>>7639221 U8theB8 >>7639216 My first projection of him was that he was an aggregate of all the knowledge and all of the malicious nature of humankind, and that he was never really there, but existed as a construct if the kids imagination, an interloper swaying the kids humanity So all three of those could work. Many have said that he represents a gnostic Archon but my knowledge of gnosticism is too shitty to make a judgement call.
I've recently begun thinking that the entire narrative was just a campfire story for the kid as told by his father who may have very well experienced horrors illustrated in the text and is using the judge to reflect the awful nature of people he had encountered in his life. It may take away from the sheer size of the story in the eyes of some, but I think it just reinforces the judges immortality.
>>7639252 Hmm, that's interesting. The judge was made up by the kid to project all his evil doing on. Being part of the gang, the kid must have done awful things, yet he never mentions them. At the end the judge talks about things he shouldn't know, how the kid abandoned a dude in the desert. Maybe the kid opened up his veins in the jakes. Even though I like this idea, I'm going to stick with the judge being Satan, because I'm a nerd and like supernatural stuff.
>>7639216 I think Judge Holden was the embodiment of war and destruction as an ideology. He sought to destroy anything that stood against that ideology through his own "dance of war". I take no credit for this theory as I read it in someone's MA thesis I found on the internet.
"Every action he made, every experience he had, every connection he'd ever formed rushed through his head and he realized that death wouldn't end his suffering - his life was a tragicomedy, a sadomasochistic wankfest, an infinite jest."
>But Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap. >He drew a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m The Lord of the Rings,’ he said.
The ending of The crying of lot 49 completed and ended literature as a whole. Pynchon will never be rivalled in his display of restrained brilliance. Not even Macbeths crazy plottwist approaches the multilayered depth of the final paragraph of TCOL49.
>>7639103 I asked if Santa was buried there. - Could it have happened? Could have they found her? They found those two after all... Nuto had sit on the wall and was now watching me with his obstinate eye. He shook his head. - No, not Santa - he said - they're not going to find her. A woman like her they couldn't cover in dirt and leave like that. It was too good for too many. Baracca took care of it. He had them cut just enough sarmento from the vineyard, and we covered her up 'till it was just right. Then we poured the gasoline and we lit it. T'was all ashes by noon. There still was the sign last year, like a bed of a bonfire.
*teleports behind you* I'm a little hesitant to post any ending lines in case of spoilers, but what the hell:
"As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons." A Game of Thrones by George R R Martin
*sips red wine* WHOA. Ahem. We mean, at the end of this book, we see the return of something historical that everyone thought was gone for good. (It's an interesting parallel to the Prologue and first Bran chapter, where we see the Others and a direwolf for the first time in a long time, too.)
*clears throat* G.R.R.M is a modern Tolkien. Character development. This is the first place, where I think Tolkien is outshone. To be fair, character development is very clearly not Tolkien's purpose. The overwhelming theme in his book is good versus evil, and a plot like that isn't conducive to character development, as it usually leads to fairly one dimensional heroes, like Aragorn and Sam. The richness in the characters is in their backstory and their motives, but if they have many shades of grey deep down, it's hard to tell from the books. Again, this is clearly by design. Tolkien spends almost no time on his characters thoughts and feelings. The focus is on action, and it works brilliantly with the plot. Martin, on the other hand, spends a lot of time on character development, and does an UNBELIEVABLE job. A lot of it is really easy to miss. The example "Anonymous" gave on Jaimie is great. Martin gave Jaimie this amazing redemption scene, but shortly after that he makes Jaimie wonder aloud whether he'd rather have his hand back or his son, and he thinks, "Hand". He reminds you that he's still the same guy who pushed a seven-year-old out the window. I loved that. Another example of the level of detail and, for want of a better word, "relatability", is when Arya travels to Bravos. The longer she stays in the city, the more she starts using Bravosi phrases, like "just so". Arya is a child, despite all she does, and he allows for that impressionability in the change of her diction. I think that's pretty incredible. He's also not afraid to have characters repeat the same thought over and over again in their head. It's a little wearisome as a reader, but that's how people think! We don't have fascinating new thoughts every second. We mainly vacillate between sex, food, sex, the last bad thing we did, sex, and, oh yes, sex
>>7640333 just finished this this morning and found it funny that it ends as these meme threads joke (e.g blah blah blah waiting for the crying of lot 49) but since its such a short novel and ends so open ended it worked out wonderfully
"Not the least adornment of the chronicle is the delicacy of pictorial detail: a latticed gallery; a painted ceiling; a pretty plaything stranded among the forget-me-nots of a brook; butterflies and butterfly orchids in the margin of the romance; a misty view descried from marble steps; a doe at gaze in the ancestral park; and much, much more."
Adding another vote for Great Gatsby. Otherwise, this:
But then I returned one day, to find all my careful scribing gone to fragments of vellum in a trampled yard with wet snow blowing over them. I sat my horse, looking down on them, and knew that, as it always would, the past had broken free of my effort to define and understand it. History is no more fixed and dead than the future. The past is no further away than the last breath you took.
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