:The earliest indication of a mesoblast is manifested by a slight haziness at one single point within the ectoblast, close against its wall.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Guy Davenport: The Haile Selassie Funeral TrainMiette's Low Key Story Podcast: Guy Davenport: The Haile S ...

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Leonard Michaels: The Deal

Listening to this one earlier, I noticed something. A noise, behind the entire story, not unpleasant, entirely, but a nuisance, distracting, and not unfamiliar. And then it hits: The dog, oft noted in these recordings, had used the moments of storytelling to enjoy an early repast. And given the fact that a) the dog lacks lips and b) dog food is crunchy, this provided a good backing track that might have interrupted your listening enjoyment.And so, until now unprecedented in the history ...

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E. B. White: The Hour of Letdown

What we've got going on here, for those assiduous enough to parse their eyes over these words (and I suspect that I'm not speaking about many of you, that most of you just download the listening bits, which is quite all right) -- but for those of you reading, I thought I'd thank you with a nice double feature, off the books, Easter Eggy, as is known in certain dialects of geek, or maybe just Miette the Shrewd rearing her head to test the loyalty of the likes of you. Reading on? Here's the ...

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The Haile Selassie Funeral Train

NOTA BENE This podcast is published with permission of the Guy Davenport estate. To further enjoy the works of Mr. Davenport, please see amazon.com or abebooks.

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The Deal

Listening to this one earlier, I noticed something. A noise, behind the entire story, not unpleasant, entirely, but a nuisance, distracting, and not unfamiliar. And then it hits: The dog, oft noted in these recordings, had used the moments of storytelling to enjoy an early repast. And given the fact that a) the dog lacks lips

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The Westinghouse Brake

Plenty of you (because I'm supposing you're all geniuses) are aware of the arguably unattributable (King Solomon? Buddha? Lincoln? Miette?) aphorism, idiom, and, notably, universally applicable phrase "This Too Shall Pass.

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The Necrophil by

While I suspect that some of you might be nursing a yen for happy wishful and firmly resolved pick-me-up for annus novus, be warned that it's not going to happen with today's story, with which you should prepared. If, on the other hand, you need a story in preparation for dirtying your hands or drinking too much, consider yourself In Luck.

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Felipe Alfau: The Necrophil

While I suspect that some of you might be nursing a yen for happy wishful and firmly resolved pick-me-up for annus novus, be warned that it's not going to happen with today's story, with which you should prepared. If, on the other hand, you need a story in preparation for dirtying your hands or drinking too much, consider yourself In Luck.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Felipe Alfau: The NecrophilMiette's LOWER BAND Story Podcast: Felipe Alfau: The Necrophil -- LOBAND

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Mikhail Zoshchenko: The Westinghouse Brake

Plenty of you (because I'm supposing you're all geniuses) are aware of the arguably unattributable (King Solomon? Buddha? Lincoln? Miette?) aphorism, idiom, and, notably, universally applicable phrase "This Too Shall Pass." Well, it's been an unannounced mission for years to find another cluster of words of universal applicability and universal truth. And today, on a walk, I spotted a shop whose name is:Everything 99 Cents or Less... And Up.And with that, one more of life's little des ...

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Mr. Blue by

To offset or maybe just counterpoise the thin slice of news conveyed in the audio introduction to today's story, which, as has recently been pointed out to this podcastress, might be the most poetic science headline ever:

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Robert Creeley: Mr. Blue

To offset or maybe just counterpoise the thin slice of news conveyed in the audio introduction to today's story, which, as has recently been pointed out to this podcastress, might be the most poetic science headline ever:Moths drink the tears of sleeping birdsWhich is fine, so long as they stay far away from these brackish ducts.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Robert Creeley: Mr. BlueLOW BAND: Robert Creeley: Mr. Blue -- LOBAND

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Charles Willeford: A Letter to A.A. (Almost Anybody)

In the interest of spitting a sluicy cobwebbed thread to tie together the conversations in and around this corner of the infoweb and its earbound counterpart, I wanted to offer up one more chance to allow our space to double as the hotbed of information on the social and biological activities of the Tree Squirrel, and bring some attention to our relationship with tree squirrels. For starters, Charles Willeford, of today's story, frequently set works in Florida, and without being a Florida ...

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A Letter to A.A. (Almost Anybody) by

In the interest of spitting a sluicy cobwebbed thread to tie together the conversations in and around this corner of the infoweb and its earbound counterpart, I wanted to offer up one more chance to allow our space to double as the hotbed of information on the social and biological activities of the Tree Squirrel, and bring some attention to our relationship with tree squirrels.

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Texts for Nothing (VIII) by

Because nothing says Hither Holiday Season like the Kris Kringle of Krabby, and because as you will soon hear, your Miette has learnt that nothing says Hither Holidays like a Headcold, tonight's story speaks for its self.

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Samuel Beckett: Texts for Nothing (VIII)

Because nothing says Hither Holiday Season like the Kris Kringle of Krabby, and because as you will soon hear, your Miette has learnt that nothing says Hither Holidays like a Headcold, tonight's story speaks for its self.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Samuel Beckett: Texts for Nothing (number VIII)Strike up the LOW BAND: Samuel Beckett: Texts for Nothing (number VIII)-- LOBAND

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Except for the Sickness I’m Quite Healthy Now. You Can Believe That. by

Nice title, right? In my efforts to knock your socks to obscurantist skies, I'm willing to offer a dollar to the first listener who can prove he or she already knows of this story (currently in the running (BY THE WAY) for Miette's Top Short Fiction Find of the Decade, and how's that for a reason to listen?). And how to prove this? I don't know.

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Thomas Glynn: Except for the Sickness I'm Quite Healthy Now. You Can Believe That.

Nice title, right? In my efforts to knock your socks to obscurantist skies, I'm willing to offer a dollar to the first listener who can prove he or she already knows of this story (currently in the running (BY THE WAY) for Miette's Top Short Fiction Find of the Decade, and how's that for a reason to listen?). And how to prove this? I don't know. Lie detectors can be beaten. FMRI scans are not inexpensive, and neither are my own telepathic services.I'm willing to offer two dollars, then ...

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The Picnic of Mores the Cat by

Today's is another story by an author of whom I know very little, which I've plucked from a collection of Big Guns German fiction including Thomas Mann's Death in Venice, Kafka's Metamorphosis, Hoffmansthall, Hermann Broch, ad krautium,

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Clemens Brentano: The Picnic of Mores the Cat

Today's is another story by an author of whom I know very little, which I've plucked from a collection of Big Guns German fiction including Thomas Mann's Death in Venice, Kafka's Metamorphosis, Hoffmansthall, Hermann Broch, ad krautium, serious big-league uberplayers, which only deepens the rift in my brow over the fact that I don't know much about Brentano. The biographical paragraph accompanying the story doesn't reveal much, but does inform The Reader that "His was a restless, thorough ...

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My Bludjeon and the Bobbed White by

But would you believe that I spent the last couple of weeks dedicated to trying mightily and hard to uncover the identity of tonight's author before hurling the fruits of these findings to splat on your walls. Maybe I spent the week after mired in self-pity at having failed you... failed YOU, the Internet, whom I adore.

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Carl Krampf: My Bludjeon and the Bobbed White

But would you believe that I spent the last couple of weeks dedicated to trying mightily and hard to uncover the identity of tonight's author before hurling the fruits of these findings to splat on your walls. Maybe I spent the week after mired in self-pity at having failed you... failed YOU, the Internet, whom I adore. Maybe the week after I picked myself up off the floor of despondency was passed by trying, and trying hard because I'd already failed you in so many ways, to make it thro ...

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On a Grand Scale by

So, Ilf and Petrov met while working on a newspaper for railway workers, which is intriguing to me. For starters, where's the podcastresses' newspaper, and why have I not been invited to participate? My life's literary collaborator could be waiting there, slinging the pen on the audio-coding equivalent to pieces on socialism and coal hauling,

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Ilf and Petrov: On a Grand Scale

So, Ilf and Petrov met while working on a newspaper for railway workers, which is intriguing to me. For starters, where's the podcastresses' newspaper, and why have I not been invited to participate? My life's literary collaborator could be waiting there, slinging ink on the audio coding equivalent to pieces on socialism and coal hauling, and if he or she is really someone destined to be -my- collaborator, well, patience is surely running out. Maybe it's just that I'm pretty sure I'd fe ...

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Talpa by

Another Listener has asked whether I might be kind enough to share a few words about my reading process for aspiring podcasters and podcastresses. I am, of course, always glad to share secrets, although in this case I don't think there's anything illuminating about it. In typical sarcastresse fashion, I could just say that it's a matter of opening a book and opening a mouth.

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The Scarlet Ibis (Unabridged) by

I know the great controvery of the Scarlet Ibis has bothered you, and I confess to great shame at using this controversy to draw attention away from the various corporate scandals, celebrity affairs, and political horrors that are sucking the steam off the almost pervasive media coverage known to some as HurstGate.

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The Scarlet Ibis by

A Listener (you know who you are) wrote to me recently requesting that I laugh hysterically for fifteen minutes into my microphone and post this as a short story for you. Now, while I agree that this would be a particularly amusing johncagey experiment, I have not, unfortunately, seen hyenaic laughter transcribed this way, [...]

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James Hurst: The Scarlet Ibis

A Listener (you know who you are) wrote to me recently requesting that I laugh hysterically for fifteen minutes into my microphone and post this as a short story for you. Now, while I agree that this would be a particularly amusing johncagey experiment, I have not, unfortunately, seen hyenaic laughter transcribed this way, and have no idea what it might look like on the page. As always, if you can send the story, though, I'll see what I can do. Thankfully, Denise (you also know who yo ...

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The Joke by

Does the title of today's story affect you in such a way that the person nearest you is now asking what you're sighing about? Or maybe you rolled your eyes so far to the side that you now have a stress headache and need to refocus before reading the rest of this blurb? (If so, please, take a moment.

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Paul Goodman: The Joke

Does the title of today's story affect you in such a way that the person nearest you is now asking what you're sighing about? Or maybe you rolled your eyes so far to the side that you now have a stress headache and need to refocus before reading the rest of this blurb? (If so, please, take a moment. The next few words aren't -that- important, and I won't be accountable for repeated stress injuries. I just won't.) Because it had that effect on me, typing it just now. I mean, there's Ku ...

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Juan Rulfo: Talpa

Another Listener has asked whether I might be kind enough to share a few words about my reading process for aspiring podcasters and podcastresses.  I am, of course, always glad to share secrets, although in this case I don't think there's anything illuminating about it.  In typical sarcastresse fashion, I could just say that it's a matter of opening a book and opening a mouth.  Or, if I were giving a master class on the subject, I might conceive of ways in which you might make love to your ...

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Señor Payroll by

There is a bottling facility close to where I live, and while "bottling facility" might look like elusive high-security stuff to the random passerby, between you and I, it's best described as a warehouse for bottled beers.

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William E. Barrett: Senor Payroll

There is a bottling facility close to where I live, and while "bottling facility" might look like elusive high-security stuff to the random passerby, between you and I, it's best described as a warehouse for bottled beers. This morning, while walking my dog past the top-secret bottling facility, a man driving a forklift full of cases of red stripe beer had evidently just taken a too-sharp turn, or landed in a pothole, or had been drinking too much of his cargo, because his forklift was ...

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The Conjurer Made Off with the Dish by

If this podcast was Miette's Themetime Story Podcast, the theme of today's story might be 'coming-of-age,' or it might be 'how to make beans in Egypt,' or maybe it's 'reverence,' or perhaps it might be nothing more than 'how to charm the socks right off of both feet of Miette.' Outstanding questions, answers, and requests to come, but this first for evident reasons.

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Fard by

Because I am a good, supportive, helpful sort, I took a friend recently to purchase a new pair of running trainers. Which isn't a very exciting way to begin a pre-podcastal anecdote, but don't go away yet! You see, it wasn't at all what I'd come to expect from my Friendly Local Sneaker Salesperson. No!

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Aldous Huxley: Fard

Because I am a good, supportive, helpful sort, I took a friend recently to purchase a new pair of running trainers. Which isn't a very exciting way to begin a pre-podcastal anecdote, but don't go away yet! You see, it wasn't at all what I'd come to expect from my Friendly Local Sneaker Salesperson. No! My friend was placed on the pedestal of a treadmill and told to run, a treadmill attached to video camera equipment and analytics software and a multi-screen view of his feet in action, ...

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The Dark Lantern by

As you know, there's not much room on these pages for political soapboxing, both because there are already plenty of internet playgrounds for that sort of thing, and because I'd rather freestyle on such endlessly gripping topics as the weather or this podcast's sound quality. However. I have an opinion that must be voiced.

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Julse Renard: The Dark Lantern

As you know, there's not much room on these pages for political soapboxing, both because there are already plenty of internet playgrounds for that sort of thing, and because I'd rather freestyle on such endlessly gripping topics as the weather or this podcast's sound quality. However. I have an opinion that must be voiced. You know the centenarian who sits in the corner of your office, who doesn't do much, but who's generally innocuous, whose very presence is as critical to your environ ...

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Sophistication by

Today's bedtime story has been requested by Patrick (as for the O'Connor, I will do, yes, but for now, have you heard this one?), and I looked all over town but couldn't find a more appropriate selection for today, so you should all join me now in thanking him.

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Sherwood Anderson: Sophistication

Today's bedtime story has been requested by Patrick (as for the O'Connor, I will do, yes, but for now, have you heard this one?), and I looked all over town but couldn't find a more appropriate selection for today, so you should all join me now in thanking him. Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Sherwood Anderson: Sophistication Lower-band, for the young and restless: Sherwood Anderson: Sophistication --- LOBAND

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The Five Boons of Life by

My friends and compeers and heroes at Librivox are celebrating their first birthday right now, and so I felt it necessary to add my kudos to their basic first-year achivements:

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Mark Twain: The Five Boons of Life

My friends and compeers and heroes at Librivox are celebrating their first birthday right now, and so I felt it necessary to add my kudos to their basic first-year achivements:-- cutting teeth on Conrad and Dostoevsky-- picking up the necessities of verbal communication with Wilde and Wodehouse-- and now, sleeping in Big Kids Bed and breaking themselves from thumbsucking thanks to Descartes and Machiavelli.Really, they do what I do here, only without so much swearing, and with a little more ...

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How the Devil Lost His Poncho by

A question too often asked of me: how is a specific story or specific author on a specific day selected? Rather than answer the question directly (because what's the use of renting one's own outdoor space if not to desultorily blather around or plant cobwebbish morning glories around it?), I thought I would instead give you insight into the metrics, processes, and rationale behind today's selection. Steel yourselves:

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Ricardo Palma: How the Devil Lost His Poncho

A question too often asked of me: how is a specific story or specific author on a specific day selected? Rather than answer the question directly (because what's the use of renting one's own outdoor space if not to desultorily blather around or plant cobwebbish morning glories around it?), I thought I would instead give you insight into the metrics, processes, and rationale behind today's selection. Steel yourselves: I had been thinking about Peru. For no other reason than thinking a ...

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The Riddle by

The plot of tonight's story involves a gaggle of young children who go to stay with their frail old grandmother, and who, more or less, are swallowed up by a house that I imagine to be uniformly mothballish and denture-gluey in nature. And I'm disclosing this to you now not so that I might spoil it for you (because I'm sure you're all remarkably brilliant listeners who are after more than rote high-concept plot anyhow), BUT!

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Walter De La Mare: The Riddle

The plot of tonight's story involves a gaggle of young children who go to stay with their frail old grandmother, and who, more or less, are swallowed up by a house that I imagine to be uniformly mothballish and denture-gluey in nature. And I'm disclosing this to you now not so that I might spoil it for you (because I'm sure you're all remarkably brilliant listeners who are after more than rote high-concept plot anyhow), BUT! If anyone has any advice on how to return the hairs on my neck ...

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XXII by

For your bonus bedtime track this week, I've decided to double up on (I suppose?) relative abstrusity, author-wise. But this time, I'm in the fortunate position of already knowing and loving and potentially endlessly blathering about today's subject, to prevent us all from hitting the high mile dudgeons ove

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Nathalie Sarraute: XXII

For your bonus bedtime track this week, I've decided to double up on (I suppose?) relative abstrusity, author-wise. But this time, I'm in the fortunate position of already knowing and loving and potentially endlessly blathering about today's subject, to prevent us all from hitting the high mile dudgeons over these recently mentioned desultory obsessions. And so, Nathalie Sarraute, and yes, she was stunning! Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Nathalie Sarraute: XXII LOWBAND Bedtime Story ...

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The Lottery Ticket by

Is there anybody out there who has a cure for acute compulsion? The thought had entered my mind that I had very little knowledge of tonight's author, and that, further, I was quite curious to know what he looked like. And, given the tendency toward googlification of the nubs of my fingers, this curiosity was one that I felt compelled to satisfy.

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Ventura Garcia Calderon: The Lottery Ticket

Is there anybody out there who has a cure for acute compulsion? The thought had entered my mind that I had very little knowledge of tonight's author, and that, further, I was quite curious to know what he looked like. And, given the tendency toward googlification of the nubs of my fingers, this curiosity was one that I felt compelled to satisfy. But it wasn't easy! There's surprisingly little to be found, even less in English, which meant there was even more legwork involved on this ...

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Do Stay, Giraffe by

Okay, adventure seekers, listen up! For reasons that need not be enumerated here, I should warn you that tonight's story was recorded in a hushed whisper, late at night, and I didn't dare play it back to sample the condign commission of my own bedtime story. In other words, it was read quietly and is being posted blindly.

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Wolfgang Borchert:Do Stay, Giraffe

Okay, adventure seekers, listen up! For reasons that need not be enumerated here, I should warn you that tonight's story was recorded in a hushed whisper, late at night, and I didn't dare play it back to sample the condign commission of my own bedtime story. In other words, it was read quietly and is being posted blindly. I want you to know, in short, that what you are about to hear I have not heard. Which means that you (and I mean every last one of you) are basically the first pers ...

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His Mother by

In general, I don't like to use these few pre-sound-bytes of Web page space to be topical for reasons that I hope are obvious (I'm not here to depress you), but I can't help but make note of the talking chimps who've gabbed their way back to the news. Now, there are plenty of questions here for an autodidactic but still dilettantish (honestly pedestrian) linguist who moonlights as podcastresse--

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Mavis Gallant:His Mother

In general, I don't like to use these few pre-sound-bytes of Web page space to be topical for reasons that I hope are obvious (I'm not here to depress you), but I can't help but make note of the talking chimps who've gabbed their way back to the news. Now, there are plenty of questions here for an autodidactic but still dilettantish (honestly pedestrian) linguist who moonlights as podcastresse-- questions such as whether their form of expression can be considered "language," whether we' ...

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The Lord Chandos Letter by

Allow me now to guide you most gently out of the first week of July: those of you in America, lie on your side and listen quietly, finding pause only to burp out the last taste of your hotdogmatic overindulgences. Just focus on the voice -- the beer is two days old and will make its way to the outer side of your pores eventually, I promise -- and let me repeat -- you are NOT going to always feel this way.

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Hugo von Hofmannsthal: The Lord Chandos Letter

Allow me now to guide you most gently out of the first week of July: those of you in America, lie on your side and listen quietly, finding pause only to burp out the last taste of your hotdogmatic overindulgences. Just focus on the voice -- the beer is two days old and will make its way to the outer side of your pores eventually, I promise -- and let me repeat -- you are NOT going to always feel this way. And the ringing in your ears? It can't possibly last much longer. And you really ...

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The Life You Save May Be Your Own by

WhoAm asks whether Flannery O'Connor can be expected soon. Now, I'd thought of saving O'Connor for a while, for obvious (or perhaps not-so-much-so) reasons: the desire to wait until my face gets older and wrinkles become a more permanent part of its own social fabric, or maybe I've wanted to save her for the debut of the sequel to Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast.

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Flannery O'Connor: The Life You Save May Be Your Own

WhoAm asks whether Flannery O'Connor can be expected soon. Now, I'd thought of saving O'Connor for a while, for obvious (or perhaps not-so-much-so) reasons: the desire to wait until my face gets older and wrinkles become a more permanent part of its own social fabric, or maybe I've wanted to save her for the debut of the sequel to Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast. But it has been asked, and as you well know, I'm either more than happy to comply with requests, or a peerless sucker. Go a ...

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Mr. Andrews by

A Warning: it's that time of year where, given the current coordinates of yrs (truly!), you may be exposed to endless nattering about heat exhaust and revelation of podcasts recorded in ice-cubey bathtubs and a relentless boycott of any outergarment. And I hope you will consider this a proper warning because I will, as desperation sets in, become especially doting to those of you in Nordic states, at the poles, or even in climate controlled golf carts (solar-powered of course), I might b ...

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E.M. Forster: Mr. Andrews

A Warning: it's that time of year where, given the current coordinates of yrs (truly!), you may be exposed to endless nattering about heat exhaust and revelation of podcasts recorded in ice-cubey bathtubs and a relentless boycott of any outergarment. And I hope you will consider this a proper warning because I will, as desperation sets in, become especially doting to those of you in Nordic states, at the poles, or even in climate controlled golf carts (solar-powered of course), I might ...

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The Sisters by

When we compare tonight's with last year's Bloomsday podcast, just t' pose a friendly comparison, we see an almost incredible improvement in sound quality, due either to a highly paid audio engineer or a reluctant purchase of a piece of equipment.

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James Joyce: The Sisters

When we compare tonight's with last year's Bloomsday podcast, just t' pose a friendly comparison, we see an almost incredible improvement in sound quality, due either to a highly paid audio engineer or a reluctant purchase of a piece of equipment. At this rate, I can't help but think that next year's podcast will be accompanied with super-surround-sound and Smellavision. So a girl can dream, anyhow. Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: James Joyce: The Sisters And the lowdown on the low-ban ...

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Absent-Mindedness in a Parish Choir by

Have waited nearly a year to read Hardy on his birthday, because I strongly suspect that Hardy’s just the sort of guy who should be birthdayishly feted, and in neither in an ironic nor a pointy-paper-hat way. I missed his birthday, as it happens, but not by long… and actually, missing it seems appropriately [...]

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Thomas Hardy: Absent-Mindedness in a Parish Choir

Have waited nearly a year to read Hardy on his birthday, because I strongly suspect that Hardy's just the sort of guy who should be birthdayishly feted, and in neither in an ironic nor a pointy-paper-hat way. I missed his birthday, as it happens, but not by long... and actually, missing it seems appropriately Hardyish as well. Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Thomas Hardy: Absent-Mindedness in a Parish Choir And once again, for the pokier of modems: Thomas Hardy: Absent-Mindedness in a P ...

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Rain by

Yes, I've missed you too and thanks for the well wishes, and yes, you're right: it would have been RAD to podcast from a women's prison passing the mic around my circle of hardened women criminals and reading while taking turns with the tattoo needle. Maybe next time.

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Merce Rodoreda: Rain

Yes, I've missed you too and thanks for the well wishes, and yes, you're right: it would have been RAD to podcast from a women's prison passing the mic around my circle of hardened women criminals and reading while taking turns with the tattoo needle. Maybe next time. But of course I have a few thousand worthy travel stories to share with you, and I can't stop wondering whether I'd have access to podcasting equipment from inside the walls of a women's prison, and if not, who might help m ...

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The Shepherd’s Daughter by

Perhaps you might use Miette's short sabbatical to catch up on some of the classics that you might have missed the first time around.

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William Saroyan: The Shepherd's Daughter

Perhaps you might use Miette's short sabbatical to catch up on some of the classics that you might have missed the first time around. Or, maybe this will hold you over? You'll hear from me soon... Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: William Saroyan: The Shepherd's Daughter LOWBAND: William Saroyan: The Shepherd's Daughter -- LOBAND

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The Pearl of Toledo by

True to form here's a nice short one to balance out the more time-demanding Gogol from last time. And let me add that just because it's short doesn't mean it's not gruesome, contentious, vitriolic, or even a little caustic, because when lagged by the potentate of a jet, that's all you want waiting for you at home:

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Prosper Merimee: The Pearl of Toledo

True to form here's a nice short one to balance out the more time-demanding Gogol from last time. And let me add that just because it's short doesn't mean it's not gruesome, contentious, vitriolic, or even a little caustic, because when lagged by the potentate of a jet, that's all you want waiting for you at home: a short and snarling gallic fable- how's that for a cold water splash to the face? Here you go!Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Prosper Merimee: The Pearl of ToledoLOBAND Podcast ...

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The Diary of a Madman by

Ahh, so you've noticed that I still hadn't read any Gogol, despite a-hundred-some readings including enough of a Russian contingency to keep a stronghold on the world weight-lifting championships for the next few centuries, and despite a story by an Italian all about Gogol, in its own peculiar way.

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Nikolai Gogol: The Diary of a Madman

Ahh, so you've noticed that I still hadn't read any Gogol, despite a-hundred-some readings including enough of a Russian contingency to keep a stronghold on the world weight-lifting championships for the next few centuries, and despite a story by an Italian all about Gogol, in its own peculiar way. The truth is, I haven't yet read Gogol for only one reason, though it's a valid one: I fear if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. Gogol is that close to the cuffs. And much as I love him ...

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Prizes by

I'm going to keep this one short, because you really ought to be phoning your mothers right about now. And tidying your rooms. And standing up straight. And not talking with your mouths full. And not wasting your money on chewing gum and nosejobs. And not making that face, unless you want it to get stuck that way.

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Janet Frame: Prizes

I'm going to keep this one short, because you really ought to be phoning your mothers right about now.  And tidying your rooms.  And standing up straight.  And not talking with your mouths full.  And not wasting your money on chewing gum and nosejobs.  And not making that face, unless you want it to get stuck that way.  So go and give her a ring, unless your face is stuck that way and your mouth is full, in which case, send her an ostentatious blinky e-card and call it a day. But!  There ...

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The Lost Soul by

Do you know about Ben Hecht? I only ask because a lot of people don't, and because as a responsible Purveyor of Fine Information I ought to clue you in, and in the interest of living up to such, I should tell you that Ben Hecht was best known to many as a screenwriter, that the same mind is to be held accountable (in some ways) for Hitchcock's Notorious, His Girl Friday, Gone with the Wind, and Scarface, although largely in an uncredited stop-the-presses-who-can-fix-this capacity.

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Ben Hecht: The Lost Soul

Do you know about Ben Hecht? I only ask because a lot of people don't, and because as a responsible Purveyor of Fine Information I ought to clue you in, and in the interest of living up to such, I should tell you that Ben Hecht was best known to many as a screenwriter, that the same mind is to be held accountable (in some ways) for Hitchcock's Notorious, His Girl Friday, Gone with the Wind, and Scarface, although largely in an uncredited stop-the-presses-who-can-fix-this capacity.[And yes, ...

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Jewellery by

Maybe I'm obsessing a little over the idea of tissue cultures, but I can't help it - it's my personality. But tissue culture and bedtime stories, of course! It takes me back to when I first discovered I could put the -expensive- mustard on my tofupups: prior to the discovery, it seems inconceivable, then suddenly nothing short of self-evident.

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Gogol’s Wife by

There might be times when you're reading the newspaper and you sit up straight and say to yourself something exuberantly monologic, such as "HOLD THE PHONE, this is ACTUAL news, I need to remember where I was when I read this, which is RIGHT HERE" and then you take a mental inventory and make sure that twenty or thirty years from now, you'll remember?

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Tommaso Landolfi: Gogol's Wife

There might be times when you're reading the newspaper and you sit up straight and say to yourself something exuberantly monologic, such as "HOLD THE PHONE, this is ACTUAL news, I need to remember where I was when I read this, which is RIGHT HERE" and then you take a mental inventory and make sure that twenty or thirty years from now, you'll remember? Or, say, you'll be at the cinema, and these days if you're at the cinema you'll be watching a television commercial before the film, and th ...

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An Attempt at Reform by

We all have those odd things that happen to us more often than we might owe to nature or coincidence. Some people find themselves on their fourth marriage to a fourth guy named Mario*; it happens. For me, that thing is the ceilings. In my apartments. That seem to have a difficult time staying above my head.

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August Strindberg: An Attempt at Reform

We all have those odd things that happen to us more often than we might owe to nature or coincidence. Some people find themselves on their fourth marriage to a fourth guy named Mario*; it happens. For me, that thing is the ceilings. In my apartments. That seem to have a difficult time staying above my head. I've gone through three in less than two years-- three times the sky has fallen (and this is not in the same place! We're talking about different ceilings in different buildings!. ...

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How Light Belief Bringeth Damage by

A fable! About thieves and liars and moonlit wishes, fair ladies, conjurations and broken bones. Not your mother's fable-- no talking animals here. (This, a short entry for the same reason as short fable, which I'd post invisibly if you could read my mind, or at least my file structure, and know where to find it. I'm supposed to be in bed!)

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Bidpai: How Light Bringeth Damage

A fable! About thieves and liars and moonlit wishes, fair ladies, conjurations and broken bones. Not your mother's fable-- no talking animals here. (This, a short entry for the same reason as short fable, which I'd post invisibly if you all could read my mind, or at least my file structure, and know where to find it. I'm supposed to be in bed!) Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Bidpai: How Light Bringeth Damage Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Bidpai: How Light Bringeth Damage -- LO ...

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Slipping Beauty by

I know that I should be wishing some of you happy Passover, others happy Easter, others the goodliest of Fridays. But more importantly, more important than sweet Haroseth and pastel eggs and chocolate covered matzoh shaped as salty rabbits, let us not forget today's holiday, the one hundredth anniversary of Samuel Beckett's birth, which is deserving of thrice-leavened gilded eggshells.

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Jerome Weidman:Slipping Beauty

I know that I should be wishing some of you happy Passover, others happy Easter, others the goodliest of Fridays. But more importantly, more important than sweet Haroseth and pastel eggs and chocolate covered matzoh shaped as salty rabbits, let us not forget today's holiday, the one hundredth anniversary of Samuel Beckett's birth, which is deserving of thrice-leavened gilded eggshells. The obvious question: "why I'm not podcasting Beckett today, if it's so damned important to you?" Th ...

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The Boy Who Drew Cats by

I packaged up, compressed, and uploaded today's episode before discovering that I had inadvertently mentioned the brand name of a popular consumer product in the few introductory seconds before the story starts, so I thought it might be wise for me to insert a little disclaimer, for the sake of my legal hide. Here goes:

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Lafcadio Hearn: The Boy Who Drew Cats

I packaged up, compressed, and uploaded today's episode before discovering that I had inadvertently mentioned the brand name of a popular consumer product in the few introductory seconds before the story starts, so I thought it might be wise for me to insert a little disclaimer, for the sake of my legal hide. Here goes: Please let it be known that what you have heard (or will be hearing) is not the consequence of product placement-- after all, I don't think a company would pay me to say ...

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Alberto Moravia: Jewellery

Maybe I'm obsessing a little over the idea of tissue cultures, but I can't help it - it's my personality. But tissue culture and bedtime stories, of course! It takes me back to when I first discovered I could put the -expensive- mustard on my tofupups: prior to the discovery, it seems inconceivable, then suddenly nothing short of self-evident. And I'm being serious-- how great that tissues are being cultured while being... cultured (I know. Please somebody, send me the Idiot's Guide to ...

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The Yellow Wallpaper by

From over here, Evie says: I would like to recommend "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. It has to be my favorite short story... no matter how many times I read it it still gives me the chills!

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Charlotte Perkins Gilman: The Yellow Wallpaper

From over here, Edie says: I would like to recommend "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. It has to be my favorite short story... no matter how many times I read it it still gives me the chills! To which Miette replies: your wish, my command, and about those chills, have you ever tried to read it aloud? It's utterly skin-crawling. Of course, I've already read the Virginia Woolf story with a similar (though not -quite- as resplendent with crawling-skin heebies) narrativ ...

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He Swung and He Missed by

When you listen today, I will disclaim now, you will hear a boxing story. Not to be confused with the Clint Eastwood boxing story, or the other girlie fight boxing story, or the what's-his-brutish-name-from-New-Zealand-with-the-attitude, not that one either.

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Nelson Algren: He Swung and He Missed

When you listen today, I will disclaim now, you will hear a boxing story. Not to be confused with the Clint Eastwood boxing story, or the other girlie fight boxing story, or the what's-his-brutish-name-from-New-Zealand-with-the-attitude, not that one either. But when reading this boxing story (which again, is NOT one of those mentioned), I couldn't help but feel incredibly provoked by it -- which is possibly one reason these boxing stories are so compelling.Basically, my dear friends, I w ...

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The Ghosts by

Don’t say I didn’t warn you about today’s story, because admittedly, I didn’t warn you yet, but I’m about to: it’s a scary one. Frightful! It might cause you to go to sleep with all the lights on, and even then, you might suffer nightmares. You might find yourself short of breath, [...]

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Lord Dunsany: The Ghosts

Don't say I didn't warn you about today's story, because admittedly, I didn't warn you yet, but I'm about to: it's a scary one. Frightful! It might cause you to go to sleep with all the lights on, and even then, you might suffer nightmares. You might find yourself short of breath, or you might get jumpy when a rat rustles a garbage can while you're walking the dog in the middle of the night. In fact, you know the warning signs on roller coasters? Same rules apply here-- you shouldn' ...

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The Chaser by

I have to tell you about a brilliant little moment that happened today. I was on a train, at an hour in which far too many people take the train, leaving us all sardinically resentful of one another's smells, oversized totebags, and inter-seasonal viruses. This was, or would have been, evidenced by an isolated high-pitched sneeze from the far end of the car, -except- that from the far side of the other end, someone yelled out a brazen "bless you!"

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John Collier: The Chaser

I have to tell you about a brilliant little moment that happened today. I was on a train, at an hour in which far too many people take the train, leaving us all sardinically resentful of one another's smells, oversized totebags, and inter-seasonal viruses. This was, or would have been, evidenced by an isolated high-pitched sneeze from the far end of the car, -except- that from the far side of the other end, someone yelled out a brazen "bless you!" And maybe because it was Friday, or may ...

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Zelig by

I beg and implore you, dear listener: don’t be misled by the title of today’s podcast. Today’s story features neither the lovely Ms Farrow in her prime –nor- jokes about Hasidim, dental extractions, or polygamy. However, if you can recommend a story about any or all of these subjects, a cookie and a song for you.

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Benjamin Rosenblatt: Zelig

I beg and implore you, dear listener: don’t be misled by the title of today’s podcast. Today’s story features neither the lovely Ms Farrow in her prime –nor- jokes about Hasidim, dental extractions, or polygamy. However, if you can recommend a story about any or all of these subjects, a cookie and a song for you. In other news, I was out on a walk earlier and saw an old church with the sign flaking and the letters peeling. The sign in the front reads “Aptist Church,” and I'm quite curious. ...

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Charles by

In the plot of today's story, you will find mentioned a real-world conversational device that I can't help but love, in a guiltily pleasuristic sort of way. I'm not sure what to call it, though I'm sure the modern linguists have had their way with it.

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Shirley Jackson: Charles

In the plot of today's story, you will find mentioned a real-world conversational device that I can't help but love, in a guiltily pleasuristic sort of way. I'm not sure what to call it, though I'm sure the modern linguists have had their way with it. It's like an eponymous spoonerism, but maybe a little light on the spoony bits. Specifically, in the story, the title character is an obnoxious, bratty, trouble-making, foot-stamping boar of a kid, and so, to the other characters, "makin ...

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Camera Obscura by

I've just spent the past hour editing down today's podcast while witnessing the almost compulsive bathing, brushing, trimming, grooming, and otherwise torturing my beast by someone who claims to enjoy this sort of thing.

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Angelica Gorodischer: Camera Obscura

I've just spent the past hour editing down today's podcast while witnessing the almost compulsive bathing, brushing, trimming, grooming, and otherwise torturing my beast by someone who claims to enjoy this sort of thing. Really, it was a sort of dayspa pampering that I myself have never experienced. And, as a rule, the beasts who share my environs also share my lifestyle (more or less; I mean, I pay the rent), which means that, while I throw a bucket of water on the beast every once in a ...

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I’m Your Horse in the Night by

Ow. It hurts to type this right now, and I'm not talking about the endless afflictions of emotional pain. This is not something I'm especially proud of, no way, but to be entirely honest with you, because I like you: a little too much had been drunk last night (and I'm not talking about water), by me.

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Luisa Valenzuela: I'm Your Horse in the Night

Ow. It hurts to type this right now, and I'm not talking about the endless afflictions of emotional pain. This is not something I'm especially proud of, no way, but to be entirely honest with you, because I like you: a little too much had been drunk last night (and I'm not talking about water), by me. But again: this isn't to be taken boastfully -- quite the opposite, in fact: consider yourselves warned, and let you never follow in these plodding footsteps. This got me thinking: someo ...

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It Had To Be Murder (part 2) by

Yes, I have mighty big arms to give myself such a massive self-congratulatory bearhug, but, you know, I'm entitled, it's my special day. And so, here are a couple of things I am considering for my next one hundred podcasts: -- podcast in Estonian -- serialise a novel (eh, a short one)

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It Had To Be Murder (part 1) by

I began scheming for the one hundredth podcast several weeks ago, thinking that I'd gather all the voices that were most important to me, personally and podcastionally, share the wealth and spread the love, and, let's be honest, go soak on a beach in a land where all the drinks are pink, while all my friends hang out in the trenches of pops and hisses.

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Cornell Woolrich: It Had To Be Murder (Part 2 of 2)

Yes, I have mighty big arms to give myself such a massive self-congratulatory bearhug, but, you know, I'm entitled, it's my special day. And so, here are a couple of things I am considering for my next one hundred podcasts:-- podcast in Estonian-- serialise a novel (eh, a short one)-- go back to a very low-tech setup, maybe not using a microphone at all, maybe just screaming and telling you all to lean your heads out your windows at the same time.-- on-screen accompaniment of the text-- se ...

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Cornell Woolrich: It Had To Be Murder (Part 1 of 2)

I began scheming for the one hundredth podcast several weeks ago, thinking that I'd gather all the voices that were most important to me, personally and podcastionally, share the wealth and spread the love, and, let's be honest, go soak on a beach in a land where all the drinks are pink, while all my friends hang out in the trenches of pops and hisses.But what I got back from my various requests, at all sorts of sound levels and all levels of craziness (at least, auditorily speaking), a ver ...

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The Rain Collector by

Chances are, you're going to listen to today's podcast and think: "That's it?" Or "maybe the audio file got cut off... I'm missing half the story!" Or "Miette's such a lazy snot to pick such a short story." But the truth is: I am lazy, it's true, but that's never stopped me in the past from reading much longer pieces, you know this! However, the next one, the very special one, is going to be among the longest ever podcasted, and I wanted to make sure you were ready and well-rested for it ...

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K. Ungeheuer: The Rain Collector

Chances are, you're going to listen to today's podcast and think: "That's it?" Or "maybe the audio file got cut off... I'm missing half the story!" Or "Miette's such a lazy snot to pick such a short story." But the truth is: I am lazy, it's true, but that's never stopped me in the past from reading much longer pieces, you know this! However, the next one, the very special one, is going to be among the longest ever podcasted, and I wanted to make sure you were ready and well-rested for i ...

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Why I Transformed Myself Into a Nightingale by

There's this new higher-than-hightech device that's now mine, intended to make my podcasts sound better for you, and while I'm not sure of its success rate at doing so, I do know that it's got every kind of tech-sounding hypermegaphonics that should make it crisper than a blade of grass blowing in the wind in Surround Sound (do you know they really make those noises using cabbages!

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Wolfgang Hildesheimer: Why I Transformed Myself Into a Nightingale

There's this new higher-than-hightech device that's now mine, intended to make my podcasts sound better for you, and while I'm not sure of its success rate at doing so, I do know that it's got every kind of tech-sounding hypermegaphonics that should make it crisper than a blade of grass blowing in the wind in Surround Sound (do you know they really make those noises using cabbages! It's the Magic of Hollywood!) But okay: it's got all this great stuff, my new headphone recording device, ...

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A Wedding Dress by

So sport seems to be in the air these days. There's something going on tonight involving hundreds of pounds of helmets and costumery, complete with grandiose spectacle and and pretend warriors, and I'm told this has nothing to do with Wagner. We'll see. And the Internet tells me the Olympics are coming up soon, though I thought we just finished with one of them? And let us not forget a tiny little event called the World Cup...

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Morley Callaghan: A Wedding Dress

So sport seems to be in the air these days. There's something going on tonight involving hundreds of pounds of helmets and costumery, complete with grandiose spectacle and and pretend warriors, and I'm told this has nothing to do with Wagner. We'll see. And the Internet tells me the Olympics are coming up soon, though I thought we just finished with one of them? And let us not forget a tiny little event called the World Cup... But all this reminded me of Morley Callghan, the Canadian ...

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The Kiss by

There are a few things that leave you so exhilarated, enchanted with simultaneous possession and dispossession, blown away punch-in-the-belly style by battles of bliss and bewilderment. It is these moments, precious listeners, that are boiling the bean this eve. Podcasters and/or storytellers among you might be familiar with the feeling from the discovery of a new story,

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William Sansom: The Kiss

There are a few things that leave you so exhilarated, enchanted with simultaneous possession and dispossession, blown away punch-in-the-belly style by battles of bliss and bewilderment. It is these moments, precious listeners, that are boiling the bean this eve. Podcasters and/or storytellers among you might be familiar with the feeling from the discovery of a new story, or from finding yourselves absolutely ensconced in it while you're reading it, to the point where you forget you're r ...

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An Unimportant Affair by

Don't let the title of tonight's bedtime story deceive you... this is actually an affair of considerable importance. Consider, for example, the success that is XBox. Or the X-Men. Or X-Treme Sports, for that matters. And the importance of X as a roman numeral. Or X as a universal icon of the unknown.

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Lu Xun: An Unimportant Affair

Don't let the title of tonight's bedtime story deceive you... this is actually an affair of considerable importance. Consider, for example, the success that is XBox. Or the X-Men. Or X-Treme Sports, for that matters. And the importance of X as a roman numeral. Or X as a universal icon of the unknown. And if you found the point marked X on a treasure map, well then, it would be a very important affair indeed. Or... what if you were a tad compulsive about certain things, like, oh... I ...

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The Foreigner by

The other day, I dropped off my laundry on my way to work as I do sometimes (because some things you really should leave to the professionals). This was a different laundrette, one that stays open a half hour later, because sometimes I've been unfortunate enough to miss the closing due to a late night at the office,

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Francis Steegmuller: The Foreigner

The other day, I dropped off my laundry on my way to work as I do sometimes (because some things you really should LEAVE TO THE PROFESSIONALS). This was a different laundrette, one that stays open a half hour later, because sometimes I've been unfortunate enough to miss the closing due to a late night at the office, which can be catastrophic, because on the gas tank of clean laundry, I'm almost always WAY below the flashing EMPTY light by the time I can be bothered to haul it in.So, I pick ...

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A Private Possession by

Questions That Have Been Asked, at Varying Levels of Frequency, of Miette and Her Podcast: How did this get started?

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Richard Yates: A Private Possession

Questions That Have Been Asked, at Varying Levels of Frequency, of Miette and Her Podcast: How did this get started? It was supposed to be a joke; I published the first episode in Movable Type without knowing what I was doing, and of course before you know it pings get sent out, trackers get propagated, people start listening, and I can’t stop. Then, because I’m a little compulsive, I became somewhat addicted. Why addicted? Do you love yourself that much? No more so than any other wo ...

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Kong at the Seaside by

A riddle: What could possibly be better than an unexpected new book of short fiction turning up in your mailbox? The answer: When that new book includes short fiction from Zamiatin, Zweig, Zantner, and Zugsmith.

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Arnold Zweig: Kong at the Sea

A riddle: What could possibly be better than an unexpected new book of short fiction turning up in your mailbox? The answer: When that new book includes short fiction from Zamiatin, Zweig, Zantner, and Zugsmith. The explanation: As Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast inches ever-closer to its 100th episode (I can hear your audible gasps!), I look at my index page, to make sure that I'm being somewhat diverse in my selection. Many different styles, from different ages, different castes, ...

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The Bill by

A few blocks down from my apartment is a utility pole, and on that utility pole someone has graffitoed the following in black marker: "Romanse [sic] is the death of enlightenment"

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Bernard Malamud: The Bill

A few blocks down from my apartment is a utility pole, and on that utility pole someone has graffitoed the following in black marker: "Romanse [sic] is the death of enlightenment" And I walk by this utility pole every day, and have made all sorts of teleological, phenomenological, and epistemological assessments of what this might mean. (After all, enlightenment trumps death. And if you've gotten there, you've surpassed the need for romanse [sic]). But tonight, I think I get it! It's ...

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Roses, Rhododendron by

The other day, I broke from my own morning convention and fetched my AM coffee from a coffee chain whose name shall not be uttered on this page. It was quite likely the simplest order the coffee-servicer had fulfilled that day: a no-frills “medium coffee,” with nothing even vaguely representing an “-ino” suffix, [...]

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Alice Adams: Roses, Rhododendron

The other day, I broke from my own morning convention and fetched my AM coffee from a coffee chain whose name shall not be uttered on this page. It was quite likely the simplest order the coffee-servicer had fulfilled that day: a no-frills "medium coffee," with nothing even vaguely representing an "-ino" suffix, no "shot" of anything. And as I strugged at the -- what's it called -- the "fixin's counter?" -- to take a swig and scald my mouth so that I might make room for a dollup of milk, ...

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The Primer of Love by

8 of Miette's 2006 Predictions for the New Year: -- I will really really do all those things I meant to do in 2005, including those things in 2005 I was really really going to do after neglecting in 2004. -- Ditto 2003. -- When thinking of these podcasts, I'll follow at least three of the Dalai Lama's instructions, and be better off for it. (Though that one about silence; I'm doubting I can do much with that one.)

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Ivan Bunin: The Primer of Love

8 of Miette's 2006 Predictions for the New Year: -- I will really really do all those things I meant to do in 2005, including those things in 2005 I was really really going to do after neglecting in 2004. -- Ditto 2003. -- When thinking of these podcasts, I'll follow at least three of the Dalai Lama's instructions, and be better off for it. (Though that one about silence; I'm doubting I can do much with that one.) -- Oh, that one last thing from the 2002 list, I'll do that too. -- Miette ...

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A Poetics for Bullies by

All week I've been in the nether regions, the sticks, the country, the bucolic boonies, the hinterregions of the backwoods, fretting over how much I'd have to read to you upon my return, how many hours I'd have to try my larynx to make it up to you, just how many stories I'd have to penitently tell.

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Stanley Elkin: A Poetics for Bullies

All week I've been in the nether regions, the sticks, the country, the bucolic boonies, the hinterregions of the backwoods, fretting over how much I'd have to read to you upon my return, how many hours I'd have to try my larynx to make it up to you, just how many stories I'd have to penitently tell. I worried whether I'd still be able to read at all, for sources had said that that part of the land is full of heathens, of illiterates, of INGRATES! Fortunately, in fact, the people in that ...

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Which? by

Not necessarily a festive mistletoe-and-chestnut sort of story, thus, but for those in need, want, or glimmering hope of a holiday story, this unpodcasted tale from the vaults should suffice. Happy days, holly and otherwise!

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Arthur Quiller-Couch: Which?

Not necessarily a festive mistletoe-and-chestnut sort of story, thus, but for those in need, want, or glimmering hope of a holiday story, this unpodcasted tale from the vaults should suffice. Happy days, holly and otherwise! Miette's Bedtime Story TaDaCAST: Arthur Quiller-Couch: Which?

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The Vertical Fields by

There's a common Yoruban idiom, "oruko lonro ni," which means, more or less, that your name affects your actions, defines your character, determines your destiny. For instance, if you're named Lady, you're going to end up exceptionally feminine. If your parents were brazen enough to name you Klepto, you might find yourself in a spot of trouble.

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Fielding Dawson: The Vertical Fields

There's a common Yoruban idiom, "oruko lonro ni," which means, more or less, that your name affects your actions, defines your character, determines your destiny. For instance, if you're named Lady, you're going to end up exceptionally feminine. If your parents were brazen enough to name you Klepto, you might find yourself in a spot of trouble. And if your name (or even your nom de guerrotype) is Miette, well, you end up very crumbly. Which is better than crumby, by just about all accou ...

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On an Experience in a Cornfield by

What else is a podcastress to do when a great writer dies? Sheckley wrote hundreds of exceptional stories, hundreds, and though I wouldn't rate this one his best (I See a Man Sitting in a Chair, and the Chair is Biting His Leg rates high on my list, and very few of life's experiences top a first glance at Can You Feel Anything When I Do This? (and I'm only just barely exaggerating)).

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Robert Sheckley: On an Experience in a Cornfield

What else is a podcastress to do when a great writer dies? Sheckley wrote hundreds of exceptional stories, hundreds, and though I wouldn't rate this one his best (I See a Man Sitting in a Chair, and the Chair is Biting His Leg rates high on my list, and very few of life's experiences top a first glance at Can You Feel Anything When I Do This? (and I'm only just barely exaggerating)). But this one, somehow, is appropriate.And let it be known that Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast has a stric ...

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The Beggarwoman of Locarno by

This morning, as with all mornings, I took She Who Must Bark At The Most Inconvenient Times on an early morning walk, which, given the several feet of snow on the ground (read: a few inches), was less an "early morning walk" than a "mighty difficult time staying afoot for the bipedal member of the walking party, as the bipedal-squared one trounced happily and darted into snowbanks and tried her best to cause the amputation of the fingers on my icicly leash-bearing hand."

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Heinrich von Kleist: The Beggarwoman of Locarno

This morning, as with all mornings, I took She Who Must Bark At The Most Inconvenient Times on an early morning walk, which, given the several feet of snow on the ground (read: a few inches), was less an "early morning walk" than a "mighty difficult time staying afoot for the bipedal member of the walking party, as the bipedal-squared one trounced happily and darted into snowbanks and tried her best to cause the amputation of the fingers on my icicly leash-bearing hand." And as I was tryin ...

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Cancer by

I know, I know. It's morning. Nowhere near your bedtime. You listen now and get all confused, expecting a glass of warm milk and sugarplum dreams, only to discover it's ten in the morning and you've got to drag yourself to work. It's just, well, Out Of The Ordinary that I'd be sending a story now. But Boris Vian.

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Boris Vian: Cancer

I know, I know. It's morning. Nowhere near your bedtime. You listen now and get all confused, expecting a glass of warm milk and sugarplum dreams, only to discover it's ten in the morning and you've got to drag yourself to work. It's just, well, Out Of The Ordinary that I'd be sending a story now. But Boris Vian. He's an Out Of The Ordinary sort of guy, and I owe him out-of-the-ordinariness. And if that's a weak argument, I'll just say that it's about time we let our listeners on the ...

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The Starvelings by

I've had a long meeting with myself just now, myself, who has been thinking for months that I ought to read Mann for you. After all, Mann is nothing if not the one empty corner in the squathouse of growing up, and although my romance with Mann ended years ago, I can still smell him at the thought... you know how it is. And so, month after month, I look at his stories, and I Just. Don't. Know.

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Thomas Mann: The Starvelings

I've had a long meeting with myself just now, myself, who has been thinking for months that I ought to read Mann for you. After all, Mann is nothing if not the one empty corner in the squathouse of growing up, and although my romance with Mann ended years ago, I can still smell him at the thought... you know how it is. And so, month after month, I look at his stories, and I Just. Don't. Know. But then I discovered that, ten years ago, give or take a day (give, actually, but who cares?) ...

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Cruise (Letters From a Young Lady of Leisure) by

Darling Listeners Thought Id try an experiment and read something that was obviously designed to be read on the page and not delivered aloud bedtimestorily. But after that bit in Bookforum I'm just so v. curious how all these things sound you see, goodness how sad, and you'll just have to indulge me.

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Evelyn Waugh: Cruise (Letters From a Young Lady of Leisure)

S.S. Dignity of New YorkDarling ListenersThought Id try an experiment and read something that was obviously designed to be read on the page and not delivered aloud bedtimestorily. But after that bit in Bookforum I'm just so v. curious how all these things sound you see, goodness how sad, and you'll just have to indulge me.Not sure if it will work, this one, whether it will come across or not at all but if it doesn't well then that's what the next podcast is for Yes? No? Never bought shawl ...

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The Chrysanthemums by

For years, the only time I've ever been the slightest bit jealous of my carnivorous confreres has been in those moments after a Thanksgiving feast, watching them settle into the tryptofanatical haze of blissful near-slumber. The rest of the year I laud my healthful eating habits, but in those moments while sitting sprightly and alert at attention after the traditional Overindulgence In Side Dishes that defines the plight of non-flesheaters at such feasts,

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John Steinbeck: The Chrysanthemums

For years, the only time I've ever been the slightest bit jealous of my carnivorous confreres has been in those moments after a Thanksgiving feast, watching them settle into the tryptofanatical haze of blissful near-slumber. The rest of the year I laud my healthful eating habits, but in those moments while sitting sprightly and alert at attention after the traditional Overindulgence In Side Dishes that defines the plight of non-flesheaters at such feasts, I wonder why the hell the pharma ...

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The Crack-Up by

If Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast was a CD**, today's would be the secret bonus track hidden at the very end. If this was called Miette's Bedtime Story TV Miniseries, today's would be the Exciting Second Half that you'd be Staying Tuned for, except without the special effects. If it was Miette's Bedtime Story Green Salad, this would be the succulent bite of endive to Friday's sweet pear.

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F. Scott Fitzgerald: The Crack Up

If Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast was a CD**, today's would be the secret bonus track hidden at the very end. If this was called Miette's Bedtime Story TV Miniseries, today's would be the Exciting Second Half that you'd be Staying Tuned for, except without the special effects. If it was Miette's Bedtime Story Green Salad, this would be the succulent bite of endive to Friday's sweet pear.Or, listen, if this was The Two Faces of Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast, this would be the moment just ...

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Jemima, The Mountain Girl by

Okay, someone was a little smartasinine requesting this one, for reasons that most of you will never know, given that this is not one of those soundbiting autobiographic shows and hence most of you don't know that my real name is, in fact, Jemima, and I, too, paid my way through school with whiskey. Curious, that.

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F. Scott Fitzgerald: Jemima, The Mountain Girl

Okay, someone was a little smartasinine requesting this one, for reasons that most of you will never know, given that this is not one of those soundbiting autobiographic shows and hence most of you don't know that my real name is, in fact, Jemima, and I, too, bought my way through school with whiskey. Curious, that.Even though it was a bit of an elbow-ribbing, request-speaking, this one picked up my mood considerably. I couldn't read it without cracking once or thrice -- if you can do bet ...

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The Dilettante by

I dreamt last night that I made a big squash soup for an even bigger party, a party full of people from the past-- people I hadn't seen in years and didn't care about when I did see them. I was nervous; it was a recipe I hadn't tried before and I'd decided after a torturous dreamlike decisionmaking process to add a dash of some sort of smuggled mutant super-habanero sauce to the stuff.

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Edith Wharton: The Dilettante

I dreamt last night that I made a big squash soup for an even bigger party, a party full of people from the past-- people I hadn't seen in years and didn't care about when I did see them. I was nervous; it was a recipe I hadn't tried before and I'd decided after a torturous dreamlike decisionmaking process to add a dash of some sort of smuggled mutant super-habanero sauce to the stuff. It was a pivotal moment in the dream, a Big Risk because of course, I genuinely didn't want to spoil the ...

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Christopher Isherwood: On Reugen Island

If I could read your mind (and how do you know I can't???), after the first few seconds listening to this podcast I'll bet your mind would say something like this: "I know she said she was sick, but a strepped throat doesn't do that to a voice!"And your mind, it wouldn't be wrong in saying that. If I had to guess -- and I'm not a very good guesser, BUT, if I did, I'd imagine you've probably gotten used to my voice by now. Maybe grown to expect it? And if I did convince you that THIS was ...

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Christopher Isherwood: On Reugen Island

If I could read your mind (and how do you know I can't???), after the first few seconds listening to this podcast I'll bet your mind would say something like this: "I know she said she was sick, but a strepped throat doesn't do that to a voice!"And your mind, it wouldn't be wrong in saying that. If I had to guess -- and I'm not a very good guesser, BUT, if I did, I'd imagine you've probably gotten used to my voice by now. Maybe grown to expect it? And if I did convince you that THIS was ...

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On Reugen Island by

If I could read your mind (and how do you know I can't???), after the first few seconds listening to this podcast I'll bet your mind would say something like this: "I know she said she was sick, but a strepped throat doesn't do that to a voice!"

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Wants by

Well, I didn't think I'd pull this off. A particularly invidious houseguest in the form of streptococcal has left my coccyx surprisingly unscatched, but the pharynx, well, I don't recall gargling with rusted staples after my razorblade dinner, but gosh it hurts in there. And so here I sit, throatily challenged to forego my Saturday podcast, but, compulsive as I am, couldn't stand the thought.

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Grace Paley: Wants

Well, I didn't think I'd pull this off. A particularly invidious houseguest in the form of streptococcal has left my coccyx surprisingly unscatched, but the pharynx, well, I don't recall gargling with rusted staples after my razorblade dinner, but gosh it hurts in there. And so here I sit, throatily challenged to forego my Saturday podcast, but, compulsive as I am, couldn't stand the thought. And so, after finding the shortest Miette-worthy pod to cast today, I quickly numbed it up with ...

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The Judgment by

A confession: I've been loath to podcast Kafka, only because I wouldn't know which one would be podcastable, which is to say Kafkaesque enough to be delivered storyhour-style, but not so Kafkaesque as to leave listeners beating themselves with the oars used to row the macabre waters of their own tears. You know, that sort of thing. Don't get me wrong, I love that sort of thing.

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Franz Kafka: The Judgment

A confession: I've been loath to podcast Kafka, only because I wouldn't know which one would be podcastable, which is to say Kafkaesque enough to be delivered storyhour-style, but not so Kafkaesque as to leave listeners beating themselves with the oars used to row the macabre waters of their own tears. You know, that sort of thing. Don't get me wrong, I love that sort of thing. I mean, sometimes I am that sort of thing. But that doesn't mean you should have to be... so you see the prob ...

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An Adventure in the Upper Sea by

Like Miette? Love Jack London? Not getting enough of either today? Don't fear, Librivox is here.

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Jack London: An Adventure in the Upper Sea

Like Miette?Love Jack London?Not getting enough of either today?Don't fear, Librivox is here.(Which is just a plug for the fine goings on there, among which just might be your own Miette, with a few other fine folk, reading the full text of London's Call of the Wild. Should you not get your fix from today's podcast alone, this should do you. Do have a listen... you might even find Miette on other recordings; I guess you'll just have to listen to them all.)Meanwhile...Miette's Bedtime Stor ...

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Axolotl by

Last night, I did something I thought I'd never do. I went dancing. And not seated dive-barstool dancing when your picks come up on the jukebox, or late-night loftparty dancing, but proper dancing, at a Dance Club.

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Julio Cortazar: Axolotl

Last night, I did something I thought I'd never do. I went dancing. And not seated dive-barstool dancing when your picks come up on the jukebox, or late-night loftparty dancing, but proper dancing, at a Dance Club. I've never done anything quite like this, and will likely not again, but in those few hours, catching a glowing mid-bounce smile from a birthday girl while giving up the inhibitions of hips and feet, I felt okay, that this was, in some ways, a comparably healthful social outin ...

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Cruel and Barbarous Treatment by

Okay, for those who found the new audio setup too sophisticated (and I agree, to an extent; this is proudly a lowest-of-the-no fi podcast experience, but everyone needs to be heard, you know), a compromise: I adjusted the sound software, I -think- to pick up more room noise, to let it breathe. Breathing, in podcasts, is important.

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Mary McCarthy: Cruel and Barbarous Treatment

Okay, for those who found the new audio setup too sophisticated (and I agree, to an extent; this is proudly a lowest-of-the-no fi podcast experience, but everyone needs to be heard, you know), a compromise: I adjusted the sound software, I -think- to pick up more room noise, to let it breathe. Breathing, in podcasts, is important.Also, I went and caught a bit of a seasonal headcold, just for this podcast, just so that it might sound more authentic. And because of the natural temperament o ...

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A Tree * A Rock * A Cloud by

Remember the early days, when this was entirely scrappy, when you sometimes heard the dog or the bus passing by or the pins drop (for pins do drop in my house of chaos) more than you heard the reading? Those were the days, eh? Then, a couple of months ago, we upgraded the microphone and suddenly, you heard the voice. Clearer. At that was it, I'd promised myself.

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Carson McCullers: A Tree * A Rock * A Cloud

Remember the early days, when this was entirely scrappy, when you sometimes heard the dog or the bus passing by or the pins drop (for pins do drop in my house of chaos) more than you heard the reading? Those were the days, eh? Then, a couple of months ago, we upgraded the microphone and suddenly, you heard the voice. Clearer. At that was it, I'd promised myself. This Will Not Be A Compulsion.And so today, with this podcast, I introduce Much Better Software, with features that include s ...

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Smoke by

There are times when even the most prepared podcasting events turn to podcatastrophe, when even the most professional podcastress forgets to turn off the phone for a reading, when the most sedulous podcaster leaves pages stuck together entirely underestimates the length of time spent podcasting, when the most meticulous discovers halfway through that the hard drive is filled up with newly downloaded Restoration Comedy with no room for the podcast file, or that Suddenly Traffic Has Taken Off ...

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Djuna Barnes: Smoke

There are times when even the most prepared podcasting events turn to podcatastrophe, when even the most professional podcastress forgets to turn off the phone for a reading, when the most sedulous podcaster leaves pages stuck together entirely underestimates the length of time spent podcasting, when the most meticulous discovers halfway through that the hard drive is filled up with newly downloaded Restoration Comedy with no room for the podcast file, or that Suddenly Traffic Has Taken Off ...

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The Winter Journey (Le Voyage D’Hiver) by

It's been a long week Au Pays De Miette, signified, I suppose, by the fact that we've gone quite a few days without a new podcast. And to complicate things, I've just posted a new one which, like the Fante or the Murdoch or the Dostoevsky, is close to my cuffs.

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Georges Perec: The Winter Journey (Le Voyage D'Hiver)

It's been a long week Au Pays De Miette, signified, I suppose, by the fact that we've gone quite a few days without a new podcast. And to complicate things, I've just posted a new one which, like the Fante or the Murdoch or the Dostoevsky, is close to my cuffs. That is to say (if you're keeping tabs of my most loved writers to build Miette's Book Recommendation Engine (and of course you are!)) that Perec makes my heart skip along to the rhythm of a 9th-grade-drumline, which is to say, th ...

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The Falling Girl by

I wonder if there's anybody who can read into a podcastophone and take dictation of his or her inner monologue simultaneously. I can't, much to my own absolute dismay. If I could, the past half hour would have been written up this way:

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Dino Buzzati: The Falling Girl

I wonder if there's anybody who can read into a podcastophone and take dictation of his or her inner monologue simultaneously. I can't, much to my own absolute dismay. If I could, the past half hour would have been written up this way:Woo! Two fresh short story collections I'd forgotten all about... this'll put the spice back into my podcast. Surely there's got to be something in here, something new for the fine listeners, something to shake it up. Ah, Buzzati, well all right, this'll d ...

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The Woman Who Tried To Be Good by

I dreamt last night that I was a reluctant part of some Truman Showy podcasting reality television show, forced to read literature into one of those cellphone hands-free microphones round-the-clock from a text that was projected onto the insides of my eyelids, with the occasional pauses in my reading at chapter breaks to sip coffee or talk to people or, you know, to breathe and stuff.

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Edna Ferber: The Woman Who Tried to Be Good

I dreamt last night that I was a reluctant part of some Truman Showy podcasting reality television show, forced to read literature into one of those cellphone hands-free microphones round-the-clock from a text that was projected onto the insides of my eyelids, with the occasional pauses in my reading at chapter breaks to sip coffee or talk to people or, you know, to breathe and stuff. I don't remember what I was reading, but I'll bet you appreciated it. At least you better have.Now, I don ...

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Monkey Business by

A secret: Endurance Reading is nothing new for Miette. She's participated in marathon readings of epic Greek poetry, she stays up on Bloomsday and reads along, she reads you

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P.G. Wodehouse: Monkey Business

A secret: Endurance Reading is nothing new for Miette. She's participated in marathon readings of epic Greek poetry, she stays up on Bloomsday and reads along, she reads you

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The Valiant Woman by

On a walk this afternoon, I spotted curbside an abandoned 1972 volume of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, volume 4 (BOTHA TO CARTHAGE!!) which somehow mysteriously made its way from its landfill destiny to my grubby paw and later, to a treasured position on my mantle (or my world's equivalent of a mantle... equally special. Mantleworthy)

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J.F. Powers: A Valiant Woman

On a walk this afternoon, I spotted curbside an abandoned 1972 volume of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, volume 4 (BOTHA TO CARTHAGE!!) which somehow mysteriously made its way from its landfill destiny to my grubby paw and later, to a treasured position on my mantle (or my world's equivalent of a mantle... equally special. Mantleworthy). And because in these podcasts I regrettably don't offer biographical triviata on authors or enumeration on the stories' tropes or anything else considered. ...

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Jack Kerouac: New York Nite Club

Quite possibly the quietest, most listless, bottomless podcast of Kerouac you've ever experienced, this. Possibly? Quite possibly. But not without due charm on its own, and intent at that! For listen: do you hear the passing buses in the background, the motorcycles, the car horns, the screaming pedestrians?No?Neither do I. Wicked, right? Very exciting, indeed. So much so that we don't want to spoil it by raising our voices, right?Miette's Bedtime Story QuietCast: Jack Kerouac: New Yo ...

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New York Nite Club by

Quite possibly the quietest, most listless, bottomless podcast of Kerouac you've ever experienced, this. Possibly? Quite possibly. But not without due charm on its own, and intent at that! For listen: do you hear the passing buses in the background, the motorcycles, the car horns, the screaming pedestrians?

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A Meeting by

Oh boy, oh boy, guess who's excited about tonight's podcast? It's me, Miette-- I'm excited, silly listener. You see, in the insuppressible excitement of putting books in boxes for an upcoming move, I found, surprisingly dust-free and hidden behind a small stack, a volume of Rilke prose!

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Rainer Maria Rilke: A Meeting

Oh boy, oh boy, guess who's excited about tonight's podcast?It's me, Miette-- I'm excited, silly listener. You see, in the insuppressible excitement of putting books in boxes for an upcoming move, I found, surprisingly dust-free and hidden behind a small stack, a volume of Rilke prose! That's right-- this excites me. My move may be delayed, of course, as I had to STOP EVERYTHING and make sure this moment was immediately podcasted. You see how committed I am to you?Miette's Bedtime Story ...

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After the Fair by

MEMORANDUM To: fair listeners From: Miette Re: the random audible aspiration to be heard in this podcast

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Dylan Thomas: After the Fair

MEMORANDUMTo: fair listenersFrom: MietteRe: the random audible aspiration to be heard in this podcastPlease do excuse the random audible aspiration to be heard in this podcast full stop Some stories do excite me so, and sometimes I find myself nearly swallowing the microphone full stop Honest full stop I didn't notice until it was nearly over but perhaps the effect will suit you and the story and reading as well full stopMiette's Bedtime Story SpittleCast: Dylan Thomas: After The Fair

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A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings by

Presenting the first somniloquent entry to this Our Podcast, and if only I were kidding! Regular aural peekers might know Miette as a determined and faithful insomniac, and I wouldn't dare disappoint. Upon waking this morning I found...

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Gabriel Garcia Marquez: A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings

Presenting the first somniloquent entry to this Our Podcast, and if only I were kidding! Regular aural peekers might know Miette as a determined and faithful insomniac, and I wouldn't dare disappoint. Upon waking this morning I found this file on my desktop, with the book on my desk and no recollection at all of having gotten up or read the thing. But here it is, in whatever shape, and so this very sleepy edition is yours alone to enjoy allthesame and as you will...Miette's Bedtime Story Sl ...

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Good-Bye To The Fruits by

This longish-short comedo-tragic bit just about covers everything. And for those things not covered in the "just about" disclaimer, you might have fun over a few spare moments with this Barth reference. Or if you don't, well, I sure did, and do I need further reason to P'cast?

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John Barth: Good-Bye To The Fruits

This longish-short comedo-tragic bit just about covers everything. And for those things not covered in the "just about" disclaimer, you might have fun over a few spare moments with this Barth reference. Or if you don't, well, I sure did, and do I need further reason to P'cast?Didn't think so. Enjoy!Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: John Barth: Good-Bye To The Fruits

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A Charming Woman by

Um, there must be some mistake, I think. Climate Change means that weather systems need to be... well... not the same muggy filthy smoggy dogbreath-upon-shoulders-every-time-you-step-outside. I accept, grudgingly, the current sorry state of the skies, but really: it's going to change, right? Some day?

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Jerome K. Jerome: A Charming Woman

Um, there must be some mistake, I think. Climate Change means that weather systems need to be... well... not the same muggy filthy smoggy dogbreath-upon-shoulders shoulders every time you step outside. I accept, grudgingly, the current sorry state of the skies, but really: it's going to change, right? Some day?Can you believe this has digressed to a polemic about the weather? Me neither. But there are always the stories...enjoy. Meanwhile I will put an air conditioner on my wishlist, ...

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The Father by

Carrying on with the recurring theme of Is It Possible That It's Really This Hot?, we go now to Norway, lovely Norway, land of good design, natural air conditioning in August, symbolist screaming, gabbling Heddas, and oh yes, have I mentioned it's probably not ninety degrees there right now?

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Bjornstjerne Bjornson: The Father

Carrying on with the recurring theme of Is It Possible That It's Really This Hot?, we go now to Norway, lovely Norway, land of good design, natural air conditioning in August, symbolist screaming, gabbling Heddas, and oh yes, have I mentioned it's probably not ninety degrees there right now?Oh yes, if you laugh at my garbling of Norwegian names, I will eat you.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Bjornstjerne Bjornson: The Father

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A World of Sound by

Another short one for another short day, and the beauty here should be evident: how lovely it would be if our physical presences existed as waves of sound, if physical injury were a momentary blip of discord, if your emotional duress a note hit flat, if inner harmony was literal. Yea, that's the stuff.

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Olaf Stapledon: A World of Sound

Another short one for another short day, and the beauty here should be evident: how lovely it would be if our physical presences existed as waves of sound, if physical injury were a momentary blip of discord, if your emotional duress a note hit flat, if inner harmony was literal. Yea, that's the stuff.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Olaf Stapledon: A World of Sound

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The Waiting by

On occasion, another excruciatingly bleak day will end with a moderately edifying insignia etched onto your nightcap, and on those occasions, you want nothing more than to return home to tranquility and a nice short harmless podcast. And sometimes, sometimes even on those occasions, your environs just won't comply.

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Jorge Luis Borges: The Waiting

On occasion, another excruciatingly bleak day will end with a moderately edifying insignia etched onto your nightcap, and on those occasions, you want nothing more than to return home to tranquility and a nice short harmless podcast. And sometimes, sometimes even on those occasions, your environs just won't comply. And so, excuse the distant screeches from random streetwalkers that intrude on the last few seconds of this podcast. They mean well; whoever those girls are... something about ...

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The Country Doctor by

Too. Hot. To. Type. But I leave you a nice. Long. One. Triviatum: This from a college short story anthology, with notations, footnotes, the works. There's one worth noting-- when the doctor reveals his Christian name, 'Trifon,' we see footnote #10, which reads:

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Ivan Turgenev: The Country Doctor

Too. Hot. To. Type. But I leave you a nice. Long. One.Triviatum: This from a college short story anthology, with notations, footnotes, the works. There's one worth noting-- when the doctor reveals his Christian name, 'Trifon,' we see footnote #10, which reads:Trifon is roughly the equivalent of "Cuthbert."So I've learned something new today, and I hope you did too.Miette's Bedtime Story HotCast: Ivan Turgenev: The Country Doctor

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A Carnival Jangle by

I don't know much about where you are, but where I am, I can tell you a thing or two about the heat right now. The thing being: it's hot. Mighty hot. The sort of hot where you pile your hair up off your neck and sit in your skivs and wish you possessed a Homer Simpson gracelessness that might allow you to put a floatie, a few cans of beer, and a thousand ice cubes in your bathtub.

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Alice Dunbar: A Carnival Jangle

I don't know much about where you are, but where I am, I can tell you a thing or two about the heat right now. The thing being: it's hot. Mighty hot. The sort of hot where you pile your hair up off your neck and sit in your skivs and wish you possessed a Homer Simpson gracelessness that might allow you to put a floatie, a few cans of beer, and a thousand ice cubes in your bathtub. Or bust open a fire hydrant and take a cool swim in the street. Or maybe even invest in air conditioning. ...

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The Happy Prince by

If anybody ever asks you if you're a happy prince or a sparrow, you should be prepared with an answer: I tell you now, you never know when it might be asked of you. And it might. To prepare you for such a day is today's podcast, and in helping you answer this question, it should now be obvious which I am.

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Oscar Wilde: The Happy Prince

If anybody ever asks you if you're a happy prince or a sparrow, you should be prepared with an answer: I tell you now, you never know when it might be asked of you. And it might. To prepare you for such a day is today's podcast, and in helping you answer this question, it should now be obvious which I am.(On the lengthy side so make a cuppa tea first!)Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Oscar Wilde: The Happy Prince

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Her Lover by

In reality, we also are fallen folks, and, so far as I can see, very deeply fallen into the abyss of self-sufficiency and the conviction of our own superiority. But enough of this. It is all as old as the hills--so old that it is a shame to speak of it. Very old indeed--yes, that's what it is! Ahh, Maksim Gorky, Maxim Gorky, Maksim Gor'kii, Maxim Gorkii, Maksim Gorki, he'll always be Aleksei Peshkov to me.

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Maxim Gorky: Her Lover

In reality, we also are fallen folks, and, so far as I can see, very deeply fallen into the abyss of self-sufficiency and the conviction of our own superiority. But enough of this. It is all as old as the hills--so old that it is a shame to speak of it. Very old indeed--yes, that's what it is!Ahh, Maksim Gorky, Maxim Gorky, Maksim Gor'kii, Maxim Gorkii, Maksim Gorki, he'll always be Aleksei Peshkov to me.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Maxim Gorky: Her Lover

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My Mother’s Goofy Song by

For those not out barbecuing or picnicking or watching cosmic collisions or stealing carbide:

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John Fante: My Mother's Goofy Song

For those not out barbecuing or picnicking or watching cosmic collisions or stealing carbide:John Fante: My Mother's Goofy Song

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The Last Lesson by

Happy 49th Podcast! The 49th is, of course, a notable one: it's our last perfect square until 64, and even then, both digits won't also be perfect squares. And, of course, it's the last podcast of our extended youth together; next time I post, we shall be plainly geriatric.

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Kindling by

Is there anything, and I mean anything, italics and all, better than a good fortuitous bookend to a good podcast? Not only does this story have one of the best first lines of all stories ("It was the middle of August and Myers was between lives," that's right, shaazam!), but the 9:54 bus, usually a harbinger of noisome bus distraction to many a clear podcast, passes just at the last line, in perfect atmospheric equanimity.

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Alphone Daudet: The Last Lesson

Happy 49th Podcast!The 49th is, of course, a notable one: it's our last perfect square until 64, and even then, both digits won't also be perfect squares. And, of course, it's the last podcast of our extended youth together; next time I post, we shall be plainly geriatric. Next time you hear me, of course, my voice shall be shaking as my larynx will start to sag or do what larynxes do to show they've turned 50. And then you'll return to this happy 49th podcast, again and again, wistfull ...

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Raymond Carver: Kindling

Is there anything, and I mean anything, italics and all, better than a good fortuitous bookend to a good podcast? Not only does this story have one of the best first lines of all stories ("It was the middle of August and Myers was between lives," that's right, shaazam!), but the 9:54 bus, usually a harbinger of noisome bus distraction to many a clear podcast, passes just at the last line, in perfect atmospheric equanimity. Yes, I'm excited by this.Miette's Bedtime Story PodCAST: Raymond C ...

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Hills Like White Elephants by

This may be one you remember from your schooldays, maybe one that made you a liberal, or a feminist, or a prolifer, prochoicer, or antichoicer, or the other way around altogether or none of these things at all. But now, I will break from objective narratress and tell you something very personal and even embarrassing about your Miette:

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Ernest Hemingway: Hills Like White Elephants

This may be one you remember from your schooldays, maybe one that made you a liberal, or a feminist, or a prolifer, prochoicer, or antichoicer, or the other way around altogether or none of these things at all. But now, I will break from objective narratress and tell you something very personal and even embarrassing about your Miette: the first time I read this one - and I'm not kidding at all - the first time I read this, I'd interpreted the plot to be a conversation between a couple of ...

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At The Pit’s Mouth by

Despite the fact that someone (Miette, no Man's Wife), is showing evidence of growing fatigue by the stammering end of this, and despite that fact that someone (yes) has rarely rendez-vous'd in a cemetery, and certainly never one in a place such as Simla, I can't help but think that we should all have a Tertium Quid of our own. Even if I've never spent as much as a single rupee.

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Rudyard Kipling: At The Pit's Mouth

Despite the fact that someone (Miette, no Man's Wife), is showing evidence of growing fatigue by the stammering end of this, and despite that fact that someone (yes) has rarely rendez-vous'd in a cemetery, and certainly never one in a place such as Simla, I can't help but think that we should all have a Tertium Quid of our own. Even if I've never spent as much as a single rupee.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Rudyard Kipling: At The Pit's Mouth

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To Hell With Dying by

How better to celebrate new clarity in sound than with a bold new header image? What think ye? Sound better? Yea?

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Alice Walker: To Hell With Dying

How better to celebrate new clarity in sound than with a bold new header image? What think ye? Sound better? Yea?Miette's Bedtime Story Bettercast: Alice Walker: To Hell With Dying

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The Boarding House by

Happy Bloomsday! If your house is at all like mine (and let's hope it's not, let's hope it's, in fact, very little like mine, with the tangerine walls and the petting zoo and the flora and god knows what sort of fauna hidden in the balls of hair BUT), tonight you will not sleep at all, as you lie awake waiting up watching the clock tick down to Bloomsday morning and what might be waiting for you in your stockings.

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James Joyce: The Boarding House

Happy Bloomsday!If your house is at all like mine (and let's hope it's not, let's hope it's, in fact, very little like mine, with the tangerine walls and the petting zoo and the flora and god knows what sort of fauna hidden in the balls of hair BUT), tonight you will not sleep at all, as you lie awake waiting up watching the clock tick down to Bloomsday morning and what might be waiting for you in your stockings. I, for one, have been very good all year, what with all the podcasting, and a ...

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Innocence by

a.k.a. John Whelan. Look him up (if I were the type to end an avowal with a "yo," this would be the time, as in "look him up, yo."). Also a worthwhile nonfiction writer if you've a yen for Irish history. That said, it should be well past your bedtime. For the insomniacal among us, may this lull you softly.

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Sean O'Faolain: Innocence

a.k.a. John Whelan. Look him up (if I were the type to end an avowal with a "yo," this would be the time, as in "look him up, yo."). Also a worthwhile nonfiction writer if you've a yen for Irish history.That said, it should be well past your bedtime. For the insomniacal among us, may this lull you softly.Miette's Well-Past-Your-Bedtime Story Podcast: Seán O'Faoláin: Innocence

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The Grave by

Big news today, as I'm sure you've all read by now: our Miette has just been found not guilty on charges of committing vainglorious podcasting exercises for the sole purpose of hearing her own voice while increasing the regularity with which she reads short fiction. Her first response to the verdict:

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Katherine Ann Porter: The Grave

Big news today, as I'm sure you've all read by now: our Miette has just been found not guilty on charges of committing vainglorious podcasting exercises for the sole purpose of hearing her own voice while increasing the regularity with which she reads short fiction. Her first response to the verdict: "The grandfather, dead for more than thirty years..."Miette's Bedtime Story PodCAST: Katherine Ann Porter: The Grave

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Illusion by

From New Scientist's feature 11 Steps to a Better Brain: A DECADE ago Frances Rauscher, a psychologist now at the University of Wisconsin at Oshkosh, and her colleagues made waves with the discovery that listening to Mozart improved people's mathematical and spatial reasoning.

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Like a Bad Dream by

Days like today you should really be outside. And so, to those listening on lumbering machines, for an optimal podcasting experience I should recommend the following: 1. Put the POD back in your cast. Download it to anything portable (for the byzantine that might mean holding a cassette recorder up to your computer; whatever it takes) 2. Go outside.

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Heinrich Boll: Like a Bad Dream

Days like today you should really be outside. And so, to those listening on lumbering machines, for an optimal podcasting experience I should recommend the following:1. Put the POD back in your cast. Download it to anything portable (for the byzantine that might mean holding a cassette recorder up to your computer; whatever it takes)2. Go outside.3. Find a place under smog or stars.4. Listen.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Heinrich Böll: Like a Bad Dream

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The Birds by

Diabolically brilliant phantasmallegory of what must be a creepily Schulzian sort: it's not necessarily a bedtime story for children. I worry about the children!

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Bruno Schulz: The Birds

Diabolically brilliant phantasmallegory of what must be a creepily Schulzian sort: it's not necessarily a bedtime story for children. I worry about the children!Bruno Schulz: The Birds

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The Shore by

This might be best remembered as Modern Experimental Fiction (MEF) or Possibly Obvious Catholic Allegory (POCA), but when I think of it, I think only of Impending Sneeze Preventing Absolute Clarify (IS-PAC), except when, in this recording anyway, a cough is stifled, at which point it reminds me to Clear Throat Before I Read (CLEAR-T-BIR).

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Alain Robbe-Grillet: The Shore

This might be best remembered as Modern Experimental Fiction (MEF) or Possibly Obvious Catholic Allegory (POCA), but when I think of it, I think only of Impending Sneeze Preventing Absolute Clarify (IS-PAC), except when, in this recording anyway, a cough is stifled, at which point it reminds me to Clear Throat Before I Read (CLEAR-T-BIR). To Each His Or Her Own Acronymical Liking, Goodnight.Miette's Bedtime Story PodCAST: Alain Robbe-Grillet: The Shore

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The Fantom of Marseilles by

This was recorded from the verdant overgrown idyll overlooked by my fire escape (which, if you can ignore the fact that you have to climb out a window to get to it, and get over the fact that you're squatting on metal bars, and that it's, you know, ILLEGAL, is just like a terrace. A balcony! A rooftop!).

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Jean Cocteau: The Fantom of Marseilles

This was recorded from the verdant overgrown idyll overlooked by my fire escape (which, if you can ignore the fact that you have to climb out a window to get to it, andget over the fact that you're squatting on metal bars, and that it's, you know, ILLEGAL, is just like a terrace. A balcony! A rooftop!). It's quiet back there, a few birds even which might prove a fine soundtrack, and while I was squinting to find my own piece of urban green, if you close your eyes on your own while listen ...

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A Kiss At The Door by

A rare gem at the bookstore after work today: a nice old hardcover copy of Tess D'U for fifty cents. Now, Tess was once on frequent rotation at Miette's Lending Library, until Miette woke up to see that the Library had become not a Library so much as a Free Book Bonanza, and the unwritten rule of rotation not "you take this sweetheart and read it and I'm sure I'll get it back someday" as "you take this and I will never see of it again and years from now, when I have a yen for it, god only ...

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Elizabeth Spencer: A Kiss At The Door

A rare gem at the bookstore after work today: a nice old hardcover copy of Tess D'U for fifty cents. Now, Tess was once on frequent rotation at Miette's Lending Library, until Miette woke up to see that the Library had become not a Library so much as a Free Book Bonanza, and the unwritten rule of rotation not "you take this sweetheart and read it and I'm sure I'll get it back someday" as "you take this and I will never see of it again and years from now, when I have a yen for it, god only ...

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The Cherry Seed by

Here's just one of the many fine things about reading stories into my iPod to be read to you: I can read a story like Olesha, and stop and get all breathy in the middle because I've forgotten that he constructs it that way, or I can catch myself from snickering in the middle because I'm just IN AWE of how someone can be so sharp and funny as to turn an isolationist rant into a beautiful dreamscape

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Yuri Olesha: The Cherry Seed

Here's just one of the many fine things about reading stories into my iPod to be read to you: I can read a story like Olesha, and stop and get all breathy in the middle because I've forgotten that he constructs it that way, or I can catch myself from snickering in the middle because I'm just IN AWE of how someone can be so sharp and funny as to turn an isolationist rant into a beautiful dreamscape, or I can read the story while nude in the bath or fully clothed and under an umbrella in the ...

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The Mark on the Wall by

"Nothing but spaces of light and dark..." these peripatetic obstacles of thought made connected. That's the good stuff, Ginny, that's the stuff that brings respite from daily restiveness and yes Virginia, this is scant a clause.

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Virginia Woolf: The Mark on the Wall

"Nothing but spaces of light and dark..." these peripatetic obstacles of thought made connected. That's the good stuff, Ginny, that's the stuff that brings respite from daily restiveness and yes Virginia, this is scant a clause.Mein Gott but after reading this you can't help but mimic steal and emulate and force the insides of your own heads out in front of your eyes. Here's a tip: listen while staring at your own walls, and don't get flustered when your own mind wanders. Unless, of cour ...

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Never by

The source of one character's restless despair is another woman's interlude between the busy minutes of other days. Then again, carried out for too long and it becomes the very same restlessness. A forgotten treasure.

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H.E. Bates: Never

The source of one character's restless despair is another woman's interlude between the busy minutes of other days. Then again, carried out for too long and it becomes the very same restlessness. A forgotten treasure.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast:

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Fountains in the Rain by

For at least the last five or six minutes of this reading, I was stifling an enormous sneeze, which came out promptly the second I rushed to stop recording (there may or may not have left physical evidence of the sneeze's disdain for having been ignored for so long... but I'd never tell).

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Yukio Mishima: Fountains in the Rain

For at least the last five or six minutes of this reading, I was stifling an enormous sneeze, which came out promptly the second I rushed to stop recording (there may or may not have left physical evidence of the sneeze's disdain for having been ignored for so long... but I'd never tell). Oddly, I hadn't given thought to the end of the story, and, for reasons better understood if you listen all through, by the end was stifling a laugh on top of the sneeze, and am presently thankful that I ...

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The Young Man Who Discovered the Secret of Life by

Never you mind the perceived furtive abscondence of Miette these days. I could never leave you in a state of raw list(en)lessness, that just wouldn't be fair, and if there's any fairness at all in this world, you can bet it'd be in the form of Miette's shaky tenor. For now, this is what we've got: absurdity, in its most concise form. Better absurd than inconsiderate, at any rate, no?

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Muriel Spark: The Young Man Who Discovered The Secret of Life

Never you mind the perceived furtive abscondence of Miette these days. I could never leave you in a state of raw list(en)lessness, that just wouldn't be fair, and if there's any fairness at all in this world, you can bet it'd be in the form of Miette's shaky tenor. For now, this is what we've got: absurdity, in its most concise form. Better absurd than inconsiderate, at any rate, no?Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Muriel Spark: The Young Man Who Discovered the Secret of Life

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A Family Supper by

A longish truancy calls for a longish return, so this one clocks in accordingly on the longish side. Given his penchant for regular oxygen-free plunges into plots and thoughts of strained family relations, self-imposed exile, cultural alienation and melancholia, it's also counterintuitively uplifting. Enjoy.

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Kazuo Ishiguro: A FamilySupper

A longish truancy calls for a longish return, so this one clocks in accordingly on the longish side. Given his penchant for regular oxygen-free plunges into plots and thoughts of strained family relations, self-imposed exile, cultural alienation and melancholia, it's also counterintuitively uplifting. Enjoy.Miette's Longish Bedtime Story Podcast: Kazuo Ishiguro: A Family Supper

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The Bargain by

Reading the story while entertaining the dog with one hand, fumbling with papers of the evening’s podCAST while trying to prevent the disruptive thud of bone-to-floor, then sacrificing my own right hand to the dog’s playful tugowar teeth: this, podCASTee, this is sacrifice. My great sacrifice, your bargain.

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Truman Capote: The Bargain

Reading the story while entertaining the dog with one hand, fumbling with papers of the evening's podCAST while trying to prevent the disruptive thud of bone-to-floor, then sacrificing my own right hand to the dog's playful tugowar teeth: this, podCASTee, this is sacrifice.My great sacrifice, your bargain.Miette's Bedtime Story DogCAST: Truman Capote: The Bargain

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The Sin of Jesus by

Babel: exposition follows drama, form follows function, violence follows funny, and sin is quickly and heartily followed by impossible Russo-Jewish names.

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The Sin of Jesus

Babel: exposition follows drama, form follows function, violence follows funny, and sin is quickly and heartily followed by impossible Russo-Jewish names.

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The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas by

In the dystopian fantasy of my days, we would each have our own child in the toolshed. For Ursula, of course, we need only one. Not a bad daydream, if you can prevent yourself from drawing the natural comparisons... oh, I do hope this doesn't cause you nightmares.

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Isaac Babel: The Sin of Jesus

Babel: exposition follows drama, form follows function, violence follows funny, and sin is quickly and heartily followed by impossible Russo-Jewish names.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Isaac Babel: The Sin of Jesus

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Ursula K. LeGuin: The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas

In the dystopian fantasy of my days, we would each have our own child in the toolshed. For Ursula, of course, we need only one. Not a bad daydream, if you can prevent yourself from drawing the natural comparisons... oh, I do hope this doesn't cause you nightmares.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Ursula K. LeGuin: The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas

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Dream of a Ridiculous Man (5 of 5) by

Why did Miette stall before posting the final chapter of Dostoevsky? Was she sad to have it end? Having second thoughts about finishing it? Did she lose her voice? Building suspense? No. I, Miette, was too occupied thinking of an excuse for not posting the final chapter of Dostoevsky to post the final chapter of Dostoevsky,

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Fyodor Dostoevsky: Dream of a Ridiculous Man (Chapter 5)

Why did Miette stall before posting the final chapter of Dostoevsky? Was she sad to have it end? Having second thoughts about finishing it? Did she lose her voice? Building suspense? No. I, Miette, was too occupied thinking of an excuse for not posting the final chapter of Dostoevsky to post the final chapter of Dostoevsky, which should give you some idea why this story appeals to me so. It's as simple as that.Links for those who didn't catch earlier episodes:Chapter 1Chapter 2Chapte ...

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Fyodor Dostoevsky: Dream of a Ridiculous Man (Chapter 4)

We're nearing the end of this little mini-chronicle. Can you handle it? The few I've heard from have been most encouraging, but one must be careful with encomia before this turns quickly to Miette's Bedtime Story Proustcast (and I'm only half kidding). For the rest of you, one more night, fess up, you love it.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Fyodor Dostoevsky: Dream of a Ridiculous Man (Chapter 4)

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Dream of a Ridiculous Man (4 of 5) by

We're nearing the end of this little mini-chronicle. Can you handle it? The few I've heard from have been most encouraging, but one must be careful with encomia before this turns quickly to Miette's Bedtime Story Proustcast (and I'm only half kidding). For the rest of you, one more night, fess up, you love it.

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Fyodor Dostoevsky: Dream of a Ridiculous Man (Chapter 3)

Still with me? Hope so-- this is the turning point. The Dream. Quite possibly the best dream sequence committed to print, or at least the best committed to ridiculous Russian print. Nothing Ridiculous About It... excuse me while I contain my excitement.One note of homonymic clarification: about halfway through the dream, as he's flying through space, our protagonist asks his ethereal companion: "Is that Sirius?" Not "Is that serious?" It's the star, a bright one, I hear, and not the ...

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Dream of a Ridiculous Man (3 of 5) by

Still with me? Hope so-- this is the turning point. The Dream. Quite possibly the best dream sequence committed to print, or at least the best committed to ridiculous Russian print. Nothing Ridiculous About It... excuse me while I contain my excitement.

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Dream of a Ridiculous Man (2 of 5) by

Yes, don't be misled by what you hear in the opening seconds of tonight's bedtime story. This was going to be chapters 2 and 3 (they're short), but then from nowhere appeared a chainsaw, and who can podcast when the sun is out and the chainsaws are calling...

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Dream of a Ridiculous Man (1 of 5) by

Nothing says hither-springtime quite like the spin cycle of alienation, dispossession, malaise, apathy, and indifference! Perhaps it's best to go for a long stroll in your nearest park, have a couple of classes of wodka, break your own heart and maybe a dish, and then listen?

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Fyodor Dostoevsky: Dream of a Ridiculous Man (Chapter 1)

Nothing says hither-springtime quite like the spincycle of alienation, dispossession, malaise, apathy, and indifference! Perhaps it's best to go for a long stroll in your nearest park, have a couple of classes of wodka, break your own heart and maybe a dish, and then listen? But, however you decide, don't listen to the temptation to flee after the first chapter... hang tight on those tenterhooks, oh yes, there are FOUR CHAPTERS LEFT, don't go anywhere!Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Fyodo ...

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Fyodor Dostoevsky: Dream of a Ridiculous Man (Chapter 2)

Yes, don't be misled by what you hear in the opening seconds of tonight's bedtime story. This was going to be chapters 2 and 3 (they're short), but then from nowhere appeared a chainsaw, and who can podcast when the sun is out and the chainsaws are calling... with any luck, you can imagine chirping birds and laughing children in place of spring's clarion chainsaw call, listen quickly, then go outside and play.Miette's Bedtime Story Chainsawcast: Fyodor Dostoevsky: Dream of a Ridiculous Ma ...

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A Telephone Call by

Did you miss me yet? Thanks to all of you for your determined and consistent telephone calls, e-mails, and picket lines to my internet service provider (although to those of you with the eggs and tomatoes, I have to say that while the gesture was appreciated, I cannot condone violence of any sort).

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Dorothy Parker: A Telephone Call

Did you miss me yet? Thanks to all of you for your determined and consistent telephone calls, e-mails, and picket lines to my internet service provider (although to those of you with the eggs and tomatoes, I have to say that while the gesture was appreciated, I cannot condone violence of any sort). Out of raw joy for being able to read to you again, my ego's imagination will take over, and I can picture you all, over the past few days, sharing these thoughts those days, maybe replacing "t ...

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What is Litost? (The Book of Laughter and Forgetting) by

Miette read a very big book last night, it's true, and after a marathon thirteen hours of podCAST-free oral storytelling, only two thoughts remain in this once-nimble head. One, that why-oh-why didn't we just podCAST all thirteen hours, and how can I find a piece suitable, yet short enough for what's left of these droopy nerves, and two,

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Milan Kundera: The Book of Laughter and Forgetting

Miette read a very big book last night, it's true, and after a marathon thirteen hours of podCAST-free oral storytelling, only two thoughts remain in this once-nimble head. One, that why-oh-why didn't we just podCAST all thirteen hours, and how can I find a piece suitable, yet short enough for what's left of these droopy nerves, and two, how odd it is that epic greek mythology reminds me of this, but that may be attributable to the usual sleep deprivation compounded by a full night dreamin ...

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The Twelve Young Men by

It is the storms of March that prepare us for the flowers of April and May. The Italians would be so naive. Regardless, the Italians, they know their fairy tales; this from an out-of-print collection, which only means that ultimately they will all need to be read, for the sake of the verisimilitude of indelibility. Just you remember who has it in print! Remember, and be thankful for March.

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Italian Fairy Tales: The Twelve Young Men

It is the storms of March that prepare us for the flowers of April and May. The Italians would be so naive. Regardless, the Italians, they know their fairy tales; this from an out-of-print collection, which only means that ultimately they will all need to be read, for the sake of the verisimilitude of indelibility. Just you remember who has it in print! Remember, and be thankful for March.The introduction to this book elucidates the differences between Italian fairy tales and those from ...

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In a Strange Land by

It's so wet here and even upon peeling off my socks I can barely make out where the water ends and the feet begin. And then my olfactories open as the dog greets me with lick-to-nose and it's the same thing: where does the wet-dog smell stop and the dog herself start? I dare not eat under these conditions, which remind me of Maugham.

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William Somerset Maugham: In a Strange Land

It's so wet here and even upon peeling off my socks I can barely make out where the water ends and the feet begin. And then my olfactories open as the dog greets me with lick-to-nose and it's the same thing: where does the wet-dog smell stop and the dog herself start? I dare not eat under these conditions, which remind me of Maugham. And this story. And hot water bottles. What a perfect night for a hot water bottle.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: William Somerset Maugham: In a Strange ...

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The Little Woman From Lancashire by

In my ongoing efforts to impress upon you my unparalleled prowess at podCASTrophilia, I've spent the evening downloading all these applications that allow one to do things like "Normalise" and "Reduce Peak" and "Remove Hiss" and "Shift Frequency," all of which I, with my many skills, understand perfectly well and can do with ease, while sipping tea with one hand and scratching my head in the other.

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George Gissing: The Little Woman from Lancashire

In my ongoing efforts to impress upon you my unparalleled prowess at podCASTrophilia, I've spent the evening downloading all these applications that allow one to do things like "Normalise" and "Reduce Peak" and "Remove Hiss" and "Shift Frequency," all of which I, with my many skills, understand perfectly well and can do with ease, while sipping tea with one hand and scratching my head in the other. Not that I suffer from lice or confusion or anything else that might make me want to scratch ...

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Saviour John by

Nothing says Eve of The Second Coming of Christ like a longish existential short story by a forgotten Swedish Nobel winner (repeat: not nepotism) about a delusional old urchin who lives and preaches as the saviour of man. I don't know where you can find this in print-- Jesus knows, I'll bet. I have it in a tattered dimestore paperback anthology called The Existential Mind, Documents and Fictions,

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Par Lagerkvist: Saviour John

Nothing says Eve of The Second Coming of Christ like a longish existential short story by a forgotten Swedish Nobel winner (repeat: not nepotism) about a delusional old urchin who lives and preaches as the saviour of man.I don't know where you can find this in print-- Jesus knows, I'll bet. I have it in a tattered dimestore paperback anthology called The Existential Mind, Documents and Fictions, which has no ISBN so far as I can see, though the fact of its existence as a dimestore paperbac ...

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The Betrayal by

Is it a revelatory outpour of inner monologue detailing one man's confusion on racial, political, and sociological identity, leading to violence and resignation? Or could it be just another day at the office? We should all listen, briefly, then settle up and cose together for a nice long nap.

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The Story of an Hour by

It was only a matter of time before we get here, deep unsettling irony, psychosexual abandonment, romantic antipathy and just a soupcon of background traffic. A passing bus, a ghetto lowrider, a few dollups of plaster falling from the ceiling, and if you listen very intently, introspection.

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Ahmed Essop: The Betrayal

Is it a revelatory outpour of inner monologue detailing one man's confusion on racial, political, and sociological identity, leading to violence and abandonment? Or could it be just another day at the office? We should all listen, briefly, then settle up and cose together for a nice long nap.Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast: Ahmed Essop: The Betrayal

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Kate Chopin: The Story of an Hour

It was only a matter of time before we get here, deep unsettling irony, psychosexual abandonment, romantic antipathy and just a soupcon of background traffic. A passing bus, a ghetto lowrider, a few dollups of plaster falling from the ceiling, and if you listen very intently, introspection. Nice and short, this, so much so that I'm tempted to carry on writing this podCASTpost while you listen, so that your eyes might finish reading while your ears are done listening, so that I can spoil the ...

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The Story of Federigo’s Falcon (Fifth Day, Ninth Tale) by

Much as I would love to read the entire Decameron, and one day maybe I will (when the sound quality is improved to the point where I no longer sound like a podcastrati... and yes I am working on it!), for now, here's enough of an excerpt to give you pleasantest of dreams of romance in the time of plague. Besides, it doesn't get much more hypercritically metatextual, reading a bedtime story that is a bedtime story being read.

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Giovanni Boccaccio: The Story of Federigo's Falcon (Fifth Day, Ninth Tale)

Much as I would love to read the entire Decameron, and one day maybe I will (when the sound quality is improved to the point where I no longer sound like a podcastrati... and yes I am working on it!), for now, here's enough of an excerpt to give you pleasantest of dreams of romance in the time of plague. Besides, it doesn't get much more hypercritically metatextual, reading a bedtime story that is a bedtime story being read.Until the day comes when I'm able to read the entire book, when yo ...

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By The Water by

If I were a more professional podCASTresse, I might have added a subliminal background track to this story, and if that were to have happened, you might have finished listening to tonight's bedtime story thinking one thought: Paul Bowles Can Be Touching and Humanistic. But, I'm not a professional

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Paul Bowles: By The Water

If I were a more professional podCASTresse, I might have added a subliminal background track to this story, and if that were to have happened, you might have finished listening to tonight's bedtime story thinking one thought: Paul Bowles Can Be Touching and Humanistic. But, I'm not a professional (at podCASTressing), so maybe if, while you're listening, you think this over and over, you'll get that from it. Or maybe the story alone will prove it.This and about a thousand others can be fo ...

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Something Special by

It's true, it is, that Miette has bought something special to aid in her PodCASTing, though in the true ghetto style she so cherishes, she (or rather, I, Miette), didn't do much to prevent the background sounds of discs spinning up, or dogs turning to dervish, or other random technospatter.

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Second Best by

It's a lovely springtime afternoon, and you should be outdoors, at the park lazing about, not cramped inside looking for the cheap thrill of an afternoon bedtime story. Go on, go to the park now, and come back and listen later. But I can only hope you've taken my advice, and I'll assume that it's later. So here's a little Lawrence, replete with lovely Lawrencian descriptions of lovely springtime Yorkshire afternoons

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Iris Murdoch: Something Special

It's true, it is, that Miette has bought something special to aid in her PodCASTing, though in the true ghetto style she so cherishes, she (or rather, I, Miette), didn't do much to prevent the background sounds of discs spinning up, or dogs turning to dervish, or other random technospatter. Still, a special night deserves a special reading, and what could be more special than the only piece of short fiction we have from the haunting Ms. Murdoch, a piece which, as many have pointed out, cou ...

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D.H. Lawrence: Second Best

It's a lovely springtime afternoon, and you should be outdoors, at the park lazing about, not cramped inside looking for the cheap thrill of an afternoon bedtime story. Go on, go to the park now, and come back and listen later.But I can only hope you've taken my advice, and I'll assume that it's later. So here's a little Lawrence, replete with lovely Lawrencian descriptions of lovely springtime Yorkshire afternoons (as well as customary twisted-knife metaphors on sexual awakening and violen ...

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An Ideal Family by

Am almost too beat to read this evening, but like dear Mr. Neave, I press on. Enjoy a crackling, hoarse, stammering attempt to clamber through Katherine Mansfield's An Ideal Family, one of the great short stream-of-conscious experiments. Some nights, when I can sleep, I have clay-puppet-wrestling-match dreams of Mansfield and Va. Woolf, and if only I had a television and

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Katherine Mansfield: An Ideal Family

Am almost too beat to read this evening, but like dear Mr. Neave, I press on. Enjoy a crackling, hoarse, stammering attempt to clamber through Katherine Mansfield's An Ideal Family, one of the great short stream-of-conscious experiments. Some nights, when I can sleep, I have clay-puppet-wrestling-match dreams of Mansfield and Va. Woolf, and if only I had a television and creative control over the network that produces that stuff, I could make all my dreams come true. Easy to please, Miet ...

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A Beautiful March Day by

Crikes, in the haste of a working week I'd completely forgotten that despite not wanting to go straight to Calvino (because let's face it, everyone expects Miette to read Calvino, and when have I ever met something so vile as an expectation?), I had mentally dog-eared this one for yesterday. And yes, I could wait a year, but in another year, who's to say we'll still be podCASTing at all?

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Italo Calvino: A Beautiful March Day

Crikes, in the haste of a working week I'd completely forgotten that despite not wanting to go straight to Calvino (because let's face it, everyone expects Miette to read Calvino, and when have I ever met something so vile as an expectation?), I had mentally dog-eared this one for yesterday. And yes, I could wait a year, but in another year, who's to say we'll still be podCASTing at all? I mean, damn, for all I know, the latest technology fad next year this time will be some synaesthetic ...

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Basta by

Here's a nice short one to make up for yesterday's nice long one. From Robert Walser, a master of the short-short story, and the closest anyone's come to Swift since Kipling. Basta is one of those fine Italian words that the Germans have managed to appropriate (read: swipe), and I've long wished we would adopt it. We, English speakers, you know, not savages.

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Robert Walser: Basta

Here's a nice short one to make up for yesterday's nice long one. From Robert Walser, a master of the short-short story, and the closest anyone's come to Swift since Kipling. Basta is one of those fine Italian words that the Germans have managed to appropriate (read: swipe), and I've long wished we would adopt it. We, English speakers, you know, not savages.If you want to read the original in German, you can do so here. But I should point out that if you can read along in German while liste ...

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Gods by

This is both perhaps just-too-long and read by a just-too-tired head; maybe just assume the intent is to separate the yolks from the hen's asses... or something. Kudos to you if you make it... Despite not wanting to overwhelm the Internet(s) with too many Russians in too short a time, Vlad is really a nomad, as we all know, no more or less a Russian than I am a humvee. And yes, I can refer to him as Vlad,

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Vladimir Nabokov: Gods

This is both perhaps just-too-long and read by a just-too-tired head; maybe just assume the intent is to separate the yolks from the hen's asses... or something. Kudos to you if you make it...Despite not wanting to overwhelm the Internet(s) with too many Russians in too short a time, Vlad is really a nomad, as we all know, no more or less a Russian than I am a humvee. And yes, I can refer to him as Vlad, just as I can spin that obscene metaphor: this is how tired I am, and these are the ...

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Nadja by

I had wanted today to read Philip Lamantia (what was I thinking?), because he understood living more than I (and probably you, Internet, but that might be presumptuous) ever will, and because he's now dead, so a tribute seems fitting. But, that said, I don't think I can read his poetry, because I don't think it will convey anything at all as it's supposed to, and besides, Miette's Bedtime Poetry Hour PodCAST is another project, isn't it?

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Andre Breton: Nadja

I had wanted today to read Philip Lamarkin, because he understood living more than I (and probably you, Internet, but that might be presumptuous) ever will, and because he's now dead, so a tribute seems fitting. But, that said, I don't think I can read his poetry, because I don't think it will convey anything at all as it's supposed to, and besides, Miette's Bedtime Poetry Hour PodCAST is another project, isn't it? But you should pay your own tribute to Lamarkin, on your own nickel: go here ...

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At Night by

A personal secret: I, like many, have long succumbed to seemingly endless bouts of insomnia. It's not clinical, and I love sleep very much, but I often have a difficult time performing when called on to do so. Bedtime stories don't help much, because once I find one I'm particularly fond of, I will read all night. Another personal secret: I, Miette, am a bit compulsive with the reading. This could well be clinical, but I've never been fond of DSM labels, as we all know.

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Anna Kavan: At Night

A personal secret: I, like many, have long succumbed to seemingly endless bouts of insomnia. It's not clinical, and I love sleep very much, but I often have a difficult time performing when called on to do so. Bedtime stories don't help much, because once I find one I'm particularly fond of, I will read all night. Another personal secret: I, Miette, am a bit compulsive with the reading. This could well be clinical, but I've never been fond of DSM labels, as we all know.That said, tale ...

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Bookshop Memories by

Some days, especially those in which my lack of tolerance for this city is only matched by my impatience with the job, I suffer the wildest joyriding fantasies of working at a used bookshop. To elucidate, the fantasy usually involves moving to smalltown Americana and opening up one next to a Wal-Mart, grabbing curiosity-seekers on their way out, and making recommendations based on their blue-light purchases. If they were frumpy housewives whose impulse buy was the latest People magazine t ...

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George Orwell: Bookshop Memories

Bookshop MemoriesSome days, especially those in which my lack of tolerance for this city is only matched by my impatience with the job, I suffer the wildest joyriding fantasies of working at a used bookshop. To elucidate, the fantasy usually involves moving to smalltown Americana and opening up one next to a Wal-Mart, grabbing curiosity-seekers on their way out, and making recommendations based on their blue-light purchases. If they were frumpy housewives whose impulse buy was the latest Pe ...

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Anton Chekhov: A Work Of Art

A Work of ArtWelcome to this, the humble inaugural edition of Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast, which is really nothing more than my excuse to have a podcast.You see, I'll bet that other people don't read to you enough. I know that people don't read to me enough. So this way I can read to you, and then later listen to it myself, and take care of all our problems. Or at least take care of this one. For all of us.And, damn, in this epoch of soundbites and blurbs and headlines and lightspeed nan ...

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Guy De Maupassant: Dreams

Hypnalgiaphobia, the nightly quest for a real OOBE, learning to read more slowly and maybe with no accent, elas, these are the things that make us turn in the wee hours and if ether were the answer I'd be first in line. But maybe a new bed is a fine substitute? Maybe just a bedtime story? Tomorrow holds all the answers, as it always does. For now, wrap up warm and dampen the draft with a towel. Sleep tight.Tonight: Guy de Maupassant's "Dreams;" it's in plenty of books and plenty of Web site ...

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Dreams by

Hypnalgiaphobia, the nightly quest for a real OOBE, learning to read more slowly and maybe with no accent, elas, these are the things that make us turn in the wee hours and if ether were the answer I'd be first in line. But maybe a new bed is a fine substitute? Maybe just a bedtime story?

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A Work of Art by

Welcome to this, the humble inaugural edition of Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast, which is really nothing more than my excuse to have a podcast. You see, I'll bet that other people don't read to you enough. I know that people don't read to me enough. So this way I can read to you, and then later listen to it myself, and take care of all our problems. Or at least take care of this one. For all of us.

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