On November 14, 1851, Moby-Dick first appeared in the United States, but the novel wasn't recognized as an American classic until many years after the death of the author, Herman Melville. Only 3,000 copies of the novel sold during Melville's lifetime. Here's a review of Moby Dick. So, do you love the novel, hate it, or have you just not had a chance yet to read this classic?

In this novel, Melville writes: "There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he for ever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than other birds upon the plain, even though they soar." Read more quotes from the novel. (Or, read the

As we draw nearer to the day, you may be curious what famous writers have said about the day. So, here's what Mark Twain wrote about Thanksgiving:

• "The observance of Thanksgiving Day--as a function--has become general of late years. The Thankfulness is not so general. This is natural. Two-thirds of the nation have always had hard luck and a hard time during the year, and this has a calming effect upon their enthusiasm."

Take a look at other quotes from Mark Twain, related to Thanksgiving.

I have so much for which I am thankful: family, friends, and the opportunity to live one more day. I'm also thankful for the many writers who have poured out their passion upon the page, who have offered their insights and inspiration--even as they coped with their own joys and sorrows, large and small.

November is a time to remember and celebrate the great writers, but we also recollect the words they have left us in reference to Thanksgiving (and the spirit of gratitude). O Henry once wrote: "There is one day that is ours. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American." Here are a few other writers of note: Louisa May Alcott, Paul Laurence Dunbar, Rebecca Harding Davis, and Lydia Maria Child. Then, join our discussion.

Forget everything you ever thought you knew about fairy tales, and "Little Red Riding Hood." In this book, Catherine Orenstein explores the history of the fairy tale, from the French court, Charles Perrault, Hans Christian Anderson, the Brothers Grimm, Bruno Bettelheim, Italo Calvino, Gwen Strauss, and Anne Sexton. As she explains, "The endeavor of this book is to draw Little Red Riding Hood forth from her literary crypt, to unwrap the protective vellum that mummifies her in the rare book section of the library."

In this survey of literature, Orenstein inspects the derivations of Little Red Riding Hood, who has been depicted as a seductress, a victim, a femme fatale, and a she-wolf in various works. Changes in society have dramatically affected the evolutions of the tale, but the image of Little Red Riding Hood has also been adapted to nearly every possible commercial pursuit. What is it about this red-clad character that still ensures enticement (and controversy)--even after so much time has passed. Read the complete review. Then, join our discussion about Adults Reading Children's Literature.

We've all been affected by the economic downturn--some more than others. Even with the inevitable adverse affects to the budgets of so many literary events, it's heartening to learn that they are STILL going on. One case in point...

The Miami Book Fair will begin on November 8, continuing through November 15 (with the street fair on November 13-15. The budget was cut and fewer writers will appear (according to AP), but the fair will go on in this 26th year--with great events, and featuring literary greats like Margaret Atwood, Barbara Kingsolver and Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk.

If you're in the area, stop by. Or watch out for a book fair near you!

The chill is in the air. It's snowing somewhere, and I'm lingering indoors--gazing out at the clear blue sky and knowing that the cold will seep into my bones as soon as I step outside. On days like this, I long to curl up with a good book, letting the words pour over me. I imagine other times, places, loves, and a life that could never be my own. I'm inspired. I muse about the meaning of life--the interconnectedness of books (and of us all). And, then, I go on about my day.

Those moments of the pure bliss of being lost in a book are cherished. Do you dream of reading by the fire, or perhaps you'd rather curl up in a comfy chair by the window--in the warm rays of the sun--to devour the lines?

In Walden, Henry David Thoreau tells us:

"Like the wasps, before I finally went into winter quarters in November, I used to resort to the northeast side of Walden, which the sun, reflected from the pitch pine woods and the stony shore, made the fireside of the pond; it is so much pleasanter and wholesomer to be warmed by the sun while you can be, than by an artificial fire. I thus warmed myself by the still glowing embers which the summer, like a departed hunter, had left."

Join our discussions about Walden.

Cover Art © Cambridge University Press.

Circumstances in life so often take us in direction we could not have imagined. Who's to say where we could be (or the person we could become)--given an unfortunate series of events. What are we capable of? What would we do to survive?

I guess that's part of what fascinates me about Daniel Defoe's Moll Flanders (review), one of the first English novels, published in 1722. We learn of her many misadventures, but we also find that hidden hope (or at least self-preservation). We don't ever really know our capabilities--strengths and weaknesses--until we face those grim, brutal realities.

In the novel, we read (Chapter 10): "All that hellish, hardened state and temper of soul, which I have said so much of before, is but a deprivation of thought; he that is restored to his power of thinking, is restored to himself."

Cover Art © Modern Library.

I love time-travel stories--the idea that time can fold, bend, and/or warp (. But, then, time takes on a different feel in everyday life. Some days feel as though they run together--so much to do and not enough time. It feels as though I'm outside of time, trying to figure out where all the moments are going.

Stories like Rip Van Winkle give us a glimpse into what can happen in a time-travel scenario. (Of course, there are those who say that who wouldn't want to run off and pretend to have been lost in time if one had a wife like that...) But, there are so many other famous tales. What about The Time Machine? What other novels have you enjoyed? Have you ever imagined yourself in a time-travel experience? Take a look at other time-traveling adventures.

How is the coming of dawn and daybreak associated with heartbreak (or joy)? There's love, love lost, and all the iterations of stress and life (and there's also all the flip-side emotions). The sun, moon and stars inculcate themselves into our everyday--sometimes seeming to offer commiseration and remembrance. Does all of nature seem to feel your pains and joys? So many writers have written about the phenomenon (and of course, in our imaginings, all sorts of representations of reality are possible).

A French writer, Arthur Rimbaud, is Le Bateau Ivre (The Drunken Boat) and for the short time he wrote--from 16 to 21. Born on October 20, 1854, he became an adventurer (Egypt, Ethiopia, Ogadain, and beyond). He wrote: "But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter." Take a look at more quotes.

Some works of literature seem to appear at the right moments--just when we need them, when we're ready to accept the universal messages of hope, life, and experience. The volumes present different meanings and messages through the years--often seeming to evolve with us, as we pick up experiences (love, laugh, pain and joys). That's we can't tell a book by its cover (the cover is not ALL)--the words are alive; they grow and change with us. Meaning often develops with our perceptions.

The Death of Ivan Ilyich is a novella first published in 1886. I first read it when I was taking Prof. M. for a World Literature overview course (it's often studied in high school and college classrooms). We read this work in a line with Joyce's "Araby," Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis, Marge Piercy's work, Ursula Le Guin, and Oedipus Rex.

Some works seem to enmesh more in my mind as time spans. More works are added into the mix, and the brutal clarity of experience becomes more clear.

In The Death of Ivan Ilyich, Leo Tolstoy addresses the universal questions--the meaning of life and the inevitability of death. He'd counted himself a success, but what does that even mean in those final moments? Here's a passage from The Death of Ivan Ilyich: "'Maybe I did not live as I ought to have done,' it suddenly occurred to him. 'But how could that be, when I did everything properly?' he replied, and immediately dismissed from his mind this, the sole solution of all the riddles of life and death, as something quite impossible."

Take a look at other great quotes from The Death of Ivan Ilyich, and also read a review. What does it all mean after all? Is it worth examining through the lens of literature? Which works have you used for that purpose?