One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: Penguin Orange Collection
Autor Ken Keseyen Limba Engleză Paperback – 18 oct 2016
For the seventieth anniversary of Penguin Classics, the Penguin Orange Collection celebrates the heritage of Penguin s iconic book design with twelve influential American literary classics representing the breadth and diversity of the Penguin Classics library. These collectible editions are dressed in the iconic orange and white tri-band cover design, first created in 1935, while french flaps, high-quality paper, and striking cover illustrations provide the cutting-edge design treatment that is the signature of Penguin Classics Deluxe Editions today.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo s Nest
Boisterous, ribald, and ultimately shattering, Ken Kesey s One Flew Over the Cuckoo s Nest is a seminal novel of the 1960s. Here is the unforgettable story of a mental ward and its inhabitants a counterculture classic that inspired the 1975 film adaptation, widely considered one of the greatest movies ever made."
| Toate formatele și edițiile | Preț | Express |
|---|---|---|
| Paperback (6) | 46.33 lei 23-34 zile | +17.44 lei 6-10 zile |
| Penguin Books – 4 mai 2005 | 46.33 lei 23-34 zile | +17.44 lei 6-10 zile |
| Signet Book – 31 ian 1963 | 48.78 lei 3-5 săpt. | +10.45 lei 6-10 zile |
| Penguin Books – 25 iun 2008 | 69.86 lei 23-34 zile | +27.12 lei 6-10 zile |
| Penguin Books – 18 oct 2016 | 94.02 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| Penguin Books – 31 dec 1995 | 183.14 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| Penguin Books – 30 noi 2002 | 105.35 lei 6-8 săpt. | |
| Hardback (1) | 169.29 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| Viking Books – 31 dec 2011 | 169.29 lei 3-5 săpt. |
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780143129516
ISBN-10: 0143129511
Pagini: 304
Dimensiuni: 130 x 193 x 25 mm
Greutate: 0.27 kg
Editura: Penguin Books
Seria Penguin Orange Collection
ISBN-10: 0143129511
Pagini: 304
Dimensiuni: 130 x 193 x 25 mm
Greutate: 0.27 kg
Editura: Penguin Books
Seria Penguin Orange Collection
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Notă biografică
Descriere
Descriere de la o altă ediție sau format:
Pitching an extraordinary battle between cruel authority and a rebellious free spirit, Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is a novel that epitomises the spirit of the sixties. This Penguin Classics edition includes a preface, never-before published illustrations by the author, and an introduction by Robert Faggen.
Tyrannical Nurse Ratched rules her ward in an Oregon State mental hospital with a strict and unbending routine, unopposed by her patients, who remain cowed by mind-numbing medication and the threat of electroshock therapy. But her regime is disrupted by the arrival of McMurphy - the swaggering, fun-loving trickster with a devilish grin who resolves to oppose her rules on behalf of his fellow inmates. His struggle is seen through the eyes of Chief Bromden, a seemingly mute half-Indian patient who understands McMurphy's heroic attempt to do battle with the powers that keep them imprisoned. The subject of an Oscar-winning film starring Jack Nicholson, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest an exuberant, ribald and devastatingly honest portrayal of the boundaries between sanity and madness.
If you enjoyed One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, you might like Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange, also available in Penguin Modern Classics.
'A glittering parable of good and evil'
The New York Times Book Review
'A roar of protest against middlebrow society's Rules and the Rulers who enforce them'
Time
'If you haven't already read this book, do so. If you have, read it again'
Scotsman
Cuprins
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Introduction
Chronology
I. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: The Text
II. The Author and His Work
TOM WOLFE, What Do You Think of My Buddha?
KEN KESEY, An Early Draft of the Opening Scene of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
KEN KESEY, Letter to Ken Babbs: ["Peyote and Point of View"]
KEN KESEY, Letter to Ken Babbs: ["People on the Ward"]
KEN KESEY, Characters on the Ward
KEN KESEY, Draft Page with Holograph Revisions
KEN KESEY, from An Impolite Interview with Ken Kesey
KEN KESEY, from Ken Kesey Was a Successful Dope Fiend
KEN KESEY, Who Flew Over What?
III. Literary Criticism
JACK F. MCCOMB, The RPM
LESLIE A. FIEDLER, The Higher Sentimentality
TERRY G. SHERWOOD, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and the Comic Strip
JAMES E. MILLER, JR., The Humor in the Horror
JOSEPH J. WALDMEIR, Two Novelists of the Absurd: Heller and Kesey
JOHN A. BARSNESS, Ken Kesey: The Hero in Modern Dress
IRVING MALIN, Ken Kesey: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
ROBERT BOYERS, Porno-Politics
HAROLD CLURMAN, Review of the Play
WALTER KERR, ...And the Young Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
MARCIA L. FALK, Letter to the Editor of The New York Times
LESLIE HORST, Bitches, Twitches, and Eunuchs: Sex-Role Failure and Caricature
ANNETTE BENERT, The Voices of Fear: Kesey's Anatomy of Insanity
BENJAMIN GOLUBOFF, The Carnival Artist in the Cuckoo's Nest
MARSHA MCCREADIE, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: Some Reasons for One Happy Adaptation
CAROL PEARSON, The Cowboy Saint and the Indian Poet: The Comic Hero in Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
IV. Analogies and Perspectives
DALE WASSERMAN, from his play One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
MARY FRANCES ROBINSON, Ph.D., and WALTER FREEMAN, M.D., Ph.D., F.A.C.P., Glimpses of Postlobotomy Personalities
ARTHUR P. NOYES, M.D., and LAWRENCE C. KOLB, M.D., Shock and Other Physical Therapies
RALPH ELLISON, from Invisible Man
ROBERT PENN WARREN, from All the King's Men
KEN KESEY, Neal Cassady
JACK KEROUAC, from On the Road
Topics for Discussion and Papers
Selected Bibliography prepared by Joseph Weixlmann and M. Gilbert Porter
Chronology
I. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: The Text
II. The Author and His Work
TOM WOLFE, What Do You Think of My Buddha?
KEN KESEY, An Early Draft of the Opening Scene of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
KEN KESEY, Letter to Ken Babbs: ["Peyote and Point of View"]
KEN KESEY, Letter to Ken Babbs: ["People on the Ward"]
KEN KESEY, Characters on the Ward
KEN KESEY, Draft Page with Holograph Revisions
KEN KESEY, from An Impolite Interview with Ken Kesey
KEN KESEY, from Ken Kesey Was a Successful Dope Fiend
KEN KESEY, Who Flew Over What?
III. Literary Criticism
JACK F. MCCOMB, The RPM
LESLIE A. FIEDLER, The Higher Sentimentality
TERRY G. SHERWOOD, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and the Comic Strip
JAMES E. MILLER, JR., The Humor in the Horror
JOSEPH J. WALDMEIR, Two Novelists of the Absurd: Heller and Kesey
JOHN A. BARSNESS, Ken Kesey: The Hero in Modern Dress
IRVING MALIN, Ken Kesey: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
ROBERT BOYERS, Porno-Politics
HAROLD CLURMAN, Review of the Play
WALTER KERR, ...And the Young Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
MARCIA L. FALK, Letter to the Editor of The New York Times
LESLIE HORST, Bitches, Twitches, and Eunuchs: Sex-Role Failure and Caricature
ANNETTE BENERT, The Voices of Fear: Kesey's Anatomy of Insanity
BENJAMIN GOLUBOFF, The Carnival Artist in the Cuckoo's Nest
MARSHA MCCREADIE, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: Some Reasons for One Happy Adaptation
CAROL PEARSON, The Cowboy Saint and the Indian Poet: The Comic Hero in Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
IV. Analogies and Perspectives
DALE WASSERMAN, from his play One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
MARY FRANCES ROBINSON, Ph.D., and WALTER FREEMAN, M.D., Ph.D., F.A.C.P., Glimpses of Postlobotomy Personalities
ARTHUR P. NOYES, M.D., and LAWRENCE C. KOLB, M.D., Shock and Other Physical Therapies
RALPH ELLISON, from Invisible Man
ROBERT PENN WARREN, from All the King's Men
KEN KESEY, Neal Cassady
JACK KEROUAC, from On the Road
Topics for Discussion and Papers
Selected Bibliography prepared by Joseph Weixlmann and M. Gilbert Porter
Recenzii
"A glittering parable of good and evil." —The New York Times Book Review
"A roar of protest against middlebrow society’s Rules and the Rulers who enforce them." —Time
"A roar of protest against middlebrow society’s Rules and the Rulers who enforce them." —Time
Extras
Sketches
Psychedelic sixties. God knows whatever that means it certainly meant far more than drugs, though drugs still work as a pretty good handle to the phenomena.
I grabbed at that handle. Legally, too, I might add. Almost patriotically, in fact. Early psychedelic sixties...
Eight o'clock every Tuesday morning I showed up at the vet's hospital in Menlo Park, ready to roll. The doctor deposited me in a little room on his ward, dealt me a couple of pills or a shot or a little glass of bitter juice, then locked the door. He checked back every forty minutes to see if I was still alive, took some tests, asked some questions, left again. The rest of the time I spent studying the inside of my forehead, or looking out the little window in the door. It was six inches wide and eight inches high, and it had heavy chicken wire inside the glass.
You get your visions through whatever gate you're granted.
Patients straggled by in the hall outside, their faces all ghastly confessions. Sometimes I looked at them and sometimes they looked at me. but rarely did we look at one another. It was too naked and painful. More was revealed in a human face than a human being can bear, face-to-face.
Sometimes the nurse came by and checked on me. Her face was different. It was painful business, but not naked. This was not a person you could allow yourself to be naked in front of.
Six months or so later I had finished the drug experiments and applied for a job. I was taken on as a nurse's aide, in the same ward, with the same doctor, under the same nurse—and you must understand we're talking about a huge hospital here! It was weird.
But, as I said, it was the sixties.
Those faces were still there, still painfully naked. To ward them off my case I very prudently took to carrying around a little notebook, to scribble notes. I got a lot of compliments from nurses: "Good for you, Mr. Kesey. That's the spirit. Get to know these men."
I also scribbled faces. No, that's not correct. As I prowl through this stack of sketches I can see that these faces bored their way behind my forehead and scribbled themselves. I just held the pen and waited for the magic to happen.
This was, after all, the sixties.
Ken Kesey
Psychedelic sixties. God knows whatever that means it certainly meant far more than drugs, though drugs still work as a pretty good handle to the phenomena.
I grabbed at that handle. Legally, too, I might add. Almost patriotically, in fact. Early psychedelic sixties...
Eight o'clock every Tuesday morning I showed up at the vet's hospital in Menlo Park, ready to roll. The doctor deposited me in a little room on his ward, dealt me a couple of pills or a shot or a little glass of bitter juice, then locked the door. He checked back every forty minutes to see if I was still alive, took some tests, asked some questions, left again. The rest of the time I spent studying the inside of my forehead, or looking out the little window in the door. It was six inches wide and eight inches high, and it had heavy chicken wire inside the glass.
You get your visions through whatever gate you're granted.
Patients straggled by in the hall outside, their faces all ghastly confessions. Sometimes I looked at them and sometimes they looked at me. but rarely did we look at one another. It was too naked and painful. More was revealed in a human face than a human being can bear, face-to-face.
Sometimes the nurse came by and checked on me. Her face was different. It was painful business, but not naked. This was not a person you could allow yourself to be naked in front of.
Six months or so later I had finished the drug experiments and applied for a job. I was taken on as a nurse's aide, in the same ward, with the same doctor, under the same nurse—and you must understand we're talking about a huge hospital here! It was weird.
But, as I said, it was the sixties.
Those faces were still there, still painfully naked. To ward them off my case I very prudently took to carrying around a little notebook, to scribble notes. I got a lot of compliments from nurses: "Good for you, Mr. Kesey. That's the spirit. Get to know these men."
I also scribbled faces. No, that's not correct. As I prowl through this stack of sketches I can see that these faces bored their way behind my forehead and scribbled themselves. I just held the pen and waited for the magic to happen.
This was, after all, the sixties.
Ken Kesey