The Unz Review: An Alternative Media Selection
A Collection of Interesting, Important, and Controversial Perspectives Largely Excluded from the American Mainstream Media
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Algernon Blackwood Anthony Hope Anthony Trollope Anton Chekhov Arthur Conan Doyle Arthur Quiller-Couch Baroness Orczy Benjamin Disraeli Charles Dickens Dinah Craik E. Phillips Oppenheim Edith Wharton Elizabeth Gaskell Eugene Sue F. Marion Crawford G.A. Henty G.K. Chesterton George Gissing George Meredith Gertrude Atherton H. Rider Haggard H.G. Wells Hamlin Garland Henry James Honore de Balzac Horatio Alger Ivan Turgenev Jack London James Fenimore Cooper Joseph Conrad L. Frank Baum L.M. Montgomery Louisa May Alcott Luise Mühlbach Mrs. Humphry Ward Mrs. Oliphant P.G. Wodehouse Robert Louis Stevenson Sax Rohmer Thomas Hardy Upton Sinclair W. Somerset Maugham Walter Besant Wilkie Collins William Dean Howells William Makepeace Thackeray Brantz Mayer A.T. Mahan Adolf Hitler Agatha Christie Albert Jay Nock Alexandre Dumas Andrew Lang Ann Radcliffe Anne Brontë Anonymous Aristotle Arthur R. Butz Bible Book Booker T. Washington Bram Stoker Brooks Adams Captain Russell Grenfell Cesare Lombroso Charles Callan Tansill Charles Darwin Charlotte Brontë Clark Howard Confucius David Duke David Gordon David Howden David Irving David Ray Griffin E.A. Ross Eden Phillpotts Edgar Allan Poe Edward Bellamy Edward Gibbon Elbert Hubbard Ellsworth Huntington Emile Zola Emily Brontë Evan Whitton Evelyn Dewey F. Scott Fitzgerald Fanny Burney Faustino Ballvé Felix Adler Ford Madox Ford Francis Parkman Frank Chodorov Frank Norris Frank R. Stockton Freda Utley Frederick Jackson Turner Friedrich A. Hayek Friedrich Engels Fyodor Dostoyevsky G.E. Mitton George Eliot George Jean Nathan Gustav Gottheil Gustave Flaubert Guy de Maupassant H.L. Mencken Hans-Hermann Hoppe Harriet Beecher Stowe Harry Elmer Barnes Heinrich Graetz Heinrich Heine Henry Adams Henry Fielding Henry Ford Henry M. Stanley Henryk Sienkiewicz Herbert Westbrook Herman Melville Hermann Hesse Herodotus Homer Hubert Howe Bancroft Hugh Lofting Isabel Paterson J.M. Barrie Jacob A. Riis James Hayden Tufts James Huneker James Joyce James Rice Jane Addams Jane Austen Jared Taylor Jefferson Davis Jeffrey Tucker Joel S.A. Hayward John Beaty John Dewey John Dos Passos John Galsworthy John Maynard Keynes John Reed John Stuart Mill John T. Flynn Jonathan Swift Jules Verne Karl Marx Kenneth Grahame Kevin Barrett Kevin MacDonald Knut Hamsun Laurence Sterne Lawrence H. White Leo Tolstoy Leon Trotsky Lewis Carroll Livy Llewellyn H. Rockwell Jr. Lord Acton Lord Dunsany Lothrop Stoddard Ludwig von Mises Lysander Spooner Marcel Proust Maria Edgeworth Maria Monk Mark Twain Mary Shelley Mary White Ovington Max Eastman Max Nordau Maxim Gorky Michael Collins Piper Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra Mungo Park Murray N. Rothbard Nathaniel Hawthorne Niccolò Machiavelli O. Henry Oscar Wilde Paul Craig Roberts Per Bylund Peter Brimelow Plato Plutarch Ralph Franklin Keeling Richard Francis Burton Richard Lovell Edgeworth Richard Lynn Robert Barr Robert S. Griffin Robin Koerner Rose Wilder Lane Rudyard Kipling S. Baring-Gould Saint Augustine Samuel Butler Sigmund Freud Sinclair Lewis Sisley Huddleston Stanley Weinbaum Stefan Zweig Stendhal Stephen Crane Stephen J. Sniegoski Stephen Mitford Goodson Suetonius Tacitus Theodore Canot Theodore Roosevelt Thomas Babington Macaulay Thomas Bulfinch Thomas C. Taylor Thomas Carlyle Thomas Dixon Thomas Jefferson Thomas More Thomas Nelson Page Thomas Paine Thomas Seltzer Thorstein Veblen Thucydides Ulysses S. Grant Van Wyck Brooks Victor Hugo Virginia Woolf W.E.B. Du Bois Walter Lippmann Walter Scott Washington Gladden Wilfred Wilson Willa Cather Willard Huntington Wright William Graham Sumner William H. Prescott William Henry Chamberlin Wilmot Robertson Winston Churchill Winston S. Churchill Woodrow Wilson
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    Romance
    I confess that with all my curiosity to meet an Altrurian, I was in no hospitable mood toward the traveler when he finally presented himself, pursuant to the letter of advice sent me by the friend who introduced him. It would be easy enough to take care of him in the hotel; I had merely... Read More
    "I'm so blind," said Miss Ferrars plaintively. "Where are my glasses?" "What do you want to see?" asked Lord Semingham. "The man in the corner, talking to Mr. Loring." "Oh, you won't know him even with the glasses. He's the sort of man you must be introduced to three times before there's any chance of... Read More
    “I am afraid, Watson, that I shall have to go,” said Holmes, as we sat down together to our breakfast one morning. “Go! Where to?” “To Dartmoor; to King’s Pyland.” I was not surprised. Indeed, my only wonder was that he had not already been mixed up in this extraordinary case, which was the one... Read More
    At eight o’clock on Sunday morning, Arthur Peachey unlocked his front door, and quietly went forth. He had not ventured to ask that early breakfast should be prepared for him. Enough that he was leaving home for a summer holiday—the first he had allowed himself since his marriage three years ago. It was a house... Read More
    Being the Adventures of a Young Englishman in the Service of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden
    My Dear Lads, Had I attempted to write you an account of the whole of the adventurous career of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, it would, in itself, have filled a bulky volume, to the exclusion of all other matter; and a youth, who fought at Narva, would have been a middle-aged man at the... Read More
    We do not keep Christmas now as we used to do in old Hanover. We have not time for it, and it does not seem like the same thing. Christmas, however, always brings up to me my cousin Fanny; I suppose because she always was so foolish about Christmas. My cousin Fanny was an old... Read More
    Being a Story Concerning Two Ladies, a Nobleman, and a Necklace
    In accordance with many most excellent precedents, I might begin by claiming the sympathy due to an orphan alone in the world. I might even summon my unguided childhood and the absence of parental training to excuse my faults and extenuate my indiscretions. But the sympathy which I should thus gain would be achieved, I... Read More
    “I wish I could send you to college, Guy,” said Mr. Fenwick, as they sat in the library, reading by the soft light of a student lamp. The speaker was the Rev. Mr. Fenwick, the pastor of a church in Bayport, a few miles from New Bedford, Massachusetts. “I don’t think I care much about... Read More
    “I prefer the dark style, myself—like my cousin,” said John Ralston, thoughtfully. “And you will therefore naturally marry a fair woman,” answered his companion, Hamilton Bright, stopping to look at the display in a florist’s window. Ralston stood still beside him. “Queer things—orchids,” he observed. “Why?” Nothing in the world seemed queer or unnatural to... Read More
    A procession of schoolboys having to meet a procession of schoolgirls on the Sunday’s dead march, called a walk, round the park, could hardly go by without dropping to a hum in its chatter, and the shot of incurious half-eyes the petticoated creatures—all so much of a swarm unless you stare at them like lanterns.... Read More
    “We are to see each other no more.” These words were breathed rather than spoken in the dim recess of a window, hidden behind ample curtains, the deep recess in which the window was set leaving room enough for two figures standing close together. Without was a misty night, whitened rather than lighted by a... Read More
    Being Facts and Fancies of Medical Life
    [Being an extract from a long and animated correspondence with a friend in America.] I quite recognise the force of your objection that an invalid or a woman in weak health would get no good from stories which attempt to treat some features of medical life with a certain amount of realism. If you deal... Read More
    I DEDICATE THIS EFFORT OF “PRIMEVAL AND TROGLODYTE IMAGINATION" THIS RECORD OF BAREFACED AND FLAGRANT ADVENTURE TO MY GODSONS IN THE HOPE THAT THEREIN THEY MAY FIND SOME STORE OF HEALTHY AMUSEMENT. Ditchingham, 1894. On several previous occasions it has happened to this writer of romance to be justified of his romances by facts of... Read More
    “There’s ingratitude for you!” Miss Dolly Foster exclaimed suddenly. “Where!” I asked, rousing myself from meditation. She pointed to a young man who had just passed where we sat. He was dressed very smartly, and was walking with a lady attired in the height of the fashion. “I made that man,” said Dolly, “and now... Read More
    The American Crisis
    THOMAS PAINE, in his Will, speaks of this work as The American Crisis, remembering perhaps that a number of political pamphlets had appeared in London, 1775-1776, under general title of "The Crisis." By the blunder of an early English publisher of Paine's writings, one essay in the London "Crisis" was attributed to Paine, and the... Read More
    Alexander Lauderdale Junior was very much exercised in spirit concerning the welfare of his two daughters, of whom the elder was Charlotte and the younger was Katharine. Charlotte had been married, nearly two years before the opening of this tale, to Benjamin Slayback, the well-known member of Congress from Nevada, and lived in Washington. Katharine... Read More
    “I wonder when in the world you’re going to do anything, Rudolf?” said my brother’s wife. “My dear Rose,” I answered, laying down my egg-spoon, “why in the world should I do anything? My position is a comfortable one. I have an income nearly sufficient for my wants (no one’s income is ever quite sufficient,... Read More
    A Tale of the Huguenot Wars
    It is difficult, in these days of religious toleration, to understand why men should, three centuries ago, have flown at each others' throats in the name of the Almighty; still less how, in cold blood, they could have perpetrated hideous massacres of men, women, and children. The Huguenot wars were, however, as much political as... Read More
    A Story of Three Fires
    With a voice like that of a crow, and singing with full lungs also like a crow, came Jason Quarm riding in his donkey-cart to Coombe Cellars. Jason Quarm was a short, stoutly-built man, with a restless grey eye, with shaggy, long, sandy hair that burst out from beneath a battered beaver hat. He was... Read More
    DURING my stay in California I went with my worthy and gallant friend, Captain R., to visit Y., a compatriot of ours who was living in the secluded mountains of Santa Lucia. Not finding him at home, we passed five days in a lonely ravine, in company with an old Indian servant, who during his... Read More
    TO HIS EXCELLENCY, HON. FREDERIC T. GREENHALGE, Governor of Massachusetts. Sir,—You are at the head of a Commonwealth renowned for mental culture; you esteem the Slav Race and delight in good literature;—to you I beg to dedicate this volume, in the hope that it will give pleasure to you and to others in that State... Read More
    A dark night on the banks of the Thames; the south-west wind, heavily charged with sleet, was blowing strongly, causing little waves to lap against the side of a punt moored by the bank. Its head-rope was tied round a weeping willow which had shed most of its leaves, and whose pendent boughs swayed and... Read More
    and By the Waters of Paradise
    Somebody asked for the cigars. We had talked long, and the conversation was beginning to languish; the tobacco smoke had got into the heavy curtains, the wine had got into those brains which were liable to become heavy, and it was already perfectly evident that, unless somebody did something to rouse our oppressed spirits, the... Read More
    Between “Hunger” and “Growth of the Soil” lies the time generally allotted to a generation, but at first glance the two books seem much farther apart. One expresses the passionate revolt of a homeless wanderer against the conventional routine of modern life. The other celebrates a root-fast existence bounded in every direction by monotonous chores.... Read More
    "If nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?" "The mists—and the sun—and the first streaks of yellow in the beeches—beautiful!—beautiful!" And with a long breath of delight Marcella Boyce threw herself on her knees by the window she had just opened, and,... Read More
    “They’ve got him for life!” I said to myself that evening on my way back to the station; but later on, alone in the compartment (from Wimbledon to Waterloo, before the glory of the District Railway) I amended this declaration in the light of the sense that my friends would probably after all not enjoy... Read More
    A Set of Tales with Some Colloquial Sketches Entitled a Few Crusted Characters
    To the eyes of a man viewing it from behind, the nut-brown hair was a wonder and a mystery. Under the black beaver hat, surmounted by its tuft of black feathers, the long locks, braided and twisted and coiled like the rushes of a basket, composed a rare, if somewhat barbaric, example of ingenious art.... Read More
    A Tale of the Conquest of the Punjab
    Among the many wars by which, province by province, the Empire of India was won, few, if any, were more brilliant and hard fought than those which terminated in the annexation of the Punjaub. It is satisfactory to know that the conquest of the Sikhs—a brave and independent race—was not brought about by any of... Read More
    "Father Adrian!" "I am here!" "I saw the doctor talking with you aside! How long have I to live? He told you the truth! Repeat his words to me!" The tall, gaunt young priest drew nearer to the bedside, and shook his head with a slow, pitying gesture. "The time was short—short indeed. Yet, why... Read More