Archived threads in /lit/ - Literature - 1686. page

you are a troubled young man
Join YMCA and come and dream with me

Miserotia wouldn't be equivalent to homophobia, they mean two different things

Are you trying to tell ME that an arbitrary sign can't change its meaning trought time and that everybody is using it wrong but you?

>Make something up
>greentext it
>post a thread

Are you that desperate for (You)s? They're of no value for the world.

>>9151276
I wish I was making it up. This Frenchie keeps arguing with me it's "A French novel".

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>>9151266

>>9150893
If you are doing it on the computer, make a text file, that you can store 'novel words' that may be relevant to certain sections, or even just every so often write

((((chapter 2)))

skhfkdshfkjsdhg
ldshgkdlsg

((chapter 3 ... talking about the kitchen

(section 4.... going to the bathroom)


so then you can use the 'find' feature on the word processor:

So if you wake up in the middle of the night and think of wanting to include the toothpaste brand in the bathroom scene but dont remember where in the 500,000 word document the bathroom scene is:

Find: toilet

etc.

If you are doing it all on paper: you need either a time machine to the past, or the future (where there is the text to in seconds scan all your pages and upload key words into your hard/soft drive cloud space ibrain face attachment that does what I originally said for you)

>>9150957
Yeah I do this in Google docs by making Chapter headings and a contents at the beginning, it's more to do with the different characters, the mindset they have at the time, where in the story they are and how they feel about other characters etc. I find myself going to a chapter where I write about something before realising it occurred somewhere else or "wait X has fallen out with Y by this point" etc.

>>9150893

Is it possible you're having trouble because nothing remarkable happens in your novel?

same desu

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>>9150777
>777

>>9150777
Yes. That quote makes me want to rabbit punch people in the throat. It's a fucking cop out saying, and makes no sense. Fuck you. Fuck everybody.

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My diary desu

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>>9150669

ask on the discord

>>9150628
What is that?

talk to your father first

>>9150578
Nice dubs. Now seriously: where do I start?

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>>9150206
tell your proff he should off himself

write a fake obituary for him and present that as your essay

>>9150212
Unfortunately, my prof would see that as a death threat and fail me, after sufficient time in her safe space

Anime and the waifu culture.

How to handle free verse, a practical guide
Step 1. Put it in a garbage bin
Step 2. Light in on fire
Step 3. Read poetry that has meter

>>9150198
>How does one judge free verse?

Did you enjoy reading it and thinking about it?

There's your fucking standard of judgement. Jesus, does everyone need to be told how to feel about everything these days? You are the standard by which it is judged. The thoughts happening in your mind and the feelings in your body.

>>9150198
Such confessions reveal postmodernism's wholesale abnegation of the creative will of modernism. Further, they are neither as disingenuous nor, in fact, as polemical as they sound. For, in context, they represent, not simply a particular attitude to art making, but a thoroughgoing and, I believe, unparalleled interrogation of process itself. And that's not so surprising. For a sense of measure whose observations are participations, whose descriptions are enactments, is bound to be more attentive to process than product, to means than ends. The extraordinary formal variety of postmodern art is the direct result of a discovery of a whole range of processes that pre-empt conscious purpose and give open entry to the circumstances and materials of art making.

>>9149923
photoshop and patience i guess

>>9149925
any good guides to photoshop? I'm incompetent at it desu

>>9149904

Read it, enjoyed it. Its a decent introduction to his philosophy, but much better as a supplement.

Shitposters will say Heidegger's writing is obtuse, meaningless, and intentionally overcomplicated.

They're somewhat right, he's a horrible read until you get a handle on how he writes. Past that he's worth the effort. Avoid being and time at first, I'd recommend reading 'history of the concept of time' first, perhaps alongside some supplementary texts. Helps to have an understanding of Aristotle and Husserl.

>>9150020
thank you

>>9149904

This is relevant for my essay I am currently writing for a course.

[2] "You might come for once," said Pelagea.

"What for?" sighed Yegor, taking off his cap and wiping his red forehead with his hand. "There is no object in my coming. To go for an hour or two is only waste of time, it's simply upsetting you, and to live continually in the village my soul could not endure. . . . You know yourself I am a pampered man. . . . I want a bed to sleep in, good tea to drink, and refined conversation. . . . I want all the niceties, while you live in poverty and dirt in the village. . . . I couldn't stand it for a day. Suppose there were an edict that I must live with you, I should either set fire to the hut or lay hands on myself. From a boy I've had this love for ease; there is no help for it."

"Where are you living now?"

"With the gentleman here, Dmitry Ivanitch, as a huntsman. I furnish his table with game, but he keeps me . . . more for his pleasure than anything."

"That's not proper work you're doing, Yegor Vlassitch. . . . For other people it's a pastime, but with you it's like a trade . . . like real work."

"You don't understand, you silly," said Yegor, gazing gloomily at the sky. "You have never understood, and as long as you live you will never understand what sort of man I am. . . . You think of me as a foolish man, gone to the bad, but to anyone who understands I am the best shot there is in the whole district. The gentry feel that, and they have even printed things about me in a magazine. There isn't a man to be compared with me as a sportsman. . . . And it is not because I am pampered and proud that I look down upon your village work. From my childhood, you know, I have never had any calling apart from guns and dogs. If they took away my gun, I used to go out with the fishing-hook, if they took the hook I caught things with my hands. And I went in for horse-dealing too, I used to go to the fairs when I had the money, and you know that if a peasant goes in for being a sportsman, or a horse-dealer, it's good-bye to the plough. Once the spirit of freedom has taken a man you will never root it out of him. In the same way, if a gentleman goes in for being an actor or for any other art, he will never make an official or a landowner. You are a woman, and you do not understand, but one must understand that."

"I understand, Yegor Vlassitch."

"You don't understand if you are going to cry. . . ."

"I . . . I'm not crying," said Pelagea, turning away. "It's a sin, Yegor Vlassitch! You might stay a day with luckless me, anyway. It's twelve years since I was married to you, and . . . and . . . there has never once been love between us! . . . I . . . I am not crying."

[3] "Love . . ." muttered Yegor, scratching his hand. "There can't be any love. It's only in name we are husband and wife; we aren't really. In your eyes I am a wild man, and in mine you are a simple peasant woman with no understanding. Are we well matched? I am a free, pampered, profligate man, while you are a working woman, going in bark shoes and never straightening your back. The way I think of myself is that I am the foremost man in every kind of sport, and you look at me with pity. . . . Is that being well matched?"

"But we are married, you know, Yegor Vlassitch," sobbed Pelagea.

"Not married of our free will. . . . Have you forgotten? You have to thank Count Sergey Paylovitch and yourself. Out of envy, because I shot better than he did, the Count kept giving me wine for a whole month, and when a man's drunk you could make him change his religion, let alone getting married. To pay me out he married me to you when I was drunk. . . . A huntsman to a herd-girl! You saw I was drunk, why did you marry me? You were not a serf, you know; you could have resisted. Of course it was a bit of luck for a herd-girl to marry a huntsman, but you ought to have thought about it. Well, now be miserable, cry. It's a joke for the Count, but a crying matter for you. . . . Beat yourself against the wall."

A silence followed. Three wild ducks flew over the clearing. Yegor followed them with his eyes till, transformed into three scarcely visible dots, they sank down far beyond the forest.

"How do you live?" he asked, moving his eyes from the ducks to Pelagea.

"Now I am going out to work, and in the winter I take a child from the Foundling Hospital and bring it up on the bottle. They give me a rouble and a half a month."

"Oh. . . ."

Again a silence. From the strip that had been reaped floated a soft song which broke off at the very beginning. It was too hot to sing.

"They say you have put up a new hut for Akulina," said Pelagea.

Yegor did not speak.

"So she is dear to you. . . ."

"It's your luck, it's fate!" said the huntsman, stretching. "You must put up with it, poor thing. But good-bye, I've been chattering long enough. . . . I must be at Boltovo by the evening."

Yegor rose, stretched himself, and slung his gun over his shoulder; Pelagea got up.

"And when are you coming to the village?" she asked softly.

"I have no reason to, I shall never come sober, and you have little to gain from me drunk; I am spiteful when I am drunk. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye, Yegor Vlassitch."

[4] Yegor put his cap on the back of his head and, clicking to his dog, went on his way. Pelagea stood still looking after him. . . . She saw his moving shoulder-blades, his jaunty cap, his lazy, careless step, and her eyes were full of sadness and tender affection. . . . Her gaze flitted over her husband's tall, lean figure and caressed and fondled it. . . . He, as though he felt that gaze, stopped and looked round. . . . He did not speak, but from his face, from his shrugged shoulders, Pelagea could see that he wanted to say something to her. She went up to him timidly and looked at him with imploring eyes.

"Take it," he said, turning round.

He gave her a crumpled rouble note and walked quickly away.

"Good-bye, Yegor Vlassitch," she said, mechanically taking the rouble.

He walked by a long road, straight as a taut strap. She, pale and motionless as a statue, stood, her eyes seizing every step he took. But the red of his shirt melted into the dark colour of his trousers, his step could not be seen, and the dog could not be distinguished from the boots. Nothing could be seen but the cap, and . . . suddenly Yegor turned off sharply into the clearing and the cap vanished in the greenness.

"Good-bye, Yegor Vlassitch," whispered Pelagea, and she stood on tiptoe to see the white cap once more.

>>9149868
Or you could just learn the language. It's not hard. You can do it in 6 months.

A conclusion to your logic is basically the fact that translations are trash regardless. Reading foreign lit in translated form at best gives you a well-made personal interpretation of the translator, but you aren't even close to the original author

>>9149649
You're coming across as "a bit much" there pardner, infer whatever you want from that

>>9149649
>his King's ruling essence, of which the Queen stole.

wat

>>9149649
What do you mean by "essence"? Like, is it a former of energy, or....

Why does the essence corrupt the MC?

Concerning characters, who else helps or hinders the MC? And why is it bad that the Queen has the essence? Is she a bad ruler? Why should we root for the King?

>>9149556
-1000000
the most pungent piece of shit that i have read, the reddit of books

~70 when weighed against literary fcition
its an ~80 within science fiction for its importance

I asked on a scale of 1 to 100. I'd like to have an explanation of why you think so. I'm curious