Archived threads in /lit/ - Literature - 3231. page

obvious bait thread

>>8331665
>patriot dawn: the resistance rises by max alexander max velocity tactical
I hope the sequel will be called something like "the rising rises".

>>8331666

Hi Mega Therion.

ya

>>8331649
french

both are good and different in approach, Murphy works best in English but works like the Trilogy are better in their original french

>>8331592
wtf i hate yates now

>>8331592
John Grisham

>>8333572
Because I compared him to Updike?
I like Yates a lot more, too.

>>8333675
Thank you.

Anything written by a woman because of how unrealistically perfect/rational they're all written

>>8331576
You don't need to be redpilled on women it's ingrained in all rational and logic men.

Men are simply better than worthless evil roastwhores.

Take the fucking redpill already, numale cuckold.

Real men hate women and stay away from them

>>8331576
>>8331593
>>8331608
I think you would find some fine literature on the matter here. >>>/r9k/
Now kindly fuck off and never come back.

2
LOO-uhr

Can be either depending on pronuncinatiaotnatianton

For poetic writing could easily be used as 2, probably has been many thousands of times

Depends on where you live. Either way, my basement is damp.

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>Greetings and salutations!

Christ.

>>8331530
>Greetings and salutations
>Fedora
>Long hair
>Ann
>Needs a dictionary to read Rand
>symbolism in Rand
I can't. I just can't.

in hemingway's case, the final draft is still shit.

Was that the first draft of his quote?

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>Joyce
>British

wasn't he black?

whom?

I don't know who that is, don't think I care either. Why did you post such a low quality image at such a high resolution?

is this what you wanted?

ughh

>>8331406
The Idiot

>>8331389
Speaking of Caro, is The Power Broker worth a read?

>>8331394
haven't read it :/

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I like this one because it demolishes all that "DFW was a sincere saint" crap that keeps going around here.

>>8331337
They are all mentally ill and are a reason why whiteness is being genocided.

Take the redpill and go for Evola, based Hitler ad Schopenhauer's 'On Women' instead.

Deus Vult and praise Lord KeK

>>8331337
>off shoots into aesthetics

it's the opposite.

>>8331348
I can't tell whether frogposting is actually getting more common or whether I'm just noticing it more. You people are too autistic to realize that your jokes aren't funny.

Of course it wasn’t anything like this. He’d imagined wrong and he partially knew that but still. She was just so mysterious that a lecture could be really anything, a public assembly even. He did know better though. This wasn’t distant galaxy. The aliens had not yet been revealed. Disinterested people sat in too comfortable chairs that put them to sleep. Most of them were from the province’s interior. Rural developers waiting for her to say something about how foreign trade agreements would impact real estate values in their quaint lakeside towns. Where were the Chinese? Why weren’t they there yet? They couldn’t wait for their million dollar homes in towns where no one worked. Real estate was a lovely business.
Lydia was the only daughter of a Vancouver businessman. There was a poorly painted mural of him in Chinatown somewhere. He was the one largely responsible for the door that the Chinese walked through. Don was wildly in love with her.
But Lydia had a thing for enormous penises. This was well known but went largely unsaid. Her husband, Nathan, was a little Chinese man who’d once starred in AAA Asian pornography, the kind where the genitals are blurred out with a pixelated filter. It was maybe a little difficult for her to be certain, but the enormous girth of the censored portions between his legs had convinced her that he was the one for her. For now. He liked buying houses, too, so at the time it just kind of made sense. But that was such a long time ago. And there’d been so many more since him. He hung around though. She was making him rich. They hadn’t had sex in seven years. Nathan looked like he was dissolving inside. Don wondered how she could ever do that to a man.

Attempting to quell the anxious lump in his head or stomach, Don scrolled through his email history and reminisced about how they'd met, rather, how she'd contacted him. Don had been three or four years into his microbiology degree when he'd gotten a little note, forwarded to him by his old adult films agent. Not by any means proud of his previous means of employment, the industry had still opened many doors for him and introduced him to a great number of important, intelligent individuals, and had paid for the entirety of his current education. It had been the best decision he'd ever made. That very soft core webcam blog had changed his life when he needed a hundred dollars or so for an overdue phone bill and now, he hoped, it would change his future. Marriage. Wealth. Lydia. Imagine that.
Dear Mr. Don,
A woman I represent, Mrs. Lydia Duncan, cordially invites you to a casual get together in her penthouse suite on the university campus. Please respond with a date and time that would be agreeable. Weekdays are preferred.

And that was that. He'd gone, arrived early, and had been introduced to her by a small Chinese butler who did nothing to quell the confusion and doubt he'd been afflicted with since the first email. What did Miss Duncan want to talk about. What did Miss Duncan do for a living. What did Miss Duncan see in him and why had she contacted him. Him of all people. But Don was, in many ways, well versed in supposed modesty and knew exactly what to say at exactly the right moment in order to maintain a brilliantly amiable agreeability. Because, he supposed, at the root of it, Don believed that he was special. That he was something else. He'd been told it his whole life and now, finally, Jesus finally, his specialness was recognized by somebody else truly special. A rich woman. An extremely rich woman that liked extremely large penises because what in God's name else could she want and what in God's name also made him special and so fortunate to be here and holy Hannah his blog had been receiving a lot of hits lately. Without the butler's help, he'd arrived at something close to the truth.
That was how it began. A tryst. A promise. A fuck. He was a mistress. A misteress. And slowly, with the gradual erosion of a decaying landscape, he fell in love and became something new entirely. He became confident. He became whole. He became the object of someone's desires. And he was allowed to see her twice a week. Even her husband knew. He knew but it poisoned him and soon he would jump from a bridge. Don realized this but didn't care much. If a man jumps, watch him fall. That's all he wants. Don had never brought a man to his knees before. It made him feel powerful. Gigantic. What else could she want.
That was how the beginning had happened. Now, the barely red fly returned, licking at the lip of Don’s beer. He touched it away and wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans. Did flies really immediately puke on everything that they landed on? He’d read that the other week on the internet. Ten things you didn’t know about flies. The glass was a little wet still. Don’s fingerprints dripped down the side. He wondered if a fly could drown in the condensate of a cold pint.

seems fine

>>8331218
Fantastic, now I will make a strange request:

From the first two pages, picking books that were originally written in English, tell me which books have absolutely no relevance to modern day social activism (like feminism).

That means no
"To Kill a Mockingbird"
"Pride and Prejudice"
"Beloved"
"Jane Eyre"
etc etc etc

>>8331250

in search of lost time
ulysses
don quixote
moby dick
hamlet
war and peace
the odyssey
the great gatsby
the divine comedy
madame bovary

that was easy

>>8331171
Around the World in 80 days

Siddhartha is the closest i know of but he doesnt go around the world