Archived threads in /lit/ - Literature - 2351. page

I don't know bolano or barges but Cervantes is pretty hard, very long sentences and not entry level at all.
Try 100 years of solitude.

spanish is my mother tongue, you jelly?

>>8819392
I would recommend you Pedro Paramo .It is usually read in schools as the language is not too hard. The book is short and it is a great book overall

What are you reading right now?

How are you liking it so far?

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>>8819385
Ereader says I'm 10% into it and I'm really hating it so far.

Counted at least 3 instances of characters blatantly contradicting themselves. The sidekick character spoke all of one line in a really obvious vernacular, was told to "stop that," and immediately did so, thereafter speaking so similarly to the main character that I have to keep doubling back in their conversations to check who is saying what. And to cap it off the plot got moving in a really stupid way. "Holy shit I am so witty and silly I came up with this plan in 10 seconds so I am going to do it and there will be no objections."

Probs gunna push on for a few chapters to see how the first big plot point plays out before dropping it if it doesn't improve.

>>8819385

Re-reading David Eddings Beldariad/Mallorean because it's super comfy fantasy. Just picked up Gardens of the Moon because I needed a new series and I've been seeing it in the shops for years. Not really sure what to expect since it was more an impulse buy than anything else.

>>8819367
he was right, though dfw made sense when criticizing pomo and yearning for a new movement in filled with sincerity.

who cares.

>>8819367
everyone on /lit/ is familiar with this quote -- this is where the "no discernible talent" meme comes from.

I feel like you can predict what Bloom's opinion will be on any given work with minimal effort

>uncovering the nature of reality
Not what philosophy is for.

>>8819272
I think it sort of is, yeah, if 'uncovering the nature of reality' just means something like 'finding out how things are'

>>8819268

>Why should the history of an idea be relevant to the idea itself

Hot kekes when people actually unironically believe this

>>8819232
MOM'S GONNA FREAK

please say the name of the person you're talking about when you start a thread

also, please don't start threads of the form "I don't understand x's appeal"; if you have a criticism to levy at x, please just go ahead and give it

Kafka? If it is i have to say i really like him, very obscure and distuurbing

wittgenstein's nephew or concrete by thomas bernhard

>>8819096
if you want to get laid, the elementary particles by michel houellebecq

She looks like a trap I recently found out about

>>8819068
>nook

You should've just told him to fack off

>>8819074
lol why is it shit? It was just nice enough for him to get me something that is somewhat in my interests

>>8819068
redtube has a pretty good selection of ebooks (nook compatible).

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>>8819046
The one that allows you the most leisure time to read and/or write.

>>8819142
please don't post with a trip, it's against the spirit of what we're trying to do here

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>>8819145
So is impersonating me.

In before you say it isn't.
There is no "spirit" being tried here.

>>8819018
this is relevant to my interests, particularly stuff about rhodesian commandoes and other men clad in khaki

Just racked this book from an op shop today, any good?

>>8819018
Facing Mt. Kenya was really good. It was written from the perspective of Africans in the late colonial/post-colonial period.

>>8819016
Nice. Been getting into Yeats lately.

He stood among a crowd at Drumahair;
His heart hung all upon a silken dress,
And he had known at last some tenderness,
Before earth made of him her sleepy care;
But when a man poured fish into a pile,
It seemed they raised their little silver heads,
And sang how day a Druid twilight sheds
Upon a dim, green, well-beloved isle,
Where people love beside star-laden seas;
How Time may never mar their faery vows
Under the woven roofs of quicken boughs:
The singing shook him out of his new ease.

>>8819158
>And sang how day a Druid twilight sheds
I cannot parse this line. What is the word "day" doing there? Lowly ESL here.

LINES WRITTEN IN DEJECTION

When have I last looked on
The round green eyes and the long wavering bodies
Of the dark leopards of the moon?
All the wild witches, those most notable ladies, For all their broom-sticks and their tears,
Their angry tears, are gone.
The holy centaurs of the hills are vanished;
I have nothing but the embittered sun;
Banished heroic mother moon and vanished,
And now that I have come to fifty years
I must endure the timid sun

(1917)

I know, I know, not the best move. But when a giant, murderous quadruped is flying at you through the air, common sense kind of goes out the window.
I clenched my jaw, bracing myself for the worst.
A low thrum sounded behind me. The demon dog yelped almost pitifully and thudded to the floor. I opened my eyes to see it splayed on the carpet like a ragdoll, totally unresponsive. A golden arrow stuck out of its eye socket.
I turned toward the source of the arrow. In the doorway stood a guy who looked only a couple years older than me holding a bow. He wore tight fitting, white clothing that looked like it was reinforced and padded in some places. He was annoyingly handsome. If I saw him chatting up girls at a concert, rather than saving my life from a monster in my parents’ bedroom, I would be beyond jealous.
Barely acknowledging my presence, he walked over nonchalantly and pulled the arrow out of his target’s skull. When he wiped the tip on his shirt, I realized that it wasn’t your average, everyday golden arrow. Its surface shimmered and glittered, less the color of fine jewelry and more like a ray of sunlight. Just looking at it made me feel warm.
He finally turned around and met my gaze. His mouth crinkled, as if my very existence offended him. “You ought be here,” he said.
“What do you mean? This is my house,” I said. “You ‘ought not’ be here.” Looking at the red-eyed dog on the floor, though, I was happy he was.
“This should no longer be your home. Judgment has come and gone, yet you remain.”
“Judgment?” I asked. “Is that what you call hurling a Camry at my bedroom and siccing a demon dog on me?”
“Hellhound,” he corrected. “And these things were not my doing, nor were they part of the Judgment.”
Before I could verbalize any of the questions rattling around in my head, he said “Come” and walked out of the room.
I followed him through my house, too shocked to say anything. There were no other cars sticking out of walls, but it looked like an earthquake had hit. Paintings hung crooked or had fallen off their hooks, and one wall had a giant spiderweb of cracks running through it. Still not wearing shoes, I had to tiptoe carefully through the kitchen—glassware had tumbled out of cabinets and shattered on the ceramic tile.
Good thing my parents had homeowner’s insurance.
Seeing the damage throughout my house made me even more anxious about my family (as if my experiences since getting out of bed hadn’t already clued me in that something scary was happening). Had they gone to hide in the basement, hoping to wait out a natural disaster? Had another hellhound—I think that’s what my mysterious new friend called it—chased them off? Had a white-clad stranger, after criticizing them for being in their own house, led them somewhere else? And why hadn’t they taken me with them?

I had to ask this guy if he knew anything. “Hey, where’s my—” I began.
But I followed him out the front door, and what I saw rendered me speechless.
Of all the houses I could see, ours—car hole and all—was the most intact. A huge oak had fallen on the house to the right, splitting it down the middle. The entire second floor of the house to the left was nowhere in sight.
The worst, though, was the house across the street—or, well, what remained of it. Since we moved in, two elderly people, whose names I could never remember but always smiled and waved hello, had lived there. Now, there was no evidence a house had ever existed except for some blackened pieces of rubble scattered on the scorched ground.
“Stay behind me,” my laconic guide ordered, proceeding cautiously onto the lot.
After a few steps, I discovered the focus of his attention: a body lying where the living room used to be. He also looked to be nineteen or twenty, although the cuts covering his body prevented me from being too sure. A crater ringed around his body as if he were a meteor. At first, I thought he was dead. But after a few seconds, I saw his chest heaving, drawing a painful-looking breath.
He must have heard us approaching, because his eyes flickered open and locked on to my companion.
“You fool, Michael,” he spat. “You should have seen the Host becoming too rigid, too vindictive. Long ago they ceased cultivating goodness in favor of mongering their power over the sinners. And now, under your watch, they have ushered on the Judgment long before it should have come. Because you have failed to remind them of their purpose. ”
My companion—Michael—flinched like he had been slapped.
“I know I have erred, Raguel,” he said, “and it weighs heavily on me. But punishing me will not restore harmony, as you think, but create greater discord. We must stand together and quell the dissension within the Heavenly Host. Since the Last Judgment has taken place, we must ready ourselves for war.
“Now go, and heal. We will need your strength.”
A flash of light engulfed Raguel’s body, and when it dissipated, he was gone.
Michael sighed. He turned back towards me and looked surprised, like he had forgotten I was standing there.
I fumbled around for words. “You’re… an angel,” I said.
“An archangel, technically. You must be very confused. In these times, few people truly believe, and even the believers never expect to encounter divinity directly.
“As you have probably gathered by now, the Day of Judgment has occurred. That is where your family is,” he said, gesturing to the sky. “Or…” he trailed off, gesturing to the ground. My heart jumped down to my stomach and settled like a ball of lead.

Did you write Cirque du Freak?

Aw yeah, the movies were great. It'd be pretty awesome if there were novels about him too, is there?

>>8818904
Yeah man, there are, I'm still looking for them

>>8818885
Shameless self-bump

welcome to the comfiest 20th century author

>>8818877
It's a retelling of Arthurian myth in a different setting.

i dropped that one but i'm digging cannery row which is pretty similar

>>8818785
>how does one value anything
subjectively

>>8818796
so you have to like things just because. That seems kinda foreign to me

if you insist on being happy without being stupid and solipsistic about it, you're going to have to do so with tragedy in mind

if you're okay with not being happy your options increase somewhat

happiness means having the freedom to choose what it is you're going to suffer for

misery means having that choice made for you

>>8818778
good bookerino

>>8818778
nice book. guy also has the best book on writing ive read yet. i normally hate those books but i had to read it for a class and he gives some good advice.