Has anybody ever read Mark Twain's "Letters From The Earth"? I've just picked up an old paperback copy. So far it's very funny. It's a very irreverent account of creation, from Satan's viewpoint.
Cellist
Mark Twain: Letters From The Earth
by Cellist 11 Replies latest jw friends
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RunningMan
Yes, I have the book in my collection. I read it over 20 years ago, so I forget a lot of it, but Twain has a delicious wit.
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Cellist
Hi Running Man,
I like Mark Twain's humour too. I had never heard of these stories before I found this book. I look forward to finishing the book. It contains "Papers of the Adam Family", "The Damned Human Race" and other interesting titles.
By the way, we're enjoying your "Atheist" series very much.
Cellist
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CaptainSchmideo
This book, more than anything else I had read on the internet, or elsewhere, made me question the Bible as really being inspired. Then I read "The Demon Haunted World" by Carl Sagan, and that was the nail on the coffing lid for me.
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chrissy
I Read 'The Demon Haunted World' recently...I can see how you would feel that way, Captn. I marveled at how Sagan had this amazing ability to make science, with all of its complex conceptual theories, real and within my own grasp...an amazing feat for someone like myself, lacking extensive scientific education or background.
I will have to check out Twain's book mentioned here, cellist. Sounds like perfect between-semester reading material.
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RunningMan
I pulled out the book last night and refreshed my memory. There are parts of it, like the opening letters from the earth, and Methuselah's diary, that are great. There are other parts that don't seem to have aged as well, and have kind of lost their relevance. Some parts of it are simply his notes and miscellaneous writings.
It's interesting though, that someone (I believe it was Twain himself) said that this book would never be published because it was too controversial. In fact, it sat for decades before finally seeing the light of day. By today's standards it is very tame - hard to believe it was supressed. -
Cellist
Yes, it now seems merely humorous. I'm only on the letters to the earth at the moment, but I can imagine that some of it will be dated.
I'll have to try and locate a copy of Carl Sagan's book. I haven't read that one yet.
Cellist
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sweetsevda
i heard of mark twain but i have not heard of that book thats interesting to no
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Huxley
I've read The Mysterioius Stranger by Twain, but not Letters...I'll have to check this one out...TMS was a fantastic short story.
Huxley -
Valis
A Telephonic Conversation
"I touched the bell and this talk ensued"
by Mark Twain
.....
consider that a conversation by telephone—when you are simply sitting by and not taking any part in that conversation—is one of the solemnest curiosities of this modern life. Yesterday I was writing a deep article on a sublime philosophical subject while such a conversation was going on in the room. I notice that one can always write best when somebody is talking through a telephone close by. Well, the thing began in this way. A member of our household came in and asked me to have our house put into communication with Mr. Bagley's, down town. I have observed, in many cities, that the gentle sex always shrink from calling up the central office themselves. I don't know why, but they do. So I touched the bell, and this talk ensued:—
Central Office. [Gruffly.] Hello!
I. Is it the Central Office?
C. 0. Of course it is. What do you want ?
I. Will you switch me on to the Bagleys, please ?
C. 0. All right. Just keep your ear to the telephone.
Then I heard, k-look, k-look, k'look— klook-klook-klook-look-look! then a horrible "gritting" of teeth, and finally a piping female voice: Y-e-s? [Rising inflection.] Did you wish to speak to me?"
Without answering, I handed the telephone to the applicant, and sat down. Then followed that queerest of all the queer things in this world,—a conversation with only one end to it. You hear questions asked; you don't hear the answer. You hear invitations given; you hear no thanks in return. You have listening pauses of dead silence, followed by apparently irrelevant and unjustifiable exclamations of glad surprise, or sorrow, or dismay. You can't make head or tail of the talk, because you never hear anything that the person at the other end of the wire says. Well, I heard the following remarkable series of observations, all from the one tongue, and all shouted,—for you can't ever persuade the gentle sex to speak gently into a telephone:—
Yes? Why, how did that happen?
Pause.
What did you say?
Pause.
Oh, no, I don't think it was.
Pause.
No! Oh, no, I didn't mean that. I meant, put it in while it is still boiling,—or just before it comes to a boil.
Pause.
WHAT?
Pause.
I turned it over with a back stitch on the selvage edge.
Pause.
Yes, I like that way, too; but I think it 's better to baste it on with Valenciennes or bombazine, or something of that sort. It gives it such an air,—and attracts so much notice.
Pause.
It 's forty-ninth Deuteronomy, sixty-fourth to ninety-seventh inclusive. I think we ought all to read it often.
Pause.
Perhaps so; I generally use a hair-pin.
Pause.
What did you say ? [Aside] Children, do be quiet!
Pause.
Oh! B flat! Dear me, I thought you said it was the cat!
Pause.
Since when?
Pause.
Why, I never heard of it.
Pause.
You astound me! It seems utterly impossible!
Pause.
Who did?
Pause.
Good-ness gracious!
Pause.
Well, what is this world coming to? Was it right in church?
Pause.
And was her mother there?
Pause.
Why, Mrs. Bagley, I should have died of humiliation! What did they do?
Long Pause.
I can't be perfectly sure, because I haven't the notes by me; but I think it goes something like this: te-rolly-loll-loll, loll lolly-loll-loll, O tolly-loll-loll-lee-ly-li-i-do! And then repeat, you know.
Pause.
Yes, I think it is very sweet,—and very solemn and impressive, if you get the andantino and the pianissimo right.
Pause.
Oh, gum-drops, gum-drops! But I never allow them to eat striped candy. And of course they can't, till they get their teeth, any way.
Pause.
What?
Pause.
Oh, not in the least,—go right on. He's here writing,—it does n't bother him.
Pause.
Very well, I'll come if I can. [Aside.] Dear me, how it does tire a person's arm to hold this thing up so long! I wish she'd—
Pause.
Oh, no, not at all; I like to talk,—but I'm afraid I'm keeping you from your affairs.
Pause.
Visitors?
Pause.
No, we never use butter on them.
Pause.
Yes, that is a very good way; but all the cook-books say they are very unhealthy when they are out of season. And he does n't like them, any way,—especially canned.
Pause.
Oh, I think that is too high for them; we have never paid over fifty cents a bunch.
Pause.
Must you go? Well, good-by.
Pause.
Yes, I think so. Good-by.
Pause.
Four, o'clock then—I'll be ready. Good-by.
Pause.
Thank you ever so much. Good-by.
Pause.
Oh, not at all!—just as fresh—Which? Oh, I'm glad to hear you say that. Good-by.
[Hangs up the telephone and says, "Oh, it does tire a person's arm so!"]
A man delivers a single brutal "Good-by," and that is the end of it. Not so with the gentle sex,—I say it in their praise; they cannot abide abruptness.
"I touched the bell and this talk ensued" 
consider that a conversation by telephone—when you are simply sitting by and not taking any part in that conversation—is one of the solemnest curiosities of this modern life. Yesterday I was writing a deep article on a sublime philosophical subject while such a conversation was going on in the room. I notice that one can always write best when somebody is talking through a telephone close by. Well, the thing began in this way. A member of our household came in and asked me to have our house put into communication with Mr. Bagley's, down town. I have observed, in many cities, that the gentle sex always shrink from calling up the central office themselves. I don't know why, but they do. So I touched the bell, and this talk ensued:—